The Staying Guest

And beside all this perfection of æsthetic beauty, he saw in the girl a beauty of mind and soul which shone in her dark eyes as they met his across the apple-boughs. All this was brought home to him so positively that only his subconscious sense of the fitness of things kept him from speaking his thoughts aloud; and the situation was appreciably relieved when Stella said casually:

“Are you staying down to-day, Mr. Humphreys?”

“Yes,” he said conventionally; “I go back this afternoon.”

“Ah! you are a relative of the Misses Flint?”

“No, not that, but my mother was an old friend; though I had never met the Flint ladies until yesterday.”

“And you live in the world? – the great outside world? I have always longed for it.”

“And why shouldn’t you have it?” Humphreys’s eyes across the green apple-boughs looked straight into Stella’s.

“Because I am not of the world,” she said simply; “because I’m a country girl – country born and bred.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you must always continue to live in the country.”

“No; though I feel sure I shall. But tell me of the great world. Have you been all over it?”

“Not quite that; but I’ve seen the best and worst of it.”

“And which did you prefer?”

“Neither, I think – I’m not an extremist.”

“Nor an enthusiast?”

“That, of course. Life wouldn’t be worth living without enthusiasm. It is a part of our youth. Don’t you possess it?”

“Yes,” said Stella, very earnestly, “I’m sure I do. But mine has so little to feed on that I fear it may die of insufficient nutrition.”

“That seems a pity,” said Humphreys, “when the world is so full of a number of foods for enthusiasm.”

“It is a pity,” said Stella, quietly.

Their conversation was interrupted just then by Enthusiasm Incarnate, which, in the shape of Ladybird, came flying across the orchard to announce luncheon.

“And Stella is invited too,” she declared; “Aunt Priscilla said so.”

But Stella declined the invitation, and so Chester Humphreys and Ladybird strolled back to Primrose Hall the same way they had come.

“Now,” said Ladybird, with an air that would have sat well upon Napoleon after the battle of Austerlitz, “what have you to say for yourself?”

“I have a great deal to say for myself,” said Humphreys, “and it is to be said now, and it is to be said to you, and it is strictly confidential.”

“That means I mustn’t tell, doesn’t it?” inquired Ladybird, nodding her wise head.

“It means just that; and it also means that I trust you implicitly: that I have faith in your honor, loyalty, and truth.”

“You may,” said Ladybird, looking at him with her eyes full of an integrity suggestive of the rock of Gibraltar – “you may depend on me. I am a Flint.”

“Very well, then,” said Chester. “Now, my little Flint, listen to me. You did a rash and daring thing when you wrote that letter to the governor; but never mind that part now: it may be that an inscrutable Fate used you for a straw to show which way the wind was blowing.”

“Are you going to marry Stella?” demanded Ladybird, who took little interest in proverbial philosophy.

“That’s the first thing I want to speak to you about,” said Humphreys; “you must overcome your propensity for asking that question. It is a habit, and unless broken, it may defeat your own ends.”

“Oh, talk so I can understand you,” said Ladybird, impatiently. “And, anyway, are you?”

“Listen, Ladybird,” said Chester Humphreys, suddenly becoming very straightforward and serious. “You are very fond of your friend Stella, and you want to help her; and it may be that you will be able to do so if you are willing to listen to reason. And first you must stop asking me if I’m going to marry Stella, because that is a thing that a man does not tell other people until he has discussed it with the lady most interested. Also, if it is your wish that I shall marry Miss Russell, the surest way to prevent it is for you to go about repeating that foolish question. Now I told you I intended to be confidential with you, so I will say that I admire Miss Russell very much indeed – more, I think, than any other young woman I have ever met; but it is not nice nor wise from that fact to jump immediately to the conclusion of a wedding. Because I admire Miss Russell is an especial reason why I wish you to treat her with deference, consideration, and delicacy. Matters of this sort must advance slowly and unfold their possibilities as they go on. What may happen in the future cannot be decided now, or even discussed. You have done your part, and though your methods were unusual, your plan succeeded. Now any further attempt on your part to assist will prove only a hindrance. Am I clear?”

“You’re not very clear,” said Ladybird, with a thoughtful pucker between her eyebrows, “but I think I understand what you mean. You mean that you’d like to marry Stella, but it isn’t polite to hurry her so, and, anyway, you’re not quite sure about it.”

“Well,” said Humphreys, “that states the situation pretty fairly, though without mentioning its more subtle details.”

“Well, I’m satisfied,” said Ladybird; “it’s all right, and I think we understand each other. Don’t hurry any faster than you choose; and, anyhow, now that Stella has seen you, I know she’ll never look at Charley Hayes again. And as to your not being quite sure of yourself, I know very well that you’ll only get surer every time you see her.”

“Very likely,” said Humphreys. “But remember, Ladybird, this is a confidence that I have intrusted to you, feeling sure that you will prove yourself worthy of it.”

“See my finger wet,
See my finger dry,
See my finger cut my throat if I tell a lie!”

chanted Ladybird, suiting to her words actions rather more realistic than dramatic, but which carried conviction.

After luncheon Chester Humphreys had an interview with the Misses Flint that somehow induced those ladies to invite him to remain longer under their roof.

“You see, aunty,” said Ladybird, when she heard of Humphreys’s acceptance of this invitation, – “you see I am not such a fool as I look.”

“Which is fortunate for us all,” said Miss Priscilla, grimly.

“Quite so,” said Ladybird, serenely; “for I know sometimes I do look and act most exceeding foolish. But I suppose that is because I am really a Flint.”

Whereupon, for some inexplicable reason, Miss Priscilla kissed her.

CHAPTER XVIII

LAVINIA LOVELL

It must be that the exception proves the rule, for though the love of Chester Humphreys and Stella Russell was undoubtedly true, its course ran smooth.

One afternoon in August, Stella, Chester, and Ladybird sat out in the orchard.

“Now that you two are engaged,” said Ladybird, “if you wish, I will go away and leave you to your own self.”

“Don’t bother, Ladybird,” said Chester; “understand once for all that when we wish to be left to our own ‘self,’ we will either arrange it cleverly and unostentatiously, or else ask you frankly to take your departure.”

“Then that’s settled,” said Ladybird, leaning comfortably against a tree-trunk; “you are really the nicest engaged couple I ever knew.”