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Section 28 of Uncollected Short Stories of L. M. Montgomery. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Uncollected Short Stories of L. M. Montgomery by Lucy Maud Montgomery. Section 28 Aunt Nan was sitting in the parlour at the Hill Farm, waiting for Mark to bring Beatrice Lyle home. He had gone to the station to meet her. Aunt Nan had put on her silver-gray silk and lace fishu, perfumed with the faint lavender odour that clung to all her treasured possessions, to do honour to her son's sweetheart, and she had scalded her rebellious heart to play its part properly. She looked very tired, even her eyes had lost their youth. Now and then tears filled them in spite of her, but she wiped them impatiently away. When she heard the sound of wheels, she rose quickly and went out to the door with a brave smile of welcome. Aunt Nan never forgot the shock of surprise at sight of the girl who was coming up between the rows of Hollyhawks, hand in hand with Mark. She had never defined in words or even in thoughts what she had expected Beatrice Lyle to be, but she had had a vague idea that she would be some brilliant, flaunting creature with exaggerated clothes and painted cheeks. Aunt Nan had a constitutional belief that all women of the stage, good, bad, and indifferent, wore artificial complexions in private as well as in public. She had groaned in secret over the thought of Mark's wife being a woman who painted, how the Rutherglen gossips would gloat over that. But this pale, child-faced girl who stood before her in clinging grey draperies, looking up at her wistfully with big, innocent grey eyes, could this be the woman she had hated and dreaded? Aunt Nan's prejudices fell from her like a discarded garment. All her beauty-loving old heart went out in a sudden, honest admiration to the girl Mark loved. She opened her arms to her impulsively, drew her into them, and kissed her. I am very glad to see you, my dear," she said, in a trembling voice. Welcome to Mark's home. Beatrice Lyle's heart was touched. Mark had not been able to conceal fully from her shrewd discernment the fact that his mother was not well pleased with what he had done. He would have been surprised had he known how much his guarded words had betrayed.  Innocent and appealing as she looked when she came up with the Hollyhawk path, she was in reality filled with an ungenerous triumph and a determination to flaunt her empire over the sun rooflessly enough in the mother's face. But Aunt Nan's spontaneous welcome changed all that. Beatrice Lyle had met few tender loving women in her hard life. She had all Aunt Nan's own peculiar power of dividing the thoughts and springs of action in people with whom she had to do, and she had a sudden realization of the goodness and sweetness of the little grey-haired woman who held her against her heart, a wave of feeling like nothing she had ever experienced before swept over her.  I hope you'll love me," she said wistfully and sincerely. I love you already," whispered Aunt Nan gently. She felt a stab as she spoke, as of disloyalty to Lewis. But Mark was forgiven. Beatrice's beauty was his valid excuse. Aunt Nan said to herself that she had never seen a face so lovely. She could not keep her own eyes off the girl as they sat at the tea table. In the evening Mark carried Beatrice off to the garden. Aunt Nan reproached herself for the jealous thrust this gave her. If it were Lewis I wouldn't mind.  I do feel shut out now, even this soon, as if I didn't have no part in all lot with them. I suppose I'm ungrateful. Everything might have been so much worse. She's sweet and lovely and winsome beyond anything I ever saw. I feel like a turncoat to like her so much right off, but I can't help it. Aunt isn't the same liking I have for Lewis. I don't know just what makes the difference, but it isn't. Beatrice was very quiet and subdued in the garden, more so than Mark had ever seen her. All her sauciness and elusive cockatry, her arc-ness and sprites like variety of look and gesture were gone for the time. Mark! she said suddenly, after a long silence.  Yes. She is the dearest and best woman I know, except one. She is very good! repeated Beatrice gravely. I felt that at the first moment. Good and pure and sweet, the right woman for a mother. My mother died before I ever knew her. Do you know what that means to a girl? You will have a mother after this, said Mark. She gave him a swift little glance. Mark!  It is odd. I never cared before whether another woman loved me or not. I do care now. She loves you already. Said Mark, his dark face, flushing with pleasure. She loved you at first sight as I did. She could not help that, Beatrice. I would rather that she could help it and still loved me. Said the girl impatiently. Oh, Mark! she is good! good! I suppose I have been unfortunate in the women with whom my life has brought me in contact. I never met one like her. A woman so compact of purity and goodness that even an evil thought would wither in her presence.  She will be, said Mark, tenderly. But if she were not, persisted Beatrice, would you love her? Could you love a woman whose past life held a shadow? No, said Mark, with a tinge of sternness in his tone always assumed in discussing such a question. No, I could not. The soul and life of the woman I love must be spotless, and thank God it is. He put his arm about her and drew her to his heart. For a moment she rested so, with her golden head pillowed upon his shoulder. Then she freed herself with a ripple of laughter. Her eyes glimmered with mischief. Her lips mocked him. She flung into his face a handful of shredded rose petals and fled from him down the long path, elfin coquettish Beatrice once more. He captured her at the summer house, and kissed her again and again, while she struggled, still laughing, to be free. I won't let you go, he whispered triumphantly. I will hold you so forever, struggle as you will, you witch, you darling, you everything that is sweet. Beatrice, I never knew that a human soul could be as happy as I am. You're in a false paradise! She mocked. But he did not believe her, nor did she intend that he should. In the days that followed Rutherglen gossiped and wandered, and held up its hands and then laid them down again with the sensible but somewhat late come conclusion that it was none of its business. All the women who could climbed the hill to visit Aunt Nan, and came away to spread wonderful tales about Beatrice Lyle, tales that differed as widely as did the moods in which Beatrice greeted the several collars.  It was some satisfaction to her that they found none. Her pain, like her love, was sacred, and no eye but her own might look on it. Gossip concluded that Louis Wilbur did not care. If she does, she's a better actress than the other. It said. One evening Aunt Nan came to the valley. She had longed for Louis until the longing would not be denied. She made some borrowed magazines and excuse for her errand, and came in the twilight to ask for Louis. Mrs. Wilbur went to Louis's room for her. Aunt Nan's down there? Wanting you, Louis? My, but she looks dreadful old. I guess the streak of marks has about done for her. Louis winced. Her mother's blunt comments always had the power to hurt her more deeply than anything others might say. She put away the school exercises she was correcting, and went downstairs to the parlour. They sat and talked stiffly at first. Both were slightly ill at ease. Yet Louis felt a thrill of something like happiness at having her old friend with her again. And she was Mark's mother. Not even the sting of the awful thing that had happened could quite take the sweetness out of that. But it was not until Aunt Nan rose to go, and Louis walked down the road with her, that they came together again. Out under the open sky, the invisible barriers fell away from between them. I've wanted you, Louis, said Aunt Nan, slipping her hand into the girls. I've missed you terrible. Isn't it good to be together again? Yes, it is," assented Louis tenderly. I wanted to tell you about her. Whispered Aunt Nan, have you seen her, Louis? Yes, said Louis, dullly. She's very pretty, isn't she? said Aunt Nan hurriedly. I don't wonder so much at Mark, no. Men always make fools of themselves over the face like that. I can't help being fascinated by it myself. I thought you'd like to know that it isn't as hard as it might be for me. She's a sweet little thing, and I do love her. I can't help it.  I'm glad you love her," said Louis, in the same dull tone. It makes it so much easier for you. Oh, I don't know," cried Aunt Nan. No, there is something wanting, Louis, and it's the main thing. Don't mistake me. I can't help being fond of her. But it's not the love I expected to give Mark's wife. Not the love of woman for woman. I love her as I might a child. I don't think her any the more suitable wife for Mark because of it. She isn't. She's not one of us, and never can be. Mark will find that out when it is too late. There's something about her for all her sweetness that I don't trust. Maybe I oughtn't to say so, or even think so. I don't seem to be able to be true to anybody these days. When I'm with her, I love her. But when I'm away from her, there's a cold ache. I oughtn't to grumble. It might all have been so much worse. But you mustn't come any further, Louis. There's a heavy dew. Won't you come up and see me soon? Not yet," cried Louis sharply. I'm too busy, she added, in a calmer tone. The work in school is very heavy just now. Of course," assented Aunt Nan, pretending to be deceived. Well, come when you can, you know? She went on with a sudden, stubborn assertiveness. I love you best in the world, next to Mark, and I always will, always. No one will ever take your place with me. Thank you," said Louis. She kissed Mark's mother on the cheek, and watched her out of sight, up the hill. Then she walked back home, thinking, as she went, of the first time she had seen Beatrice Lyle. It had been in the Ruther Glen Church on Sunday evening of the preceding week. The Wilbur pew was directly behind the Berry one. Louis had been sitting alone in it. When the berries came, Aunt Nan first, then the stranger, then Mark. To sit there, through the long, peaceful service of the country church, with no change of expression on her calm face, and watch the woman who had supplanted her, sitting by the man she loved, was what Louis Wilbur did, but her very soul was seared in the doing it, as in a fiery furnace. The beauty of the girl before her stabbed her with jealousy. She had never been jealous of another woman's looks before, but she hated this exquisite loveliness fiercely. No wonder Mark loved her rival. What man could resist the fascination of such beauty? Aunt Nan shrank into the corner of the pew, and the lovers sat by themselves at the end. Louis noted their every glance in motion. She could not drag her tortured eyes from them. She saw the expression in Mark's eyes when he turned to his dark, curly head to look down on the girl beside him. He had never looked so at her, although she had dreamed sweetly of the time when he would. To see him look so at another woman was almost more than Louis, even in her panoply of pride and determination could bear.  When they rose to go out Beatrice Lyall had turned and her eyes suddenly met Louis Wilbur's, burning down into hers. Beatrice knew something. Perhaps some visitor's gossip had enlightened her, perhaps some careless word of Mark's, or even Aunt Nan's had given her the clue. She understood, with one woman's merciless understanding of another, that this girl with the white, set face loved Mark and hated her. Beatrice Lyall was good at returning hate for hate.  She sent Louis's look back to her with triumph and contemptuous pity. Louis knew that the secret she had guarded so desperately was known to and laughed at by this girl with a pale gold hair and serific face. The thought, coming back to her in the twilight, was more than she could endure. Oh, I can't bear it! she said passionately, under her breath. I can't. Anything but this that she should know. I saw the triumph in her face. How could she have known? Mark did not tell her. I am sure of that. At least, nor Aunt Nan. I suppose my feelings were blazoned on my face for all to see. As she walked home that evening, she decided that she would resign her school at the end of the term and leave Ruth again. She hoped it would be before Mark's marriage. Aunt Nan sat knitting by the window and watching Beatrice, who was walking by herself among the birches, singing snatches of song in her silvery voice. Now and then a shaft of light fell through the bows, turning her wind-stirred curls into a saintly aureole. Mark was away from home, but she did not seem to miss him. Of late, she had developed a fondness for wandering alone among the trees and along the lanes. Aunt Nan watched her and thought loud over her work as was her won't. The child seems terrible restless. She's better than when she came, what a lovely pink colour she has by spells. But she don't seem real happy, although Mark can't see it. I guess this quiet life is wearing on her, although she declares she loves it. I feel real wicked and ungenerous when I don't seem able to put much faith in what she says sometimes. And yet I do love her real well.  In a way this seems all like a dream. Everything is so different. Mark is the only happy one here and he'll be happy just as long as he's blind. He thinks she loves him. She doesn't, but it takes a woman to see that. She's fond of him in her way, but for that matter she's fonder of me. Aunt Nan was quite right. Beatrice was fonder of Mark's mother than of Mark. Passing that, she loved Aunt Nan with the only unselfish affection her life had ever known. She had mocked at it at first and even rebelled against it. Her love for Aunt Nan was a merciless mirror, in which she saw herself as she was. Presently she came in and sat down on the low window sill beside Aunt Nan.   Aunt Nan, she said seriously, you do love me a little, don't you? Bless your heart, child. Yes, said Aunt Nan affectionately. But not so well as you love someone else, Aunt Nan, someone you would rather see Mark's wife. Who's been talking to you? cried Aunt Nan, too astonished to deny. Nobody, but I know. Tell me about her. There is nothing to tell, said Aunt Nan, in distress. There is, there is nobody. Where did you get such a fancy? Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. Oh, your little fibs don't impose on me, dear woman. There is someone. You might as well tell me. If you don't, I'll ask Mark. You wouldn't do that, protested Aunt Nan in dismay, but she knew that Beatrice was quite capable of it, and she hastened to add. But I suppose I needn't deny that there was a girl I did like, and I would have been pleased if Mark had taken a notion to her. Perhaps he might have in time if he had not met me, said Beatrice lightly. Perhaps, admitted Aunt Nan reluctantly. But he didn't, you see, so you needn't be jealous of her. I am not jealous of her on his account. I would not care if he had loved her. It is because you love her that I am jealous. You needn't be, child. I've known her all her life, and I've always loved her. But I love you too, dearie. Indeed, I do. But not as you love her. No, Aunt Nan, don't look so distressed. I understand. She's better than I am, and, apart from that, she's your kind, and you think she would make Mark happier? I didn't say that. No. But you think it. Oh, you are so transparent, dear. And this girl, did she love Mark? No, she didn't, declared Aunt Nan eagerly. She didn't care for him at all. I don't deny that I had a kind of matchmaking hope in my own mind about them. Old women are like that, Beatrice. But there wasn't any foundation for it. She didn't want Mark any more than he wanted her. Beatrice smiled. Aunt Nan's staunch lie might impose on a man, but it could not blind her, even if she had not had the remembrance of that look she had seen in Louis Wilbur's eyes that night in church. Suddenly, she laughed aloud. And so your castle in air is destroyed, Aunt Nan, and I am the destroyer. Why don't you hate me? She slipped down on her knees by Aunt Nan and looked up teasingly into her face.  Why don't you? Nobody could hate you, child, protested Aunt Nan. And I love you. You needn't doubt that a might. Beatrice buried her face in the motherly lap, and lay still so long that Aunt Nan wondered. When she looked up again, her eyes held a faint glimmer of amusement. You'll always love her best, she said. But she doesn't love you any better than I do. You've brought out all the good that ever was in me. Not to great deal, perhaps, but it will serve. I want you to be happy in your own way. You don't understand now, but you will someday. And it is funny too. I am really laughing at myself, you see. After all, I'm really the most amusing person I ever met. She's right enough. I don't understand her, said Aunt Nan, picking up her knitting with a patient sigh when Beatrice had gone. As to being happy in my own way? There'll never be again. I might just try and be happy in Mark's way. It's always a make-believe happiness at best, to be happy in someone else's way. For the next two days Beatrice had a wild attack of high spirits. She laughed and sang and danced, hither and thither, from morning till night, with a flushed face and sparkling eyes. Mark, in the bonds of his infatuation, thought her only the more adorable. Aunt Nan sighed and even felt cross. She realized, more keenly than ever, the gulf between herself and the girl who was to be her son's wife. She, the quiet, sober-going little housemother, had nothing in common with this volatile creature. So these, the people of this small-life drama, each drained the cup held to their lips as bravely as they might. Aunt Nan and Lewis, the draught was very bitter. To Mark, it still sparkled with enchantment. Beatrice Lyall best knew the flavor of her own. She sat curled up among the ferns behind the birch grove one evening, watching the sunset over the valley, which was like a great cup brimmed up with purple and glamour. Down below her she saw the Wilbur homestead, and when she looked that way, her face and eyes grew hard.  How odd that I should be jealous of another woman's love. When I go, Aunt Nan will have her again and forget me. They will talk me over by and by, the two of them. Bah! I will set Mark free for Aunt Nan's sake, and go back to the old life I thought I had left for ever. A pleasant glow of self-approval pervaded her. She was sincere enough in believing that she was going to do this solely that Aunt Nan might be happy. She crept out of the ferns determinedly, and with a lilt of song on her lips, went through the birches to the big grey boulder on their southern slope, where she knew Mark would be waiting for her. She wished the interview over. Commonly, Beatrice Lyall was not afraid of anything, but now she shrank from the pain she was going to inflict. There are not so many who believe in me that I should find it amusing to destroy the trust of one who does. She thought with some shallow bitterness. Except Mark. Aunt Nan is the only one in the world who really cares for me, and she loves me against her better judgement. Mark sprang up and came to meet her with the old glow on his face. The sun had set, and the world beyond was a swimming glory of after-light. But where they too stood, in the shadow of the birches, was the gloom and purple of over-early twilight. Beatrice, looking at the rapture of illumination on Mark's face, wished again that some other hand than hers might blotted out.  I want you to listen. All right, sweetheart, he answered gaily.  What is it you want to talk about? Sit down, please. She pushed him down on the boulder, and stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders, that she might not see his face. Mark, what I am about to say will hurt and surprise you greatly, but I must say it. I, I want you to set me free. I can't marry you.  Yours is not for me. Beatrice, in spite of her detaining hands, he sprang up and faced her. My God, what do you mean you are not in earnest? I am indeed, Mark. Do you think I could just like this? Oh, Mark, I don't love you. I never loved you.  The haven of rest and peace you offered me was so tempting, and your love was very sweet to me, too, Mark. It was so true and loyal, so different from all that I had been made to believe love was. I thought I could be contented and happy in the life you pictured. I know now that I cannot. It is a good life, but it comes too late for me. I am not fit it for it and never can be. I must go back. You will set me free? He had listened to her in silence, misery and disbelief struggling on his face. When she put out her hands appealingly to him, he gathered them in the grip so fierce that it hurt her. I can't be a trist. Don't ask it of me. I can't let you go. Oh, you can't mean it, dear. You will learn to love me yet. And if not, I will be content with your affection and trust. I will do everything I can to make you happy. Everything. I will leave Rutherglen and go away with you. You may even go back to the stage as my wife if you will. I'll do anything for you but to give you up. That I'll never do. She tore her hands away from the clasp that hurt her. Mark, Mark, you don't know what you're saying. It can't be. I can't marry you. Set me free. I will not. He said stubbornly. His face was dark and fierce with passion and pain. She had never seen him look so and it frightened her. Fear always roused anger in her and it leaped forth now, unpittingly. Then I will go without your permission. She cried shrilly. I will follow you to the world's end. He answered. She knew that he mentored and covered her face with her hands for a moment. When she looked up again, the angry flush was gone, leaving her worn and tired. You will not let me go? She asked platingly. No, between his set teeth. She made a little protesting gesture with her hands. Oh, then I must tell you everything nothing else will do. I didn't mean to. I thought it would be too hard and it is hard. She caught her breath in a throb of real feeling. Oh, Mark, there is another reason I can't marry you. A reason that even you must listen to.  No, don't speak. You must hear me. Mark, I'm not a good woman. There are good women in my profession but I am not one of them. There are some things in my life that you would look upon with horror. Oh, it's true, as an inarticulate sound, half moan, half protest broke from him. Do you think I would tell you of this if it were not? You've driven me to tell you. I thought I had put all that behind me that I could forget that past and live only for the future. When I came here and met your mother, I knew I never could, that nothing could ever make me like her. Oh, you will despise and loathe me now. I know you, how remorseless you are in condemning a woman who has once gone wrong. Nothing she could ever do would atone for that in your eyes, not if she lived in penance for a lifetime. You could never make any allowance for me. Well, this is enough for you, is it not? You don't want me to go into details, I suppose? You will not follow me to the world's end now, Mark? Her voice dropped from bitter passion to wistful pain in her last question. Mark did not answer in words. He turned from her with a grey, stricken face and sat down on the stone bench, burying his face in his arms on the huge bow that stretched across it. Beatrice looked at him pittingly. She put her hand on his shoulder. Mark, she said gently, You will get over this very soon, although you won't believe that now. You see, it was never I whom you loved, it was the girl you thought I was. She never existed and one cannot mourn very long over a phantom. I will go out of your life for ever. I wish you could come to think kindly of me by and by, not of me as I am, but of me as I might have been if I had met you long ago before life went awry with me. Oh, Mark, won't you forgive me? If not now, by and by, when the pain of this is all over? He gave no sign that he heard her, saved by shrinking away from the touch of her hand. In his own agony and bitterness he grew cruel. One of her mercurial changes came over her. The softness went out of her face. Amusements glimmered in her eyes. A smile flashed over her mobile features. Suddenly she threw back her head and burst into a silvery mocking-peel of laughter. Oh, it is good to be free! She cried. After all, I'm not so unselfish as I thought. I imagined that I was doing this solely for your mother's sake. But I think I was tired to intolerance of your placid life here. A year of it would kill me. As for you, you scorn me now, and a month later you will wander at your infatuation and thank heavens for your deliverance. You will marry Lewis Wilbur by and by. She is your mother's kind and yours. But you will never tell her of those days in old St. Paul's, I think. Goodbye, Mark. What? Not a word? Not a look? How hard you good men can be! Well, I bear you no grudges. It is enough revenge for me to know that eight weeks of your life have belonged wholly to me, and that repent it as you will they always must. That girl in the valley will have all the rest, but you can never give her those. With another little trill of mocking laughter she left him. At the edge of the birches she paused and looked back at the bowed and motionless figure, blowing it to kiss from her fingertips. But it's good to be free again. She breathed exultantly. Aunt Nan was lighting a candle at the kitchen dresser when Beatrice came dancing through the hall. She stood in the doorway, a flame of brilliancy amid the lurking shadows.  She was beautiful with a bout du diable that Aunt Nan had never seen before. The latter did not know it, but she was looking at Beatrice Lyle of the Footlights. What's the matter, child? She cried in sudden alarm. Beatrice kissed her hands to her theatrically.  Here's yours again. I have broken my spell and I am free. I could dance for very joy of it. She dropped Aunt Nan a mocking courtesy and, catching her muslin skirt in her hands, she pirouetted backward along the hall and fled up the stairs to the lilt of a wild carol. Aunt Nan stood looking like one dazed. She did not understand Beatrice's words, but she dimly realised that there was more trouble somewhere. Where was Mark? What had this mad girl done now? She felt irritated. There was no peace in life with all the moods and winds that possessed the fantastic creature. She snuffed the candle with a nervous hand and then went along the hall in a puzzled, uncertain fashion as Beatrice came running down the stairs in her hat and jacket. At the open front door she paused. Beatrice, what is it? Implored Aunt Nan. It's good-bye, Aunt Nan. I had your hired boy take my trunks to the station this afternoon when Mark and you were away. I am going myself. I shall walk to the station and catch the night train for Queenslear. Oh, it makes me tingle. Do you think I've gone mad? Oh, no, dear Saint. It is not so. It's only that I am free again and it has gone to my head like wine. How dazed you look. You don't understand. Your Mark will explain it if he ever finds his tongue. Goodbye, dear Saint. Then as quickly as was her want the wild mood fell from her and the laughter went out of her face. Aunt Nan, try to think a little kindly of me by and by when all the bitterness is over. Mark never will. He'll never forgive me but you must and will. Goodbye. For a moment her light dress gleamed down the Hollyhawk path. Then the soft darkness of the calm night seemed to wrap her away. Aunt Nan rushed to the door and called, Beatrice, Beatrice! Half angrily. Under all her alarm and bewilderment there was a curious annoyance at the girl's behaviour. It savoured of melodrama and jarred painfully on Aunt Nan's orderly conception of things. She was not used to such ways. They seemed to outrage the decencies of life and put her at the disadvantage of silence and helplessness. She could sympathise with and comprehend Lewis Wilbur's moods and emotions but Beatrice's left her outside, a baffled spectator. I'd like to shake her! She thought precisely and irritably as she peered out into the darkness. But when no answer came to her save the soft rustles of the night she began to understand yet was half afraid to believe. Beatrice was gone. So much seemed plain from her outlandish speeches and behaviour. But why? What had happened? Had she and Mark quarreled? If so doubtless he would go posting to Queen's Lear after her as soon as his anger cooled. Aunt Nan foresaw endless perplexity and complications. She started out to look for Mark first wrapping herself in her shawl against the autumn dampeness. For Aunt Nan was practical in even the great crisis of her life. She thought grimly enough that no matter what tune Beatrice piped and Mark danced to there was no sense in laying herself up with an attack of rheumatism. She called for Mark vainly until she grew frantic with doubt and bewilderment. Where had he gone? The temper of her youth had tamed heart and she would have enjoyed soundly boxing his ears. But when she found him at last huddled up in his mute misery where Beatrice had left him every emotion safe pity and warm mother love dropped away from her. She stole softly up to him and put her arm about his neck seeking only to comfort him at whatever cost to herself. Mark what is it? She rolled. Never mind she'll come back. We'll go after her. There there mother's boy. She patted him on the head as if he were still her baby. She was furious at Beatrice for hurting him. Mark suddenly turned and flung his arms about her pillowing his head on her breast as she bent over him. His anguish found vent in a sob that stung her to the heart. She's gone but that's not the worst. I've lost everything everything but you mother. She hovered over him caressing him and murmuring the words of comfort she had used when he was a child summing to her over some childish hurt. Amid all her pain for him and her anger at the girl who had wounded him there was a sudden upwelling sweetness. He was her own again her son nearest to her heart.  There there mother's boy. She crooned. End of section 28 Section 29 of uncollected short stories of L. M. Montgomery. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Uncollected short stories of L. M. Montgomery by Lucy Mod Montgomery Section 29 Thanks to the birds of the air and hired boys by the next night everybody in Rutherglen knew that Beatrice Lyle had gone and tongues wagged delightedly on Hill and Valley. They wondered how Mark would take it and how Aunt Anne would take it and how Louis Wilbur would take it. They remembered that they had always prophesied something of the sort. It served Mark Berry right, they thought. He hadn't treated Louis Wilbur very well and they guessed she felt it pretty keen for all she carried such a high head. There was a look on her face that didn't used to be there. Thus the babble of gossip and comment ran on. There was left this time to learn the news from her mother. Aunt Anne would have liked to send for her and tell her, but something held her back telling her that this would come with better grace from other lips than hers. It was Mrs. Wilbur who puffed and panted up the stairs to Louis's room all agog with the excitement of the news she had brought home from a neighbourly call. Louis, what do you think? She said shrilly in the thin high-pitched voice which consorted shortly with her roly-poly person in broad, good-natured face. Mrs. Wilbur sat down on the bed her hand at her side. Goodness! This is what it is to get old and fat. Pray that you never will, Louis. Do be sure your father's people ain't troubled that way and you take after them. There isn't a might of sand-borne in you. You're the living image of your aunt Dilla and you've got to look more than ever like her this while back. And what do you suppose has happened now? Such a piece of work! That lyre girl, Mark Barry picked up in town has jilted him in God and Goodness' nose-wear. They had a terrible time of it up at the hill farm last night. So there Jerry told James Almond's Andrew the girl went on like one possessed. Jerry he was in the garden and saw and heard her before she went and Aunt Nan was up all night talking to Mark and trying to pacify him. The girl has gone for good, Jerry told Andrew. Hey talk her trunks to the station yesterday afternoon. Now, what do you think of that? Is it true? Said Louis in a low voice. True? Of course it's true. Jerry knows all about it. Won't Aunt Nan be tickled over this? She couldn't abide the whole business, though she did try to make the best of it for Mark's sake. I'm with him now though, I expect. He was crazy about that baggage. But he'll get over it in time. There's a chance for you yet, Louis. Mother! The girl's tone was full of outraged protest. Mrs. Wilbur laughed comfortably.  I've got to speak what's in my mind and you needn't put on so much dignity with your own mother. She never were like any of my other children. Louis did not reply. When her mother had waddled downstairs she slipped from her chair and knelt by the window with her head bowed on the sill. Something bitter and glad and ashamed was stirring in her. After all, her mother's course assertion was only what her own heart was suddenly crying to her in a finer way. But she would not listen to it yet. She crushed her burning face in her hands and tried to stifle her newborn gladness by the remembrance of the pain and humiliation she had passed through. Were not its lessons branded deep enough that her heart should beat like this at the thought that Mark was free again? Aunt Nan came down a week later and they met for the first time since Beatrice had gone. Mrs. Wilbur happened to be away for which they were thankful. Aunt Nan, especially so. The openly expressed curiosity and sympathy displayed by her acquaintances was getting on her nerves. She had been very crisp with some of them. They had said that Aunt Nan was not as easy going as she used to be. Though it isn't to be wondered at after Mark's hand-drums. You've heard, said Aunt Nan, not caring to pretend of her object. Yes. said Lewis. It must have been very hard for you, Aunt Nan. Me? Oh, it don't matter about me. I've been worried some, I suppose, but I needn't try to deny and to you of all folks that it's a relief that she's gone. But of course things like these leave scars, you know. It'll be some time before they wear away. I've thought for a long time myself. As for Mark, well, I don't know what she said to him, but it must have been something terrible. He's a changed boy. Boy, he ain't a boy any more. He looks as grave and stern as a man of forty. Oh, he's suffering enough and my heart aches to see him. But I can't help him any. Folks have to go through times like these on their own strength. It makes me terrible to see the look on his face, but he won't speak or let me speak and I guess silence is the best of medicine if it is sometimes hard to take. It is only natural that Mark should find this bitter, said Lewis calmly. A love like his is not easily conquered. Yes, only there's one queer thing, Lewis. I don't believe he loves her now. I don't believe that if she was to come back and beg of him on her knees to take her back that he would. Of course, you may ask why he feels so bad then. Well, I don't know. He acts brokenhearted, but it's more as if somebody or something were dead and lost to him, even in memory. I don't understand. It's all a puzzle to me. Perhaps it may be cleared up some day. Mark must drear as weird and drink his cup as others have done. I wish that we could spare him the bitterness. Said Lewis suddenly. Aunt Nan looked at her keenly and what she saw filled her with satisfaction. But we can't. She said as she rose to go. And maybe it's just as well we can't. Don't you remember that day, Lewis? Doesn't it seem like a long while ago? Yet it's only a few weeks. When are you coming up the hill to see me? Not yet. Not yet. Said Lewis hurriedly. She came close to Aunt Nan and put her arms about her neck with a kiss for the sweet old face. Aunt Nan held her to her heart, but she didn't know what to say. Aunt Nan held her to her heart and patted the glossy head. No, not yet. But some day she whispered. So Mark in his turn had to taste the bitterness in life's cup. He drank it manfully enough, making no rye faces over it. After the night she had gone Beatrice's name never crossed his lips. To him she was as one did, more as she herself had said. The girl he loved had never existed. He had bowed down before an idol of his own creation. He went about his work day after day with dogged determination. He had no heart in it. Beatrice had not only blotted out his future, she had robbed him of his past. He could look backwards only with regret and shame. There was nothing but the dull present in which he was a silent solitary prisoner. Aunt Nan wisely kept her peace. Eager as she was to see the old relationship established between Mark and Lewis she knew that it must come if it ever came in its own good time. She schooled herself to accept the slow passage of the healing days calmly. Autumn went by and in its turn winter. But when spring came again to Ruth again, sprinkling violets along the lanes and coaxing the tremulous green out on the Burgess Aunt Nan bestowed herself. It seemed to her that the desire of her life would never be given her unless she once more put forth her hand to take it. Her resolve not to make or meddle with Mark or Lewis was set aside by the conviction that if she did not help matters a little they would never get on at all. Sometimes Lewis came to the Hill Farm now. She did not seek or shun Mark. When they met, which was rarely, for he avoided her, she was gracious and friendly to him. But she made not the faintest effort to renew the old comradeship. Aunt Nan watching the little life drama with a keenness that lost nothing of every mood and tense sighed with impatience. Would Mark's eyes never be opened? Or was it that he was willfully blind? One evening she went to meet him in the wood lane when he came home from a day's plowing in the backlands, driving his horses with one hand and holding a cluster of purple violets in the other. At sight of the little figure waiting for him among the ferns, his face softened into the smile that only Aunt Nan ever saw.  There is a spot in the backlands that is purple of them. Aunt Nan made a cup of her hands and drank the violet fragrance gratefully. Your father always brought me the first violet Mark. You're so like him in some of your ways. She slipped her hand into his and they followed the horses down the windings of the lane. Aunt Nan, glancing up sideways, noted the stern set lines of the lips that had curved so boyishly a year ago. She sighed and Mark looked down. Tired, mother? He asked gently. No, Aunt Nan slipped at her violets to gain courage. She did not know what might follow her premeditated stirring up of sleeping dogs. Louis Wilbur was up this afternoon.  She just went home a few minutes ago. I wanted her to wait until you came, but she was in a hurry. Mark made no reply. He looked straight before him down the fern-fringed lane. Aunt Nan spoke sharply. Mark, I don't think you are treating Louis right. You slight her and shun her and it hurts her. Why aren't you friendly with her used to be? Mark spoke with an effort that sent the blood darkly to his face. When a man has made a fall of himself in a woman's eyes he doesn't greatly care to look in them to find her contempt of him, mother. Aunt Nan flashed out at him suddenly. Mark, aren't you ever going to get over that, that fully of yours? I believe she looked at her flushed, reproachful face gently. No, mother. I'm not. I never frittered after her if it comes to that. I was deceived and made a fall of, and it cut to the quick. It is a hard thing for a man who has worshipped a woman as something finer than an angel to find that he has been duped. But after the first bitterness I seemed to myself like a man who has come to his senses from madness and I realized all that I had thrown away. I knew I had lost Lewis Wilbur forever. We may as well thresh this matter out now and never refer to it again. I thought I loved Lewis before Beatrice Lyle bewitched me. After Beatrice herself destroyed my ideal of her I came to know that I still loved Lewis and that not as I had before but ten times more deeply and I had lost her by my own folly. She might have cared for me once. She never will now. Do you think I can seek her friendship when it is her love I want?  Mark, you never could see the length of your nose.  That is not what you told me once before. Said Mark harshly. Well, I lied to you. Answered his mother remorsefully. Oh, Mark, I suppose you'll never believe anything I say again. But that was the only lie I ever told you in all my life and I told it for Lewis' sake. You can't see it from a woman's standpoint. Forgive me, Mark. It's the truth I'm telling you now. Lewis loved you and it nearly broke her heart when you went crazy after that. That after Beatrice. If this is true it only makes matters worse. Can't you see that, mother? If she had never loved me she might forgive me. She never can now. Oh, she can and will! exclaimed Aunt Nan, catching hold of his arm in her eagerness. Oh, Mark, you don't know, Lewis, I do. She will forgive you if you let her see that you want to be forgiven. I heard her say once, one day last fall when we were talking about a story, that she could forgive emotions juggled by fate. Those were her very words. She never says what she doesn't mean, but added Aunt Nan with her usual spice of practicality. I wouldn't leave it too long before I gave her the chance. She might find that harder to overlook than anything else. Mark made no reply and Aunt Nan kept silence. She had said her say and the only thing to do was to bide the result as best he might. To say too much might mar matter's worse than too little. Anyhow, I've done my best. She reflected wearily. If he can't spunk up enough courage now to go back to Lewis when he's dying for her, I can't help him. He's dreadful like the first to Mark. Takes things terrible to heart and broods over them until they kind of poison everything. Half an hour later Mark passed through the kitchen from his room. He walked with a lighter step and Aunt Nan noticed that he was dressed in his best. She watched him from the window until she saw him take the valley road. Then she drew a long breath of thankfulness. Surely things will go right this time, she said. Mark turned into the fur lane when he came to it and strode along with a turmoil and seething within him. He did not expect to overtake Lewis for she had left the hill-farm an hour before so that when he came upon her suddenly at a curve in the lane sitting on a boulder among the ferns, he lost his presence of mind utterly and could only stammer a confused greeting as she rose. She was dressed in white with some of Aunt Nan's wine-rid geraniums at her belt and she wore over her shoulders a pale yellow scarf of some light silk that fell almost to the hem of her dress or weavered about her in the winds that came in intervals along the lane.  Mark looked at her and thought Lyle's baby-face with a pang of self-contempt you didn't expect to find me here she said smilingly well I've loitered in a shamefully lazy way this lane has always a charm for me I love its shadows and its silences this evening is so perfect too it has made me forget how long I have been on my way Mark fell into step by her side and they went silently down the road the balm of the furs rained on them through the cool green dusk above here and there the woods broke away to let in glimpses of saffron sky and rosy clouds the tang of the trampled ferns smote upon the moist air and they heard the gurgle of a spring that was born under the furs and fed the valleybrook each thought of their many walks through the same wood it was vocal with old memories Mark cast vainly about in his mind for words he could find nothing to say doubt and fear assailed him again she could not care for him if she had ever loved him his behaviour must have killed her love she must despise him and how lovely and desirable she was in her magnificent womanhood what a fall he had been to shut his eyes to this and let his infatuation for a woman not worthy to breathe the same air with her lead him where it would Lewis's heart was beating painfully under her calmness she had waited very patiently and if her heart's desire was now to be granted her it would not have been spoiled by any unmaidenly grasping on her part but she was ready to forgive him fully and freely there was in her nature no small vanity which must be satisfied before it could pardon when they came to the sagging little gate where the lane joins the main road she turned to him as if she expected him to come no further it had always been their spot in childhood Mark opened the gate and held it as she passed through he put his hand on her arm Lewis may I go the rest of the way with you he said imploringly it was too dark for him to see the glory that flashed over her face if you wish to she answered steadily Mark knew that he was forgiven he closed the gate with his hand they went down the road to the valley together later on they had much to say to each other but now the silence was too beautiful and eloquent to be marred by so much as a word end of section 29 section 30 of uncollected short stories of L.M. Montgomery this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain of information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Mike Overby Midland Washington uncollected short stories of L.M. Montgomery by Lucy Mod Montgomery a Platonic experiment between a man and a woman of anything like equal age and ordinary attractiveness a platonic friendship is impossible thanks to the laws of nature Dr. Dallas having made this statement looked around the table with a tentative ruffling of his plumage as if he challenged anyone to an argument on the subject the majority of the borders did not notice his remark they were all hungry and indifferent to Mr. Dallas's opinions he was not popular among them being a middle-aged man with a cynical turn and pessimistic views of life two faces however were turned protestingly towards him Howard Elliott's friendship had evoked Dallas's remark and a girls who sat opposite Elliott and flashed a scornful look at Dallas out of her brilliant hazel eyes you don't agree with me Ms. Chester? he remarked affably no the monosyllable was defiant Dallas laughed provokingly and shrugged his shoulders and you? he asked turning to Howard Elliott I certainly disagree returned the young man warmly in platonic friendship why should it not be possible? I am tired of this outworn idea that a perfect friendship untinged by love is impossible between a man and a woman it is sheer nonsense have you ever proved it to be sheer nonsense? asked Dallas imperturbably I have I have one woman friend at least for whom I have the most sincere and friendly affection there is not a shadow of sentiment in our relations with each other and I know many other instances is the lady in question young and pretty? questioned Dallas prudently avoiding the vagueness of the quote-unquote other instances Howard Elliott flushed impatiently she is not very old? he answered hesitatingly and I have never thought about her looks Dallas laughed aggravatingly I thought as much don't look so savage my young friend by the time you have reached my age you will have proved the truth of the trite proverb that things are not what they seem I grant that under some circumstances such as yours a true and sincere friendship is possible between a man and a woman please remember the limitations of my first remark I have been a participant in some of your so called platonics in my day too they invariably lead to something else this is simply in the nature of things and you couldn't change it if you tried in most instances the culmination of a platonic friendship is marriage or divorce miss chester there is a very decided tilt to that chin of yours that leads me to infer that my eloquence is not convinced you it has not indeed said mad chester there is such a thing as platonic friendship that does not end in love have you ever proved it personally no but I believe in it thoroughly illogical very I daresay you do believe in all that pretty nonsense it is pretty I believed in it once myself but time will teach you better mad chester and Howard Elliott exchanged glances of baffled protest against his calmly assertive tone the latter looked across the table at his vis-a-vis with new interest he seldom felt interested in girls he was too busy for that he thought he was a journalist by profession and his belief in platonics amounted to a fad he had written a series of articles on the subject two years before which had attracted some attention and had thoroughly convinced himself no one else but he did feel a certain interest in mad chester born doubtless of their mutual theory after tea he followed her out to the garden and sat down by her under the maples do you like Mr. Dallas? he asked I detest him answered Madge calmly he seems to assume that he must be right about everything and everyone else in the wrong and it is so impossible to argue with him he puts you down some way and then looks around with that maddening smile as much as to say has any other person anything to say on the subject before I close it if so let him speak now or forever hold his peace Elliott smiled there is a great deal of latent antagonism towards Mr. Dallas and me he said I hope he has not converted you to his heretical doctrines regarding platonic friendship no indeed I should do like to prove him in the wrong for once let us do it how can we? let us be friends Elliott, calmly, let us have the courage of our convictions and squelch Dallas effectually Madge Chester tapped her round chin reflectively with the tips of her slender fingers it's not a bad idea if it is practicable but I'm not sure of its success don't you thoroughly believe in your own theories then? oh I didn't mean that cried Madge, blushing scarlet what I meant was could we be real friends? we may not like each other well enough on closer acquaintance and friendship wouldn't be possible if we didn't no but I think we will at least there's no harm in trying will you? Madge Chester never took long to make up her mind I will she answered frankly holding out her hand they shook hands gravely thus is our compact signed and sealed said Elliott we are to be firm friends without a shadow of sentiment or romantic nonsense about our friendship for the noble motive of ultimately discomforting Mr. Dallas well we ought to find pleasure in it too of course Dallas is a motive it is delightful to think of putting him down for once said Madge vindictively it will be a great satisfaction want will be a great satisfaction questioned Dallas with lazy interest as he came around a clump of lilac bushes he squared his back against a maple tree and looked at the two conspirators quizzically I am neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet he went on yet I think I can tell what you two have been planning out here you came here hotly indignant with my humble self for having trampled on your pet platonic corns you have doubtless abused me freely in a well bred way and you have ended up with a formal compact to exploit your theories in your own intercourse and thereby completely crush me am I right I believe you have been eavesdropping said Madge sharply my dear young lady I never eavesdrop I am only mapping out your probable line of conduct from my general knowledge of human nature I was right it seems well I give you both credit for sincerity a rare virtue in this posing age your experiment is very interesting don't you want an umpire though shall I act in that capacity I promise to be strictly impartial if when you leave here you can both say to me in all good faith we have been close friends we like each other we enjoy each other's society we are thoroughly congenial but we are no more than friends and have no desire to be more if you can say this I will haul down my flag and surrender unconditionally if on the contrary there will be no contrary interrupted Miss Chester coolly I'm sure you believe so but we must consider all possibilities if you cannot say that to me I will expect you to admit defeat honestly is this to be our understanding yes said Elliot promptly you see matters from your own standpoint of course and are incapable of judging them from ours meanwhile let us drop all reference to the subject extract number one from Howard Elliot's journal it is a curious compact I do not know how it will succeed Dallas peaked us into it yet I think I rather like her she is a college student and somewhat imbued with the new womanhood I fancy she is very pretty seems like a jolly good-hearted girl clever enough to be entertaining and companionable but not too clever there is no nonsense about her why should not this summer friendship of ours be a mutually pleasant and profitable one I am getting to be rather much of a recluse this girl will rouse me out of myself and bring me into closer touch with my fellow creatures she has remarkably fine eyes I could not help noticing them this evening in color they are like the sunlit current of a woodland brook flashing over tawny pebbles but their expression is quite indescribable I don't think I ever noticed a woman's eyes before extract number two from Madge Chester's letter to a college chum you will say it is very absurd of course but you know me of old also my everlasting theories as you are pleased to call them well I am going to test them I have no fear of the result I like Mr. Elliot thoroughly he is such a straightforward young fellow and not a bit spoiled or conceited there is a great deal of fun in him too though in general he is quiet and reserved he is not at all handsome but has such an interesting face in such brilliant piercing steel blue eyes he is immensely clever and writes a great deal I believe or at least Mr. Dallas says so we talk shop most of the time I hold forth on college life and coeducation and he discourses on journalism how you and the girls will laugh over this and say isn't that like Madge but indeed my dear there is a method to my badness I want to establish my theories to my own satisfaction as well as other peoples besides it is really nice to have a friend you can be chummy with without his thinking that you are throwing yourself at his head extract number three from Howard Elliot's journal Ms. Chester and I are getting on famously our friendship is perfect I never met a woman like her before she is never the same twice yet she is always charming the spice of infinite variety she is always nice to the full we walk and row and ride together we discuss our work and our ambitions she is very clear-sighted and sympathetic a friend worth making and keeping that freakish idea of mine has born unexpectedly good fruit as unaccountable impulse often do when followed out yet there is not a trace of nonsense about our friendship it is absolutely sexless her beauty is a fresh surprise to me every time I see her she looked like a dream vision tonight we will go to the hills tomorrow extract number four from Madge Chester's journal I don't like Mr. Elliot as well as I thought I did he behaved hatefully today we all went for a row across the harbor and coming home through the dike meadows he walked the whole way with Emma Hawley who is a regular flirt she has been doing her best to attract him all along and is simply furious with me because she fancies I am her rival I don't want to monopolize him of course but he might have looked out now and then I was enjoying myself of course I don't care it was not my suggestion that we should be comrades this summer and he is entirely welcome to Ms. Hawley's society if he prefers it perhaps he regrets that he did not choose her for a friend instead of me I shall be very cool to him tomorrow he need not think he is indispensable to my enjoyment he gathered a bunch of poppies for her too after that of course I wasn't going to wear the blue bells he had given me before we went I threw them away and replaced them with some field daisies Mr. Dallis gave me I watched him after that Mr. Elliott I mean to see if he noticed but apparently he did not I suppose he is getting tired of our friendship and we were just beginning to have such nice times Mr. Dallis asked me if Mr. Elliott and I had quarreled that man doesn't make me so cross extract number five for Mr. Elliott's journal I cannot imagine what I have done to offend Ms. Chester I certainly have offended her for she has treated me very coolly since yesterday she wore Dallis's flowers coming home from the shore what business is he to give her flowers and threw mine away Dallis hung around her all day too she may be tired of our experiment yet I never thought her capricious perhaps Dallis has been saying something to her I must find out he shall not come between us if I can help it what pleasant companionable days we have passed my theory is perfectly correct platonic friendship is possible but why is she angry at me extract number six from Madge Chester's letter to a college chum this summer is passing so quickly in another month college will reopen I have had a delightful time thanks to Mr. Elliott I knew you would tease me about him why can't you be sensible Mary I assure you we are nothing more than the best of friends we had a tiff last week I felt annoyed because I felt sure he was trying to get up a flirtation with that odious Emma Hawley and I suppose my imagination ran away with me we are all right again now I shall be very sorry when he goes he is only another fortnight here he is very clever and I am sure will succeed in life I hope he will Mr. Dallis is as cynical as ever I imagine he is a little peaked that Mr. Elliott and I have held our point so well extract number seven from Mr. Dallis's notebook I can generally see through a grindstone when there is a hole in it but some people in this establishment cannot the little platonic comedy still goes on Ms. Chester is serenely confident that she has proved her point and is gloating over my anticipated downfall yet one day when her co-theorist walked home from the shore with Ms. Hawley blonde, soft-eyed, brainless different stamp from Ms. Chester altogether my lady gross very pale and dignified adopts the cool and severely classical air wears my daisies and throws Elliott's bluebells spitefully into the brook purely platonic of course but I fancy Elliott had to work his way back into favor and he fidgeted a good deal into the process yet he too is blind what fools these mortals be extract number eight from Madge Chester's journal Mr. Elliott goes away next week and I shall miss him very much we have had such a pleasant summer he has seemed very quiet lately I wonder if he will ask me to write to him it will be lonely here when he goes but I shall not be here much longer myself I long now to get back to college and to my work I have a dreadful headache I wonder what is the matter with me these days I feel rather blue tonight no sooner does one make a good true friend whom one really values than one loses him again extract number nine from Howard Elliott's journal I go tomorrow I cannot understand why I feel so depressed about it I shall heartily regret to part with Miss Chester our friendship has been so pleasant I shall ask her to correspond with me I do not want to drop out of her life altogether I had a letter from the editor of the caterer today he wants me to write an article on platonic friendship for his magazine but I don't think I will I have lost active interest in the subject of course I believe in it just as firmly as ever but it is getting stale besides nothing can be really proved what is true for one person might not be for another end of extract nine match Chester was standing under the maples at sunset looking steadily and unseeingly at the masses of scarlet poppies before her Howard Elliott came jauntily across the lawn and said with overdone carelessness shall we go for a walk in the dike meadows Miss Chester? a pleasant finale to a pleasant vacation afterwards we must interview Mr. Dallas the hour of our triumph is approaching it is a comfort to think he will have to own himself in the wrong isn't it he did not explain why comfort should be needed nor did she ask they walked silently across the lawn between the ranks of flaunting poppies Dallas swinging in a hammock watched them amusedly as they passed on to the dike meadows blossom sown and sunset lit neither spoke until they came to a low straggling fence half buried in golden rod and faint purple asters in the cool air the dusk was struggling with early moonrise over the meadows sweet and far away came a refrain of a song sung by some gay boaters on the harbor Elliott laid his hand over the girls as it rested white and small on a mossy rail I suppose we shall not see each other again for some time he said with studied composure I am sorry this has been a I have been our experience has been a pleasant one I think oh yes said madge hurriedly she turned away that he might not see the quiver of her lips you must not forget me all together madge he went on nervously we will correspond will we not I shall want to hear how you are getting along at college and I promise to write the most interesting letters about my work that I possibly can perhaps we will meet again next summer it is not likely answered madge faintly I expect to travel abroad next summer there was another long silence at last madge turned with a little shiver it is chilly here I think I had better go in you can tell Mr. Dallas yourself I don't care about meeting him my head aches Elliott held out his hand goodbye he said goodbye said the girl with a little choke in her voice two irrepressible tears fell over her burning cheeks Elliott reached out wildly for her other hand oh I will say it I love you I love you I don't care what Dallas or anyone says only what you say don't say that you can't care for me extract 10th and last from Mr. Dallas's notebook the pretty little comedy has had its inevitable ending the two platonic friends went off for a long stroll tonight thinking as if they were going to be hanged and came back radiant and shame faced I let them down easy and spared them the necessity of owning up bless you my children I remarked paternally Ms. Chester pouted and looked pretty she is an independent little post that and could I fancy make it hot for Elliott if he tries platonics with anybody else I don't think you will however I imagine he is cured of that for good and all I don't need stuff and nonsense end of section 30 Rose's Girl a story of commencement days first published in New England Homestead June 18th 1904 and Rose loosened her faded hat strings they had served as hair ribbons for Ida two summers ago and leaned wearily back in her creaky rocker the walk to the store had been a long one and she was warm and tired Deary me she said patting the parcel in a capacious print lap tenderly I'm all head up Belle Gamble gave a little scornful sniff as she looked at the parcel she was Aunt Rose's cousin by marriage and lived across the road from her she had seen Aunt Rose coming over the bridge and had hurried in a gawk with curiosity to find out what had taken her to the village on such a day Belle had her own suspicions that Aunt Rose was up to some more foolishness about Ida and if it were so Belle had made up her mind to speak out plainly to her she was a tall fair slaternly woman with a general air of shrewishness about her secretly Aunt Rose disliked her and when Aunt Rose disliked anyone there was always a good reason for it no wonder said Belle sharply taint fit day for you to walk to the store whatever took you oh I went across lots and took it easy said Aunt Rose it don't hurt me a mind to get a little warm it's just because I'm so big and fat don't you ever get big in fat Belle to be sure you don't look much like it now besides she went on I had to go to the store today I couldn't put it off any longer I had to get Ida's dress for her commencement I'd ordered gone last week but my room it is took hold on me in how I made it out today Abner Calwell had some real handsome organdy's in and I picked the prettiest one far as I could see my girl shall have the best Belle smiled sourly as Aunt Rose untied the parcel and she frowned darkly at the dainty contents thereof a cream tinted organdy with a pale pink blossom spray in it Aunt Rose held it up proudly like it Belle I guess it'll be good enough for Ida if she'll think so was Belle's sarcastic rejoinder I was always partial to pink said Aunt Rose admiring the pattern and ignoring Belle's slur it suits Ida them dark eyes and curls of hers become pink now I tell ya I got lots of lace and ribbon to trim it with too see and Lucy Manning's coming tomorrow morning to make it up won't Ida be tickled when she gets it? I didn't lay out to be able to manage the last time she was home and she thought she'd have to wear her old white muslin for commencement she felt real bad about it but not a mite worse than I did I was more than thankful when old Miss White had that extra weaving for me it just paid for the dress I think I can see my dearie girl on the platform along with all them other girls and look on the sweetest of them all are you going in to see her graduate? asked Belle mentally calculating the cost of the dress Aunt Rose gurgled with enjoyment goodness yes I couldn't let my girl graduate without being there to see could I now? do you think she'll want to see you? said Belle maliciously Aunt Rose opened her big brown eyes in mild surprise said Belle's acrid tone wow of course she answered well I don't then said Belle shortly what's more I'm sure she won't and anybody but you would have eyes to see it Aunt Rose but you was always so ridiculous fond and proud of Ida you couldn't never see her faults plain as they were to other folks Ida will be ashamed of you if you go to see her graduate she won't want to own you among all her fine friends ah don't believe it cried Aunt Rose in distress well it's true why when any of us goes to town and meets her on the street she'll hardly as much as nod to us last time she was walking with two stylish girls and she pretended she didn't see me at all she's a pert stuck up thing she isn't said Aunt Rose significantly as Aunt Rose could speak and she really didn't see you that time she told me so as for her being cool to you and I don't wonder that you never was nice to her none of you you'll see you've just spoiled Ida Aunt Rose ever since you took her out of the asylum slaving and toiling to dress her better than need be and educating her to look down on you ashamed of you that's what she is and you'll find it out when you go to commencement I don't believe Ida is ashamed of me said Aunt Rose with tears in her eyes oh very well when she was home last summer wasn't she always trying to fix you up stylish and get you to stop wearing that old brown hat tell me that Aunt Rose it was because she was fond of me and wanted me to look nice sobbed Aunt Rose I'm such a homely thing has she ever asked you to go and see her graduate demanded Belle no she ain't admitted Aunt Rose falteringly but she added brightening up she knew there was no need why it's always been understood long ago before she ever went to the academy and all we used to talk it over won't you feel proud of me when you come to Linden and see me graduate Aunt Rose she would say that was before she went to town and got in with fine folks persisted Belle oh I don't say she won't recognize you but she'll be ashamed of you all the same she's a regular little minx you needn't say anything more about Ida Belle said Aunt Rose firing up at last you never liked her none of you good reason why she was always too purdy and smart and I reckon you ones were all jealous of her you couldn't any of you be valedictorian I calculate if Ida's proud she's got something to be proud of and Ida might have heard that she'll be ashamed of me not a might Aunt Rose sat erect and hurled her challenge up Belle as defiantly as if she believed it but after Belle had flounced off and Rose's spirit failed her Belle's shafts had stuck home it had never occurred to Aunt Rose that Ida could be ashamed of her but now she wondered that she had not thought of it herself her kind old heart was full of the poison instilled by a jealous woman she rocked back and forth in her chair miserably and the tears fell unheated over her cheeks ashamed of me perhaps she is she said aloud in a trembling voice wouldn't be any wonder another I'm a queer looking old critter and I talk as queer as I look but I never thought on it before I wouldn't disgrace Ida for her fine friends for the world but it don't seem as if I could give up going to see my girl graduate and her valedictorian the pretty deer Aunt Rose Porter had taken a little girl from the orphan asylum eleven years ago people wondered over it saying that she had hard enough work to earn a living for one let alone two they wondered still more and heartily disapproved when they saw how the girl was brought up never let to do any work but just dressed like a doll and kept at school they said Aunt Rose Porter is a foolish woman but Aunt Rose did not worry over what other people thought she loved Ida with passionate tenderness and it was her happiness to work hard that the child might have all she wanted the two had been very happy in the little riverside house with the tangle of honeysuckle and creeper over the porch and the thicket of sweetbriar beside it when Ida shot up into slim dimpled pink and white girlhood Aunt Rose sent her to the Linden Academy for two years to fit her for a teacher it cost the old woman more than anyone ever knew of planning and skimping and hard work to do it but it was done and well done Ida had lacked for nothing although Aunt Rose had dressed and patched and faded clothes and lived on the poorest food for two years to manage it one thing she had looked forward to as a reward to see Ida graduate it would repay her for everything and now Belle had spoiled it all everything seemed to have gone out of life for Aunt Rose Ida was ashamed of her the girl she had loved and toiled and sacrificed for was lost to her forever yet she would not glance at a thought of blame for Ida it ain't any wonder she reflected over and over again as she helped Lucy Manning sew the lace on yards and yards of foamy ruffles for Ida's dress but oh dear I wish I hadn't found it out I wish Belle had held her tongue I don't know what to do I feel as if it would kill me to give up going to see her graduate but I don't want to disgrace her or make her feel bad the poor dearie when the dress was finished Aunt Rose sent it to town by a neighborly chance she pinned a little envelope along its dainty folds there was a two dollar bill in it for Ida to get her commencement bouquet Aunt Rose had intended to take her a bunch of the pink roses from the bush at the gate as they had once planned long ago but those roses were funny old fashioned things and perhaps Ida wouldn't like them Ida sent back a little verbal message of thanks by the neighbor she was delighted with her dress but too busy with exams to write she said the academy examinations were over but those of the students who intended to teach were taking the normal school examinations for teacher certificates Ida said nothing about Aunt Rose going in to see her graduate and the older woman's heart felt an added bitterness she had been secretly hoping all along that Ida would specially mention her coming after all but I must see her graduate Aunt Rose told herself that night in her forlorn solitude forlorn now since it was stripped of all the pleasant hopes and anticipations which had once peopleed it for her I'll put on my old black veil and sit way back and never go near her then she won't have to speak to me before folks and nobody'll know I just must see her on commencement day Aunt Rose dressed herself for her 12 mile drive to town she looked at herself in the glass with great dissatisfaction her black dress had been turned and pressed so often that it was very shabby indeed her little straw bonnet looked flatter and doubtier than it had ever looked before and the fingers of her only pair of kid gloves were worn quite white I didn't know I looked so shabby said Aunt Rose with a sigh I never took thought on it before I must look awful queer to Ida and no mistake ain't only the clothes no other I'm so big and orner looking with my flat red cheeks if I was only thin and gentile looking like old Mrs. Seaman down the river it wouldn't be so bad I feel heartbroken and I look as if I was laughing at everything and everybody there ain't a might of pleasure in the day for me, not a might and I've looked forward to it for two years some very bitter tears welled up into Aunt Rose's brown eyes as she tied the rusty old black veil over her face she had hired Henry Martin's horse and buggy to drive to Linden once she had planned to go early in the morning hunt up Ida at her boarding house and go with her to the academy but she would not have done that for the world now she would not disgrace her girl she drove to town after her early dinner and put her horse up at Henry Martin's brother then she tattled forlornly down to the academy and crept into a seat at the far end of the assembly room the room was already quite full Aunt Rose noticed what a stylish audience it was and how well the women were dressed in front of her a big handsome woman with purple violets in her bonnet and a black lace scarf across her shoulders was talking to a friend beside her she had come to town to see her niece graduate and Aunt Rose listening discovered that the niece was Jenny Sterling Ida's most intimate friend oh no wonder Ida would be ashamed of poor old Aunt Rose Porter who wove and scrubbed for a living and never had a bonnet with violets in it in her life Aunt Rose put up her fat brown hand and furtively wiped away some tears wished I could stop crying she thought and discussed wish I'd stayed home no I don't neither but oh ain't it hard then the doors on either side of the platform opened and in marched the graduates the boys on one side and the girls on the other and took their seats Aunt Rose looked with a swelling heart for Ida yes, there she was in the front row of chairs wearing the organdy dress it became her bright young beauty deliciously one glance was enough to convince Aunt Rose that her girl was as well dressed as any there and a little thrill of triumph swept over her in spite of her heartbreak how pretty and sweet my deary girl looks she thought she is the prettiest girl of them all bless her what she looking over the folks so anxious for appears she's hunting for someone can't be me my goodness if she ain't coming down here that was just what Ida was doing after her entrance she had looked longingly over the gay audience then her eyes had fallen on the homely figure looking back by the door in spite of the screening veil she knew Aunt Rose at once and her pretty face brightened with delight she gave a little impulse of spring from her chair tripped down the platform steps and hurried down the aisle the next moment Aunt Rose felt a pair of lace ruffled arms about her there was a warm kiss on her cheek over the black veil and Ida was whispering to her if you old darling where have you been I was looking for you all the morning and I didn't know what to make of it when you didn't come I was so worried for fear you were sick or something what if you got on that horned veil for do take it off I'm starving for a good look at your beloved face oh I've been so busy there now oh you lovely auntie it's good to see you again but you mustn't stay back here you won't be able to see or hear half come there's a good seat up front let me take you to it oh you must hurry dear for I must get back to my place Aunt Rose was really too bewildered to protest before she knew it Ida had whisked her to the front seat pinned a big rose on her dress and was back on the platform smiling at her the opening numbers of the program and Rose didn't hear at all she was too happy for anything beyond simple blissful existence Ida wasn't ashamed of her after all not a bit of it why she had sought her out before all these fine folks my own dearie girl murmured Aunt Rose oh if that veil could just have seen her when Ida came out to read her valedictory and Rose fairly glowed with radiant pride especially when her girl gave a chummy little nod at her before beginning to read it was pretty much like any other valedictory but Aunt Rose thought it the most wonderful piece of literature ever penned that commencement was the golden hour of Aunt Rose's life when Ida stepped forward to receive the Governor's gold medal for general class proficiency Aunt Rose was fairly subbed with joy a lady beside her rich in silvery gray silk and a toll bonnet looked at her with a smile it makes us old folks feel young again to see our little girls doing so well doesn't it she whispered in a friendly tone I've won up there myself but yours has carried off the highest honors she is so sweet and pretty too you may well be proud of her I am whispered Aunt Rose back bless her she is just the girl to be proud of ma'am when all was over Ida came flying down to Aunt Rose again her eyes dancing in her cheeks crimson with delight and excitement oh Aunt Rose she cried I have a thousand things to tell you this dress oh it was so sweet of you to send it I know it cost you too much but I'll make it up to you when I go teaching and you didn't bring me any roses I was so disappointed I wanted to carry those dear old pink roses of ours I didn't spend your two dollars for flowers no indeed Jenny gave me some of hers but come come oh Mrs. Sterling how do you do this has been sport or Aunt Rose you've heard me speak of her Jenny is looking for you Mrs. Sterling we six girls who have been such chums are giving a little lunch in for our mothers and aunts it's in Jenny's room across the street and hurry up for I'm awfully hungry come Aunt Rose darling they had a gay delightful little lunch in Jenny Sterling's pretty room Aunt Rose was the only shabby person present but nobody minded that a bit and neither did she Mrs. Sterling praised Ida to her and the lady in the tulb on it who turned out to be the mayor's wife ate from the same plate as did Aunt Rose for by some mischance the girls did not have plates enough to go around but after all the best time for Aunt Rose was when she and Ida drove home together through the sweet dewy summer dusk and the girl with her head on the motherly shoulder poured out the story of all her triumphs and plans and hopes when they turned in at the little gate among the roses Ida gave Aunt Rose's arm a squeeze oh it's good to be home again with you aunty there's nobody like you I was just sick with disappointment this morning when you didn't come by the way, what prevented you oh I couldn't get away any earlier dearie said Aunt Rose she was very much afraid that this was a fib but she would have died before she told Ida the real reason my dearie girl she mustn't ever know I doubted her and Rose said to herself as she took Henry Martin's horse and she said my dearie girl end of section 31 recording by T. J. Burns section 32 of uncollected short stories of L. M. Montgomery this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Zarina Silverman Los Angeles, California uncollected short stories of L. M. Montgomery by Lucy Mod Montgomery section 32 Bessie's Dream Bessie Hill was a very forgetful little girl her intentions were good and when she did do anything she did it carefully and painstakingly but eight times out of ten she forgot all about it and it was not done at all unless mother or aunty reminded her many times one warm Saturday morning the hammock under the big trees of the garden reading a very fascinating new story book which her uncle Fred had given her on her birthday presently her mother came out and said Bessie I'm going up to Aunt Ella's to spend the day now my dear don't forget to water your flowers and feed Dick and sew up that terrible rent in the sleeve of your Muslim dress all right mother promised Bessie and she meant it she also remembered that she must rewrite her composition which had to be handed into the teacher early Monday morning but she would just finish her chapter first and that was the last Bessie thought about flowers or bird or dress or a composition during the four noon her dearest friend Edna Longworth dropped in and Bessie coaxed her to stay to lunch and spend the afternoon with her they went for a walk and they swung in the hammock and had a good old talk when Edna went home it was five o'clock and all Bessie's duties remained undone she watched Edna out of sight from the windows of her room leaving her head on the sill how dreadfully warm it was where had she left her book she must go and get it and finish her story why where was she surely this wasn't her room she was in a big gloomy apartment before her at a desk sat a grim looking personage who was certainly a man and yet bore such an odd resemblance to the old grandfather's clock which stood on the stair landing at home that Bessie felt bewildered behind him sat a row of people who grinned and winked at her and changed countenance with a rapidity that made her giddy for now they all looked like the cups and saucers of grandmother's china set and now like the series of watercolours in the hall at home in the next minute like a row of brooms dustpans and dusters at the right of the clock-like personage sat another who was busy writing and who looked just like a scribbling book presently this clerk arose bowed to the judge and jury and said may it please your lordship and gentlemen of the jury to proceed to the hearing of this case the prisoner is now before you charged with serious crimes and misdemeanours the first witness to be examined is Richard Dandy Richard Dandy, step forward the next minute a fluffy yellow canary bird fluttered forward and perched on the edge of the witness box oh Dickie cried Bessie suddenly remembering that she had forgotten to feed him all day then she paused in sheer amazement for Dick was talking in a faint chirpy voice I know the prisoner well she is my mistress she was told by her mother to be sure to feed me today but she forgot as she very often does all this long hot day I have been in my cage without one bit of food or one drop of drink as you can see my strength is almost gone and I can with difficulty speak my mistress has been guilty of great cruelty and if I had died of hunger my death would have been at her door oh Dickie I'm sorry said Bessie with a little sob but nobody paid any attention to her you may step down Richard Dandy call the next witness said the judge in a voice that was as much like the ticking of the clock as anything could be Tiger Lily called the clerk of the court his looking fellow strode forward with a gorgeous mantle of orange and crimson flung over his shoulders your lordship and gentlemen of the jury I am here to witness on behalf of all my kindred and friends in Bessie Hills Garden this morning she was told to water us but she did not do so all this hot day we have drooped and wilted in a burning sun while the earth baked about our feet many of my friends fainted and some of them may be dead we have all suffered terribly and that cruel girl is the cause of it Monday's composition called the clerk and something walked into the witness box of so odd an appearance that Bessie would have laughed had not her terror prevented it was tall and lank and white and all marked over with scratches and blots look at me said a dolerous voice and see if my appearance does not call for compassion I am Bessie Hills composition and must be handed to her teacher on Monday morning she ought to have rewritten me but she has not done so and I must go in this shocking state her teacher will write some biting criticism over me as if I did not already feel the disgrace of my position keenly enough I will suffer for her fault gentlemen of the jury I appeal to you for justice oh dear oh dear I never thought compositions could feel wailed Bessie but the composition after one contemptuous glance in her direction stalked out and its place was at once filled with the long rip from elbow to wrist in the sleeve Bessie was told to sew this rent up rustled the dress and she has not done so nobody knows what I have suffered in this mutilated condition I have been like this for a whole week just think of my feelings justice my lord and jury justice oh what are you going to do with me cried poor Bessie you'd only give me another chance I'll sew you up right now if you let me indeed I will silence in the court tipped the judge threateningly then the jury held a consultation presently the foreman arose and announced that they had come to a decision do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty? demanded the judge guilty said the foreman solemnly he looked very like a teapot broken in the hill household the previous week because Bessie had forgotten to put it in its proper place Elizabeth Hill said the judge gravely have you anything to say before sentences passed on you oh I'm so sorry sobbed Bessie if you only let me off this time I'll never forget again truly I never will please forgive me I didn't know compositions and dresses and things felt that way you knew that your canary bird had feelings and yet you left him to starve said the judge sternly this is your punishment you shall be deprived of your food for a whole day as he was you shall be left without water to drink for the same time as your flowers you shall be mutilated like your composition and finally you must wear that dress everywhere you go for the rest of the summer what a terrible punishment Bessie felt helpless on every side she saw only angry unsympathetic faces she gave a pitiful little shriek as she saw the clerk of the court advancing towards her and then dingy room stern faces judge and jury vanished and there she was sitting by the window of her own room while the old clock was ticking majestically outside her door oh it was only a dream cried Bessie with a gasp of relief but how dreadful it was she flew downstairs to the sitting room where poor dicky was twittering feebly in his cage in a few minutes he was rejoicing over a plentiful supply of food and drink then the drooping flowers in the garden were liberally watered the torn sleeve was next attended to and when Mrs. Hill came home Bessie was rewriting her composition when she had finished it on her mother's side and told her the story of her funny dream but it didn't seem very funny to me at the time she concluded I never was so frightened in my life how glad I was when I wakened up of course I know that dresses and compositions can't really feel but poor dicky can and perhaps the flowers too and I was a very cruel girl dear me I can see that horrid old judge's face yet when you find me forgetting my mother just say dream and that will be enough