“And you would like to have a father?” There was a subtle sweetness in his tone.
She drew a long breath, he felt the heart quiver irregularly, the little heart that would need careful watching the next few years, that so far had been worked pretty hard.
“Oh, so much!” There was an exquisite longing and a sound as of a prayer, “but you know I’d want some one I could love.”
She was ready to give, not take all.
“Marilla, would I do?”
She raised her head and looked at him out of longing, pleading eyes that turned joyous like a sudden glowing sunrise.
“Oh!” she cried, “Oh!”
But the wonderful satisfying intonation would have moved any heart.
“And I want a little girl,” he continued. “I shall never have one of my very own;” – it is the way a man thinks when he knows he cannot have the woman he would choose for the mother of his children.
She was silent. He saw the shining tears beading the curly lashes. She was sorry for him.
“And if you could be my little girl – ”
“Oh, if I might!” and the longing freighted her tone. “If I could be good enough – if I could love you enough. Oh, I would try. I should be so happy. To have a father of one’s own!”
“Children are sometimes adopted.”
“Yes, they were at Bethany Home, but they had to be very pretty, I’m not – very.”
“But I love you because you are you, I don’t want you changed any way. I want a daughter to be a companion as I grow older, to read to me, to confide in me, to come to me in any trouble, to make a real home, for a man alone cannot do that, and to love me very, very dearly.”
“I have always loved you,” she said simply. Then after a moment – “would I live with you?”
“Yes, when I have found a pretty home, and you will make friends and have them visit you, and we will take journeys and have pleasures like the Warrens.”
“Oh! How good you are!” in a tone of tremulous joy. There was a little twinge of conscience in both hearts concerning Miss Armitage. He salved his, thinking if she had wanted to she might have made some proffer of adoption. Marilla hardly knew how to choose between them. If they could both go and live in Loraine place!
“I’ll see Lorimer this afternoon. You have to apply to the legislature, and you will have your name changed to Richards. Maybe the judge or some will one question you whether you are willing to take me for a father, since you are old enough to choose, and there are several formalities, but the thing is often done, and you will be mine, mine,” pressing her to his heart in rapture.
“I am so glad.” Every pulse throbbed with joy.
He yielded to the subtle satisfaction and kissed the sweet mouth. Oh, he must get her strong and well and give her a lovely, long life! Like a vision he could see her growing sweeter and dearer every year, making life blossom with her love.
Then Mrs. Warren returned and the girls came home to lunch, having a merry time talking over the Hippodrome.
“Nearly every Saturday papa takes us somewhere,” said May. “There are some beautiful plays for children and concerts and all summer the park is splendid, though you can always go inside and there is so much to see; and an automobile ride! Oh, I wish you were going to live here!”
There were so many pleasures to give his little girl. It made his heart beat with joy to think he was going to have one. Life had seemed a bit lonely as he glanced down the years. It would never be lonely now. He would take such pleasure in making her happy.
“Yes,” he went on. “I’ll get a pretty home and we will always be together.”
CHAPTER XIV
THE REAL FAIRYLAND
That evening the two cousins on the Warren side came in, Isabel and Willis Firth. Isabel was just the age of Edith and Willis, older. The children gave up their hour cheerfully. There was so much to talk about, and the school was going to have an entertainment – “The Dance of All Nations.”
“I suppose not quite all,” said Isabel, “though the boys are to give an Indian dance in costume, and the Dutch dance is in clogs, and oh, you can’t imagine how funny and clumpy it sounds, but it is real pretty with the aprons and the caps, but the Spanish is beautiful with castanets. You must all come. Is your friend staying long?”
“I think” – rather hesitatingly, “we will go home next week.”
“Oh, that will be too bad, and the dance is to be two weeks from tomorrow, in the afternoon, in a hall. It will be splendid!”
“I suppose this is the little cousin who came after the fortune,” said Willis, “isn’t it nice to have a fortune left to you?”
“I hardly know” – hesitatingly.
“Oh my! I’d know quick enough,” laughed the boy. “Isabel wouldn’t it be fine enough to have ten or twelve thousand left to us? I’d be sure of going to college.”
“The University ought to be good enough for city boys,” said Uncle Warren.
They played authors for a while “because they could talk” Willis said. Then Aunt Warren played for them to dance. At first Marilla hesitated.
“Oh, it’s only three-step” exclaimed Edith. “I’ll show you, and if you danced at the King’s ball–”
She found she could dance easy enough. It was quite delightful. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks like roses.
Then they tried several other pretty dances, and spiced them with much laughter. Oh, how gay they were.
“Who was it said something about the King’s ball?” asked Willis. “Was it a make believe?”
“Oh it is the prettiest thing!” replied Edith.
“You see, Cousin Marilla sat alone in the kitchen one night when the maid had gone out and a fairy godmother came and asked her if she didn’t want to go to the ball. Finding her in the kitchen you see she took her for Cinderella, and she touched her with her wand – now Marilla, go on, I couldn’t tell it half as delightfully as you do; you make it so real.”
Manila’s face had been scarlet at first, for she was almost ashamed of being a little bound-out girl before these newcomers, but Edith had started it so beautifully that she smiled at her audience.
“Let’s sit on the floor,” said Willis. “That’s the way they do in Persia, and Aunt Grace never finds fault with us.”
They gathered around the little girl. Even Uncle Warren laid down his paper and joined the circle. And what an attentive audience!
“Well that’s just fine!” ejaculated Willis. “I’ve never seen just such a Cinderella, and there wasn’t any glass slipper?”
“Don’t interrupt,” said his sister.
It was all so vivid and Marilla made such pretty gestures with her hands and swayed her head to and fro, that they could fairly see the palace, and the banquet was superb with its lights and flowers and beautiful adornments.
“And couldn’t they dance but just one evening with the Prince? That was rather tough.”
“But there was so many knights and the Cinderellas seemed just as happy. No one was cross.”
“Well, that was wonderful! Oh, didn’t you hate to wake up?”
“I don’t believe I did really wake up, and every night for awhile I seemed dreaming it over, and I can shut my eyes and see it so plainly. When things didn’t go quite right it was such a pleasure.”
“Oh, you’re a darling!” cried Isabel. “I just wish the kindergarten children could hear it told that way. If you were a grown-up girl they’d pay you for telling stories.”
“Aunt Grace can’t you bring her around and let mother hear that?” asked Willis. “My mother is so fat she hates to go out anywhere,” to Marilla. “She thinks it disgraceful! But she’s a sweet mother for all that; and now we must go home. Thank you a hundred times for the story. When I have my party I shall send for you and dance with you every other time. You ought to be named Cinderella.”
She looked so bright and happy and promised to visit them if Dr. Richards did not take her home too soon.
But the Hippodrome was beyond any dream. Sometimes she held her breath with delight until she was fairly tired. Dr. Richards watched the sweet, changeful face. Yes, she should be all his – why he had never dreamed of anything half as sweet as the joy of a father.
Sunday afternoon he and Mr. Lorimer came in. The girls had gone to Sunday School. He laid his plan before the Warrens who were a good deal surprised.
“As a man grows older he begins to think of a home and the joys nothing else offers, and a doctor really needs the comfort, the satisfaction nothing else can give. I’ve never had a home though I’ve dreamed of one, but there must be another person in it. I’m not of the hermit sort. I want some one to be merry with me and to comfort me when the skies are dark and lowering.”
“Oh, Dr. Richards, you should marry,” exclaimed Mrs. Warren, impetuously.
“I’ve been so engrossed – and this sort of vision has come to my very door as it were, and I have let it in. For a few years Marilla will need watchful care from some one who can understand the weak points. I should get a nice, motherly woman who would be sweet and tender to her, companionable as well. For you see she must go to some one for a home.”
“And we would gladly take her in here,” said Mrs. Warren. “She has really won our hearts.”
He would do Miss Armitage full justice, at least he thought it so then. He related her kindness, her generosity, but she had been tender and sympathetic to many another child he remembered, yet he could not quite still the one cry he had heard from her.
“Thank you most sincerely,” he returned. “I am glad she has found some relatives who have taken her in in this cordial manner. I want her to remain warm friends with you all. Of course until I was settled to my liking her home would be with Miss Armitage and she could come whenever you would like to have her. A young girl needs friends of her own kind, whose interests and hopes are similar.”
They discussed the matter from more than one point of view. At first Lorimer had tried to banter him out of the plan, insisting that the guardianship would be sufficient. There was something in his earnest desire that touched the heart of the man of wide experience. He wondered why he could not be as persistent to win the lady! Perhaps she would follow the child.
She came in radiant and full of joy. It was such a splendid Sunday School. She could enjoy it thoroughly with no bothering Jack to think about.
Lorimer made his adieu but the doctor remained. They sang in the evening. She caught any tune so readily, and a little bird of joy kept time in her heart. She had only to glance up in the doctor’s eyes to know there was a kindred delight in his.
She spent most of the next morning writing to fairy godmother. There was so much to say, for everything was so new, so different from her life hitherto. Oh, she was so glad she did not have to go back to that! No one had been really unkind or severe with her and she could recall some tenderness at the last on Aunt Hetty’s part, but the death always made her shudder.
These days of affliction had been so sweet, so engrossing. She had not dared to love Miss Armitage in this fashion in the beginning. She loved her deeply, truly, now, and her heart smote her in spite of the thrill of joy when she thought of Dr. Richard’s love, of belonging to him. Would she leave her for the new love? She had not the courage to mention it, but there were so many other things to say.
Every day brought something new. They went to the wonderful museum. She could not take in half, but Dr. Richards said no one could. You came time and again, all your life, and always found something new. And there were the Historical Society rooms with their marvellous collection of birds that enchanted her.
They spent a delightful evening at the Firths, though she decided she liked Uncle Warren the better. The Firth house was very handsomely appointed, but it did not have so much the air of home where you could sit on the arm of the chair and say all manner of childish things.
Mrs. Firth was very stout, but she had a really pretty face and a voice that won you with a certain caressing mellowness. Both cheeks had a deep dimple and a crease went from one to the other that seemed to define the first chin. She sat in a high backed chair and Marilla thought she looked like a princess, and her gown made the child think of the beautiful dresses in the fairy place.
But on Friday Dr. Richards said they must go back to Newton. They would come again however, there was still a little business to settle. It was a sad parting, and when Marilla took her seat in the train she turned her face to the window and surreptitiously wiped away the tears, though she longed to see fairy godmother.
The hack whirled them to Loraine place. The great trees stood like sentinels stretching out their bare limbs. The beautiful autumn, had gone, you noted it more here. Up the stoop – how her heart beat, and yet somehow she seemed as if she had lived another lifetime.
“Oh dear, dear Marilla,” cried Jane with the warmest embrace. “We have missed you so much, and are so glad to get you back. Why it hasn’t seemed the same house, and everybody has wanted you. Dr. Richards, that Mrs. McCormick died this morning and Miss Armitage was there until noon. Five little children left, think of it, she came home and went straight to bed, but she’s had a cup of tea and will be down in a few minutes.”
They entered the parlor. Marilla took off her hat and coat, it was so warm indoors. She had on a new frock, a curious blue that was very becoming. Her cheeks were a lovely pink, her eyes full of expectancy.
Miss Armitage came down the back stairway and through the library. Marilla gave one cry and was in her arms.
No one had won her away, then. During these days she had had many thoughts about the child’s future. She had felt jealous of the new found relatives and their love, of Dr. Richards’ devotion, of the happy times when she had been counted out. Work had failed to inspire, evenings had been lonely, dreary. Oh, she would never let her go away again unless she went with her. She would beseech the law to make the child hers —
“Oh, fairy godmother!” The charming, joyous tone that showed the child’s certainty of a warm welcome. “It has all been so lovely, but I wanted you so. I wanted you to see the girls and their father who is the loveliest, no not quite the loveliest,” and her eyes shone with a tender radiance, the flush made her beautiful. “For, fairy godmother, I have a father now who will love me and care for me, and I am filled to the brim with happiness – it is better than the fortune. I could hardly wait to tell you. Oh, please be glad for my sake.”
“A father?” she repeated, in a breathless tremulous sort of way.
“Yes,” said Dr. Richards, and there was a strange sort of assurance in his tone. He seemed to have changed mysteriously – there is a vigor, a power and withal a sweet satisfaction in his face that gives her a pang she does not understand.
“Yes,” he repeated. “The fortune is all right. I have been made her guardian, but that did not satisfy me. I have taken out papers of adoption, she is my child, my little little daughter and she has a new, legal, lawful name – Marilla Cinderella Richards.”
“Oh, oh!” The pathetic cry unnerved him.
“Dear fairy godmother it can’t make any difference in my love for you. I loved you first, you know. I shall always love you, but I want us to live together and be as happy as they are at the Warrens, and I love him, my new father, so much. When you have something of your very own it fills you everywhere like beautiful music. I’ve been learning how sweet and dear it can be. Oh, fairy godmother, I want you both. It would break my heart to lose either of you. Oh, fairy godmother, can’t you love him; can’t you, won’t you marry him and let us all live together?”
There was a penetrating sweetness in the pleading, but she saw the red of surprise mount to the very edge of the man’s hair, and almost a frown settle between the eyes. Her face dropped to the silken soft head and she felt the child’s heart beat tumultuously. To make the two who loved her happy – to have them for her own–
She reached out her hand – it was her right hand. He caught it and pressed it to his lips with a fervor that thrilled every pulse of her being.
It was not the tie of kindred blood, but that divine immortal kindred of love, and as he clasped his arms about them both they were Father, Mother and Child.
And so, Marilla had not only the Fairy Godmother, but the Prince as well.