lavender and old lace-第3章

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II。　The　Attic

The　maid　sat　in　the　kitchen；　wondering　why　Miss　Thorne　did　not　come　down。　It　was　almost　seven　o'clock；　and　Miss　Hathaway's　breakfast　hour　was　half　past　six。　Hepsey　did　not　frame　the　thought；　but　she　had　a　vague　impression　that　the　guest　was　lazy。

Yet　she　was　grateful　for　the　new　interest　which　had　come　into　her　monotonous　life。　Affairs　moved　like　clock　work　at　Miss　Hathaway'sbreakfast　at　half　past　six；　dinner　at　one；　and　supper　at　half　past　five。　Each　day　was　also　set　apart　by　its　regular　duties；　from　the　washing　on　Monday　to　the　baking　on　Saturday。

Now　it　was　possible　that　there　might　be　a　change。　Miss　Thorne　seemed　fully　capable　of　setting　the　house　topsy…turvyand　Miss　Hathaway's　last　injunction　had　been：　〃Now；　Hepsey；　you　mind　Miss　Thorne。　If　I　hear　that　you　don't；　you'll　lose　your　place。〃

The　young　woman　who　slumbered　peacefully　upstairs；　while　the　rest　of　the　world　was　awake；　had；　from　the　beginning；　aroused　admiration　in　Hepsey's　breast。　It　was　a　reluctant；　rebellious　feeling；　mingled　with　an　indefinite　fear；　but　it　was　admiration　none　the　less。

During　the　greater　part　of　a　wondering；　wakeful　night；　the　excited　Hepsey　had　seen　Miss　Thorne　as　plainly　as　when　she　first　entered　the　house。　The　tall；　straight；　graceful　figure　was　familiar　by　this　time；　and　the　subdued　silken　rustle　of　her　skirts　was　a　wonted　sound。　Ruth's　face；　naturally　mobile；　had　been　schooled　into　a　certain　reserve；　but　her　deep；　dark　eyes　were　eloquent；　and　always　would　be。　Hepsey　wondered　at　the　opaque　whiteness　of　her　skin　and　the　baffling　arrangement　of　her　hair。　The　young　women　of　the　village　had　rosy　cheeks；　but　Miss　Thorne's　face　was　colourless；　except　for　her　lips。

It　was　very　strange；　Hepsey　thought；　for　Miss　Hathaway　to　sail　before　her　niece　came；　if；　indeed；　Miss　Thorne　was　her　niece。　There　was　a　mystery　in　the　house　on　the　hilltop；　which　she　had　tried　in　vain　to　fathom。　Foreign　letters　came　frequently；　no　two　of　them　from　the　same　person；　and　the　lamp　in　the　attic　window　had　burned　steadily　every　night　for　five　years。　Otherwise；　everything　was　explainable　and　sane。

Still；　Miss　Thorne　did　not　seem　even　remotely　related　to　her　aunt；　and　Hepsey　had　her　doubts。　Moreover；　the　guest　had　an　uncanny　gift　which　amounted　to　second　sight。　How　did　she　know　that　all　of　Hepsey's　books　had　yellow　covers？　Miss　Hathaway　could　not　have　told　her　in　the　letter；　for　the　mistress　was　not　awire　of　her　maid's　literary　tendencies。

It　was　half　past　seven；　but　no　sound　came　from　upstairs。　She　replenished　the　fire　and　resumed　meditation。　Whatever　Miss　Thorne　might　prove　to　be；　she　was　decidedly　interesting。　It　wis　pleasant　to　watch　her；　to　feel　the　subtle　refinement　of　all　her　belongings；　and　to　wonder　what　was　going　to　happen　next。　Perhaps　Miss　Thorne　would　take　her　back　to　the　city；　as　her　maid；　when　Miss　Hathaway　came　home；　for；　in　the　books；　such　things　frequently　happened。　Would　she　go？　Hepsey　was　trying　to　decide；　when　there　was　a　light；　rapid　step　on　the　stairs；　a　moment's　hesitation　in　the　hall；　and　Miss　Thorne　came　into　the　dining…room。

〃Good　morning；　Hepsey；〃　she　said；　cheerily；　〃am　I　late？〃

〃Yes'm。　It's　goin'　on　eight；　and　Miss　Hathaway　allers　has　breakfast　at　half　past　six。〃

〃How　ghastly；〃　Ruth　thought。　〃I　should　have　told　you；〃　she　said；　〃I　will　have　mine　at　eight。〃

〃Yes'm；〃　replied　Hepsey；　apparently　unmoved。　〃What　time　do　you　want　dinner？〃

〃At　six　o'clockluncheon　at　half　past　one。〃

Hepsey　was　puzzled；　but　in　a　few　moments　she　understood　that　dinner　was　to　be　served　at　night　and　supper　at　midday。　Breakfast　had　already　been　moved　forward　an　hour　and　a　half；　and　stranger　things　might　happen　at　any　minute。

Ruth　had　several　other　reforms　in　mind；　but　deemed　it　best　to　wait。　After　breakfast；　she　remembered　the　lamp　in　the　window　and　went　up　to　put　it　out。

It　was　still　burning　when　she　reached　it；　though　the　oil　was　almost　gone；　and；　placing　it　by　the　stairway；　that　she　might　not　forget　to　have　it　filled；　she　determined　to　explore　the　attic　to　her　heart's　content。

The　sunlight　streamed　through　the　east　window　and　searched　the　farthest　corners　of　the　room。　The　floor　was　bare　and　worn；　but　carefully　swept；　and　the　things　that　were　stored　there　were　huddled　together　far　back　under　the　eaves；　as　if　to　make　room　for　others。

It　was　not　idle　curiosity；　but　delicate　sentiment；　that　made　Ruth　eager　to　open　the　trunks　and　dresser　drawers；　and　to　turn　over　the　contents　of　the　boxes　that　were　piled　together　and　covered　with　dust。　The　interest　of　the　lower　part　of　the　house　paled　in　comparison　with　the　first　real　attic　she　had　ever　been　in。

After　all；　why　not？　Miss　Hathaway　was　her　aunt；her　mother's　only　sister；and　the　house　was　in　her　care。　There　was　no　earthly　reason　why　she　should　not　amuse　herself　in　her　own　way。　Ruth's　instincts　were　against　it；　but　Reason　triumphed。

The　bunches　of　dried　herbs；　hanging　from　the　rafters　and　swaying　back　and　forth　in　ghostly　fashion；　gave　out　a　wholesome　fragrance；　and　when　she　opened　trunks　whose　lids　creaked　on　their　rusty　hinges；　dried　rosemary；　lavender；　and　sweet　clover　filled　the　room　with　that　long…stored　sweetness　which　is　the　gracious　handmaiden　of　Memory。

Miss　Hathaway　was　a　thrifty　soul；　but　she　never　stored　discarded　clothing　that　might　be　of　use　to　any　one；　and　so　Ruth　found　no　moth…eaten　garments　of　bygone　pattern；　but　only　things　which　seemed　to　be　kept　for　the　sake　of　their　tender　associations。

There　were　letters；　on　whose　yellowed　pages　the　words　had　long　since　faded；　a　dogeared　primer；　and　several　well　worn　schoolbooks；　each　having　on　its　fly…leaf：　〃Jane　Hathaway；　Her　Book〃；　scraps　of　lace；　brocade　ard　rustling　taffeta；　quilt　patterns；　needlebooks；　and　all　of　the　eloquent　treasures　that　a　well　stored　attic　can　yield。

As　she　replaced　them；　singing　softly　to　herself；　a　folded　newspaper　slipped　to　the　floor。　It　was　yellow　and　worn；　like　the　letters；　and　she　unfolded　it　carefully。　It　was　over　thirty　years　old；　and　around　a　paragraph　on　the　last　page　a　faint　line　still　lingered。　It　was　an　announcement　of　the　marriage　of　Charles　G。　Winfield；　captain　of　the　schooner　Mary；　to　Miss　Abigail　Weatherby。

〃Abigail　Weatherby；〃　she　said　aloud。　The　name　had　a　sweet；　old…fashioned　sound。　〃They　must　have　been　Aunt　Jane's　friends。〃　She　closed　the　trunk　and　pushed　it　back　to　its　place；　under　the　eaves。

In　a　distant　corner　was　the　old　cedar　chest；　heavily　carved。　She　pulled　it　out　into　the　light；　her　cheeks　glowing　with　quiet　happiness；　and　sat　down　on　the　floor　beside　it。　It　was　evidently　Miss　Hathaway's　treasure　box；　put　away　in　the　attic　when　spinsterhood　was　confirmed　by　the　fleeting　years。

On　top；　folded　carefully　in　a　sheet；　was　a　gown　of　white　brocade；　short…waisted　and　quaint；　trimmed　with　pearl　passementerie。　The　neck　was　square；　cut　modestly　low；　and　filled　in　with　lace　of　a　delicate；　frosty　patternPoint　d'Alencon。　Underneath　the　gown　lay　piles　of　lingerie；　all　of　the　finest　linen；　daintily　made　by　hand。　Some　of　it　was　trimmed　with　real　lace；　some　with　crocheted　edging；　and　the　rest　with　hemstitched　ruffles　and　feather…stitching。

There　was　another　gown；　much　worn；　of　soft　blue　cashmere；　some　sea…shells；　a　necklace　of　uncut　turquoises；　the　colour　changed　to　green；　a　prayer…book；　a　little　hymnal；　and　a　bundle　of　letters；　tied　with　a　faded　blue　ribbon；　which　she　did　not　touch。　There　was　but　one　picturean　ambrotype；　in　an　ornate　case；　of　a　handsome　young　man；　with　that　dashing；　dare…devil　look　in　his　eyes　which　has　ever　been　attractive　to　women。

Ruth　smiled　as　she　put　the　treasures　away；　thinking　that；　had　Fate　thrown　the　dice　another　way；　the　young　man　might　have　been　her　esteemed　and　respected　uncle。　Then；　all　at　once；　it　came　to　her　that　she　had　unthinkingly　stumbled　upon　her　aunt's　romance。

She　was　not　a　woman　to　pry　into　others'　secrets；　and　felt　guilty　as　she　fled　from　the　attic；　taking　the　lamp　with　her。　Afterward；　as　she　sat　on　the　narrow　piazza；　basking　in　the　warm　Spring　sunshine；　she　pieced　out　the　love　affair　of　Jane　Hathaway's　early　girlhood　after　her　own　fashion。

She　could　see　it　all　plainly。　Aunt　Jane　had　expected　to　be　married　to　the　dashing　young　man　and　had　had　her　trousseau　in　readiness；　when　something　happened。　The　folded　paper　would　indicate　that　he　was　Charles　Winfield；　who　had　married　some　one　else；　but　whether　Aunt　Jane　had　broken　her　engagement；　or　the　possible　Uncle　Charles　had　simply　taken　a　mate　without　any　such　formality；　was　a　subject　of　conjecture。

Still；　if　the　recreant　lover　had　married　another；　would　Aunt　Jane　have　kept　her　treasure　chest　and　her　wedding　gown？　Ruth　knew　that　she　herself　would　not；　but　she　understood　that　aunts　were　in　a　class　by　themselves。　It　was　possible　that　Charles　Winfield　was　an　earlier　lover；　and　she　had　kept　the　paper　without　any　special　motive；　or；　perhaps；　for　〃auld　lang　syne。〃

Probably　the　letters　would　have　disclosed　the　mystery；　and　the　newspaper　instinct；　on　the　trail　of　a　〃story；〃　was　struggling　with　her　sense　of　honour；　but　not　for　the　world；　now　that　she　knew；　would　Ruth　have　read　the　yellowed　pages；　which　doubtless　held　faded　roses　pressed　between　them。

The　strings　of　sea…shells；　and　the　larger　ones；　which　could　have　come　only　from　foreign　shores；　together　with　the　light　in　the　window；　gave　her　a　sudden　clew。　Aunt　Jane　was　waiting　for　her　lover　and　the　lamp　was　a　signal。　If　his　name　was　Charles　Winfield；　the　other　woman　was　dead；　and　if　not；　the　marriage　notice　was　that　of　a　friend　or　an　earlier　lover。

The　explanation　was　reasonable；　clear；　and　concisewhat　woman　could　ask　for　more？　Yet　there　was　something　beyond　it　which　was　out　of　Miss　Thorne's　graspa　tantalising　something；　which　would　not　be　allayed。　Then　she　reflected　that　the　Summer　was　before　tier；　and；　in　reality；　now　that　she　was　off　the　paper；　she　had　no　business　with　other　people's　affairs。

The　sun　was　hidden　by　gathering　clouds　and　the　air　was　damp　before　Ruth　missed　the　bright　warmth　on　the　piazza；　and　began　to　walk　back　and　forth　by　way　of　keeping　warm。　A　gravelled　path　led　to　the　gate　and　on　either　side　was　a　row　of　lilac　bushes；　the　bare　stalks　tipped　with　green。　A　white　picket　fence　surrounded　the　yard；　except　at　the　back；　where　the　edge　of　the　precipice　made　it　useless。　The　place　was　small　and　well　kept；　but　there　were　no　flower　beds　except　at　the　front　of　the　house；　and　there　were　only　two　or　three　trees。

She　walked　around　the　vegetable　garden　at　the　back　of　the　house；　where　a　portion　of　her　Summer　sustenance　was　planted；　and　discovered　an　unused　gate　at　the　side；　which　swung　back　and　forth；　idly；　without　latching。　She　was　looking　over　the　fence　and　down　the　steep　hillside；　when　a　sharp　voice　at　her　elbow　made　her　jump。

〃Sech　as　wants　dinner　can　come　in　and　get　it；〃　announced　Hepsey；　sourly。　〃I've　yelled　and　yelled　till　I've　most　bust　my　throat　and　I　ain't　a…goin'　to　yell　no　more。〃

She　returned　to　the　house；　a　picture　of　offended　dignity；　but　carefully　left　the　door　ajar　for　Ruth；　who　discovered；　upon　this　rude　awakening　from　her　reverie；　that　she　was　very　hungry。

In　the　afternoon；　the　chill　fog　made　it　impossible　to　go　out；　for　the　wind　had　risen　from　the　sea　and　driven　the　salt　mist　inland。　Miss　Hathaway's　library　was　meagre　and　uninteresting；　Hepsey　was　busy　in　the　kitchen；　and　Ruth　wa