University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.
ROGER AND FRANK.

THE steamer in which Roger and Frank sailed for
America had reached New York three days before
Magdalen believed it due. In her tasteful parlor,
where her handsomest furniture was arranged, Mrs. Walter

Scott had received the travellers, lamenting to Roger amid her
words of welcome that she could not entertain him now as she
could once have done when at the head of her own household.
She was a boarder still, and her income had not increased during
the last five years. Her dresses were made to last longer
than of old, and she always thought twice before indulging in
any new vanity. Still she was in excellent spirits, induced in
part by meeting her son again, and partly by a plan which she
had in her mind and meant to carry out. It appeared in the
course of the evening, when speaking of Magdalen, who was so
soon to be graduated and return to Millbank.

“You'll be wanting some lady of experience and culture as
a companion for Miss Lennox. Have you decided upon any
one in particular?” she said to Roger, who looked at her in
astonishment, wondering what she meant.

She explained her meaning, and made him understand that
to a portion of the world at least it would seem highly improper
for a young lady like Magdalen to live at Millbank without
some suitable companion as a chaperone. She did not hint
that she would under any circumstances fill that place. Neither
did Roger then suspect her motive. He was a little disappointed
and a little sorry, too, that any one should think it
necessary for a second party to stand between him and Magdalen.
He had met with many brilliant belles in foreign lands,
high-born dames and court ladies with titles to their names, and
some of these had smiled graciously upon the young American,
and thought it worth their while to flatter and admire him, but
not one of all the gay throng had ever made Roger's heart beat
one throb the faster. Women were not to him what they were
to fickle, flirting Frank, and that he would ever marry did not
seem to him very probable, unless he found some one widely
different from the ladies with whom he had come in contact.
Of Magdalen, his baby, he always thought as he had last seen
her, with her shaker-bonnet hanging down her back, and eyes
brimfull of tears as she leaned over the gate watching him
going down the avenue and away from Millbank. To him she

was only a child, whose frolicsome ways and merry laugh, and
warm-hearted, impulsive manner he liked to remember as something
which would still exist when he returned to Millbank.
But Mrs. Walter Scott tore the veil away. Magdalen was a
young lady, a girl of eighteen, and Roger began to feel a little
uneasy with regard to the manner in which he would be expected
to treat her. As a father, or at most as her elder
brother and guardian, he thought; but he could not see the
necessity for that third person at Millbank just because a few
of Mrs. Grundy's daughters might require it. At all events he
would wait and see what Magdalen was like before he decided.
He was to start next day for Millbank, whither a telegram had
been sent telling of his arrival, and producing a great commotion
among the servants.

Hester was an old woman now of nearly seventy, but her
form was square and straight as ever, and life was very strong
within her yet. With Aleck, whom time had touched less lightly,
she still reigned supreme at Millbank. Ruey was long since
married and gone, and six children played around her door.
Rosy-cheeked Bessie, who had taken Ruey's place, was lying out
in the graveyard not far from Squire Irving's monument, and
Ruth now did her work, and came at Hester's call, after the
telegram was read. The house was always kept in order, but
this summer it had undergone a thorough renovation in honor
of Roger's expected arrival, and so it was only needful that the
rooms should be opened and aired, and fresh linen put upon
the beds, and water carried to the chambers, for Frank was to
accompany Roger. When all was done, the house looked very
neat and cool and inviting, and to Roger, who had not seen it
for eight years, it seemed, with its pleasant grounds and the
scent of new-mown hay upon the lawn, like a second Eden, as
he rode up the avenue to the door, where his old servants welcomed
him so warmly. Hester, who was not given to tears,
cried with joy and pride as she led her boy into the house, and
looked into his face and told him he had not grown old a bit,
and that she thought him greatly improved, except for that hair

about his mouth. “She'd cut that off, the very first thing she
did, for how under the sun and moon was he ever going to eat?”

And Roger laughed good-humoredly, and told her his mustache
was his pet, and wound his arm around her and kissed
her affectionately, and said she was handsomer than any woman
he'd seen since he left home.

“In the Lord's name, what kind of company must the boy
have kept?” old Hester retorted, feeling flattered nevertheless,
and thinking her boy the handsomest and best she had ever
seen.

It was Frank who proposed going on to Charlestown to escort
Magdalen home, and who suggested that they should not
introduce themselves until they had first seen her, and Roger
consented to the plan and went with his nephew to Charlestown,
and took his seat among the spectators, feeling very anxious
for Magdalen to appear, and wondering how she would
look as a young lady. He could not realize the fact that she
was eighteen. In his mind she was the little girl leaning over
the gate with her eyes swimming in tears, while Frank remembered
her standing upon the wharf, her face very red with
the autumnal wind which tossed her dress so unmercifully, and
showed her big feet, wrinkled stockings, and shapeless ankles.
Neither of them had a programme, and they did not know when
she was coming, and when at last she came, Roger did not
recognize her at first. But Frank's exclamation of something
more than surprise as he suddenly rose to his feet, warned him
that it was Magdalen who bore herself so like a queen as she
took her seat at the piano. The little girl in the shaker, leaning
over the gate, faded before this vision of beautiful girlhood,
and for a moment Roger felt as a father might feel who after an
absence of eight years returns to find his only child developed
into a lovely woman. His surprise and admiration kept him
silent, while his eyes took in the fresh, glowing beauty of Magdalen's
face, and his well-trained ears drank in the glorious
music she was making. Frank, on the contrary, was restless
and impatient. Had it been possible, he would have gone to

Magdalen at once, and stood guard over her against the glances
of those who, he felt, had no right to look at her as they were
looking. He saw that she was the bright star, around which the
interest of the entire audience centred, and he wanted to claim
her before them all as something belonging exclusively to the
Irving family, but, wedged in as he was, he could not well effect
his egress, and he sat eagerly listening or rather looking at Magdalen.
He could hardly be said to hear her, although he knew
how well she was acquitting herself. He was watching her
glowing face and noticing the glossy waves of her hair, the long
curls on her neck, and the graceful motions of her white hands
and arms, and was thinking what a regal-looking creature she
was, and how delightful it would be at Millbank, where one
could have her all to himself. He did not regard Roger as in
his way at all. Roger never cared for women as he did. Roger
was wholly given to books, and would not in the least interfere
with the long walks, and rides, and tête-à-têtes which Frank had
rapidly planned to enjoy with Magdalen even before she left the
stage for the first time. When she came back to sing he could
sit still no longer, but forced his way through the crowd,
and went round to her just in time to escort her from the
stage. His appearance was so sudden, and Magdalen was so
surprised, that ere she realized at all what it meant, she had
taken Frank's offered arm, and he was leading her past the
group of young girls who sent many curious glances after him,
and whispered to each other that he must be the younger Mr.
Irving.

Frank was wonderfully improved in looks, and there was in
his manner a watchful tenderness and deference toward ladies,
very gratifying to those who like to feel that they are cared for
and looked after, and their slightest wish anticipated. And
Magdalen felt it even during the moment they were walking
down the hall to the little reception room, where Frank turned
her more fully to the light, and said: “Excuse me, but I must
look at you again. Do you know how beautiful you have

grown? As your brother, I think I might kiss you after my
long absence.”

Magdalen did not tell him he was not her brother, but she
took a step backward, while a look flashed into her eyes, which
warned Frank that his days for kissing her were over.

“Where is Mr. Irving?” she asked; and then, seating her in
a chair, and thoughtfully dropping the curtain so that the cool
night air, which had in it a feeling of rain, should not blow so
directly upon her uncovered neck, Frank left her and went for
Roger.

Magdalen would have kissed Roger as she thought of him
while sitting there waiting for him, but when he came, and stood
before her, she would as soon have kissed Frank himself, as
the elegant-looking young man whose dark-blue eyes and rich,
brown hair with a dash of gold in it, were all that were left of
the Roger who went from her eight years ago. He was entirely
different from Frank, both in looks and style and manner. He
could not bend over a woman with such brooding tenderness,
and make her think every thought and wish were subservient to
his own, but there was something about him which impressed
one with the genuine goodness and honesty of the man who was
worth a dozen Franks. And Magdalen felt it at once, and gave
her hand trustingly to him, and did not try to draw back from
him when, as a father would have kissed his child, he bent over
her, and kissed her fair brow, and told her how glad he was to
see her, and how much she was improved.

“I should never have recognized you but for Frank,” he
said. “You have changed so much from the little girl who
leaned over the gate to bid me good-by. Do you remember it?”

Magdalen did remember it, and her sorrow at parting with
Roger, and could hardly realize that he had come back to her
again. He was very kind, very attentive; and she felt a thrill
of pride as she walked through the halls or talked to her companions,
with Roger and Frank on either side of her, Frank so
absorbed in her as to pay no heed to those around him, while
Roger never for a moment forgot that something was due to

others as well as to Magdalen. He saw her all the time, and
heard every word she said, and marked how well she said it, but
he was attentive and courteous to others, and made himself so
agreeable to Nellie Freeman, to whom Magdalen introduced
him, that she dreamed of him that night, and went next morning
to the depot on pretence of bidding Magdalen good-by a
second time, but really for the sake of seeing Mr. Irving.

As Roger was anxious to return home as soon as possible,
they left Charlestown on an early train and reached Millbank
at two o'clock. Dinner was waiting for them, while Hester in
her clean brown gingham, with her white apron tied around her
waist, stood in the door, ready to welcome her young people.

Magdalen was her first object of attention, and the old lady
kissed her lovingly, and then went with her to her pleasant
chamber, which looked so cool and airy with its matting, and
curtains of muslin looped with blue, and its snowy white bed
in the corner. She could not change her dress before dinner,
for her trunks had not been sent up, but she bathed her
heated face, and put on a fresh pair of cuffs and a clean linen
collar, and then, with her damp hair one mass of waves and
little curls, she went down to the dining-room, where Roger met
her at the door and led her to the head of his table, installing
her as mistress, and bidding her do the honors as the young lady
of the house. In spite of her gray dress, unrelieved by any
color except the garnet pin which fastened her collar, Magdalen
looked very handsome as she presided at Roger's table, and
her white hands moved gracefully among the silver service; for
there was fragrant coffee for dinner, with rich sweet cream from
the morning's milk, and Hester, who cared little for fashions,
had sent it up with the meats, because she knew Roger would
like it best that way.

The dinner over, the party separated, Magdalen going to her
room to put her things away, Frank sauntering off to the summer-house,
with his box of cigars, and Roger joining Hester,
who had so much to tell him of the affairs at Millbank since he
went away.