Lo Michael! (29 page)

Starr looked long at the picture before her, and then at the face of her companion speaking the beautiful lines word by word as one draws in the outlines of a well-loved picture.

Michael's hat was off and the beauty of the morning lay in sunlight on his hair and cheek and brow. Her heart swelled within her as she looked and great tears filled her eyes. She dared not look longer lest she show her deep emotion. The look of him, the words he spoke, and the whole wonderful scene would linger in her memory as long as life should last.

Two days later Starr started West, and life seemed empty for Michael. She was gone from him, but still she would come back. Or, would she come back after all? How long could he hope to keep her if she did? Sad foreboding filled him and he went about his work with set, strained nerves; for now he knew that right or wrong she was heart of his heart, part of his consciousness. He loved her better than himself; and he saw no hope for himself at all in trying to forget. Yet, never, never, would he ask her to share the dishonor of his heritage.

The day before Starr was expected to come back to Old Orchard Michael took up the morning paper and with rising horror read:

BANDIT WOUNDED AS FOUR HOLD UP TRAIN.

Express Messenger Protects Cash During Desperate Revolver
Duel in Car.

Fort Smith, Ark.—Four bandits bungled the hold-u
p of a
Kansas City passenger train, between Hatfield and Mena, Ark.
,
early to-day. One was
probably fatally wounded and captured and the others escaped after a
ba
ttle with the Express Messenger
i
n which the messenger exhausted
his ammunition and was badly beaten.

When the other robbers escaped the wounded bandit eluded the conductor, and made his way into the sleeper, where he climbed into an empty berth. But he was soon traced by the drops of blood from his wound. The conductor and a brakeman hauled him out and battled with him in the aisle amid the screams of passengers.

The bandit aimed his revolver at the conductor and fired, but a sudden unsteady turn of his wrist sent the bullet into himself instead of the conductor. The wounded bandit received the bullet in his left breast near the heart and will probably die. The Express Messenger is in the hospital at Mena and may recover.

Had the bullet of the bandit gone as intended it would more than likely have wounded one or two women passengers, who at the sound of trouble had jumped from their berths into the aisle and were directly in the path of the bullet.

There is some likelihood that the captured bandit may prove to be the
escaped convict, named
“Buck,” who was serving long sentence in the state penitentiary, and for whom the police have been searching in vain for the last three months.

Michael was white and trembling when he had finished reading this account. And was this then to be the end of Buck. Must he die a death like that? Disgrace and sin and death, and no chance to make good? Michael groaned aloud and bowed his head upon the table before him, his heart too heavy even to try to think it out.

That evening a telegram reached him from Arkansas.

“A man named 'Buck' is dying here, and calls incessantly for you. If you wish to see him alive come at once.”

Michael took the midnight train. Starr had telegraphed her father she would reach Old Orchard in the morning. It was hard to have to go when she was just returning. Michael wondered if it would always be so now.

Buck roused at Michael's coming and smiled feebly.

“Mikky! I knowed you'd come!” he whispered feebly. “I'm done for, pardner. I ain't long fer here, but I couldn't go 'thout you knowin'. I'd meant to git jes' this one haul an' git away to some other country where it was safe, 'nen I was goin' to try'n keep straight like you would want. I would a'got trough all right, but I seen her,—the pretty lady,—your girl,—standing in the aisle right ahin' the c'ndct'r, jes' es I wuz pullin' the trigger knowed her right off, 'ith her eyes shinin' like two stars; an' I couldn't run no resks. I ain't never bin no bungler at my trade, but I hed to bungle this time 'cause I couldn't shoot your girl! So I turned it jes' in time an' took it mese'f. She seen how 'twas 'ith me that time at your house, an' she he'ped me git away. I sent her word I'd do the same fer her some day, bless her—an' now—you tell her we're square! I done the bunglin' fer her sake, but I done it fer you too, pard—little pard—Mikky!”

“Oh, Buck!” Michael knelt beside the poor bed and buried his face in the coverlet. “Oh, Buck! If you'd only had my chance!” he moaned.

“Never you mind, Mikky! I ain't squealin'. I knows how to take my dose. An' mebbe, they'll be some kind of a collidge whar I'm goin', at I kin get a try at yet—don't you fret, little pard—ef I git my chancet I'll take it fer your sake!”

The life breath seemed to be spent with the effort and Buck sank slowly into unconsciousness and so passed out of a life that had been all against him.

Michael after doing all the last little things that were permitted him, sadly took his way home again.

He reached the city in the morning and spent several hours putting to rights his business affairs; but by noon he found himself so unutterably weary that he took the two o'clock train down to the farm. Sam met him at the station. Sam somehow seemed to have an intuition when to meet him, and the two gripped hands and walked home together across the salt grass, Michael telling in low, halting tones all that Buck had said. Sam kept his face turned the other way, but once Michael got a view of it and he was sure there were tears on his cheeks. To think of Sam having tears for anything!

Arrived at the cottage Sam told him he thought that Mr. Endicott was taking his afternoon nap upstairs, and that Miss Endicott had gone to ride with “some kind of a fancy woman in a auto” who had called to see her.

Being very weary and yet unwilling to run the risk of waking Mr. Endicott by going upstairs, Michael asked Sam to bolt the dining-room door and give orders that he should not be disturbed for an hour; then he lay down on the leather couch in the living-room.

The windows were open all around and the sweet breath of the opening roses stole in with the summer breeze, while the drone of bees and the pure notes of a song sparrow lulled him to sleep.

CHAPTER XXIX

Michael had slept perhaps an hour when he was roused by the sound of voices, a sharp, hateful one with an unpleasant memory in it, and a sweet, dear one that went to his very soul.

“Sit down here, Aunt Frances. There is no one about: Papa is asleep and Michael has not yet returned from a trip out West. You can talk without fear of being heard.”

“Michael, Michael!” sniffed the voice. “Well, that's what I came to talk to you about. I didn't want to say anything out there where the chauffeur could hear; he is altogether too curious and might talk with the servants about it. I wouldn't have it get out for the world. Your mother would have been mortified to death about all this, and I can't see what your father is thinking about. He never did seem to have much sense where you were concerned—!”

“Aunt Frances!”

“Well, I can't help it. He doesn't. Now take this matter of your being down here, and the very thought of your calling that fellow Michael,—as if he were a cousin or something! Why, it's simply disgusting! I hoped you were going to stay out West until your father was well enough to go away somewhere with you; but now that you have come back I think you ought to leave here at once. People will begin to talk, and I don't like it. Why, the fellow will be presuming on it to be intimate with you—”

Michael was suddenly roused to the fact that he was listening to a conversation not intended for his ears, and yet he had no way of getting out of hearing without passing the door in the front of which the two women were seated. Both the dining-room, door and the stairs were on the other side of the room from him and he would have to run the risk of being seen, by either or both of them if he attempted to cross to them. The windows were screened by wire nailed over the whole length, so he could not hope to get successfully out of any of them. There was nothing for it but to lie still, and pretend to be asleep if they discovered him afterwards. It was an embarrassing situation but it was none of his choosing.

There was a slight stir outside, Starr had risen, and was standing with her back to the doorway.

“Aunt Frances! What do you mean? Michael is our honored and respected friend, our protector—our—host. Think what he did for papa! Risked his life!”

“Stuff and nonsense! Risked his life. He took the risk for perfectly good reasons. He knew how to worm himself into the family again—”

“Aunt Frances! I will not hear you say such dreadful things. Michael is a gentleman, well-educated, with the highest ideals and principles. If you knew how self-sacrificing and kind he is!”

“Kind, yes kind!” sniffed the aunt, “and what will you think about it when he asks you to marry him? Will you think he is kind to offer you a share in the inheritance of a nobody—a charity—dependent—a child of the slums? If you persist in your foolishness of staying here you will presently have all New York gossiping about you, and then when you are in disgrace—I suppose you will turn to me to help you out of it.”

“Stop!” cried Starr. “I will not listen to another word. What do you mean by disgrace? There could be no disgrace in marrying Michael. The girl who marries him will be the happiest woman in the whole world. He is good and true and unselfish to the heart's core. There isn't the slightest danger of his ever asking me to marry him, Aunt Frances, because I am very sure he loves another girl and is engaged to marry her; and she is a nice girl too. But if it were different, if he were free and asked me to marry him I would feel as proud and glad as if a prince of the highest realm had asked me to share his throne with him. I would rather marry Michael than any man I ever met, and I don't care in the least whether he is a child of the slums or a child of a king. I know what he is, and he is a prince among men.”

“Oh, really! Has it come to this? Then you are in love with him already and my warning comes too late, does it? Answer me! Do you fancy yourself in love with him.”

“Aunt Frances, you have no right to ask me that question,” said Starr steadily, her cheeks very red and her eyes very bright.

Michael was sitting bolt upright on the couch now, utterly forgetful of the dishonor of eavesdropping, fairly holding his breath to listen and straining his ears that he might lose no slightest word. He was devouring the dear, straight, little form in the doorway with his eyes, and her every word fell on his tired heart like raindrops in a thirsty land, making the flowers of hope spring forth and burst into lovely bloom.

“Well, I do ask it!” snapped the aunt hatefully. “Come, answer me, do you love him?”

“That, Aunt Frances, I shall never answer to anybody but Michael. I must refuse to hear another word on this subject.”

“Oh, very well, good-bye. I'll leave you to your silly fate, but don't expect me to help you out of trouble if you get into it. I've warned you and I wash my hands of you,” and the angry woman flouted out to her waiting car, but the girl stood still in the doorway and said with dignity:

“Good afternoon, Aunt Frances. I shall never ask your help in any way.”

Starr watched the car out of sight, great tears welling into her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. Michael sat breathless on the couch and tried to think what he ought to do; while his very being was rippling with the joy of the words she had spoken.

Then she turned and saw him, and he stood up and held out his arms.

“Starr, my little Starr! My darling! Did you mean all you said? Would you really marry me? I've loved you always, Starr, since first I saw you a tiny little child; I've loved your soft baby kisses and those others you gave me later when you were a little girl and I an awkward boy. You never knew how dear they were, nor how I used to go to sleep at night dreaming over and over again, those kisses on my face. Oh, Starr! answer me? Did you mean it all? And could you ever love me? You said you would answer that question to no one else but me. Will you answer it now, darling?”

For answer she came and stood within his arms, her eyes down-drooped, her face all tears and smiles, and he folded her within his strong clasp and stooping, whispered softly:

“Starr, little darling—my life—my love—my—
wife
!
”

And then he laid his lips against hers and held her close.

———«»——————«»——————«»———

Three weeks later when the roses were all aburst of bloom over the porch at Rose Cottage and June was everywhere with her richness and perfection of beauty, Starr and Michael were married on the piazza under an arch of roses; and a favored few of society's cream motored down to Old Orchard to witness the ceremony. In spite of all her disagreeable predictions and ugly threats Aunt Frances was among them, smiling and dominating.

“Yes, so sensible of her not to make a fuss with her wedding just now, when her father is getting his strength back again. Of course she could have come to my house and been married. I begged her to—naturally she shrank from another wedding in connection with the old home you know—but her father seemed to dread coming into town and so I advised her to go ahead and be married here. Isn't it a charming place? So rustic you know, and quite simple and artistic too in its way. Michael has done it all, planned the house and everything, of course with Starr's help. You know it's quite a large estate, belonged to Michael's great grandfather once, several hundred acres, and he has used part of it for charitable purposes; has a farm school or something for poor slum people, and is really teaching them to be quite decent. I'm sure I hope they'll be duly grateful. See those roses? Aren't they perfectly
dear
?
”

It was so she chattered to those in the car with her all the way down to the farm; and to see her going about among the guests and smiling and posing to Michael when he happened to come near her, you would have thought the match all of her making, and never have dreamed that it was only because Michael's great forgiving heart had said: “Oh, forgive her and ask her down. She is your mother's sister, you know, and you'll be glad you did it afterwards. Never mind what she says. She can't help her notions. It was her unfortunate upbringing, and she's as much to be pitied as I for my slum education.”

The pretty ceremony under the roses was over, and Starr had gone upstairs to change the simple embroidered muslin for her travelling frock and motor coat, for Michael and Starr were to take their honeymoon in their own new car, a wedding gift from their father; and Endicott himself was to go to his sister's by rail in the company of Will French, to stay during their absence and be picked up by them on their homeward route.

Michael stood among his friends on the piazza giving last directions to French who was to look after his law business also during his absence, and who was eager to tell his friend how he and Hester had planned to be married early in the fall and were to go to housekeeping in a five-roomed flat that might have been a palace from the light in Will's eyes. Hester was talking with Lizzie who had edged near the porch with her pretty boy hiding shyly behind her, but the smile that Hester threw in Will's direction now and then showed she well knew what was his subject of conversation.

All the little colony had been gathered in the orchard in front of the rose arch, to watch the wedding ceremony, and many of them still lingered there to see the departure of the beloved bride and groom. Aunt Frances levelled her lorgnette at them with all the airs of her departed sister, and exclaimed “Aren't they picturesque? It's quite like the old country to have so many servants and retainers gathered about adoring, now isn't it!” And a young and eager debutante who was a distant cousin of Starr's replied:

“I think it's perfectly peachy, Aunt Frances.”

Suddenly in one of Will's eager perorations about the flat and its outlook Michael noticed the shy, eager look of Sam's face as he waited hungrily for notice.

“Excuse me, Will, I must see Sam a minute,” said Michael hurrying over to where the man stood.

“Say, Mikky,” said Sam shyly, grasping Michael's hand convulsively, “me an' Lizzie sort o' made it up as how we'd get tied, an' we thought we'd do it now whiles everybody's at it, an' things is all fixed Lizzie she wanted me to ask you ef you 'sposed
she'd
mind, ef we'uns stood thur on the verandy whur yous did, arter you was gone?” Sam looked at him anxiously as though he had asked the half of Michael's kingdom and scarcely expected to get it, but Michael's face was filled with glory as he clasped the small hard hand of his comrade and gripped it with his mighty hearty grip.

“Mind! She'd be delighted, Sam! Go ahead. I'm sorry we didn't know it before. We'd have liked to give you a present, but I'll send you the deed of the little white cottage at the head of the lane, the one that looks toward the river and the sunset, you know. Will you two like to live there?”

Sam's eyes grew large with happiness, and a mist came over them as he held tight to the great hand that enclosed his own, and choked and tried to answer.

Amid a shower of roses and cheers Michael and Starr rode into the sweet June afternoon, alone together at last. And when they had gone beyond the little town, and were on a stretch of quiet woodsy road, Michael stopped the car and took his bride into his arms.

“Dear,” he said as he tenderly kissed her, “I've just been realizing what might have happened if Buck hadn't seen you in time and taken the shot himself that I might have you, my life, my dear, precious wife!”

Then Starr looked up with her eyes all dewy with tears and said, “Michael, we must try to save a lot of others for his sake.” And Michael smiled and pressed his lips to hers again, with deep, sweet understanding.

Then, when they were riding along again Michael told her of what Sam had asked, and how another wedding was to follow theirs.

“Oh, Michael!” said Starr, all eagerness at once, “Why didn't you tell me sooner! I would have liked to stay and see them married. Couldn't we turn around now and get there in time if you put on high speed?”

“We'll try,” said Michael reversing the car; and in an instant more it was shooting back to Old Orchard, arriving on the scene just as Sam and Lizzie were shyly taking their place, hand in hand, under the roses, in as near imitation of Michael and Starr as their unaccustomedness could compass.

It was Jim who discovered the car coming up the orchard lane.

“For de lub o' Mike!” he exclaimed aloud. “Ef here don't come Mikky hisse'f, and
her
!
Hold up dar, Mister preacher. Don't tie de knot till dey gits here!”

And a cheer arose loud and long and echoed through the trees and over the river to the sea. Three cheers for the love of Michael!

Sam and Lizzie bloomed forth with smiles, and the ceremony went forward with alacrity now that the real audience was present.

An hour later, having done their part to make the wedding festivities as joyous as their own had been, Michael and Starr started out again into the waning day, a light on their faces and joy in their hearts.

Starr, her heart very full, laid her hand upon Michael's and said with shining eyes:

“Michael, do you know, I found a name for you. Listen: 'And at that time shall Michael stand up, the great prince which standeth for the children of thy people: and at that time thy people shall be delivered, every one that shall be found written in the book.' Michael, you are
my prince
!
”

And Michael as he stooped and kissed her, murmured, “My Starr.”