Talbot's Angles

"He isn't the only hero in the world. He himself told me of another." There was a wise, kind expression in her eyes.

Berkley slipped down from the window seat to a cushion at her feet. She bent over him as a mother over her child. "Linda," he said whisperingly. "Linda." He took her soft hand in his strong lithe fingers, and she let it lie there. He pressed the cool little hand against his hot brow, then he looked up. "Linda," he repeated, "here I am at your feet. I love you so! Oh, how I love you! I know I don't deserve it, but do you think you could ever learn to care a little for me? I am not rich, but some day maybe I could buy back Talbot's Angles. There is nothing I would not do to make you happy."

"You said that once before, Berk."

"Did I?"

"Yes, – that night in the rain."

"I meant it."

"As much as you do now?"

"Every bit."

"And yet you avoided me, passed me by, allowed another to step in."

"It was for you, for you. I wanted you to be happy," he murmured.

"I see that now, but I missed my friend."

"Your friend? Am I never to be anything more, Linda? I love you with my whole heart. You are the one woman in the world to me. Don't you think that some day you might learn to love me a little?"

Linda's face was aglow with a tender light; her eyes were like stars. "No, Berk," she said slowly, lingeringly, "I could never learn to love you a little."

He dropped her hand and looked down, all the hope gone from his face.

"Because," Linda went on, bending a little nearer that he could hear her whisper, "I already love you so much."

He gave a little joyous cry and sprang to his feet, all his divine right suddenly recognized. He held out his arms. "Come," he said.

Linda arose with shining face, stepped down from the platform and went to him.

The dim portraits on the walls smiled down at them. It was the old story to which each passing generation had listened. The ancient house could tell many a like tale.

"Berk," said Linda when they had gone back to the seat by the window, "they told me you had a sweetheart in the city. Bertie Bryan vowed you acknowledged it to her."

He took her hands and kissed them. "So I may have done, my queen, but it was when you were there."

Linda sighed, a happy satisfied sigh. "Berk, dear, were you very unhappy, then? You didn't have to be, you see."

"I thought it was necessary, and perhaps I needed the discipline."

"Just as I have needed the discipline of teaching. I am realizing by degrees what a wonderful life work it might become."

"But you shall not teach long, though, Linda darling, I haven't told you that we shall have to begin life rather simply, for you know I must always think of my mother."

"Berk, dear, I couldn't be happy if I thought you ever would do less than you do now for her."

"You are so wonderful, so wonderful," he murmured. "I hope to do better and better in my profession, for I am much encouraged, and some day, remember I shall buy back Talbot's Angles for you."

"You will never do that, Berk," returned Linda, trying to look very grave.

"Why, sweet?"

"Because when Grace marries it will be mine without any question. We have had a letter from Judge Goldsborough."

"And he said – "

"That he had discovered papers which prove that Cyrus Talbot had only a lease on the place; it was for ninety-nine years, and it expired more than ten years ago."

"Of all things!" ejaculated Berkley. "That was the last explanation that would have occurred to me. Did Jeffreys know before he left?"

"Yes, we told him that afternoon he called to say good-by. Aunt Ri thought it was best to tell him, and to show him the judge's letter."

"Poor old chap! And he had to go without even the recompense of having made a sacrifice for you."

Linda's face clouded. "Yes, he said that everything had failed, even his attempted good deeds. I hope he will find happiness some day."

"And you are very glad that you can feel an undisputed ownership of the old home?"

"Yes, of course I am glad. Aren't you?"

"What is your happiness is mine, beloved Verlinda."

"The only drop of bitterness comes from the thought of Wyatt Jeffreys, but even there Aunt Ri insists his unhappiness will not last and that comforts me."

"Who is talking about Aunt Ri?" asked that lady coming in and throwing aside her hat. "Parthy has a brood of thirteen young chickens just out, and I have been down to see them. What were you two saying about me? Hallo, Berk, what has brought you here, I'd like to know? I thought you were so busy you could scarcely breathe."

"Oh, I'm taking an afternoon off," he responded. "A man can't be a mere machine such weather as this."

"I've been telling him about the judge's letter," put in Linda.

"And I reckon that was a mighty big surprise; it certainly was to us. It took a better lawyer than you, Berk Matthews, to unravel that snarl. Even the judge himself didn't remember the facts."

"Which were?"

"That to Cyrus Talbot belonged Addition and a part of Timber Neck, while to Madison belonged the Angles and the other part of Timber Neck; that was in the first place when they had their inheritance from their father, you see. They sold Timber Neck, and then Madison retained the Angles, while Cyrus kept Addition. Well, it seems the Angles, being the home plantation, had always gone to the eldest son. Madison's first child was a daughter, and after her birth Madison's wife died. Cyrus' first child was a son, and he wanted the Angles for him but Madison wouldn't give it up, but at last he consented to lease the place to his brother. Later on Cyrus' son died, and he left for the West, selling out Addition to his brother Madison who had married a second time. Madison went to Addition to live while Cyrus still clung to his lease of the Angles. However, when the house at Addition was burned he allowed his brother to go back to the homestead place to live. The rest you know; how Cyrus rented the lands to this and that tenant, and how the place went to the dogs at one time, and how it was finally discovered by Charles Jeffreys to belong to his mother's family. He wrote the letter you remember, the answer to which you have shown us. There is no use going over all that, for you will see just how the matter stands, and Verlinda will come to her own."

Linda looked at Berk who smiled back at her understandingly. "Aunt Ri," said the girl, going over and laying her cheek against the gray head, "Verlinda has come to her own in more than one sense." She held out her hand to Berkley who took it and drew it against his heart.

"What?" almost screamed Miss Ri. "You haven't a sweetheart in the city, Berk Matthews? What did I tell you, Verlinda? I knew that Bertie Bryan was making that all up."

"Not exactly, Miss Ri," said Berkley, "for I did give her reason to think so."

"And why did you do it? Just to make Verlinda unhappy?"

"Oh, Aunt Ri," Linda put her hand over the dear lady's lips.