It all happened so naturally, with such an evident desire for her happiness and comfort that each time Adelina felt the inability to frustrate the plans of Harold and Mary. How her friends could feel that her pleasure was so much involved was more than she could determine. "Why should I, who am always well, need change, when you two never go away?" Adelina asked, then added, without leaving time for an answer, "it is not quiet for me now." "It is strange how lively one curate can make a place. He is really the only addition to the place that I can think of," rejoined Mr. Tracy, half satirically. It will be readily seen that he had the man's universal love of teasing. Though the remark was made in fun, the girl betrayed confusion, at which Harold wondered. Could it be possible that she had in so short a time begun to take an interest in this stranger, "Harold," she said, "you get worse every year." "In what way am I deteriorating? Ah, 'tis looks you doubtless mean," he ruminatingly replied. "Not only every year, but every day I see my natural head-gear vanishing." This was said as though he was sorely wounded, with the pretense of ruefully feeling with caution the head which proclaimed to all that the extreme paucity of hair was no exaggeration on his part. "That does not indicate a falling away of your lingual powers, however," saucily replied Adelina. "Fie, every one knows my scarcity of words." "Oh, yes, doubtless; when seen as I chanced to view you an hour ago. You were quietly "Mary, Mary, can you stand by and hear me thus maligned?" "Mary knows better than to take up for you. Already you presume too much on your past right of guardianship. Even a few moments ago you were trying to dispose of me by sending me to the farthest corners of the earth." As "the farthest corners of the earth" meant only a score of miles, the good-natured controversy ended in laughter. A cloud had come over the face of Miss Tracy at the last words of Adelina. The latter, on reviewing her words, could only attribute it to the mention of her departure. If the truth were known, Miss Tracy had been reminded of something which had taken place prior to the above conversation. Adelina knew nothing of this, except in so far as it related to the effect as displayed on her friend's countenance when she had surprised her by her sudden entrance to the room. Mary had evidently expected a quiet retreat, and so was unprepared to greet Adelina in an impassive manner. Adelina had felt hurt that "See what humoring her has done," said Mr. Tracy, with a smile, that did not conceal the underlying gravity. The gravity Adelina thought was only the result of her alleged objection to the carrying out of his purposes. Though she felt half reluctant to persevere in her own interests, she said to herself that she The reference to the taking place of something in her absence was not premeditated; in fact, Adelina had not considered the significance of her words. That the others had was obvious, as was revealed by the questioning looks exchanged between brother and sister, interpreted as wishing to know whether or not the other deemed a disclosure to be plausible. Adelina looked from one to the other in amazement. Had she prepared her words she would not have pronounced any more calculated to produce consternation. So there was some reason for her being sent away at a particular time; opposition would not have produced such an effect as this. She was undecided as to her procedure. She well knew that there is vic "Adelina," said Mr. Tracy, "we had no idea that you were concerned about this affair. Had we known that you perceived any alteration in us, we would long ago have decided that it was "It is only natural, my child," resumed Mr. Tracy, "that you desire to have revealed to you what so nearly concerns you." To a stranger Mr. Tracy's manner might possibly have produced an impression of latent irritation. The noblest natures, when endeavoring to overcome emotion have often, unfortunately, inadequate means of expressing or manifesting the beneficence actually belonging to them. There was no danger of a misunderstanding here; daily intercourse with a man like this would bear evidence of his nobility. After a slight interval devoted to consideration as to his manner of procedure, he said, "Our wish to have you away during May and June was for your own good." "That I never doubted," replied Adelina, with a grateful look. "If you remember, it was three years ago that we first proposed your leaving us. Did you in no way associate it with something happening the same year?" "Dear Harold, when did anything so momentous take place?" Harold, reflecting on his inability to prepare Adelina, added: "It was the year poor Ralph Bamford was taken ill. Have you never wondered where he has been since then?" As if to cover her confusion, he quickly added: "But of course you have; your natural kindness would lead you to conjecture that far. His malady has never rendered him dangerous to those about him, hence he has remained a portion of each year with us; the rest of the time with a private family. It was through his ravings that we learned the circumstances you know so well—better than any. Since that time we have always had him with us the months when his sickness is at the worst. Once he caught a glimpse of you—the effect can readily be imagined. We have deemed it expedient to send you away to prevent similar attacks." "Is he at all improved of late? Poor boy. I shall always feel that I am to blame." "Nonsense, my dear," returned Harold. "Then nothing but the event of Ralph's recovery will restore your natural buoyancy?" Mary gave an admonitory look, in order to curb this levity, and also lest the reference to a supposititious recovery might raise hopes only to "Harold, is there anything to warrant us in thinking he will ever be well again?" Adelina's question was not put as calmly as she deceived herself into believing. Harold regretted his impulsive speech, and would feign have recalled it. He cast a beseeching look at his sister to aid in extricating him from the difficulties attending his folly. "Adelina," he said, after giving to his sister a most reproachful look for not entering the breach, "there can as yet be no certainty of Ralph's recovery. We often hope where there is nothing to warrant us in so hoping." "You do not expect me to leave, now that I know that he is to be here so soon?" the rising inflexion alone conveying the idea of interrogation. That an answer was expected, however, was made manifest by the girl's undisguised eagerness to learn the purport of the anticipated reply. Mary was the first to respond. "You are no longer a child, dear, and so must "I would," replied Adelina, then feeling how laconic was the answer, added, "I would because there can be no detriment to him. I shall be so careful not to agitate him." This last was said almost pleadingly. "And not to let him see you," cautioned Harold. "Would he recognize me now?" "Yes, doubtless, the mind frequently at such times reverts to the past, and appears momentarily to resume its former activity by similar reminiscences." "Then it would be much better if he did not know me," said Adelina, with a praiseworthy forgetfulness of self, for it was most obvious that time had not proved efficacious in diminishing what had once been friendship, but which now had developed into a feeling not so readily explained, a feeling which had not matured to the ripeness of love. The boundary line was there, yet so fine as scarce to be detected. Even that may prove to be the salvation of many a person's happiness, a barrier, seemingly of little import, yet serving well those reflectively in "So I am to stay," cried she, after the discussion had ended to her satisfaction. "You generally do manage to have your way," smilingly replied Mary. "There; that is what I have been contending for the past hour," put in Mr. Tracy. "Oh, indeed. I thought the argument began by discussing your silence," returned Adelina. "Do any of you know that it is time for tea?" As this seemed remote from the subject in hand, his young friend exclaimed: "That is right, change the subject. Here is one of the many you addressed who knows how late it is." She was half-way up the stairs before the others appeared in the hall. Leaning over the banister, she called back, laughingly: "Talking does make one hungry, Harold; no wonder you mentioned tea. How you have talked." |