Supper was over, and Guy was back again in his library. He had not
stopped as he usually did, to romp with Jessie or talk to Maddy Clyde,
until it was so dark that he could not see her sparkling face, but had
come directly back, dropping the heavy curtains and piling fresh coal
upon the fire. Mrs. Noah had lighted the lamps and then gone after
Maddy, explaining to Jessie how she must stay with her while Maddy
went to Mr. Guy, who wanted to talk with her.
"Is he angry with me, Mrs. Noah?" and remembering his moody looks when
she went in quest of the book, Maddy felt her heart misgive her as to
what might be the result of an interview with Guy.
Mrs. Noah, however, reassured her, and Maddy stole for a moment to her
own room to see how she was looking. The crimson dress, with its soft
edge of lace about the slender throat, became her well, and smoothing
the folds of her black silk apron, whose jaunty shoulder pieces gave
her a very girlish appearance, she went down to where Guy was waiting
for her. He heard her coming, and involuntarily drew nearer to him the
chair where he intended she should sit. But Maddy took instead a
stool, and leaning her elbow on the chair, turned her face fully
toward him, waiting for him to speak.
"Maddy," he began, "are you happy here at Aikenside?"
"Oh, yes, very, very happy," and Maddy's soft eyes shone with the
happiness she tried to express.
It was at least a minute before he spoke again, and when he did, it
came out how he had concluded it best to send her and Jessie to
school, for a year or two at least; not that he was tired of teaching
her, but it would be better for her, he thought, to mingle with other
girls and learn the ways of the world. Aikenside would still be her
home, still the place where her vacations would be spent with Jessie
if she chose, and then he spoke of New York as the place he had in
view, and asked her what she thought of it.
Maddy was too much stunned to think of anything at first. That the
good she had coveted most should be placed within her grasp, and by
Guy Remington too, was almost too much to credit. She was happy at
Aikenside, but she had never expected her life there to continue very
long, and had often wished that when it ended she might devise some
means of entering a seminary as other young ladies did. But she had
never dreamed of being sent to school by Guy, nor could she conceive
of his motive. He hardly knew himself, only he liked her, and wished
to do something for her. This was his reply to her tearful question: "Oh, Mr. Remington, you are so good to me; what makes you?"