FONTAINEBLEAU AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

Molly's promise to wait to see the Forest of Fontainebleau with him had kept up Edwin Green's spirits through the long winter, and now he eagerly planned the excursion to that historic spot. They were to take the early morning train; spend the forenoon seeing the palace; have lunch at a restaurant that Edwin remembered of old; then walk or ride through the Forest as the ladies should decide; and spend the night at Barbizon.

Everything was coming up to his dreams. Even the day was perfect. He was allowed to sit by Molly on the train and later on to be by her side while the guide showed them through the palace and over the beautiful grounds. Mrs. Brown and Judy and Kent were inseparable.

"The poor old boy has been sick and my opinion is he needs a little Molly-coddling; so let's give him all the chance in the world,"

whispered Kent to Judy; and Judy fell in with the suggestion and hooked her arm in Mrs. Brown's with a "Whither thou goest, I will go" look.

They had luncheon at a restaurant, The Sign of the Swan, kept by an old English couple, who made a specialty of roast beef and English mustard.

"None of the ready mixed French stuff that is so mild you can eat it by itself, but the good English brand that will really burn," said the buxom madame, as she smilingly served great slabs of rare beef with generous helpings of freshly mixed mustard.

"It burns all right, all right," exclaimed Kent between gulps of water.

"It would be invaluable for outside application, but I advise all of you to go easy on how you place it in the interior. The English have stopped wearing visible armor but my opinion is they have swallowed it to protect their insides from the onslaught of their own mustard."

"I think it is delicious," said Molly.

"So do I," echoed Edwin. "I never tasted better."

Kent gave the professor a quizzical glance and then flicked his eyelid at Judy. The young man was very far gone, he thought, if he could swallow that mustard and make out he enjoyed it, since he, Kent, happened to know that Edwin Green abhorred all highly seasoned food. But forsooth, if Molly liked mustard he would like mustard, too.

Molly and Judy had expressed their desire to walk through the Forest to Barbizon but Mrs. Brown was to take the diligence, as it was rather too long a walk for her to attempt. Judy suddenly decided that she was tired and would ride with Mrs. Brown, and Kent declared that he needed a.s.sistance to carry the quant.i.ty of roast beef he had consumed at The Sign of the Swan, and was delighted to be spared the walk of several miles.

"I tell you, I almost sang my 'Swan Song' when I got that first mouthful of mustard, and it would have been to the tune of 'It's a hot time in the old town to-night.' If you and the professor are going to walk, Molly, you had better start now and not wait for the diligence to be off."

So Molly and Edwin did start on the walk that the young man had been looking forward to for so many months. The Forest of Fontainebleau is a wonderful spot and a fitting place for a young man to use as the setting for his day dreams. Here he was actually doing the thing he had been dreaming of, only it was more delightful than he had let himself think it could be. Molly was all loveliness and sweetness. He blessed the miles that made it necessary for Mrs. Brown to ride; he blessed the unusual fatigue that had overtaken Judy; and above all, he blessed the slabs of rare roast beef that had put Kent out of the running. So blind was he to everything but Molly, the color of her eyes and hair, the curve of her cheek and sweetness of her mouth, that he had not seen that Kent and Judy had deliberately given up the walk for his sake. Julia Kean did not know what "tired" meant, and as for Kent, he was a young man of unlimited capacity.

They soon left the broad avenue and struck into one of the by-paths going in the direction of Barbizon. Edwin had a map of the Forest on which every path was indicated, and with the help of the many finger-posts, they were able to locate themselves from time to time.

"Is it as beautiful as you thought it would be, Miss Molly?"

"Oh, more beautiful! I never have seen such trees. It is so wonderful, too, to think that there are no snakes. They say they have not seen a snake in these parts for over fifty years. When I am in the woods, I am always a little bit uneasy about snakes."

"Since there are no snakes, we might sit down on this moss-covered rock and rest."

There was more to Edwin's dream than simply walking through the woods with Molly; and he felt that no more suitable place could be found than this sylvan spot where she could be seated like a queen on a throne while he poured out a.s.surances of his life-long allegiance, if she would but admit him as a subject.

"Oh, Miss Molly! Molly, my darling, I am dumb with love of you. I want to tell you how much I love you; how long I have loved you. Can you love me just a little?"

And Molly raised her frank blue eyes to his appealing brown ones and answered: "No, I can't love you just a little, but I have to love you a whole lot."

His day dream was indeed coming true: alone with Molly Brown in the great, deep, silent forest, his love spoken at last and Molly actually confessing that she cared for him. That eminent instructor of English at Wellington College found when the time came to express himself that all his knowledge of words was as naught, and the only English he had at his command was: "I love you, do you love me?" and "I have loved you since the day in your Freshman year when you got locked in the corridor. How long have you loved me, if you do really love me?"

They finally resumed their walk, but now they went hand in hand. How much there was to talk about, how many things to explain!

"And will you be willing to spend the summers in your orchard home with me? I have always called it 'Molly's Orchard Home' in my mind."

"I can think of no place in the world where I'd rather spend the summers. Would I not be near all of my people? I am so glad you asked my advice about the bungalow! Now the doors open the way I want them to; and the cellar has an outside entrance; and the guest chamber has those extra inches on it, besides the nice big closet; and the attic steps are big enough to get a trunk up. Did you really and truly think it was going to be my home when you were planning it?"

"I could only hope and hope and plan and dream. For almost six years I have known that it was you or n.o.body for me. Ever since you came to Wellington, a slip of a girl, it has been all I could do to keep from claiming you. You were too young. I knew it would not be fair to try to tie you to an old dry-as-dust like me until you had seen the world a little. But oh, how hard it has been not to speak out all that was in my heart! And when I thought I had lost you, first to Jimmy Lufton, then to your cousin, Philippe d'Ochte, life was very bitter, and I looked forward to years of misery and longing."

"'Way down in my heart of hearts," confessed Molly, "I knew that you cared, and the knowledge of it kept me from thinking seriously of any other man. It was awfully conceited of me to feel that way when you have never given me any real reason for it. At least, you had never written or spoken your love; but the language that is neither written nor spoken is understood by the heart, and my heart told me you loved me when my intelligence would have me understand that you did not."

"Bless your sweet heart for understanding me and speaking a good word for me! I wish my heart could have done as much for me. I could not see how you could care for me, and still I hoped and prayed. And now what is to prevent our being married right now and spending our honeymoon abroad?"

"Well, it seems to me that a young man who could possess his soul in patience for six years to find out his fate, might wait a while longer now that he knows his answer," teased Molly.

"But all my patience is gone, used up, worn out! I want you all the time to make up for this terrible nightmare of a winter that I have pa.s.sed through. What is to prevent our getting married, if you really and truly care for me? Oh, Molly, be good to me! I could not stand it if the ocean separated us again!"

And Molly was good to this extent; she said: "Let's see what mother says about it."

When the pair of happy lovers reached Barbizon, they broke the news of their engagement to their friends, who had the tact to pretend to be astonished. Mrs. Brown was in a measure relieved that Molly returned the affections of the young professor. She liked him very much and fully approved of him as a son-in-law. She felt sure that he would take the best possible care of her darling daughter. There had been times when she had felt a little afraid that her advice to Edwin Green not to speak to Molly of his love until the girl had matured somewhat, was perhaps a mistake. But now, convinced that all was well, Mrs. Brown, as impulsive as ever, agreed that there was no reason to delay their marriage.

The next few days were filled with unmixed charm and delight. Barbizon was intensely interesting, having been the home of Jean Francois Millet.

Here he lived, painted and died, the great peasant painter. The fields around the village were the scenes for the Gleaners, the Angelus, the Man with the Hoe.

The Forest, which touched the outskirts of the village, had furnished motifs for Diaz, Rousseau and Daubigny, and Judy was in a state of the greatest enthusiasm and excitement trying to spy out the exact spots where those masters of landscape had painted their pictures. Kent was delighted to follow in her footsteps and, as he expressed it, "sit at the feet of learning." He had seen but few good pictures, but he had an unerring taste in the matter of art and was able to understand Judy's ravings.

Molly and Edwin seemed to be floating above the earth. They touched ground occasionally to eat the very good food that the madame at _Maison Chevillon_ served them or to pa.s.s the time of day with the other members of the party.

"Look at those two infatuated lovers, Mother," said Kent. "They look as though they had left this mundane sphere for good and all. I believe they talk in blank verse with occasional lapses into rhyme.

"'What kind er slippers do the angels wear?

Chillun, chillun, chillun, won't yer foller me?

Don' wear none fer they tred on air, Hally, Hally, Hally, Hallyloodja!'"

"Nonsense, Kent, don't tease them," implored Mrs. Brown.

But strange to say, Molly did not mind the teasing she was forced to take from her brother, although Judy called him "Mr. Brown" in the most formal manner whenever he yielded to the temptation to tease her beloved Molly.

"I don't mind your calling me 'Mr. Brown' now that none of my brothers are here to answer to your endearments," laughed Kent. "I rather like it, in fact. It adds a kind of dignity to me."

They could not play around the Forest of Fontainebleau forever, much as they would have liked to. They went back to Paris a very contented, happy party: Mrs. Brown happy that her judgment had been correct in regard to her daughter's affairs; Kent and Judy happy to be in each other's society and knowing they were to have much of their chosen work ahead of them; Kent feeling almost certain that when his work was accomplished the reward awaited him, that Judy cared for him and if he could make good, would marry him; Professor Green and Molly in a seventh heaven of bliss.

Cousin Sally was immediately taken into their confidence. The news of the engagement was broken to her by Molly herself.

"Oh, what a sly-boots you were!" exclaimed the marchioness. "Philippe was right about your knowing too much about how persons ought to love not to be in love yourself. Well, my dear, I know you will be happy, and as for that Green--I hardly know how to say how happy he should be. He is not one-half so good looking as my boy, but never mind, child, I know just how clever and good and intelligent he is. He is much more suitable for you. He has the imagination that Philippe lacks. Tut--tut, I know perfectly well where my dear son falls short. There is no poetry in his make up. His father and I have often wondered at it. He looks so poetical and is all prose."

The marchioness took arrangements for the wedding into her own hands.

Getting married in Paris if you happen to be foreigners, is no easy matter. There is enough red tape connected with it to reach all the way across the Atlantic; but Sally Bolling d'Ochte was quite equal to cope with it. It took several weeks and much signing and countersigning.

Birth certificates had to be obtained from Kentucky as well as baptismal certificates for Molly. The law did not seem to be so strict concerning the man.

"It does not seem fair," declared Kent. "These Frenchies will let a _man_ get married without any proof of his being born; but a woman, forsooth, must first prove she is born and that she has been christened before she is allowed to enter into the holy state of matrimony."

All the papers were finally obtained, however, and Molly and her professor were married very quietly at the Protestant Episcopal Church, with no one present but the near friends and relatives. It all went as merry as a marriage bell should, but does not always go. No one wept but Polly Perkins; but Jo declared he always was a "s...o...b..r baby."

Molly naturally was married in blue, her own blue. The dressmaker almost cried when she was told that it was a wedding dress she was making, because it was not to be of white.