Blue Ruin (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill
or grave mistake was approaching swiftly. Somehow she felt that this day was a crisis, a kind of turning point. Today Dana and Lynette would probably settle their future irrevocably. All through the years they had drifted and played, carefree and joyous, taking their friendship as a matter of course, the future all roseate with possibilities, content to go through the college days with zest and earnestness. But now at last it was over, and the inevitable time had come when this friendship between the boy and girl must have its reckoning, its final consummation, and the mother’s heart contracted with sudden fear and anxiety over the thought. Had she been wrong to let these two be so close during the years, encouraging their friendship because it seemed so safe a thing for her girl? It seemed that all was as it should be. But was it? Was Dana Whipple the kind of man who could make her daughter happy? Had she perhaps laid overzealous hands upon God’s sacred plans for the lives of these two and thought to help them on to please herself?
That the boy and girl had something more than friendship in their eagerness this morning she could not doubt. Her fearful heart caught the knowledge of it in the lilt of Lynette’s voice, in the joyous call of the boy upon the doorstep now. She ought to be glad at this joy that was coming to them today, Lynette’s birthday, her first day at home after the college yearsyes, she ought to be glad, but there was a sudden sinking of her heart, a fearful realization that what she had done was done, and she could not face the boy, not yet.
She made a stealthy retreat toward the stairs and vanished as Dana opened the door. From the upper hall she opened the back stair door and called down softly.
“He’s come, Lynnie. You go to the door. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Where are you all?” Dana called in his glad, boyish voice that yet had taken on a new manly tone of command. “Lynn! Oh, I say! Aren’t you ready yet? I expected to see you waiting for me out on the porch. I’m late. I had to send a telegram for mother after I was ready to start.”
There was an instant of utter silence while the mother’s heart stood still and seemed to count a million. Then Lynette’s cheerful girl voice, just as always only for that lilt of joy, rang out a saucy welcome, and the mother drew a breath. She closed her eyes for an instant with a hurried prayer, “O Father, take care of my little girl!” and hastened down. The note of naturalness had been such a relief! After all, things were just as they always had been yet! She wanted to hold the moment and go down and talk to them just as they always had been once more, at least.
“There you are, Mother Brooke,” called Dana cheerfully as she appeared. “I almost thought you weren’t glad to see me you were so long in coming. Isn’t it great for us both to be back again? I declare it doesn’t seem real, we’ve waited for it so long!”
The mother drew a deep breath, and life moved on again as it had been going for years. After all, who could be like Dana? Reassurance surrounded him and permeated the air. Her doubts vanished. How handsome he was standing there with his soft panama hat in his hand and the light of the morning on the crest of his dark hair, his eyes flashing joyous welcome, his whole attitude like a nice big boy out for a lark. She beamed upon him as of old. Who could help it? Everybody loved Dana, and he seemed really to care for her welcome. He was an unusual fellow to be interested in an old woman, even though she was the mother of the girl he loved. Young men nowadays didn’t stop to pay much attention to their elders.
Putting aside her misgivings, Mrs. Brooke hurried out to the kitchen to help her daughter put the final touch to the glorified lunch basket that was prepared for the day’s feast. After all, if one must give up a daughter it was less like giving up to hand her over to a son who loved you. And it would be easy to love Dana. She could just let her natural feelings go and Dana would be like her own boy. She realized that she had never quite done this in the past, for always there had been this dim shadowy possibility ahead of her, that perhaps Dana would not be the right one. Some passing expression, something lax about the handsome lips now and then, a shade of weakness from some thrice-removed ancestor possibly what was it made her feel so? She could not tell. Only a mother’s natural dread perhaps of the man who should finally call her one daughter his own.
There was nothing left to be done to the lunch basket except to tuck in a bottle of olives and the salt and pepper. Lynette had not forgotten anything. She folded the waxed paper over the whole and smoothly covered it with an old piece of tablecloth she kept for such occasions, which could be turned into a towel after the picnic when they went down to the brook to wash their hands. Then as if to make up for her sad thoughts of a few minutes before, she slipped out of the back door and, stooping, picked a few stalks of cool, waxen lilies of the valley from the lush green leaves that grew by the old doorstep. Coming in quickly with a Madonna look upon her face she tucked them down against the snowy cloth, half hidden by a sheathing leaf. Her child must not go forth today without her blessing even though her soul shrank back with premonitions. Lynette would understand. She always had understood.
She watched the two as they went forth happily carrying the basket between them, Lynette insisting upon talking her share, their hands together on the willow handle, her face looking up laughing, all the dimples playing shyly, a sparkle in her eyes; his eyes smiling down. Did he see how lovely Lynette was? Yes, he seemed to. There was deep admiration, almost reverencealmost reverence in his eyes. Why was it she was possessed to put that almost in? Was it just that a mother could never be quite satisfied-satisfied for such a girl as Lynette at least? And what more could she desire? How utterly silly and foolish of her!
“What’s become of Dana’s fine new car they’ve talked so much about?” It was the fragile little grandmother’s spritely voice, as the old lady stood just behind her daughter looking out after the two.
Mrs. Brooke turned with a start.
“Why, Mother, are you here? I thought you were still asleep!”
“You wouldn’t expect me to stay asleep on Lynnie’s birthday, would you?” she asked playfully.
“Oh,” said the daughter self-reproachfully, “she wanted to come in and kiss you good-morning, but I wouldn’t let her. I told her you had sat up so late last night waiting for her to arrive, that you ought to sleep. I’m sorry I didn’t let her come anyway.”
“That’s all right,” said the little old lady with a cheery smile. “I’ll see her when she gets back. Why didn’t Dana take his grand new car? I’ve been trembling all the week thinking Lynnie had to go out in it with him driving. He ought to get used to it before he takes her out. She’s too precious. I hate those automobiles anyway. The papers are just full of accidents. I believe they’re a device of the devil.”
Her daughter smiled.
“Oh, Mother, you and I will have to get used to the modern things. You know our fathers felt just that way about riding on the steam cars.”
“That was different,” said the old lady with dignity. “But why didn’t Dana take it? Seems as if he ought to when he had it.”
“Why, I heard him say something about its being at the garage being fixed some way, or washed or something. They’re having company down at Whipples’ this afternoon, and oh, yes, that was it, he said his aunt wanted it washed before they came. He did suggest that he and Lynnie wait till it came home about ten o’clock, but Lynnie said she would rather walk this time; it would be more like old times.”
The old lady smiled a quivering smile.
“Old times!” she said half jocosely. “They’re gone!” Then in a change of tone, “But of course, if Aunt Justine wanted the car washed it had to be washed even if it was Lynnie’s birthday and she just home from college! It’ll always be that way. So many to please! That’s what I don’t like about it. But I’m glad they didn’t go in the car. I won’t have to worry about that anyway.”
“No, Mother, let’s not worry about anything!” said the daughter with a wistful smile. “Let’s just be glad. Lynnie’s home! Come, sit down and eat your breakfast now, I’ll bring it right in. There are some of those little honey peaches you like so much, and the coffee is on the back of the stove nice and hot.”
She