XXIV

THE HOUSE WHERE LOVE LIVED

It was past the middle of October, and Allison's injured hand was not only free of its bandages, but he had partially regained the use of it.

Doctor Jack still lingered, eagerly seizing every excuse that presented itself.

"I suppose I ought to be back looking for another job," he regretfully observed to Allison, "but I like it here, and besides, I want to hear you play on your fiddle before I go."

Allison laughed and hospitably urged him to stay as long as he chose.

Colonel Kent added, heartily, after an old Southern fashion: "My house is yours."

Crimson and golden leaves rained from the maples, and the purple winds of Autumn swept them into drifts at the roadside. Amethystine haze shimmered in the valleys and lay, cloud-like, upon the distant hills.

Through the long aisles of trees a fairy patter of tiny furred feet rustled back and forth upon the fallen leaves. Only a dropping nut or a busy squirrel broke the exquisite peace of the forest, where the myriad life of the woods waited, in hushed expectancy, for the tide of the year to turn.

Like a scarlet shuttle plying through the web of Autumn, the big red touring car hummed and whirred, with a happy young man at the wheel and a laughing girl beside him. Juliet's momentary self-consciousness was gone, and she was her sunny self again, though she still occasionally wept in secret, longing for her brother.

"Aunt Francesca," she said, one day, when the two were sewing on dainty garments destined to adorn Juliet, "do you think Romie will ever come back to me?"

"Not in the sense you mean, dear," replied Madame, gently. "We live in a world of change and things are never the same, even from day to day."

"She made him think I was a tomboy, and now she'll teach him not to love me. Why does she want everything?"

"Some women do, when they marry. Many are not content to be sweetheart and wife, but must take the place of mother and sisters too. But remember, Juliet, when a woman closes a man's heart against those of his own blood, the one door she has left open will some day be slammed in her own face."

"And then--?"

"Then the other doors will swing ajar, turning slowly on rusty hinges, but the women for whom they are opened will never cross the threshold again."

"Why?"

"Because they have ceased to care. There is nothing so dead as a woman's dead love. When the fire goes out and no single ember is left, the ashes are past the power of flame to rekindle."

"Do you think that, after a while, I won't care for Romie any more?"

"Not as you used to--that is impossible even now."

Juliet sighed and hastily wiped away a tear. With a quick, sure stroke, her life seemed to have been divided.

"Don't, dear. Remember what you have had. I often think a woman has crossed the line between youth and maturity, when she begins to put away, in the lavender of memory, the lovely things she has had--and is never to have again. The after years are made up, so many times, of things one has had--rounded off and put away forever."

"I know," returned Juliet, with a far-away look in her eyes. "I remember the day I grew up--almost the hour. It was the day I came here."

Madame stooped to kiss the girl's rosy cheek, then swiftly turned the talk to linen and lace. Always quick to observe, Juliet had acquired little graces of tone and manner, softened her abruptness, and, guided by loving tact, had begun to bloom like a primrose in a sunny window.

"When--when Miss Bernard comes back again," asked Juliet, wistfully, "shall I have to go?"

"No, dear--indeed no! This is your home until the right man comes a- wooing, and takes you to a little house of your own."

Scarlet signals flamed in Juliet's cheeks as she earnestly devoted herself to her sewing, and Madame smiled. Already, in quiet moments, she had planned a pretty wedding gown for Juliet, and a still prettier wedding.

Allison came frequently, sometimes alone and sometimes with his father or Doctor Jack. He had remarked once that when he desired to consult his physician, he always knew where to find him. Madame affected not to notice that a strange young man had become a veritable part of her family, for she liked Doctor Jack and made him very welcome, morning, noon, and night.

On Wednesdays, the men of the other household dined with her. Sat.u.r.days, she and Juliet were honoured guests at the Colonel's, though he deprecated his own hospitality. "A house needs a woman at the head of it," he said. "It was different when Miss Rose was here."

"Indeed it was," thought Allison, though he did not put it into words.

At the end of the month, when it was cool enough to make an open fire seem the most cheerful of companions, Madame had them all at her own table. Juliet was surpa.s.singly lovely in her first long gown, of ivory- tinted chiffon, ornamented only by hand embroidery and a bit of deep- toned lace. Her wavy hair was gathered into a loose knot, from which tiny tendrils escaped to cling about her face. Madame had put a pink rose into her hair, slipped another into her belt, and had been well pleased with the work of her own hands.

After dinner, while Juliet played piquet with the Colonel, and Doctor Jack sat quietly in the shadow, where he could watch every play of light and shade upon the girl's lovely changing face, Allison drew Madame into the library and quietly closed the door.

"Aunt Francesca," he said, without preliminary, "I've been more kinds of a fool in a few months than most men can manage to be in a lifetime."

"Yes," Madame agreed, with a cool little smile.

"Where is Rose?" he demanded.

"Rose," replied Madame, lightly, "has gone away."

"I know that," he flashed back. "I realise it every day and every hour of my life. I asked where she was."

"And I," answered Madame, imperturbably, "have told you. She is simply 'away.'"

"Is she well?"

"Yes."

"Is she happy?'

"Of course. Why not? Beauty, health, talent, sufficient income, love-- what more can a woman desire?"

"Aunt Francesca! Tell me, please. Where is Rose?"

"When I was married," answered Madame, idly fingering an ivory paper knife, "I went to live in a little house in the woods."

"Yes? Where is Rose?"

"It was only a tiny place, but a brook sang in front of it, night and day."

"Must have been pretty. Where did Rose go?"

"It was very quiet there. It would have been a good place to work, if either of us had been musical, or anything of that sort."

"Charming," replied Allison, absently.

"It wasn't far from town, either. We could take a train at two o'clock, and reach Holly Springs a little after three. It was half a mile up the main road from the station, and, as we had no horse, we always walked."

"Nice walk," said Allison, dejectedly.