FIGHTING HER WAY.
CHAPTER XX.—Continued. 'lt is just possible, si", that you may be unable co find comfortable quarters in the hotel, which is always full at this time in the season, and there is no time for hunting private board to-night. Win you kindly waive ceremony and let me take yuu all to my mother, who has plenty house room, and has big a heart, with only my robust self to fill it. She w'll be a" glad as I shall to take care t f you untjl you find some place you like better.'
'Really, Mr Smythc. you overwhelm us. We cannot think of taking an invalid to your home without the least notice bein j given to your mother.'
'Give yourself no trouble at all about that. She is always ready to receive wayfarers* and whatever I do is right with her. Oblige me, won't you?' Jeanie thought she had never seen so sweet and winning a smile tn a mortal face as shone over Robert Symthe's as he thus urged his kindness on them.
'Ah. do let us go with Mr Smythe, Fred!' she pleaded softly, and returning his look with one of earnest gratitude. 'Mr Smythe shall have his way, with a thousand thanks from us all,' said Fred heartily, and, without more ado, the whole party accompanied the Southern stranger to his home, not dreaming that from this time forth destiny had interwoven his fate with their own.
CHAPTER XXI. A SOUTHERN HOUSEHOLD. It was quite dark by the time Robert Smythe, with hia new friends, arrived at the gate of an oldfashioned garden that surrounded a commodious cottage, built in the style of half a century ago'. Ivy had climbed about its walls and gables, and a great rose vine entirely covered the low front porch. Late as the season was, a few last blossoms hung amid the still green foliage, and the twilight was soft and balmy as an evening in spring.
Cheerful lights streamed out in the porch from the broad front windows, and the coziest of homes invited the weary travellers to rest from their long journey. As the carriage stopped at the gate an old lady in a black gown, with a snow-white cap, and some knitting in her hands, came out from the front door to greet the young master.
'Send Pedro out, mother- I've brought you some guests to take care of!' called Robert Smythe from the gate. The old lady stepped back and gave an order, which was speedily obeyed by two servants, a man and a woman, both negros, who followed their mistress down to the gate. Amid apologies on the part of the guests, and the wannest of welcomes from the old lady, the newcomers were ushered into a bright, snue sitting room, lighed by a huge oak fire, much too warm for the weather, consequently the windows all stood wide open, as well as the doors, thus giving the travellers an immediate introduction to one of the noted Southern customs.
'lt is really too bad to bring such an avalanche upon you, my dear madam; but your son would not allow us to try our luck at the hotel.'
'My son did perfectly right, and I hope vou will dismiss the idea of giving us the least trouble. Such as our home is, you are heartily welcome to its hospitality, which is not quite what it used to be; but, thank God! we've got a good house over our heads ana e> ough to keep us from want, and there's nothing to complain of.' All this time, as she talked, Mrs Smythe was making Mrs Howard comfortable among the cushions of a large, old-time mohair sofa. The invalid was too weak, and ill to make other recognition of the attention being lavished on her than a smile gratefully in the kind, old motherly iace of her hostess. Meantime Jeanie and Fred took in at a glance the fact that they were with people a once very refined, very elegant, but very poor. Every article of the furniture about them wore the marks of long usage, and was in the most ancient fashion. Evidently Mrs Smythe had 'gone to housekeeping' many years ago with these spindlelegged chairs and tables of blackest mahogany, on whose shiny surface some darky had expended 'elbow grease' without stint. The carpet iad seen, its best days, for the colours were faded and the pattern entirely worn away; but, notwithstanding all ihese signs of age, there was an sir of the highest respectability and mosi scrupulous neatness in all the appoinimenH which attested the fact thfct both furniture and inmates had seen better days. The two colourea servants teen.eii thoroughly well trai eu tncl aft-uttomeil to the presence cf stranger-. They moved
BY ROSS ASHLEIGH. Author of "Eleanor's Luck," "The Widow's Wager. "Pure Gold," Etc, etc.
about their work quietly, with strict attention to decorum. In a very short time Dorcas, the negress, announced to her mistress that the lady's room was ready to receive her, and Mrs Howard was at once put to bed in the sweetest asd whitest of couches, under a tall canopy bedstead at least a hundred years old, in a chamber that, for its antiquity matched the sitting room they had just left. 'Come, my dear, tea is ready—just let Dorcas take your place here with your mother while you have your suppper with us,' said Mrs Symthe to Jeanie, after they had together made the invalid comfortable for the night, and given her the light nourishment she was able to take.
A meal rhat embrace:! the qua'ities of dinner and supper in one was steaming on the round table in the dining room, and Pedro, armed with a waiter of solid old English silver, stood ready to discharge the office of butler.
'Shall we sit down without Caro, mother?' said .Robert Smythe, as the old lady moved to her place behind the great silver urn. 'Yes, she will be in presently; she knows you were to arrive, and will not tarry a moment longer than she must.'
'Caro is my Granddaughter,' explained Mrs Symthe. 'She gives music lessons to the children of some of our neighbours, and is often detained beyond the tea hour—ah! there she comes now.' In walked Miss Caro Montague, as dainty a bit of womanhood as any one would wish to lo"k upon, delicate as a fairy, and with the air of a queen. Indeed, a queen might envy her the crown of auburn hair that sat so well above her milk-white brow, and the great, sad brown eyes that made sweet mystery in her beautiful young face.
With a delightful absence of ceremony, the young lady rushed up to her 'Uncle Bob,' and him the heartiest hug and the most affectionate kiss imaginable, and then turned her blushing face to be presented to their guests, with whom she shook hands in the friendliest fashion.
'Oh, I am so glad Uncle Bob made you come,' she said, in reply to Miss Howard'B explanation of how they happened to be awaiting her unawares. 'I love company, and it will be so nice to find you here of evenings, after my work is done.' 'One can hardly fancy you at work, Miss Montague," said Fred Alcot, as he drew her chair out for her to be seated at table next himself. 'Well, now, wouldn't you call it work, and hard work, too, to drill the rudiments of music into six or seven little pupils every day and ramp roun d to do it?' 'Yes, indeed, I should; but why not have them come to you?' 'I have no piano, and am only too glad to get the scholars by going to them. You see, we have to do what we can since the war.' 'I think it is splendid of you to do work of any kind,' said Fred, with evident admiration of this patrician damsel, every inch of her a lady, who 'tramped around,' as she expressed it, to give music lessons. 'Well, no, I can't see that there is anything specially splendid about it; but as Uncle Rob has onlyonearm to support us with, I think the least I can do is to help him a little, though he does try to turn up his nose at my labours.' Does he ? Then I think he is very cruel, because your work is harder for you than his is for him.' 'Oh, no, indeed! I'd much rather give music lessons than sit in a dingy law office ill day, as Uncle Rob does. Or even sit in the house, as grandmother does, knitting woolen socks.' 'Don't pity me, child. Knitting got fo be second nature with me during the war. I'd rather do it than not,' said the old lady.
'I presume you were one of the brave Confederate women who kept the soldiers in the field by knitting and weaving for them while they fought, Mrs Smythe?' said Fred, looking straignt into the steadfast eyes of the ancient lady behind the urn.
'lndeed I was, sir; and I am proud to say I didn't let any one outdo me in sending socks and clothing to the soldiers. Poor lads! they had a hard time of if, with ail we could do fur the war. But I'd do it all over again, and say, - as I siy now, God knows best.'
There was profound silence round the hi ard as the majestic old lady uttered thia sentiment of resignation to theptern f ecree which had robbed iter of children and fortune, and left her to meet old age in comparative poverty, ehe added very gently, feeling she may have touched a sensitive spot in the hearts of her guests: 'Yes, God knows best. We each — North and South—ought as we believed it our duty to light; and now that all is over, we must believe the end was right, and shake hands over the result, which was as the Almighty chose to have it. What! are we to stand out against this decree?' TO BE CONTINUED
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Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 974, 18 February 1910, Page 2
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1,695FIGHTING HER WAY. Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 974, 18 February 1910, Page 2
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