CHAPTER XVIII
Donna and Her Don
However, if none of the Camp Fire girls thought of a possible romance between their new guardian and the young physician, now established as the regular visiting doctor at the Sunrise cabin, when the month of March was passing and the New Hampshire snows beginning to show every now and then a tendency toward melting, indicating the return of the ever romantic spring, there was a good deal of carefully whispered discussion about the chief Camp Fire guardian, Miss Martha McMurtry. Their guardian of the preceding summer liked best that the girls should call her by her Camp Fire title, “The Madonna of the Hill,” shortened for use into the Italian “Donna.” In the first weeks at camp the summer before, Miss McMurtry had seemed to some of the Camp Fire girls a sort of heaven-appointed old maid, a regular born and bred one. As she had lived and worked through the outdoor months with such a variety of girls, gradually this old-maidish appearance had worn off, until now there were actually self-evident reasons for believing that Donna had a real bona fide admirer in the person of the poor German gentleman who had rescued Betty and Esther on that memorable December evening in the snow and, through their acquaintance, had since come to know every member of the club.
It is but natural to suppose that the first breath of this suggestion may have been introduced by Esther Clark, since she had best opportunities for making observations. Yet actually it was Betty Ashton who first whispered it to Esther, next to Polly, and afterward it traveled very naturally about the select Camp Fire circle.
Esther had been continuing her lessons with the German professor once every week since before Christmas. Not that he was a singing master, but he proved to be a thoroughly trained musician who understood the piano almost as well as the violin, so that he was able to give Esther splendid assistance with her piano training so necessary to the singing later on.
And this he insisted on doing without payment in spite of his poverty, showing a very decided interest in Esther’s possible future. In spite of her own seriously reduced income, however, Betty had at first suggested that she be allowed to contribute a small sum for the lessons, but Esther had positively refused to accept anything more than her singing lessons from her friend. She explained that Herr Crippen said she rendered him sufficient aid in his other work to pay for what he was doing for her, and closing with the more truthful statement that, for a reason which he could not now set forth, he felt particularly hopeful for das gnädige Fräulein.
And yet notwithstanding the fact that Betty was extremely grateful to him for his kindness to Esther, from their first acquaintance she had never been able to resist the inclination to make fun of the poor gentleman on every possible occasion, in the face of Esther’s open protests, that is, when it could be done without hurting his feelings. Under most circumstances Esther felt that Betty could do no wrong, but her jokes at the Herr Professor’s expense made Esther suffer a variety of emotions which she could not exactly explain even to herself. The poor man was so shabby and shy, such an apparent failure in life, without money, position, friends or family, none of the things which Betty still considered absolutely essential. Though she never thought she had betrayed herself, in a way it is just possible that Herr Crippen was all that winter guessing what was going on in regard to him in the back of Betty Ashton’s mind. He had a pleading, almost apologetic expression as he gazed into her lovely face as though vaguely asking her not to be too hard in her judgment and to be kind to him if she could.
Once or twice it is just possible that he asked Miss McMurtry questions about her in his semi-weekly visits to the older Camp Fire guardian, but of this Betty of course had no knowledge.
It was on one Saturday night, when Miss McMurtry happened to be staying at the cabin to afford Rose Dyer a holiday in town, that Betty’s suspicions of a possible romance were first aroused. Promptly at eight o’clock that evening the Herr Professor, dressed in his best clothes, made his appearance at the front door, wearing a large clean collar considerably frayed at the ends and a flowing black silk necktie.
By chance there happened to be but a few of the Sunrise girls at home that evening, for Mollie O’Neill was staying all night with Meg, Eleanor Meade was to remain over Sunday with her mother and Nan had gone home to take her father to church the next day as he had solemnly promised to be her companion. So as Edith had not come out for her regular week-end visit there were only the five girls in camp. However, Sylvia was so busily engaged in seeing Faith to bed that when the Professor arrived there were only Betty, Polly and Esther about to be in the way. Yet half an hour or so after his arrival and in the midst of quite an interesting general conversation Herr Crippen, seeming to be overwhelmed with emotion, suddenly asked Miss McMurtry to take a walk outside with him and this when it was not even a particularly warm or agreeable late March evening.
Betty was a little vexed, for they had just been talking of the old-time history of Woodford, of the names of some of the old families in the town and the immediate neighborhood. This was always a subject of keen interest to Betty, as her own family, the Ashtons, had been among the first settlers in the village and through each generation had furnished some of its most distinguished men and women. Indeed, it was Betty’s grandfather who had built the orphan asylum where Esther had lived as a child. Consequently, she felt an interest in it for her own as well as Esther’s sake when Herr Crippen asked Miss McMurtry if she had not once taught some of the children at the asylum as a kind of practice work before graduating at the Normal School. And directly after this question when Miss McMurtry had quietly answered, “yes,” she and her Professor had disappeared out into the moonlight.
Then immediately after this, Esther had slipped over to the piano and presently begun playing over a new Camp Fire song, which Frank Wharton had just sent his sister from headquarters in New York, hearing that the girls were particularly anxious for the latest Camp Fire music. Polly, who had been rather annoyed at the interruption of a visitor, returned once more to the reading of her book, so that it was left to Betty, who was in an idle mood, to wander over casually to the window and there, without the least intention of spying, behold what certainly looked like a very interesting scene.
Instead of walking up and down outside as the Professor had suggested, Herr Crippen’s hands were clasped imploringly together and his face wore a strangely beseeching expression. Indeed, if Betty had been near enough she might have seen actual tears in his eyes as there had been on the Christmas eve when he had his conversation with Esther. The very next instant Betty had of course turned hurriedly away, feeling ashamed of herself for having even innocently seen what was so plainly not intended for her eyes. And yet at the same moment she could not restrain a giggle, a giggle which grew later on into a confession of what she had witnessed. Still as she explained it was merely a suspicion, nothing more, for Betty had not seen how Donna had received the Professor’s suit nor did she really know what kind of a question he had asked.
However, when a few days later Miss McMurtry actually asked for a leave of absence from school in order to have a quiet talk alone with Rose Dyer at the cabin, what had been an idle suspicion now looked as though it might be a reality.
Notwithstanding, the girls had to suffer for some time with ungratified curiosity, since Rose made no mention even of having had an unexpected visit from the older woman. Indeed, she tried to go about her regular Camp Fire work from day to day as though nothing had happened, as though there were nothing of special interest or importance on her mind, but this she did not quite succeed in doing, at least not to the watchful eyes of Betty, Esther and Polly, who were the most interested of the girls. For Rose’s face, when she supposed that no one was looking, wore an expression of surprise, of uncertainty and even of worry and uneasiness.
It was odd, Betty thought, why Rose should take Miss McMurtry’s love affair so seriously and what could there be in it to trouble over, anyhow? Either Miss Martha did or did not care for the funny old German who must have been fifteen years her senior, and who certainly was not a desirable catch from a worldly point of view. It never occurred to Betty that there could be any possibility of love not running smoothly with two such elderly persons.
However, as Rose made no confidences, after a week had passed the whole subject vanished into the background of everybody’s minds and most of the girls believed that the whole idea had been a mistaken one from the beginning.
And then one afternoon in the early part of April, Rose called Betty aside and asked her if on the following afternoon she and Esther could meet Miss McMurtry, Herr Crippen and herself in the drawing room at the Ashton house in Woodford. There was a question which had to be discussed and it was not possible to have any privacy at the cabin. Miss Dyer’s own house was closed, but a caretaker had been left in charge of the Ashton home, as it was too beautiful a place to remain for so many months unguarded.
CHAPTER XIX
Memories
Betty arrived at her home before her visitors. Esther was engaged for another half hour with a music lesson and besides Betty wished to see that the house was in order for her visitors.
It was a curious sensation to come home alone and to wander from one end of the big house to the other, hearing only the sound of her own footsteps, for Mrs. Mitchell, the caretaker, was in the kitchen preparing afternoon tea to be served the guests a little later, while her husband was working in the yard. Betty had an uncomfortable feeling of desolation, as though she were a kind of a ghost. First she went straight to her mother’s room, but there the pictures were covered with sheets, the mattress rolled up, the curtains down, and the tables and mantel so bare of ornament that Betty hurried away to her own blue sitting room across the hall. Would her father and mother never be back? Surely they would both be returning in the early summer when the weather would be less severe upon her father’s health and the great house would be reopened as it had always been.
At the cabin with the other girls the time had not seemed so long to Betty, nearly ten months now since their sailing, but here at home why it seemed that years might have passed. A sudden fear clutched the girl’s heart – would things ever be quite the same again; did life ever repeat itself in exactly the same old way? And yet Betty had no regrets, only pleasure, that she had been the moving spirit in the first organization of the Sunrise Camp Fire club. How much they had learned in their summer and winter together! And though she might count herself as having learned least of all, yet surely she would never be quite so spoiled and selfish as on that May day when she had accidentally discovered Esther Clark singing the Camp Fire hymn in their formerly deserted back room.
When her mother returned she would relieve her by taking the care of the housekeeping upon her own shoulders and certainly she would be able to cut down expenses. Now that her father’s income was so reduced, this would be a great assistance to him, as Mrs. Ashton had no idea of possible household economies. Betty smiled, not in the least mournfully. There was no thought of any real poverty to be grappled with in her mind. She was only considering in what an unexpected fashion she was going to be able to show to her mother and father the benefits of her Camp Fire training, for which she had plead so earnestly not quite a year before.
The young girl was in her own room at the time of these reflections, seated in her own blue rocking chair with her feet tucked up under her and her chin resting in her hand, looking out her open window at the desolate garden, for this April afternoon was just as cold and uninspiring as that other May afternoon, and there was also no fire in her grate, although downstairs a big blaze had been lighted for the expected company.
That Betty had changed in the past year, her parents would be able to see readily. Really she was prettier than ever; from her outdoor life the color in her cheeks was deeper, her lips a more vivid scarlet and the selfish, sometimes discontented lines about her mouth and forehead had wholly disappeared. Now thinking of her parents return, of how she would be able to prove her love for them by greater devotion to her father in his ill-health; that perhaps he would even teach her something of his business cares and responsibilities since Dick would be so long away completing his medical studies, her expression was very thoughtful and charming and her gray eyes unusually serious. Yet the next instant with a gay laugh Betty jumped to her feet.
“My goodness, I must hurry downstairs and see how the drawing room looks!” she exclaimed aloud. “I have been forgetting what an interesting interview we are going to have this afternoon! Dear me, I wonder what the trouble is and why Esther and I should be privileged to attend this romantic meeting? Perhaps there is going to be some kind of marriage contract, arranged in German fashion, and Esther, Rose and I are wanted as witnesses. It matters not just so I am allowed in the secret.” And Betty started running down the hall.
However, before arriving at the front steps a moment’s hesitation overtook her and she paused. The next second she had gone to the end of the passage and stood with her hand on the door-knob of the very room where she had once surprised Esther. But to-day she could hear no sounds of singing on the inside.
“I am going to peep into Esther’s old room; I wonder if she will wish this same one when she comes back to live with us again. Somehow it must affect me like the locked chamber did Bluebeard’s wife; there isn’t the least reason why I should be peering into this empty place to-day.”
The door opened quickly and Betty gave a sudden scream of terror. The room was not unoccupied, some one was kneeling over in a corner by a closed window.
The figure rose slowly to its feet. “I am sorry, Betty, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Really, dear, I didn’t dream of your coming in here.”
It was Esther Clark. In the half light Betty was now able to distinguish her perfectly. Esther’s face was extremely white, there were tears in her large pale blue eyes and her lids were red and swollen. Her big hands worked nervously as they had on that former occasion when Betty had thought her so plain and unattractive looking.
“Oh, it’s you, Esther,” Betty exclaimed in relieved tones. “Gracious, how you startled me! But I thought you were taking your music lesson. What in the world is troubling you, child, and how did you get into this house and upstairs without my knowing?”
“I came in through the kitchen and crept upstairs as quietly as possible, since I wanted to be alone here for a few minutes,” Esther explained. “Will you please leave me for a little while?”
“Most certainly not,” returned Betty in her most autocratic tones. “If you have anything on your mind that is worrying you, come on downstairs and tell me what it is. You have a dreadful tiresome fashion, Esther, of just hugging your grievances to yourself, when if you just told outright what they were, there would probably be nothing for you to fret about.” Betty was annoyed and her tone was far more irritable than usual. Nevertheless, Esther crossed the short space between them and taking Betty’s lovely face between her hands kissed her two or three times in succession.
“Do as I tell you, Princess, please,” she spoke in unusual tones of authority. “I will join you downstairs in a very little while, but I must get back my self-control first.”
So there seemed to be nothing left for Betty but obedience, so plainly did Esther appear to know what she wanted. Very slowly the younger girl walked down to the drawing room. “Esther did find it difficult to confide things to people, but usually she was willing to tell them to her,” Betty thought. “Well, perhaps her shyness and reticence came from having been raised in an orphan asylum where no one was really deeply interested in her or her personal affairs. Nothing very serious could have happened, however, since Esther had left school only about an hour before.”
In the drawing room everything was far more cheerful, the fire was burning, the window blinds were drawn up, the grand piano was open and on it rested a vase of white roses. It was perfectly impossible for Betty Ashton to learn to be economical all at once, and with the thought of a possible betrothal in the house that afternoon she had stopped at a florist’s and brought the flowers in with her. Now she could not help feeling a little glow of pride over the beauty of their old drawing room, especially noticeable after the simplicity of the living room at the cabin.
Feeling rather nervous over the idea that Esther might probably be continuing with her crying upstairs and so unable to take part in the coming interview, Betty walked slowly around the great room studying the portraits of her ancestors, – a favorite amusement with her so long as she could remember. They were stern persons most of them. Betty did not believe that she could ever have such strict views of the difference between right and wrong, be so harsh in her judgments as they had been, but then the world had moved on to a wider vision since those days. One of her great, great uncles had assisted in the burning of witches. Betty turned from this self-righteous looking portrait to the picture of the aunt whom she had always believed herself to resemble, the young woman in the white dress with the big picture hat, then the girl smiled at her own vanity. How absurd to think that she could look like any one so lovely! And yet here was the auburn hair, only a shade more golden than her own, big eyes that were blue instead of gray and a kind of proud fashion of tilting her chin. Very probably Betty had always held her own head in this fashion because she had always so wished to be thought like this special great aunt.
“Well, it was a good thing to feel a certain pride of ancestry,” the young girl thought, “in spite of all of Polly’s teasing. Surely the possession of a great name ought to keep one away from littleness or meanness, make one strive to fill an honorable position in the world. If she had not the ability to be a great woman certainly she intended to be a good one. And then the recollection of Esther came to her again. Poor Esther, who had not even a name of her own! For this very reason had she not always been more ambitious for her friend than Esther had seemed for herself? If she had no position, no money and no family, Esther did have a real talent and must make a place for herself some day.”
But there sounded the first ring at the door bell! Let one hope it was not Herr Crippen arriving first, since, with Esther still upstairs, how could she ever hope to keep him entertained until the arrival of the others? But probably the elderly violinist had never seen anything quite so handsome as their drawing room. Betty had the grace to laugh and then blush over her own foolishness, snobbishness Polly might call it. What did she know of Herr Crippen, his past, what he had seen, where he had traveled in the forty-five years or more of his life?
With a smile of welcome and her hand extended Betty then moved forward toward the door to receive her first guest.
CHAPTER XX
The Explanation
However, it only turned out to be Rose Dyer, looking unusually flushed and excited, who kissed Betty rather tremulously and then sat down as though she were out of breath. “I was afraid I would be late,” was her explanation.
An instant later there was another ring at the bell and on this second occasion Miss McMurtry and Herr Crippen entered together.
Betty considered that Miss McMurtry looked a little bit agitated, but not remarkably so, just enough if she were really about to announce her engagement. But Herr Crippen, unhappy man, was this the way that love affected the emotional German temperament? His face, which was ordinarily pale enough, was to-day like chalk, his red hair was moist upon his high forehead and his big hands cold as he shook hands with his hostess.
Then the little company arranged themselves in chairs before the glowing fire and remained perfectly silent. Why on earth didn’t some one speak? It was her own home, and Betty felt that upon herself devolved the duties of a hostess and yet so plainly in the present instance did it seem to be her place to say nothing until her older guests offered some explanation for their presence.
“Where is Esther?” Miss McMurtry finally asked, and feeling grateful at having something to do which permitted even an instant’s escape from the frozen stillness of the room, Betty jumped up, announcing hurriedly:
“I will get her myself; Esther isn’t feeling very well or she would have been down before. She is upstairs in her own room.”
Then before she could get away there was an unmistakable sound of some one approaching and the next moment Esther Clark joined her friends.
She had washed her face and smoothed her hair, but there were still plain traces of recent tears about her and yet no one of the company appeared surprised.
When Betty had taken her place before the fire again Esther sat down on a stool near her and, not seeming to care in the least about the near presence of other people, took one of Betty’s hands in hers as though she were clinging to it for encouragement and support.
“Will you please tell the whole story as slowly and as clearly as you can, Herr Crippen?” Esther then asked. “Miss McMurtry and Miss Dyer both understand about it in a measure, but it will be an entire surprise to Miss Ashton.”
In utter amazement Betty, entirely forgetting her manners, now proceeded to stare from one face to the other of her guests. Was this the way to announce a betrothal, and besides what could Esther know of the relation between her music teacher and their first Camp Fire guardian; had she not been as much mystified as the rest of them?
Herr Crippen, clearing his throat, jumped up from his chair and began striding rapidly up and down the length of the great room, talking so rapidly and under the pressure of such great excitement that Betty had almost to strain her ears to catch the real drift of what he was saying.
“I haf told you before, I haf lived one oder time in Woodford, fourteen, fifteen year ago, but I haf not said for how long I am here nor why I went away,” he began hastily. “I haf a very beautiful wife, an American woman. She was not well and we came here to your Crystal Hill country with our babies that she might recover. But she recovered not; instead she was ill so long a time until at last she was todt, dead,” he corrected himself, wiping the moisture from his brow with a big pocket handkerchief. “Then I am poor, very poor; I haf spent so much time nursing her and I haf two babies left who must be looked after. I try then to get music pupils, but I haf not much heart, besides are not the babies always there to be kept out of mischief, so where is the time I can work? I must go away, there is noding else and how can I carry the little ones, one under each arm? No, I must leave my children behind.”
Esther’s blue eyes were gazing steadfastly down at the oriental rug at her feet, but Betty’s cheeks were burning with interest and her gray eyes followed the speaker as eagerly as her ears heard him.
“There is a great house here for little ones I am told, an orphans’ home, they call it. Are not my babies orphans, with no mother and a father that has not even food to give them?”
In a flash Betty’s arms were about Esther’s neck and she was drawing her toward her with an affectionate understanding she had rarely ever before shown her.
“You need not explain any more, Herr Crippen, if the others already know,” Betty Ashton interrupted, “for I think I understand what you are intending to tell me. You left your children at our Woodford orphan asylum and Esther is your daughter, so after all these years have passed you come back to find her. It is very, very strange, I can’t quite realize it all yet and here is Esther not looking in the least like a German but inheriting your musical talent, although with her it has taken the form of a wonderful voice.” And Betty stopped talking at last to gaze into the fire, too overcome with the surprising mysteries of life to say anything more for the present.
An apparent relief showed itself in the faces of everybody present. Herr Crippen sat down again and Esther left her place for a chair next his.
“Aren’t we going to have some tea, Betty dear, now our surprise party is over?” Rose Dyer inquired, so that Betty came back to herself with a start and crossing the room rang the bell.
The next instant she paused in front of Esther and her father. It was odd that no one had ever thought of it, but there was a kind of likeness between the man and girl, the same red hair and paleness, the same nervous manner, although Esther was far more attractive looking and had learned a great deal more self-control. This afternoon there was an added dignity about Esther, even a nobility, which showed itself in the quiet poise of her head, in the firm lines about her always handsome mouth.
Looking at her friend, Betty Ashton’s eyes filled suddenly with tears, for in this moment she was feeling a deeper, a sincerer affection for her than at any time since their acquaintance.
“But you won’t be taking Esther away from me, Herr Crippen?” Betty suddenly pleaded. “She has been a kind of foster sister to me for almost a year and I should be so dreadfully lonely here in this big house without her after the closing of our camp. She has already taught me such a number of things, I don’t suppose she can even dream how many! Can’t you just let her live on with me and come and see her whenever you like?” Which question showed that Betty Ashton did not realize that circumstances ever could seriously interfere with her dearest wishes.
But the German violinist, while he held his daughter’s hand clasped tight in his, slowly shook his head. “For a little while, yes,” he agreed, “but after that my Esther she must go away from Woodford. She hast ein grosser talent than you her friends who do not understand music can know. She must study much, she must do all that I haf failed to do. I haf a little money, it is enough for the start, after that – ”
“But I shall not wish ever to leave Betty or you,” Esther here interrupted quietly. “I am not ambitious; I can learn all I shall need to know to earn my living here in Woodford.”
It was hardly the time for argument, as each member of the little company realized, and fortunately at this moment the tea tray made its arrival so that Betty and Esther were both busy in supplying the wants of their few guests. However, when Betty had secured her own cup of tea she brought up a tiny table and placed it between the German professor and herself. There had not been much time for thought, but in a vague way Betty felt that she wanted to make reparation both to her friend and Herr Crippen for any foolish joking which she had done at the man’s expense. Really he was not so bad, now one realized how many misfortunes he had passed through, although he could not have had much strength of character or he would never have let anything persuade him to desert his children.
“You will go with Esther when she has to leave Woodford?” Betty inquired softly, not wishing that any one else should overhear. “Of course when the time comes it wouldn’t be fair for me to stand in her way no matter how much we care for one another, but Esther would be far too timid to go alone.”
Herr Crippen shook his head violently. “I cannot leaf this neighborhood, nothing can make me until I haf accomplished all my purpose, no objectings, no arguments.” He spoke with such anger that Betty stared in a complete state of mystification. Herr Crippen’s voice was not lowered; he gazed with apparent fierceness at Miss McMurtry, whom Betty had supposed until very recently to be the object of his ardent affections.
“I tell you I leaf behind two childrens,” he went on, “the one I haf found, the other the superintendent at the asylum, my friends, no one will tell me where mine oder child is. Adopted they tell me, taken away from here, I haf no more a legal right, I should only make unhappiness should I demand my little baby back again.”
“You promised me you would not talk of this, father,” Esther began in a pleading tone, “you promised me that if I would forget all your past neglect you would find your happiness in me.”
But Betty had risen to her feet and stood frowning with unconscious earnestness at the tall man.
“If your son has been adopted by people who love him and whom he loves and thinks are his parents, then I don’t think you have the least right to interfere, Herr Crippen. You went away and left him when he was a little baby to almost any kind of fate. Now you expect him to give up everything and everybody and come back to you, a perfect stranger. I am sure if I were in his place, I should love my adopted parents whom I had always believed to be my own far better than I could ever care for you.”
The big German dropped his head on his chest. Rose and Miss McMurtry got up quickly,
“Come, girls, we must be getting back home to the cabin or the other girls will believe we are lost. Run away, Betty, you and Esther, and get your coats and hats.”