Crimson Roses (26 page)

As she looked around her room, it seemed but half familiar, as if it had been weeks instead of hours since she left it. Could it be that it was but this morning that she had gone out from here expecting to return at night with the burden of a closed friendship on her heart? And now here she stood, the promised wife of the man she loved, and a whole story of revelation wrapped up in the crimson buds on her chest to be read and reread at her leisure, and all the tomorrows of more beautiful pages still to be written for her in the future!

There came slow steps up the stairs, and the tired voice of the landlady called out, “Here’s a letter fer ye, Miss Warren. The postman brung it this mornin’, an’ thought you might like it right off; so I come up. It was layin’ on the hall table, but I guess you didn’t take notice to it when you come along by.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Nash. That’s very kind,” she said. “No, I didn’t notice any letter for me. I wasn’t expecting one tonight.”

Her radiant face and happy voice attracted the tired woman.

“You’re lookin’ most awful pretty tonight,” she said, lingering. “Them roses is like some my grandmother used to raise on a little bush by her kitchen window. I ain’t seen none exactly that color since I was a girl, till you sent me down them that day. My, but that’s a nice hat, and you look real good in it.”

She surveyed the girl admiringly.

The old woman came into the room and dropped into the nearest chair, wrapping her hands in her checked apron as if she had something on her mind. “I been noticing them roses you get so often,” she began again. “Some man’ll be tryin’ to carry you off purty soon. I’ve seen it comin’. No such pretty, sweet girl as you would stay long by herself lonesome like. It ain’t accordin’ to nature, an’ I s’pose it’s all right; but it’s a terrible lottery, marriage is. I hope the man you been keepin’ comp’ny with ain’t got no bad habits. If he should turn out to drink, don’t have him, Miss Warren, no matter how fair he speaks. It’s no use trustin’ ‘em; the poor things can’t help it once drink gets at ‘em. I hope he makes a good livin’ an’ you won’t have to work no more. I hope you’ll turn out to get a good man, my dear. You certainly deserve it more ‘n most.”

Marion’s cheeks flamed scarlet, but she answered smilingly, “You needn’t worry about me, Mrs. Nash. He’s all right, and I shall not have to work anymore.”

“Well, my dear, I s’pose you’d think so anyway, whatever he was. But I hope your belief comes true, I do. You’ve been a good lodger, and I’ll not get another as good in many a long day; I am sure of that.”

When the old woman had toiled downstairs again, Marion opened her letter.

Chapter 16

T
he letter seemed remote from her, as if it were written to her in a former state of existence and had no relation to her present circumstances. She knew it was Tom’s writing. Jennie had written occasionally since they went away; but usually it was to ask about fashions or request her sister-in-law to make some purchases for her, with always a sharp dig at the end of the letter because Marion chose to stay in the city. The girl felt almost too happy tonight to be interested in a letter from anywhere; but, as she read, her face softened, and tears gathered in her eyes.

Dear Marion
(it read):

I’ve made up my mind to write and tell you that we think it is about time you quit the business of staying in the city alone and came up to live with us. Father wouldn’t like you to be off like that. My conscience has troubled me ever since we went away. I think I ought to have stayed in the city another year for your sake and given you a little more schooling if you wanted it so much. I thought you’d soon see how foolish it was and come to us; but you’ve got pluck. I always knew that, and I ought to have seen you’d get what you wanted. I never could understand why you wanted it; but, seeing you did, you ought to have had it. Now I’ve got a proposition to make. You come home this summer and help with the housework, especially during harvest, and help Jennie sew things up and teach the children a little; and then, if you don’t like it up here, we’ll all go down to the village to live. There’s a real good teachers’ school there, and you can study winters if you want to and be home summers
.

There’s another thing, too. I’ve felt mean about the money for the house. It was half yours, you know, and you had a right to it. Father always said he’d made a will, and I can’t help thinking by what he said at the last that he meant to leave the house to you. Anyhow half of it was yours, and I oughtn’t to have taken it. Of course it’s all in the house now, and I can’t very well get it out for four or five years yet; but I’ll pay you interest on your part, and if you don’t want to live here, you shall have your share, if I’m prospered, as soon as I can conveniently take it out. I’m sending you a check for a hundred and fifty dollars. Things went pretty well with us, better than I expected for a first year; and I can spare this just as well as not. Get yourself anything you need, and live comfortably; but I hope you’ll decide to accept my proposition and come home for the summer anyway. Then we’ll try to fix things to suit somehow. Jennie says she wishes you’d come, too. I don’t like to think of my little sister all alone in a big city. It isn’t the thing in these days when so many things happen. Of course I don’t want to hinder you in what you want to do, but I think you better decide to come home
.

Your affectionate brother,
Tom

It was the longest letter Tom had ever written, and it warmed his sister’s heart to have it come now in the midst of her other joy, that she might feel that her own were loving toward her also.

She was glad to the depths of her soul that she did not have to accept his proposition and go to that home to live. But he had asked her in a humble, loving way and sent that generous check.

She would be able now to buy a number of necessities and a few luxuries to replenish her meager wardrobe. For it hurt her pride terribly to think of going to her husband like a shabby little beggar girl. And the savings from her tiny salary were so very small that she knew she could get very few, even simple wedding garments with it.

Also, there was another reason why she was glad of that letter. It made it seem reasonably sure that Tom never knew about the will, else he would not have written as he had. She rejoiced that she might once more have faith in her brother.

When she lay down to sleep, it was with a great joy in her heart. She felt again the thrill of Lyman’s hand upon hers; his voice when he first said, “I love you”; his lips upon hers in good night.

He came the next afternoon, and the gloomy little parlor wore its most dustless front, with three crayon portraits of landlady Nash’s deceased husband, son, and daughter respectively, smiling down upon it all.

Mrs. Nash herself, with most unexpected fineness of soul, sent in, when they returned from their ride, a tray containing hot biscuits, pressed chicken, honey, two cups of tea, and a plate of sugar cookies. She had said to herself, “What if me own daughter had lived an’ been alone in a strange boardin’house!—and this had been the result.”

The pretty new hat and the dress went to church that evening with two quiet roses nestling among its folds. Miss Cresson, seated across the aisle, spent the hour of service in thoughtful meditation; and the theme of her cogitation was, “Is
that
who she was?”

“How long have you gone to this church?” asked Marion of Lyman as they were on their way home. “I don’t remember having seen you before that reception.”

“My grandfather was one of the founders of that church,” he said. “I’ve always gone there when I was at home. But I’ve been away a good many years altogether, counting school and college and war and travel afterward. I spotted you the first thing when I got back, however. You must have been a very small girl when I went away.”

“It is all just a fairy dream,” said the girl joyfully. “How could it ever have happened to me?”

“Because you are the princess,” said Lyman smiling.

The fairy story continued to unfold the next morning. Just a little before her lunch hour she was sent for to come to the office, where she was told that her services had been most valuable to the firm, and that, while deep regret was felt at the thought of losing her, she was at liberty to leave them immediately if she felt it imperative. They would, however, take it as a great favor if she would remain for two or three days to instruct a substitute. Also she was handed a generous check, which she was told was the office’s appreciation of the unique work in the store. Mr. Chapman said some very pleasant things, which brought the rosy flush to her cheeks; and the tone in which he spoke of Lyman made her heart throb with pride. The esteem with which he treated her was a marked contrast to his brief, abrupt manner of their first interview.

She knew that Lyman had been to see Mr. Chapman as he had promised to do the night before. It was beautiful to her that he had cast the mantle of his own personality about her.

With the pleasant, kindly wishes of the official head of the firm ringing in her ears, Marion went from the office to meet Lyman, as had been agreed upon.

They took lunch in a quiet little restaurant this time, where a sheltered table at the end of the room gave them opportunity for conversation.

After the order had been given, Lyman took from his pocket a tiny white leather box and handed it to the wondering girl.

She opened it shyly, not guessing what it contained.

Inside was a crimson velvet case with a white pearl spring. The crimson of the velvet was the same shade as the rose she wore. Had he matched it on purpose? Still wondering, she took out the case and touched the spring. There against its white velvet lining flashed a glorious diamond.

She caught her breath and looked at him, almost frightened by the magnificence of it.

“Put it on,” he said. “It may not fit, and then I’ll have to have it changed. I stole your glove last night when you dropped it on the floor as we said good-night. I had to get the measurement from that.”

“Is it for me?” she asked with such an illumination of her whole face that he was almost awed by the effect of his gift.

“Surely! Who else could it be for? Put it on quick, before the waitress comes. Here, hide the box.” And he reached out and took possession of the box and case in time to prevent the waitress from enjoying a bit of delightful gossip with her fellow workers.

The ring fit perfectly, and after the waitress had left them alone, once more the little hand with its unusual adornment stole out to the edge of the table and revealed itself; but when Marion lifted her eyes, they were glittering with unshed tears.

“What is it, dear?” he asked anxiously. “Have I hurt you in any way? Don’t you like it?”

“Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful!” she said, “and I was thinking how pleased Father would be to have you care for me like that.”

“Dear little girl!” said the man, reverently leaning toward her and speaking in a low voice. “That is only a small symbol of how much I love you. I hope to make my life tell you plainer than that.”

She gave him a smile of radiant brightness.

The precious lunch hour was soon over, and she felt that she must hasten back to the store. As they rose to go out, he said, “I want you to promise me one thing. Don’t get a lot of clothes, please. Just fix up what you want for the wedding, and let’s buy anything else you need in New York. It will be delightful to go shopping with you and help you pick out things, if you don’t mind having me around.”

He was rewarded with another brilliant smile of reassurance.

“It will be beautiful, inexpressibly so, to have you always around,” she said with shining eyes.

She went back to her ribbons as quietly that afternoon as if nothing wonderful had happened, but there was a light in her eyes and a glow on her cheeks that were presently detected by her coworkers; and it was not many minutes before they had discovered the flashing of the beautiful diamond on her finger. It was whispered from one to another, till finally the boldest of them all laughingly challenged her to tell where it came from. She smiled shyly over the rosette she was making and acknowledged that she was engaged; and they kissed her and congratulated her and said they hoped she would not leave them soon.

Their kindness was very pleasant. They had not all seemed to be so very friendly before this, except when they wanted a favor; but it was pleasant to have them be nice to her, even though she did recognize that her roses and her diamond had paved the way for their affection.

Late that afternoon, when customers were growing less and the new girl she was teaching did not need her help for a few minutes, she stole away for a little while and refigured for the purchases she must make.

It was almost closing time when Lyman came down the aisle and stopped before her counter.

“I may walk home with you, may I not?” he asked in a low tone, his eyes answering her glad look in greeting. “Where shall I meet you?”

“Why, I can go with you now in just a minute. I’ve closed up my book and sent it in. Wait by the door at the end of the aisle while I run up to the coatroom for my things.”

He watched her as she rapidly and skillfully rolled the ends of two or three bolts of ribbon smoothly and pinned them in place, putting them on the shelf and touching them gently as if she loved their rosy tints and silken texture, the ring flashing on her white hand caressingly.

She turned brightly to the other girls, who were huddled together at the upper end of the counter watching and whispering softly about her.

“Good night, girls; it’s my turn to go early tonight.”

“Good night!” they chorused eagerly as if they wished to show their goodwill before her friend.

They watched Marion and Lyman walk together down the aisle.

“She’s in luck!” remarked one girl. “He’s one of the swellest of the swells. He’s no snob, either. He’s the real thing. Did you notice that diamond, girls? Wasn’t it a peach? He’s some classy bridegroom, all right.”