CHAPTER XIII of THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF PIXIE by Mrs. George D. Horne-Veysie This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. THE ACCIDENT The carton drew up on the first tableau. Joan sang appropriate words in the sweetest tones of her rich contralto voice. Her eyes, like those of the audience, riveted on the face of the little invalid as he lay on his truncle bed. White cheeked, bandaged, reclining. The transformation in the child's appearance was astounding. Considered as a piece of stagecraft, Joan had every reason to congratulate herself on the result. But the mother's heart felt a pang of dismay. The representation was too lifelike. Just so would the darling look if the illness were real, not imaginary. In the afternoon he had not looked so ghastly. Was the double excitement too much for his strength? Joan's eyes turned from the stage to the first row of seats, where her husband had his place. Jeffrey looked worried. His brows contracted as he watched his son. Unconsciously Joan quickened the pace of the last verse of her song. She was anxious to get to the second tableau, to see Jack sitting up, smiling, his eyes alert. The curtain fell. A low murmur from the audience swelled into somewhat forced applause. The villagers also, Joan realized, had felt the scene to be almost too realistic. Behind the scenes, Honor as nurse and Pixie as mother propped the child's back with cushions and showered kisses on his white cheeks. Smile, Jackie, smile, they cried. Now you are a getting well boy, and all the people will see you and be so pleased. Just once more, darling, and then away we go, driving off home to supper in the car. Now a big smile. The curtain rose. Jack smiled his sweet baby smile, and the audience burst into cheers of hearty relief. Everyone was smiling, not only the invalid but also the mother, the father, the neat complacent nurse. Esmeralda's voice swelled in glad content. That last scene had been horrible. Never, never again would she attempt to simulate so dreadful a reality. What a comfort to see the darling once more bonny and smiling. Half an hour more, and he would be safe in bed. The curtain fell, was lifted again in response to a storm of applause. The piano strummed out the first bars of God Save the King, and the audience, stumbling to their feet, began to join in the strain. Suddenly, startlingly, a shriek rent the air, rising shrill above the heavy chorus of voices. The piercing treble shrieks of a young child, followed by loud cries for help, and a stampede of feet behind the curtain. The music ceased. Jeffrey Hilliard and his wife rushed with one accord up the steps leading to the platform. The village doctor edged his way hurriedly through the crowded hall. The real parish nurse, wearing for the first time her new uniform, followed in his wake, and still the treble shrieks continued. The terrible, childish shrieks, the women in the audience shivered and turned pale. Master Jack, and only a moment before, he had been playing at sickness. It was ill work trifling with serious things. The pretty lamb, what could have happened? Behind the curtain, all was horror and confusion, a ghastly nightmare exaggeration of the scene, just depicted. There, on the same bed, lay Jack, writhing in torture, the bandages charred and blackened, a terrible smell of burning in the air. Bending over him in torment stood the real father and mother, coming forward with calm, capable help, came the veritable nurse. How had it happened? How? By what terrible lapse of care had the precious child been allowed to fall into danger? The mother's glance was fierce in its wrath and despair, but the explanation when it came was but too simple. Jack had been bidden to sit still in the bed until his clothes should be brought from the enjoining dressing room. But for a moment Pixie had left his side, but in that moment a child-like impatience and restlessness had asserted itself with fatal consequences. Jack had leapt up, rushed to the table, clutched at a glass of milk placed ready for his own refreshment, and in doing so had brought his bandaged head across the flame of an open candle, one of the small properties of the cottage scene. In an instant he was in flames. He threw up his little arm and the sleeve of the night-shirt caught the blaze. He ran shrieking to and fro, dodging pursuit, fighting, struggling, refusing to be held. For a moment the beholders had been too aghast for action. Then Pixie leapt for the blankets while Stannor overtook the child, tripped him up, wrapped and pressed and wrapped again, unfolded with trembling hands. It was no one's fault. No one could be blamed. Jack was old enough to understand and obey, was proverbially docile and obedient. Under the same circumstances at home he would have been left without a qualm. The unusual circumstances had created an unusual restlessness not to be anticipated. Even at that bitter moment Joan realized that if it was a question of blame she herself was at fault in having allowed the child to take part in the tableau against her husband's better judgment. A smaller nature might have found relief in scattering blame wholesale, but there was a generosity in Irish Esmeralda's nature which lifted her above the temptation. In the midst of her anguish she spared a moment to comfort Pixie by a breathless, not your fault, before she became unconscious of everything but the moaning figure on the bed. The treatment of Jack's burns was completed with praiseworthy expedition. The local chemist flew on winged feet to his shop in the village street whence he brought back all that was required. Nurse and doctor sent away the relatives and worked with swift tender fingers, and presently a swathed motionless figure was carried out to an impromptu ambulance, fitted up inside the great car while the late audience stood masked together in the street, looking on silent and motionless. Silent as to speech, but from every heart in that crowd went up a cry to God, and every mother in the village knelt that night beside her bed and prayed with tears for the life of little Jack Healyard and for the support and comfort of his mother and father. Jack lay motionless in the darkened room, a tiny form outlined beneath the bedclothes. On the pillow was a swath of bandages with barely an inch between to show the small scarred face. The night before, with tossing curls flushed cheeks and curving coral lips, he had lain a picture of childish beauty at the side of which his parents' hearts had glowed with tenderness and pride, as they paid their good night visit. He looks flushed, all this rehearsing is exciting. I shall be glad when the tabloids are over, Jeffrey had said, and Joan had whispered back ardently. But so lovely, if he looks like that tomorrow, and this was tomorrow, and there on the bed lay Jack, shorn, blinded, tortured, a marble image that moaned and moaned. Through the night, telephone and telegraph had been busy, summoning the most skillful aid. Here at least was one blessing of wealth that the question of expense need never be considered. This man for eyes, that man for skin, a third for shock to the nerves. The cleverest nurses, the newest appliances, the wonderful wires summon them each in turn. Throughout the night, motorcars whirled up the drive, tall men in top coats, nurses in cloaks and bonnets dismantled and passed into the house. Mysterious cases were hurried up back stairways.  It was the first time they had been alone together since the accident, and when the door closed behind them, Joan glanced at her husband with a quivering fear.  Jeffrey, will you ever forgive me? For all answer he held out his arms, the old look of love was in his eyes, the old beautiful softness. There was no bitterness in his look, no anger, not the faintest shadow of blame. Dearest, don't. We both suffer. We must keep strong. We must help each other. Jeff, you warned me. You said it would be bad. It was against your wish. It's my fault. Darling, darling, don't make it worse.  No one could have foreseen. I feared for excitement only. There was no thought of danger. We have enough to bear, sweetheart. Don't torture yourself needlessly. It's my doing. It's my punishment. I brought it about. I've been cold and selfish and ungrateful. I had so much I ought to have been so thankful, but I was discontented. I made you wretched. God gave me a chance. She pushed him away with frenzied hands and paced wildly up and down the room. A chance of salvation by happiness, and I was too mean, too poor to take it. Jeff, do you remember that poem of Stevenson's, The Celestial Surgeon? They have been rinking in my head all night, those last lines, those dreadful lines. I was obdurate. All the blessings which had been showered upon me left me dead. It needed this darting pain to stab my dead heart wide awake. She repeated the words with an emphasis, a wildness which brought an additional furrow into Jeffrey's brow. He sighed heavily and sank down on a corner of the sofa. All night long, body and mind had been on the rack. He was chill, faint, weary to death. The prospect of another hysterical scene was almost more than he could endure. Yet, through all his heart yearned over his wife, for he realized that great as was his own sorrow, hers was still harder to bear. He might reason with her till doomsday. He might prove over and again that for the night's catastrophe she was as free from blame as himself, yet Esmeralda, being Esmeralda, would turn her back on reason and persist in turning the knife in her own wound. Speech failed him, but the voiceless prayer of his heart found an answer, for no words that he could have spoken could have appealed to his wife's heart as did his silence and the helpless sorrow of his face.  Jeff, it's so hard, for I was trying. In my own foolish way I was trying to please you. I may have been hasty, I may have been rash, but I did mean to do right. I did try. I've loved you all the time, Jeff, but I was spoiled. You were too good to me. My nature was not fine enough to stand it. I presumed on your love.  You said yourself that I had worn you out. It killed me, Jeff, to think you had grown tired. Joan, darling, let's forget all that. I've been at fault too. There were faults on both sides, but we have always loved each other. The love was there just as surely as the sun is behind the clouds, and now we need our love. I'm worn out, dear. I can't go through this if you fail me. Barry the past. Forget it. You are my wife. I am your husband. We need each other. Our little child. They clung together, weeping. In each mind was a great, or shattering dread, but the dread was not the same. The father asked of himself, Would the boy die? The mother. Would he live? Blinded? Mamed? Crippled? The door opened.  Pixie had seen the entwined arms, the heads pressed together, and realized that she was not needed. She crept away and sat alone, watching the slow dawn. The verdict of the specialists brought no lessening of the strain. It was too soon to judge. The shock was severe, and it was a question of strength holding out. Too soon to talk about the eyes, that must be left. There were injuries, no doubt, but in the present condition of inflammation and collapse it was only possible to wait. And to wait was, to the distracted mother, the most unbearable torture she could have had to endure. The great house was quiet as the grave. The three guests had departed. Little Jeff had been carried away by the vicar's wife to the refuge of her own full, healthful nursery. The boy was shocked and silenced by the thought of his brother's danger, but at five years of age a continuance of grief is as little to be expected as desired and nothing could be left to chance. A cry beneath the window, a sudden unexpected noise, might be sufficient to turn the frail balance. Pixie was alone, more helplessly achingly alone than she had been in her life. The doors of the sick room were closed against her. Joan had no need of her. Joan wanted Jeffrey, Jeffrey only, Jeffrey alone to herself. Even Bridgie's telegraphed offer had been refused. Not now, no, don't let her come. Later on, as Maralda said, and turned restlessly away, impatient of even the slight interruption, if it had been an ordinary middle-class house wherein sudden illness brings so much strain and upset, Pixie would have expended herself in service and have found comfort in so doing. But in the great ordered house, all moved like a well-oiled machine. Meals appeared on the table at the ordinary hours, were carried away untouched, to be replaced by others equally tempting, equally futile. Banks of flowers bloomed in the empty rooms. Servants flitted about their duties. There was no stir, no stress, no overwork, no need at all for a poor little sister-in-law. Nothing for her to do but wander disconsolately, from room to room, from garden to garden, to weep alone, and pour out her tender heart in a passion of love and prayer.  Leave us, Jack. God have pity on as Maralda. She's his mother, her beloved son. Must he go? The silent house felt like a prison. Pixie opened a side door and crept out into the garden. The sun was shining cloudlessly. The scent of flowers hung on the air. The birds sang blithely overhead. To a sorrowful heart there seemed something almost brutal in this indifference of nature. How could the sun shine when a little innocent human soul lay suffering cruel torture in that upper room? Pixie made her way to her favorite seat at the end of a long straight path, bordered on each side by square-cut hedges of ewe. On the north side the great bush had grown to a height of eight or ten feet, with the width almost as great. On the southern side the hedge was kept trimmed to a level of four feet to allow a view of the sloping park. For two hundred yards the path lay straight as a die between those grand old hedges, occasionally a peacock strutted proudly along its length, trailing its tail over the gravel, and then the final touch of picturesqueness was given to the scene. But even the approach of an ordinary humdrum human had an effect of dignity, of importance, in such old world surroundings. It gratified Pixie's keen sense of what it dramatically termed a situation to place herself in this point of vantage and act the part of audience. And today, though no one more interesting than a gardener was likely to appear, she yet made instinctively for the accustomed place. The somber green of the ewe was more in accord with her mood than the riot of blossom in the gardens beyond, and she was out of sight of those terrible upper windows. At any moment, as it seemed, a hand from within might stretch out to lower those blinds. Could one live through the moment that saw them fall? Pixie leaned back in her seat and lived dreamily over the happenings of the last three days. The morning after the accident the three visitors had made haste to pack and depart in different directions. Honor and Robert Carr to town, Stannervon to friends at the other side of the county. Honor had relied on Robert's escort, but he had hurried off by the nine o'clock train, excusing himself on the score of urgent business, which fact added largely to the girl's depression. It was four o'clock. All day long Pixie had been alone, unneeded, unobserved, for Joan refused to leave the nursery floor even for meals, and Jeffrey remained by her side. Looking back over the whole course of her life the girl could not remember a time when she had been so utterly thrown on herself. Always there had been someone at hand to love, to pity, to demand. At school, at the time of her father's death, there had been a bevy of dear girlfriends, saintly Margaret, spectacled Kate, Clara of the high forehead and long upper lip, Lottie, pretty and clever, each vying with the other to minister to her needs. Pixie followed in thought the history of each old friend. Margaret had become a missionary and had sailed for far off China. Clara was mistress in a high school. Lottie lived in India married to a soldier husband. Kate was domiciled as governess in Scotland. All were far away, all engrossed in new interests, new surroundings. Later on in Pixie's own life a lonely time had come when she had been sent to Paris to finish her education in the home of the dear school Mademoiselle.  But how good they had been to her, Mademoiselle and her dear old father! How wise! How tactful above all! How kind!  It appeared, however, by after-accounts that he was barely fifty, which Dick Victor insisted was an age of comparative vigor. Quite a suitable match, he had pronounced it, but Pixie obstinately withheld her approval. Mademoiselle, as Mademoiselle, would have been a regular visitor for life. Madem, the wife of a husband exigent in disposition and deeply distrustful of Le Mer, must perforce stay dutifully at home in Paris, and was therefore lost to her English friends. Ah, the years! What changes they brought! What toll they demanded! So many friends lost to sight, drifted afar by the stream of life! So many changes, so many breaks! What would the years bring next?  Mother Nature came to her aid, and laying gentle fingers on the closed lids, sealed them in sleep, her kindliest gift. Pixie slept, and round the corner of this straight green hedge, fate came marching towards her, with footsteps growing momentarily louder and louder upon the gravel path. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of the Love Affairs of Pixie by Mrs. George D. Horne Vasey This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. A Proposal of Marriage Stan Orvon stood with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, looking down upon Pixie's pale, unconscious face. He had motored thirty miles to hear the latest news of the little patient, that was certainly one reason of his visit, but a second had undoubtedly been to see once more the little patient's aunt. At the house he had been informed that Miss O'Shaughnessy was in the garden, and had trapped her without difficulty to her favorite seat. And now there she lay, poor, sweet, tired little soul, with her head tilted back against the hedge, and the wee mites of hands crossed upon her lap, an image of weariness and dejection. Stan Orvon felt within him the stirrings of tenderness and pity, with which a strong man regards weakness in any form.  A fellow wanted to take her up in his arms and comfort her, and make her smile again. A flush rose in Stan Orvon's cheeks as he recalled an incident of the night of the accident. After the hurried return to the house the three guests had sat alone, waiting in miserable suspense for the doctor's verdict, but Pixie had disappeared, no one knew where she had gone. Honors searched for her in vain, and at last, in an excess of anxiety, Stan Orvon himself took up the quest. He found her at last, perched on the wide window seat of an upper window, but all his persuasions could not move her from her post. Let me stay here, she persisted. It comforts me. I can see, I can see the lights. You mean the motor lamps as they come up the drive? No, she said simply. I mean the stars.  He crept downstairs and rang for a basin of the good warm soup with which he and his companions had been provided an hour before. When it was brought he carried the tray carefully up three long flights of stairs and besought of Pixie to drink it forthwith. She shook her head, and all his persuasions could not rouse her to the exertion, but being an obstinate young man he but set his lips and determined to succeed. This time, however, he resorted to force instead of persuasion. For having placed the tray on a corner of the sill, he filled the spoon with soup and held it determinedly to the girl's lips. Now, as she moved or made a fuss, the soup would assuredly be spilled and no living girl would voluntarily pour soup over her frock. But Pixie made no fuss. Meekly, obediently as a little bird, she opened her lips and swallowed, and swallowed again and again until the bowl was emptied of its contents. There was something so trustful and unconscious about the action that the young man felt the smart of tears in his eyes, the first tears he had known for many a long year. When the soup had been finished, he went away again and came back with a warm shawl which he had procured from a maid. In wrapping it round the quiescent figure, his hands had accidentally come in contact with hers, and finding them cold as ice, it seemed the natural thing to chafe them gently between his own. Quite natural also Pixie appeared to find the action, for the cold little fingers had tightened affectionately round his own. It was left to him to flush and feel embarrassed. Pixie remained placidly unmoved. The memory of those moments was vivid with stanor, as he stood this morning looking down on the sleeping girl. All through the three days of separation her image had pursued him, and he had longed increasingly to see her again. The tragic incidents of that long night had had more effect in strengthening his dawning love than many weeks of placid, uneventful lives. It had brought them heart to heart, soul to soul. All the little veneers and conventions of society had been thrust aside, and it seemed to him that the crisis had revealed her altogether, sweet and true. When a young man is brought suddenly face to face with death, when it is demonstrated before his eyes that the life of the youngest among us hangs upon a thread, he is in the mood to appreciate the higher qualities. Stanor had told himself uneasily that he had been too slack, that he had not thought enough about these things. The friends with whom he had consorted were mostly careless pleasure-lovers like himself. But this little girl was made of a finer clay. To live with her would be an inspiration. She would pull a fellow together.  We are all guilty of the absurdity of posing for our own benefit, and Stanor, like the rest, preferred himself to be actuated wholly by lofty motives rather than partially by the wounded pride of a young man who has just discovered that he has been managed by an elder. He sat down on the seat beside Pixie and laid his hand gently over hers. They opened automatically to receive it. Even before she lifted her lids, he felt the welcoming touch and felt it characteristic of her nature. You, she cried gladly. Mr. Vaughn, it is you. Oh, that's nice. Was I sleeping that I didn't see you come? I thought I should never sleep again. Jack can't sleep. If he slept he might get well. He is sleeping now, said Stanor quietly. A man was sent to the lodge to answer all inquiries, so that there should not be even a crunch on the path. He is sleeping soundly and well. If he sleeps on, Pixie nodded her face aglow. Oh, thank God, how I thank him. Sleep will make all the difference.  We've agonized for sleep. I could not have gone off so soundly if I hadn't known, inside, that Jack was asleep too. When you love anyone very, very much, what touches them touches you. You can't keep apart. You may as always know it with your mind. But the best part of you, the part that feels, it knows. She smiled in his face, with frank, glad eyes, but Stanor flushed and looked at the ground. Should you know it, if I were unhappy, Pixie, I should know it about you. I came this afternoon partly mostly because I knew how you'd be feeling and I thought I hoped that I might help. Does it help you, Pixie, to have me sitting beside you instead of being alone? Aught I to have calmer, stayed away. I'm glad you came. I love to have you. I've been sad before this, but I've never been sad by myself. As Maralda isn't my sister at this moment, she's just Jack's mother. And there's only one person who can help her, and that is Jack's father. Later on too will change.  Do you know what I'm waiting for? If Jack lives as soon as he's conscious and out of pain, he'll send for me. He'll want me to tell him stories, and the stronger he grows, the more stories he'll want. He'll need me then. They'll all need me. Of course they'll need you. Other people need you, Pixie, besides your relations. Why do you always go back to them? I was speaking of myself. I need you. I've felt all at sea without you these last days. I never met a girl like you before. Most girls are all one way or another, so serious that they're dull, or so empty-headed that it's a waste of time to talk to them.  A fellow could never be dull in your company, and yet you're so good. You have such sweet thoughts. You were so unselfish. So kind. Go on, cried Pixie, urgently. Go on! Her cheeks had flushed, her eyes sparkled with animation. It's the most reviving thing in the world to hear oneself praised. I could listen to it for hours. In what particular way, now, would you say that I was sweet? She peered at him, complacent, curious, blightingly unconscious of his emotions, and the young man felt a stirring of hot impatience. Insinuation and innuendo were of no use where Pixie O'Shaughnessy was concerned. An ordinary girl might send a proposal afar off, and amuse herself by an affectation of innocence, but nothing short of a plain declaration of love would convince Pixie of his sincerity. Pixie, he said suddenly, look at me. He took her hands and his, and drew her round so as to face him as they sat. Look at me, Pixie, he repeated. Look in my eyes, tell me. What do you see? Pixie looked, her own eyes wide and amazed. Her fingers stirred within his hands with a single nervous twitch and then lay still while into her eyes crept an expression of wonder and awe. I don't know. I don't know. What do I see? Love, Pixie, my love. My love for you, I've fallen in love with you, darling. Didn't you know? I knew it that last evening when we were together upstairs. I've known it better and better each day since. And today I couldn't stay away. I couldn't wait any longer. Pixie, do you love me too? Of course I love you. I help it, cried Pixie warmly. Her fingers tightened round his with affectionate pressure her eyes beamed encouragingly upon him. Never could there have been a warmer, a more spontaneous response. And yet, strange to relate, its very ardor had a chilling effect for Stanner, though young, was experienced enough to realize that it is not in this fashion that a girl receives a declaration of love from the man of her heart. He himself had struggled with shyness and agitation. He was conscious of flushed cheeks, of a hoarseness of voice, of the beating of pulses, then surely a girl taken by surprise faced suddenly with the question of such enormous import should not be less moved than he. The words died upon his lips. Involuntarily his hands relaxed their grasp. There was a moment of impossible impasse and strain. Before, with a realized effort, he forced himself to express a due delight. That makes me very happy, Pixie. I was afraid you might not care. I'm not half good enough for you. I know that, but I'll do my best. I'll do everything I can to make you happy. I'm not rich, you know, darling. We should have to live on what I can make independently of the uncle, for he has peculiar views. He doesn't wish me to marry. Mary, repeated Pixie deeply, she said, bolt upright in her seat. Her eyes suddenly alight with interest and excitement. Incredible as it might appear, Stanner realized that this was the first moment when the idea of marriage had entered her brain. Is it marrying you're talking about? You want me to marry you?  Why else should I talk about loving? I thought, she said, sighing, it was just nice feeling. It's natural for people to love each other when they live together in the same house and come through trouble. And we're both attractive. You don't need to marry everyone you love. I do, declared Stanner. When it's a girl, when it's you, I want to have you for my own and keep you to myself. How can I do that if you're not my wife? If you love me, you must want to be with me, too. Don't you, dear? Don't you wish it? Shouldn't you like to be my wife? Pixie tilted her head in her well-known attitude of consideration. I think I should, she pronounced judicially. I liked you from the moment we met and you've a good disposition. Dispositions are important in marriage and I'm domestic. You like domestic girls and it's convenient when you're poor. On how much ahead would you expect me to keep house? But that was too much for Stanner's endurance. He seized her in his strong arms and shook her with a tender violence.  I'm making you a declaration of love, kindly receive it in a suitable fashion. A fellow expects a girl to be a little sentimental and poetic and overcome. But you know, not to begin at once to talk of how much ahead? Well, I've never been proposed to before. You must excuse me if I make mistakes. I'm quite willing to be sentimental. I doed upon sentiment, declared Pixie in anxious propitiation. Let's go back to where you were talking about me. Tell me exactly what it is that you most admire. Stanner had been hoping for little adulation for himself. But he gallantly stifled his feelings and proceeded to offer the incense, which he believed would be most acceptable.  How nice, said Pixie flatly. She sat silent for a moment and then ventured tentatively. Not my personal charm? And your personal charm? Both, you've more personal charm than any girl I know. This was something like. Pixie beamed content. At this moment she felt really engaged and agreed rapturously with all the encomiums which she had heard given to this happy condition. Success emboldened her to further flights.  Your appearance, I mean. You remember you said, I did. Yes. But you were so sweet in forgiving me that I admired you instantly for that, cried Stanner, skillfully turning the subject to safer ground. And when you're my wife, Pixie, you will seem the most beautiful woman in the world in my eyes. It is very unworldly of you to consent without asking more about my affairs, a poor match for you, little one. It takes years for a man to make a decent income in business, and I have so little experience. My uncle has always promised to buy me a partnership in some good firm, but of course there would have to be some preliminary training, and if he did not approve. But he must approve, we must make him. We couldn't marry without his consent. He's been so good to you. He has, uncommonly good. But when it comes to marrying, it's a fellow's own affair. I shall go my own way. He's lame. Dear little girl, what has that to do with the case in point? Well, I think it has, persisted Pixie obstinately. It has to me. We must be nice to him, Stanner, and make him be pleased, whether he wants to or not. Did you notice how naturally I called you, Stanner? I did. Couldn't you manage to put something before it by way of completion? Nice, Stanner. Handsome, Stanner. Clever, sensible, discriminating, Stanner. Quite so, said the discriminating one, dryly. But I should have liked. Suddenly, he burst into a ringing, boyish laugh. This is the rummiest proposal that was ever made. Pixie looked anxious. Is it? Rum? What exactly does rum mean? Applied to a proposal. Didn't sound approving. It's my very own proposal, and I won't have it abused. I've enjoyed it very much. I think we shall be very happy, Stanner, when we are married and settled down in our own little house. Stanner looked at her keenly. And as he looked, he sighed. Dear little Pixie, he said gently, I hope we shall. End of chapter 14 Chapter 15 of the Love Affairs of Pixie by Mrs. George D. Horn-Vasey This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Esmeralda is troubled. Engaged, cried Esmeralda shrilly. Engaged you to Stanner Vaughn.  Then you've listened to an uncommon amount of sense. I should not have sought it to judge from your actions. Returned Pixie, nettled. To it be interesting to hear what strikes you as so ridiculous about it? It was three days after Stanner's unexpected visit, with its momentous consequences. But in consideration of the anxiety of Jack's parents, the news had been withheld until the boy had been pronounced out of danger. Only this morning had the glad verdict been vouchsafed. Jack would live, given a steady even improvement with no unforeseen complications, he would live and in a few weeks' time be up and about once more. The eye trouble would be more lasting, for the child was of a peculiarly sensitive nature and the shock seemed inclined to localize itself in the eyes. The sight itself would be saved, but for some years to come it would need the most careful tending. He must wear darkened spectacles, be forbidden to read, be constantly underskilled care. Given such precautions the sight would probably become normal in later years. When the first verdict was given, the father and mother clung to one another in an ecstasy of relief and thankfulness, throughout those last terrible days, when every conscious breath had carried with it a prayer, Joan had looked deep into her own soul and beheld with open eyes the precipice on which she stood. How far, how far she had travelled since those early married days when, with her first born in her arms, her highest ambition had been that she should be enabled so to train him that he should grow up to be, in the words of the beautiful old phrase, a soldier of Christ. Of late years she had had many ambitions for her boys, but they had been ambitions of the world, worldly. The old faith had been gradually neglected and allowed to sink into the background of life. In her own strength she had walked, in her own weakness she had failed, yet now, in default of punishment, goodness and mercy were once more to be her portion. All the nobility in Joan's nature rose up as she pledged herself afresh to a new, a higher life. Jack would live. Their boy would live. That was for days the one thought of which the parents were conscious. For the father it was perfect joy, but for the mother there still remained a pang, only Esmeralda herself ever knew the anguish of grief which she endured on account of her baby's altered looks. Little Jack, with his angel face, his halo of curls, his exquisite innocent eyes, had been a joy to behold. Waking, sleeping, merry, sad, at one and every moment of his life the mere sight of him had been as an open sesame to the hearts of those who beheld. The knife turned in his mother's heart at the thought of Jack, shorn, scarred, spectacled. She dared not confide her grief to her husband. He would not understand. Looks. What could looks matter when the child had been delivered from death? Joan could see in imagination the expression on his face, hear the shocked tones of his voice. She would not betray her feelings and risk a break of the new, sweet understanding between them. All men were alike. There were occasions when only another woman could understand. Joan went upstairs to the empty nursery and found Marie weeping in her chair. Petite lapin. Petite chérie. Petite alche. Comfort thyself, madame, she sobbed. We can have glasses like the young American she who visited madame last year. No rims, hardly to be observed, and the hair that will grow of a shirtier will grow. A little long upon the forehead, and voila! The scar is hid.  Marie said her mistress firmly. Looks are a secondary affair. We ought to be too thankful to think of looks. Save-a-lay, madame," replied Marie demurely. Save-a-lay. And Joan Hilliard went back to her room with a lightened heart and determined to write it once to town to ask particulars concerning rimless spectacles. And now here was Pixie with this preposterous, ridiculous tale. At sight of her young sister Joan it fell to pang of contrition. She had forgotten all about her these last terrible days. Poor girl. She must have been terribly lonely but that was the best of Pixie. She was always ready to forgive and forget. Joan kissed her warmly, murmured apologies, and inquired affectionately how the long days had been passed. And then out it came. Why ridiculous, echoed Joan. My dear, how could it be anything else? Five days ago when we were all together there wasn't a sign of such a thing. Stannard was attracted by you, of course, but he was not in love. He was always cheerful, always merry. How different from poor Robert who is eating his heart out for honour ward. I hope, said Pixie deeply, that Stannard will always keep cheerful. It won't be my fault if he does not. No man shall eat his heart out for me if I can help it. Joan glanced at her quickly. She had caught the tone of pain in the beautiful voice and softened to it with instant response. Yes, dear of course. You'd never flirt, you're too honest, but all the same Pixie I stick to my opinion I don't believe for a moment that Stannard Vaughn is in love with you and I'm positively sure that you are not in love with him. Can you look into my heart as Maralda and see what is there? Yes, I can. In this instance I can. Fifty times better than you can yourself.   I don't know what Bridgie will say to me. And Stannard was sorry for you. You appealed to his chivalry.   You never even blushed. I don't think, reflected Pixie thoughtfully, I ever blushed in my life. It occurred to her uncomfortably that Stannard also had noticed the omission and had felt himself defrauded thereby. She wondered uneasily if one could learn to blush. As for as Maralda, the words carried her back in a rush to the dear days of childhood when the little sister had been the pet and pride of the family. Indeed, and Pixie had had no need to blush, her very failings had been twisted round to pose as so many assets in her favor while her own happy self-confidence had instilled the belief that everyone wanted her. Everyone appreciated. What cause had Pixie O'Shaughnessy to blush? Mavornine, cried as Maralda tenderly. I know. Thank God you've never needed to blush or feel afraid. But, Pixie, when love comes, it's different. Everything is different. It's a new birth. The old confidence goes, for it's a new life that lies ahead and one stands trembling on the brink. If what you feel is the right thing, you'll understand. Pixie, dear, do I seem the wrong person to talk like this? You know how it has been with us. We drifted apart, Jeff and I, so far apart that I thought I can't talk of it. You know what I thought, but Pixie, think. If the feeling between us had not been the real thing, if we had married on affection only, where should we have been now? Jeffrey loved me so much that he bore with me through all these years of strain, and when this great trouble came he forgave me at once, forgave everything, blotted it right out, and thought of nothing but how to help me most. A cloud had rolled up between us, but it was only a cloud. The love was there all the time. Hidden, like the sun, ready to shine out again. Oh, Pixie, dear, the right thing is so wonderful, so grand, that I can't let you miss it for the sake of a mistake? You're so young. You don't understand. Let me write to Stenor tonight and tell him it's a mistake, that you don't know your own mind. You may talk till doomsday, Esmeralda, said Pixie quietly, but I shall keep my word. Mentally Pixie had been deeply impressed by the other's confidences and not a little perturbed thereby, but it was against her sense of loyalty to allow such feelings to appear. To her own heart she confessed that she was altogether without this strange sense of elation, this mysterious new birth which Esmeralda considered all important under the circumstances. But she was certainly happy, for with Stenor's coming the cloud which had hovered over the house had begun to disperse. She had opened her own eyes to the good news of Jack's first sleep and each day the improvement had continued while Stenor motored over to sit by her side, cheering her, saying loving, gentle things, building castles in the air of a life together. Yes, she was very happy, but she had been happy before. There was nothing astoundingly incredibly new in her sensations. Pixie sent her thoughts back into the past, endeavouring to recall recollections of Joan's engagement, of Bridges, of Jack's. Yes, certainly they had all become exceedingly different under the new conditions. She recalled in a special, Bridges' face beneath her bridal veil, child as she herself had been at that time, she had been arrested by that expression, nor has she been allowed to forget it for, from time to time during the last six years, she had seen it again. The shiny look she had christened it in her thoughts, sweet and loving were Bridges' eyes for every soul that breathed, but that one particular look, shown for one person alone, Pixie's heart contracted in a pang of longing. It was almost like the pang she had felt in the drawing-room of Holly House on that dread afternoon when the news of her father's death had been broken to her. A pang of longing, a sore, sore feeling of something wanting. She shivered, then drew herself together with indignant remembrance. She was engaged. What sentiments were these for an engaged girl? How could she feel a blank when still more love was added to her share? If you talk till doomsday, Esmeralda, I'll keep my word, Stan or loves me and says I can help him. I said I would. And, me dear, I will. We've been through a lot of trouble this last week. Isn't it a pity to try to make more for no good? My mind's made up. Joan Hilliard was silent. In her heart of hearts she realized that there was nothing more to say. Pixie was Pixie. As well tried to move a mountain from its place as persuade that sweet, loving, most loyal of creatures to draw back from a solemn pledge. Something might be done with Stan or perhaps, or failing Stan or, through that erratic person, his uncle. She must consult with Geoffrey and Bridgie. Together they might insist upon a period of waiting and separation before a definite engagement was announced. Pixie was still under age until her twenty-first birthday her guardians might safely demand a delay. Joan knew that Stan or Vaughn had had passing fancies before now and had little belief that the present entanglement would prove more lasting. Circumstances had induced a special intimacy with Pixie, but when they were separated he would repent. If he himself set Pixie free. So far did Joan's thoughts carry her then, looking at the girl's happy face. She felt a sharp pang of contrition. Me dear, I want you to be happy. If it makes you happy to marry Stan or, I'll give you my blessing and the finest trousseau that money can buy. You're young yet and he has his way to make. You'll have to wait patiently for a few years until he can make a home. But it's a happy time being engaged. I feel defrauded myself to have had so little of it. Storing things up in a bottom drawer and picking up old furniture at sales and polishing it up so lovingly, thinking of where it is going and letters coming and going and looking forward to the time when he'll come down next. It is a beautiful time. Three or four years ought to pass like a trice. Besides leaving plenty of time to change your mind, I know you, me dear, cried Pixie shrewdly. I see through you. You'll be relieved to hear that the date has not been mentioned, but you can start with the trousseau as soon as you please. I'll take it in quarterly installments and spin out the pleasure, besides sparing my friends the shock of seeing me suddenly turn grand.  Will you be kind to him now and give him some tea? I will, said Joan readily. To herself she added, we are all alike, we O'Shaughnesses, we will be led, but we will not be driven. It's no use appearing to object. Things must just take their course. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of the Love Affairs of Pixie by Mrs. George DeHorne Vasey This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Runkle Intervenes As little Jack continued to progress toward convalescence, the attention of the household became increasingly absorbed by the astounding fact of Pixie's projected engagement. Bridgie, detained at home by Malapropo ailments on the part of the children, wrote urgent letters by daily posts contradicting herself on every point, saving one alone the advisability of delay. Jeffrey Hilliard as host, Dick Victor as guardian, Jack, Pat, and Miles as brothers, proposed, seconded, and carried by acclamation the same waiting policy and no one who has the faintest knowledge of human nature will need to be told that such an attitude had the effect of rousing the youthful lovers to the liveliest impatience. Stannor in particular was moved to rebellion. His pride was hurt by so lukewarm a reception of his addresses, which was all the more disagreeable for being unexpected. The Hilliards had shown so much friendship and hospitality to him as a friend that he had taken for granted that they would welcome him in a closer relationship. He was not a great party, it was true, but then by her own confession Pixie had no fortune of her own, and had been accustomed to modest means. Stannor did not say to himself in so many words that he happened to possess an exceptionally handsome and popular personality. He refused even to frame a definite thought to that effect. Nevertheless the consciousness was there and added to his chagrin. Lunging along the country lanes, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. Stannor told himself that it was a disappointing old world.  In books a fellow was represented as walking upon air in a condition of rapture too intense for belief. It was disappointing to find his own experience fall so short of the ideal. Sweet little Pixie, of course, was a beguiling creature. Stannor would not admit any shortcomings in his fiancée, but he did allow himself to wonder tentatively if he had spoken too soon. If she were not, perhaps a trifle young, to understand the meaning of the new claim. The daily interviews which he had been vouched saved had been full of interest and charm, but they had not succeeded in stifling the doubt which admired the first minutes of acceptance. For, alas, it was when Pixie was the most affectionate that her lover was most acutely conscious of the subtle want. And then, as if there was not already enough worry and trouble, there was the runkle. The runkle would be bound to put in his ore. Stannor had delayed sending word of his engagement to the man who stood to him in the place of a father, silencing his conscience by the assertion that there was yet nothing to announce. Until Pixie's guardians came down from their present unnatural position, there might be an understanding but there could not be said to be a formal engagement. It was Pixie herself who finally forced him to dispatch the news. It was Stannor's first experience of arguing a point with a woman and the most confusing experience he found it. Pixie invariably agreed with every separate argument as he advanced it, saw eye to eye with him on each separate point, sympathized warmly with his scruples and then, at the very moment when she was expected to say yes to the final decision, said no and stuck to it with conviction. Questioned as to the reason of such inconsistency, she had only one excuse to plead and she pled it so often and with such insistence that it seemed easier to give in than to continue the argument. Yes, but his lame came back automatically as the answer to every remonstrance till Stannor shrugged his shoulders and sat down to write his letter. Pixie was indeed, as the family had it, the soft-heartedest creature. He loved her for it but nonetheless depression seized him anew. Now there would be the wrinkle to tackle, more arguments, more objections. A fellow ought to be jolly happy when he was married to make up for all the fuss and agitation which went before. Stannor's letter of announcement was short and to the point for he was not in the mood to lapse into sentiment. By return of post came the wrinkle's reply, short also and noncommittal. Nothing more, in fact, than the announcement that he preferred to discuss the matter in person and would the following day arrive at a certain hotel where he bade his nephew meet him. Stannor, therefore, made his excuses to his hostess, packed his bag and dispatched a letter of explanation to his fiancée unconscious of the fact that she was at that very hour receiving information first hand. Came about in the most natural and simple fashion as Pixie, roaming the grounds bare-headed to gather a bouquet of wild flowers to present to the little invalid, emerged suddenly upon the drive. She found a tall, grey-coated stranger leaning against a tree in an attitude expressive of collapse. He was very tall and very thin. The framework of his shoulders was high and broad but from them the coat seemed to flap around a mere skeleton of a frame. His hair was dark, his complexion pale, and leaning back with closed eyes, he looked so alarmingly ill and spent that dropping the flowers to the ground, Pixie leaped forward to the rescue. You're ill. Let me help. There's a seat close by. Lean on me. The stranger opened his eyes and Pixie started as most people did start when they first looked into Stephen Glenn's eyes which were of that deep, intense blue which is romantically dubbed purple and fringed with dark lashes which added still further to their depth. They were sad eyes, tired eyes, eyes of an exceeding and pitiful beauty, eloquent of suffering and repression.  As she met their gaze, Pixie drew a quick gasping breath of surprise. The stranger in his turn looked surprised and startled. He bent his head in involuntary salute and glanced down at the tiny arm offered for his support. Six foot two he stood in his stockinged feet and there was this scrap of a girl offering her little doll-like arm for support. His lips twitched and Pixie pounced on the meaning with her usual agility. But I'm wiry, she announced proudly. You wouldn't believe my strength till you try it. Just for a few yards round the corner by the oak tree. Please, you are too kind, I am not ill, but the walk from the station is very steep and I found it tiring, that's all. I shall be glad to rest for a moment, but I assure you no help is needed. He took a step forward as he spoke. A quick halting step and Pixie looking on exclaimed sharply, The Runkle, Stanor's Runkle, it is you. The stranger looked down sharply, his dark brows puckering in astonishment. I am Stephen Glenn, the runkle as my nephew is pleased to call me, but you cannot be Pixie nodded vehemently. I am Pixie O'Shaughnessy, going to be your niece. I made Stanor right to tell you. They seated themselves on the bench under the oak tree and, turning, faced each other in a long, curious silence during which each face assumed a puzzled expression. But you are younger than I expected, cried Pixie. That is exactly what I was on the point of saying to you, returned Mr. Glenn. And yet we know exactly how old we both are. Twenty and thirty-five, Pixie continued volubly.  You'd be amused if you could see the image I'd made of you in my own mind. I expect was the same with yourself. It was, agreed Mr. Glenn, and for a moment imagined that his disappointment was his own secret. Only for a moment, however.  Knowing, of course, that I was a sister of the beautiful Mrs. Hilliard, no wonder you're disappointed. The eyes smiled sympathy at him and the wide lips parted in the friendliest of smiles. You'll like me better when you know me. I'm quite sure, stammered Mr. Glenn, and then drew himself up suddenly as if doubtful if agreement were altogether polite other the circumstances. Once more his lips twitched, and as their eyes met, he and Pixie collapsed together into an irresistible laugh. He laughed well, a rare and charming accomplishment, and Pixie regarded him with benign approval. Quite romantic, isn't it? The noble kinsmen journeying in state to demand the hand of the charming maid falls ill of the perils of the way and encounters a simple cottage maid gathering flowers who suckers the stranger in distress. Their identity is then revealed, I do love romances, cried Pixie gushingly, and it's much nicer having an interview out here than in a stuffy room. Please, Mr. Kinsmen, begin. He frowned, bitted his underlip and moved restlessly on the seat, glancing once and again at the girl's bright, unclouded face. I'm afraid, he began slowly. That matter is not altogether as simple as you suppose. Stano is not in a position to marry without my consent. I think he has not sufficiently appreciated this fact.  There was no trace of anger nor wounded pride, those he could have faced with ease, a simple shock of the young face smote on his heart. I had not seen you, remember? he cried quickly. My decision had no personal element. I objected this stage to Stano becoming engaged to anybody. He has, no doubt, explained to you our relationship. His parents being dead I made myself responsible for his training. He may have explained to you also my wish that for a few years he should be free to enjoy his youth without any sense of responsibility. Pixie nodded gravely. He has. I understood you had missed those years yourself and knew they could never come back, so you gave them to him as a gift. Young happy years without a care that he could treasure up in his mind and remember all his life. It was a big gift. Stano and I are grateful to you. Stephen Glenn looked at her, a long, thoughtful glance. The program which he had mapped out for his nephew had been unusual enough to attract much notice. He had been alternately annoyed and amused by the criticism of his neighbors, all of whom seemed incapable of understanding his real motives. It seemed a strange thing that it should be reserved for this slip of a girl to see into his inmost heart. He was touched and impressed, but that Stano and I hardened him to his task. Thank you. You do understand, at the moment, Stano may perhaps be inclined to question the wisdom of my program, but I think in after years he will, as you say, look back. The fact remains, however, that he has not yet tackled the real business of life. He has, with my concurrence, plenty of change and variety, which I believe in the end will prove of service in his life's work. And he has stood the test. Many young fellows of his age would have abused their opportunities. He has not done so. My only disappointment has been that he has developed no definite taste, but has been content to flit, from one fancy to the next, always carried away by the latest novelty on the horizon.  You mean me, she said quickly. I'm the latest novelty? You mean that he'll change about me, too? Isn't that what you mean? My dear Miss O'Shaughnessy. Incredible though it appeared, Stephen had been on the verge of saying Pixie, pure and simple. You leap too hastily to conclusions, I am afraid. I must appear an odious person. Believe me, I had no intention of rushing into the very heart of this matter as we have done.  Tis not my sister's business, tis mine. Interrupted Pixie, firmly. And it would be a waste of time talking to her, for she'd agree with every word you said. They don't want me to be engaged. They think I'm too young. If you have anything to say, say it to me. I'm the person to be convinced. She settled herself more comfortably as she spoke, turning towards him with one arm resting on the back of the bench, and her head leaning against the upturned hand. The sun shone on her face through the flickering branches. No, she was not pretty. Not in the least sort of girl standard was accustomed to fancy yet. There was something extraordinarily attractive about the little face, with its clear eyes, its wide, generous mouth, its vivacity of expression. Already after a bare ten minutes acquaintance, Stephen Glenn, so shrank from the prospect of hurting Pixie, or Shaughnessy, that it required an effort to keep an unflinching front. I agree with your people, he said resolutely, that you and Stenor are too young, and that this matter has been settled too hastily. Apart from that I should object to any engagement until he has proved his ability to work for a wife.  After a couple of years' experience there, he would come back to the London house, and if his work justified it, I am prepared to buy him a partnership in the firm. He would then be his own master, free to do as he chose, but for these two years he must be free, with no other responsibility than this work. You think, queried Pixie, slowly, that I should interfere, that he would do his work better without me? It's not a question of thinking, Miss O'Shaughnessy. I am not content to think. I want to make sure that Stenor will settle seriously to work and keep in the same mind. He is a good fellow, a dear fellow, but, hitherto at least, he has not been stable. He has never been engaged before? Not actually. I have been forewarned in time to prevent matters reaching that length, twice over. A small hand waved imperiously for silence. I don't think, said Pixie sternly, that you have any right to tell me things like that, if Stenor wants me to know he can tell me himself. It's his affair. I am not at all curious. She drew a fluttering breath, and stared down at the ground, and a silence followed, during which Stephen was denouncing himself as a hard-hearted tyrant, when suddenly a minute voice, spoken his ear, were they pretty? It was impossible to resist the smile, which twitched at his lips. Unpleasant as was the nature of his errand, he, the most unsmiling of men, had already twice over been moved to merriment. Stephen was reflecting on the incongruity of the fact, when Pixie again answered his unspoken retort. It's not curiosity, it's interest, quite a different thing, and even if they were, it's much more serious when a man cares for a girl, for her mental attractions, because they go on getting better instead of fading away like a pretty face. It's very difficult to know what is right. I've promised Stenor, and he has promised me, and it seems a poor way of showing that you know your own mind, to break your word at the beginning. I don't ask you to break your word, Miss O'Shaughnessy, only to hold it in abeyance. I am speaking in Stenor's interests, which we have equally at heart. I know his character, forgive me, better than you can do, and I am asking you to help me in arranging a probation, which I know to be wise under the circumstances. Let him go to New York, a free man. Let him work, and show his metal, and at the end of two years, if you are both of the same mind, I will give you every help in my power, but meantime there must be no engagement, no tie, no regular correspondence. You must both be perfectly free. I am sorry to appear hard-hearted, but these are my conditions, and I can't see my way to alter them. Well, why not?" cried Pixie, unexpectedly. What's two years? They'll pass in no time, and men hate writing. Stenor will be relieved not to have to bother about the males. He can do without letters. He will know that I'm waiting. She held out her hand with a sudden, radiant smile. And you will be pleased. It is the least we can do to consider your wishes. If I persuade Stenor, if I send him away alone to work, the small fingers tighten ingratiatingly over his, you will like me, won't you? You will think of me as a real niece? Stephen Glenn's deep blue eyes stared deeply into hers. He did not deliberately intend to put his thoughts into speech. If he had given himself a moment to think, he would certainly not have done so, but so strong was the mental conviction that the words seemed to form themselves without his volition. You don't love him. You could not face a separation so easily if you loved him as you should. For the first time, a flash of real anger showed itself on Pixie's face. Her features hardened.  What right have you to say that? She asked deeply. You proved to me that it would be for Stenor's good to wait and then say I cannot love him because I agree? You love him, yet you can hurt him and bring him disappointment when you feel it is right. I understood that, so I was not angry, but in return you might understand me. Forgive me, cried Stephen. I should not have said it. You deserved a better return for your kindness. I suppose I must seem very illogical, but it did not occur to me that the two cases were on a parallel. The love of a fiancé is not as a rule as well balanced as that of an uncle Miss O'Shaughnessy. Well, it ought to be, asserted Pixie, it ought to be everything that another love is and more. A man's future wife ought to be the person of all others to be reasonable and unselfish and logical where he is concerned, even if it means separation for a dozen years. No answer. Stephen gazed blankly into space as if unconscious of her words. Aughten she? Theoretically, Miss O'Shaughnessy, she ought. Very well, then. I am proud that I am and so ought you to be too. It's strange how I misunderstood my family say the same thing as Maralda, Jeffrey, Stanner himself, and it hurts for no one before has ever doubted if I could love. She was silent for a minute, twisting her fingers together in restless fashion, then looking suddenly into his face, she asked, What do you know about it to be so sure? Have you ever been in love? Stephen flushed. Never.  What a pity. She would have helped you through. She smiled into his eyes with a beautiful sweetness. Well, Mr. Glenn, if I am too reasonable to please you, perhaps Stanner will make up for it. You may not find it so easy to influence him. I am sure of that. I look forward to a stiff time, but if you are on my side, we shall bring him round. Now perhaps I had better continue my way to the house and see Mrs. Hilliard. This is pre-eminently your business, as you say, but still— She'll expect it, yes. Pixie rose to her feet with an air of depression, and she'll crow. They'll all crow. It's what they wanted. And when you come and lay down an ultimatum, they'll rejoice and triumph. Her small face assumed an aspect of a cute dejection. That's the worst of being the youngest. It's a trying thing when your family insists on sitting in committees about your own affairs. When you understand them so much better yourself, I'm not even supposed to understand the things of my own heart without a sister to translate them for me. Shouldn't you think now a girl of 20, nearly 21, is old enough to know that? I don't think it's a foregone conclusion. More things than years go to the formation of character, Miss O'Shaughnessy, and if you will allow me to say so, you seem to me very young for your age. Always was, side Pixie, sadly. They've said that all my life. Some people always are young and some are old. There was a girl at school, middle-aged at 13, poor creature, and had been from her birth. My sister Bridgie will never be more than 17 if she lives to 100, and I mean myself to stick at 20. It doesn't mean trying to look younger than you are, being ashamed of your age and silly and frivolous. It's just keeping your heart young. The man who was young in years and old in heart looked down at the girl with a very sad smile. She spoke as if it were such an easy thing to do. He knew by bitter experience that, under such circumstances as his own, it was of all tasks the most difficult to stand aside during the best years, to see the tide of life rush by and have no part in the great enterprise, and then to regain his powers when youth had passed and the keen savor of youth had died down into a dull indifference. To be dependent for love on the careless affection of a lad, how was it possible for a man to keep his heart warm in such circumstances as these? Life has been kind to you, he answered, dryly, and Pixie flung him a quick retort. I have been kind to it. If I'd chosen I might have found it hard enough. We were always poor. I never remember a time when I hadn't to pretend and make up, because it was impossible to get what I wanted. Then I was sent to school and I hated going, and my father died when I was away and they told me the news with not a soul belonging to me anywhere near, and I loved my father far more than other girls love theirs. Then we left Nock. If you'd lived in a castle and gone to a villa in a street, with a parlor in front and a dining-room behind, looking out on the kitchen wall, you wouldn't talk about life being kind. I was in France for years being educated and not able to repine because it was a friend and she'd taken me cheaply. Perhaps you'd say that was luck and an advantage, and it was, but all the same it's hard on a young thing to have to enjoy herself in a foreign language and spend the holidays with a maiden lady in a snuffy old pair because there wasn't enough money to come home. Yes, concluded Pixie with a smirk of satisfaction, I've had my trials and now I'm to be crossed in love and have my young lover rent from me. You wouldn't have the audacity to call life easy after that. Stephen tried valiantly to look sympathetic. But it was useless. He was obliged to smile and Pixie smiled with him, adding cheerfully, anyway, it's living and I do love it when things happen. It's so dreadfully interesting to be alive. The man who was old before his time looked down upon the girl with a wistful glance. Small as she was, insignificant as she had appeared at first sight, he had never seen anyone more intensely vitally alive. Her tiny feet skimmed the ground, her tiny head reared itself, jauntily on the slender neck, the brilliance of her smile, the embracing kindness of her glance, more than compensated for the plainness of her features. Like most people who made the acquaintance of Pixie O'Shaughnessy, Stephen Glenn was already beginning to fall under her spell and marvel at the blindness of his first impression. She was not plain. She was not insignificant. She was, on the contrary, unusually fascinating and attractive. But she does not love him, Stephen repeated to himself. She does not know what love means. When she does, when she has grown into a woman and understands, what a wife, what a companion she will make. End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 of the Love Affairs of Pixie by Mrs. George DeHorn Vasey This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Thinking alike, Pixie's prophecy that her relatives would crow on hearing Mr. Glenn's ultimatum was fulfilled in spirit, if not in letter. Geoffrey and Joan Hilliard assumed their most staid and dignified heirs for the important interview. Referred to my sister Patricia, with a deference worthy of a royal princess, and would have Stannor's Guardian to understand that the man was not born who was worthy to be her spouse. All the same as mortal young men went, they had nothing to say against Stannor Von, and if time proved him to be an earnest both in love and work, they would be graciously pleased to welcome him into the family. Then the business part of the interview being ended, the ambassador was invited to stay to lunch, and as Moraldus swept from the room, leaving the two men to a less formal colloquy over their cigarettes, she would have helped you through, the echo of those words rang in his ears. He heard again the musical tone of the soft Irish voice, saw again the sweet, deep glance. Strange that those words had in the very moment of utterance uprooted the conviction of years. Lying prisoner on his couch he had been thankful, in a grim and bittered fashion, which had belied the true meaning of the word that love had not entered into his life. It would have been but another cross to bear, since no woman could be expected to be faithful to a maimed and querulous invalid. Now in a lightning flash he realized that there were women, this Irish pixie, for example, whose love could triumphantly overcome such an ordeal, she would have helped him through. And, supported and cheered by her influence, his recovery would doubtless have been far more speedy. He straightened himself and said quickly, Miss O'Shaughnessy would make a charming wife. For Stannor's sake I could not wish anything better than that she may be ready to fulfill her promise at the end of the two years. There's no doubt about that, said Geoffrey Gravely. She will be ready. There's more than a grain of obstinacy in pixie's nature. Very amiable obstinacy, no doubt. But it may be just as mischievous on such occasions as the present. She has given her word and she'll stick to it, even if she recognizes that she has made a mistake. We may talk, but it will have no effect unless your nephew himself releases her. She will feel as much bound as if they had been married in Westminster Abbey. It's the way she's made, the most faithful little creature under the sun. It will be our duty to protect her against herself by making the young fellow understand that for her sake, almost more than his own, he must be honest and not allow a mistaken sense of honour to urge him to repeat his proposal if his heart is not in it. He could make pixie his wife, but he could never make her happy. The most cruel fate that could happen to that little soul would be to be married to a man who did not love her absolutely. Stephen Glenn nodded, his lips pressed together, in grim determination. He shall understand. If I know Stanner there will be no difficulty in persuading him. He is a good lad, but it is not in him to sacrifice himself. I have been so anxious to secure him an unclouded use that he is hardly to be blamed for putting his own interests in the foreground. It's a fault that many of us suffer from in the early twenties, said Geoffrey, lightly. He thought the conversation had lasted long enough and was glad when the sound of the gong came as an interruption and he could escort his guests to the dining-room where the two ladies were already waiting. Luncheon was a cheerful meal despite the somewhat difficult position of the diners and Stephen Glenn felt the pang of the lonely as he absorbed the atmosphere of love and sympathy. The beautiful hostess looked tired and worn, but her eyes brightened as she looked at her husband and in a quiet, unaustentatious fashion he watched incessantly over her comfort. It was easy to see that the trial through which this husband and wife had passed had but riveted the bond between them and brought them into closest sympathy while the little sister comported herself with a brisk cheeriness which was as far as possible removed from the attitude of the proverbial damsel crossed in love. The time passed so pleasantly that the visitor was unfaithfully sorry when it was time to make his farewells. Pixie ran upstairs for the small son and heir who had by now returned home and in her absence Stephen exchanged a few last words with Esmeralda. I am immensely relieved and thankful that you and your husband feel with me in this matter and Miss O'Shaughnessy has been wonderfully forgiving. She does not appear to bear me in a rancor. Esmeralda gave a short impatient laugh. Ah, rancor! Pixie, you know very little of my sister Mr. Glenn to suggest such a possibility. She is incapable of rancor. Pixie returned at this moment leading Jeff by the hand and when the great car glided up to the door she and the boy went out together to see the last of the departing guest. Stephen stepped haltingly into the car and leaned over the side to wave his own farewells. Pixie smiled and waved in reply and the sun shone down on her uncovered face. Stephen would have been thankful if he could have carried away that picture as a last impression but as the car moved slowly from the door she stepped back into the shadow of the porch and he caught a last glimpse of her standing there gazing after him with a grave fixed gaze. End of Chapter 17


Here we go y'all 2122 upper deck allure hockey hobby 10 box case number one random teams check the results here anytime elite sports cards calm Let's get started Got a lot of cards to go through here You get the checklist up to so I can First time opening this here we go 10 boxes That means we get 10 autos lots of color different parallels Should be fun by field on the cover here There's stickers on the side right there Yeah, it's it's this full box for sure Eight packs. Mmm. Gonna love that Oh, no, oh, that's why this is gonna take a while. That's it right there These Crisp is a Ryan O'Reilly blues black rainbow Alex new hook Rookie to 99. There you go abs. Nice new hook good start So be the green rainbow die cut Or no, this is the um, yeah, I can remember that guy. That's what says the check Capari So black rainbows one in four packs red rainbow one and six orange slice die cut one and 12 so one every box and a half orange slice There's the red. There's the Pavel ski Reds are one six Nice card coming up. We got orange red kachuk Brady kachuk for the senators and A Jamie Drysdale rookie Jersey Auto for the ducks. What a great start to this case 24 out of 75 a Numbered new hook and a low number Jersey out of Jamie Drysdale You go ducks Yeah, the orange red is like the base of the of the Roy G. Biv cards black rainbow Matthew Phillips Hey Control room cold coffield rookie insert three full cases for Sam rich doing three full cases Thursday. I don't know how many I'm doing Hello buck black rainbow Hustle hit and never quit Mark Giordano, that's what you say around here Definitely good first box There's a red new gin Hawkins for the Oilers a orange yellow Jack Hughes Will the rare there for the Devils The low the the rare ones it gets rare as you go along. It's like red orange is the most common Then it's orange yellow orangey bib basically I know I don't know what those are. I forgot those number two. There's orange yellow Mike Hardman Break bread. Oh bread baskets. That's your Demco bread baskets like that one. Yeah, it's a fun set Orange slice Coal in there you go crackin rookie cold end orange slice Ice out Spencer night for the Panthers there. I got two cases Thursday. Noice We're starting at 11 is pretty solid I'm about this year, but they're set up pretty darn well. They've trapped it well to considering I Mean they've had high Johnny Gord Black rainbow Panarin Rangers there's a Tim Stutzla number to 199 Is a number it's just literally says number. So he has a number behind my Stutzla your centers Yeah, I may as well a Tice Thompson Devils in the red rainbow These have nice quality these are thicker chrome cards It's just it's just the background. Yeah, I think that's pretty much it is right. Yes. I was all right orange red Morgan Baron your Rangers a Alex Barry Boulay lightning auto these just called spectrum autos Let's see. I Hmm Well, they were quartz auto or just the ports with that sideways. Yeah R44 maybe just rookie auto. I'm thinking. Yeah, we're rainbow auto rainbow auto. Okay. Yeah, I was like I was like Yeah, it's probably easier than I'm thinking Yeah, rainbow auto Yeah, he only go to crackin legend. That's right Black rainbow Quintenbeifield nice rookie there for the Kings Shane Pinto control room. These are classic upper-deck packs.  Yes, my table on 30 minutes. Yeah, I Let's get basketball filled up you guys Dougie Hamilton red for the the Devils there knows Hoglinder Rainbow this is a lot thicker. This is like a 55 point card in the Canucks rainbow there. It's a thicky Orange red Garrett Pilon red baskets carry price orange slice JT Miller Canucks and a Allure rainbow is Joe Valeno. It's the yellow green Black rainbow Vasilevsky. We've got a blue and purple Jesse Elinon Number two one ninety nine for the canadiens Where'd you be so blue violets Or indigo violet, I guess it would be theoretically Blue violet, whatever. Oh, man colors. I don't know. I'm Cole Silinger rookie red for the blue jackets solid cylinder there So no Kyrie no Luca no job Yeah, this is on Orange red sample Ranta Philip Gustafson Senators rainbow auto make you watch Lakers and Clippers together, too One Dell Pack open really easy. What was that about now?  That's got to be a tough pull for sure I want to know the rarity on this one Clearly, but upper deck.  Oh Nice color coming up city Crosby black rainbow for the pens and a For these call these are not blue rainbow Diamond or something blue line blue line I think blue line Culper Fetty rookie blue line for the Jets 19 out of 35 nice per Fetty you go Winnipeg blue line 35 red Mark Stone for the Knights cul-per-Fetty yellow green now for the Jets Ristol lining What you guys think of allure nice and shiny Logan Thompson Knights red and orange? Patcher ready. We need to hit a we did a golden treasure one of one Orange slice rookie William Eklund for the sharks Solid one there Orange yellow Bernard Docker senators Rookie there Tomasino Definitely clean the cards are like Think of like bowman chrome like top scrum They're like a little thicker than that like they fit regular top loaders, but the card stock is a little thicker Feel nice in hand Oh, he probably has autos in this probably very limited autos because he Does not sign a whole ton more common than the cane apparently Strange Yeah, he's got autos in this his his red rainbow auto is more common than the cane Whenever a thousand some hot packs. He's also got the blue line autos and such Nick Suzuki black rainbow. We've got a rookie Tomasino number 159 to 199 preds Yeah, he has more autos this and I thought he would according to the odds which I usually it's like one set to pre-sauve red rainbow Dalvin Would they give up at orange Rasmus Dalene sabers a Matthias Samuelson a rookie red rainbow auto for these sabers Samuelson sabers rookie autumn. Yeah, his rainbow is super rare Yeah, he has a decent amount considering it's considering. It's you know Ovi Benoit Olivier gruel or gruel's they say the last name Black rainbow rookie ducks we might not be behind after this Black rainbow Tomas hurdle, I know they're shiny Everyone's got a chance to hit in the break play when there's a lot of cards like this and like an autopropox like you get a chance To hit Zach Jones Rangers, Ricky red rainbow the Rangers orange yellow Matthew Phillips flames the gruel's Red orange Jutes law senators I want to put together a rainbow in this now like the rainbow set not like the actual Orange slice Matthew Kuchuk flames Tristan Yari bread baskets Lane, I don't see that anywhere. Oh Lane got God Might have seen the fake shepter page happen to illegal one happen to illegal one time I think yeah something like that or the other one that I won't say Jake Gensel red or black rainbow a Wade Allison flyers blue or in violet rookie there 181 of 199 There we go Red Tom Wilson caps Everybody's favorite player John Marin saying entering counseling program It's good news running all Lucas Raymond red wings Go and rainbow auto Yvonne Prospheta for the yachts Ivan Prospheta of Barry Boulet Sample rent a black rainbow rookie abs I've definitely got a gov for we've all been there a Black rainbow Austin Matthews for the Leafs Max Havish they are not yet at least maybe Not Schefter approved yet Red rainbow Victor Oliphson for the Sabres. Hey yellow orange Tice Thompson Davis Orange yellow that that that one orange yellow not yellow orange Drysdale ducks red and orange Yeah, I'm trying to get the credit trying to get the scoop Orange slice rookie Anton Lindell for the Panthers and a JT Miller on the green to 99 for the floor of the Canucks It literally is only because you guys full play calling troll now Andy smart to not give it up. They're literally winning. He has Patrick Mahomes. Why would he and they're winning games and championships? You have on for real. I remember that John Hammond is just Scott Boris puppet. It's all the only reason he has a job Brady Kitchuck black rainbow for the Sends a Indigo violets Crosby one of 199 pens This is been a pretty solid case it feels like Red rainbow burns you for the sharks red burns. He's with Carolina now Red orange McTavish ducks Yeah, I'm Yennec rookie red rainbow auto for the coyotes Yopes having a solid break here. Yeah, Yennec Rookie Wade Allison Yeah, he kind of it. He kind of is Vaughan Boris makes things happen Just like just like Jerry just like Jerry Jones the commissioner of the NFL Thomas, you know, rookie black rainbow Nashville iced out Swamin I want to see an insert. I don't know The courts are the hustle hit never quit black rainbow Giordano crack and legend Hey blue line Brock Besser for the Canucks number 14 of 35 Red rainbow rookie Benoit Olivier group rules ducks hasten in orange yellowed stars red orange Alex Newhoek for the abs Uco Pekalukin in orange slice Nick Suzuki for the Canadians Patch ready number for the Knights 108 of 199. Sorry, Matthew Pretty tough on these cards Matthew Kitchuck on the black rainbow for the flames and a Kirill Capri saw On the violet to 199 we go wild a Taylor Hall red rainbow for the Bruins Rookie Spencer Knight Red orange McAvoy. Hey, there we go quartz auto is a Alex Newhoek Grats again to the abs abs killing it here quartz auto new hook non-numbered like the die cut though Morgan Barron New hook on the black rainbow rookie for the abs abs have an avid doing really well here Lucas Raymond rookie The cards kind of clean to each other too though black rainbow de Brinkett Colen's a sample ranta abs rookie red rainbow and an orange yellow Cole Caulfield The abs there rookie Caulfield rainbow red orange Ali Tolvonen Nashville Tolvainan Mike Hardman orange slice camp Talbot wild Lungvist Where'd he end up? It is but black rainbow Jordan Everly for the Kraken yellow blue ovee 126 of 299 for the caps There we go caps numbered ovee. Yeah, not a whole lot of Ben. They're a lot thicker though Red rainbow white Callanuck black Hawks rookie Gustafson Yeah, but Ben doesn't really an issue with car at least in my eyes. It doesn't change a grading or anything Red orange Dills lung fist rangers. It can be tough on opening and Matthias Samuelsen Rookie autos at the purple is it leopard? Forget what leopard this is. There's two different ones Pink leopard at 200 we're not 200 but One every 400 rookie auto one every 400 packs Matthias Samuelsen pink leopard auto your savers. Yeah, I like that like One and every 400 packs on that type of auto there Cologne Cologne like the coffee and there you go Matthew your rookie black rainbow Tice Thompson for the Devils Dena Sanko Dena Sanko It's been a solid break for sure a lot of teams have nice numbered cards or a hit mantha black rainbow Bundel red Sebastian Ajo Keynes orange yellow R2 Rista Linen Sheen Pinto right orange Kailin Addison for the wild Red Baskets Altinger Swamin rookie last one orange slice Sydney Crosby There you go pens Iced out Jake or Jack Hughes and Bernard Docker. Good stuff. We'll do a quick recap everybody Alright, so this is all numbered I'm not gonna call out every single number on these videos are all numbered Mostly in order So always a 299 Capri saw this to 199 the numbers are to 199 patcher ready Crosby JT Miller to 99 there Allison to 199 Tomasino to 199 Suzuki to 99 Not numbered Allison Jack Hughes to 299 Ilan into 199 Stutzla as well to 99 Alex Newhook a Blue Line to 35 Culper Fetti and Brock Besser all of our autos Matthias Samuelsen Cam Atkinson Jan Yenek Yvonne Prosphets off Philip Gustafson Alex Barry bullay a Quartz rookie auto of Alex Newhook a Pink leopard auto Matthias Samuelsen Jamie Drysdale Jersey Auto nice one for the Ducks to 35 Sorry to 75 35 was the base version of those and a Patrick Kane Really good break. Thanks again everybody on the next case


Families are really complicated and really messy. But some families can be killer. Keep watching to find out which book we're talking about today. Hey, it's Kyla Denigno. And welcome to Kyla's reading day. So today we are talking about a great book that I just finished. It was absolutely incredible. I was really surprised. My first time reading the author and it was incredible. And there will be spoilers. So if you've not read the book but it's on your to read list, maybe wait until you finish it because there will be spoilers. So today we are talking about a really great thriller murder mystery that I just read. And that was called Not Happy Family. So that's the title of the book. The author of the book is Shari Lapina. The genre of the book is fiction. The biggest theme is suspense and thriller. So for me, the important plot twist was when Charlotte found out that her childhood friend was her half sister. I've read enough books and watched enough TV to know that half siblings is a very common theme in literature. It's a very common theme in TV plots, right? But this one really blew my socks off. Not even when we found out who was harming people in the family. But when I found out that Charlotte had grown up with this person, played with them, hung out with them, talked to them, gossiped with them, all of this stuff. And then to later find out that that was your half sibling, your parents knew it was your half sibling and they let you hang out with them like that's a betrayal. It's going to take years to get over that kind of betrayal. Not for Charlotte. And when you read the book, you'll be like, okay, no, she'll bounce back. But for anybody else, that type of betrayal would really crush you because that just there's so many layers, so many layers. And so this is a book that I wouldn't need to read again, because I don't think I'll ever forget the plot. It was really that surprising to me, especially because I have never read this author before. And so since then I've done a quick deep dive into all of her books to see if she writes on similar themes and in a similar fashion, and she is an incredible writer, and all of her other works as well. But I don't think I would forget the plot. So this one has a bonus because if they if anyone creates a movie about this, I'll watch that in a heartbeat. And it probably will be a movie that I will watch over and over again. But the themes of the book, I don't think I'll forget them. So I don't think that I would read this one again, but I did enjoy it. And so lastly, why was this important to me? You're meant a lot. Just because people often talk about how resilient kids are and they can get over things. And with these characters in the book, they're adults by the time they find out that they have siblings.  And this was something that the characters in the book did not have to go through the parents could have told them it would have been incredibly difficult. But they could have told them, right, they didn't have to find out as adults, that their childhood best friend was actually their sister. That's it still doesn't sit right with me if you can't tell. So that's it for Kyla's Reading Day. That was my quick little review on not a happy family. Leave a comment. Let me know if you're enjoying it. If you've read anything else by the author, please let me know how you felt about those books or give me a recommendation of a book that I need to read. Thanks for watching Kyla's Reading Day. Talk to you later.


The 2022 annual Southeastern Kentucky Chamber Awards night is September 27th. For tickets call<PHONE_NUMBER>. You can also watch live on the free Mountain Top TV app. With voting season just around the corner, it is important for those who have not already done so to register to vote. Every decision that gets made in our country is based on elections. The people that we put into field positions, they make laws. They help run our country and it's important to have good people that are competent, know what they're doing, know their jobs, and it makes a difference. The deadline to register to vote is October 11th. There are many ways to register to vote, ranging from in-person options to online. There are several processes to register to vote. You can go online to register to vote. You can call our office and we can send you out the information, let you do that by mail. You can come in in person. A lot of times when people go to get their driver's license, they can register to vote there also. Food stamp office, there's all kinds of ways to register to vote. All elections are important and have an impact on the city, county, and state you live in. To register to vote, you can go to govote.ky.gov. For Mountain Top News, I'm Kelsey Dean.