Fair Margaret - Page 119/206

The man held the door open for Margaret to get in, when she came out

upon the step with Mrs. Rushmore, who seemed anxious to keep an eye on

her as long as possible; as if she could project an influence of

propriety, a sort of astral chaperonage, that would follow the girl to

the city. She detained her at the last minute, holding her by the

elbow. The chauffeur stood impassive with his hand on the door, while

she delivered herself of her final opinion in English, which of course

he could not understand.

'I must say that your sudden intimacy with this suspicious Greek is

most extraordinary,' she said.

'Don't you think there is just a little prejudice in your opinion of

him?' asked Margaret sweetly.

'No,' answered Mrs. Rushmore with firmness, 'I don't, and I think it

very strange that a clever girl like you should be so easily taken in

by a foreigner. Much worse than a foreigner, my dear! A Greek is almost

as bad as a Turk, and we all know what Turks are! Fancy a decent young

woman trusting herself alone with a Turk! I declare, it's not to be

believed! Your dear mother's daughter too! You'll end in a harem,

Margaret, mark my word.' 'And be sewn up in a sack and thrown into the Bosphorus,' laughed

Margaret, trying to get away.

'Such things have happened before now,' said Mrs. Rushmore gloomily.

'Greeks don't have harems,' Margaret objected.

'Don't catch cold,' said Mrs. Rushmore, by way of refuting Margaret's

argument. 'It looks as if it might rain.' The morning was still and soft and overcast, and the air was full of

the scent of the flowers and leaves, and fresh-clipped grass. The small

birds chirped rather plaintively from the trees on the lawn, or stood

about the edge of the little pond apparently expecting something to

happen, hopping down to the water occasionally, looking down at the

reflections in it and then hopping back again with a dissatisfied air;

and they muffled themselves up in their feathers as if they meant to go

to sleep, and then suddenly spread their wings out, without flying, and

scraped the grass with them. The elms were quite green already, and the

oaks were pushing out thousands of bright emerald leaves. There is a

day in every spring when the maiden year reaches full girlhood, and

pauses on the verge of woman's estate, to wonder at the mysterious

longings that disquiet all her being, and at the unknown music that

sings through her waking dreams.

Margaret sat in the motor car wrapped in a wide thin cloak and covering

her mouth lest the rush of air should affect her voice; but the quick

motion was pleasant, and she felt all the illusion of accomplishing

something worth doing, merely because she was spinning along at

breakneck speed. Somehow, too, the still air and the smell of the

flowers had made her restless that morning before starting, and the

rapid movement soothed her. If she had been offered her choice just

then, she would perhaps have been on horseback for a gallop across

country, but the motor car was certainly the next best thing to that.