"Poor little Aunt Jane,"said Ruth."Life never would be easy for her.""No,"returned Miss Ainslie,"but she would not let anyone know."Ruth strolled over to the window,thinking that she must be going,and Miss Ainslie still held the picture in her hand."She had a lover,didn't she?"asked Ruth,idly.
"I-I-think so,"answered the other,unwillingly."You remember we quarrelled."A young man stopped in the middle of the road,looked at Miss Ainslie's house,and then at the brown one across the hill.From her position in the window,Ruth saw him plainly.He hesitated a moment,then went toward the brown house.She noted that he was a stranger--there was no such topcoat in the village.
"Was his name Winfield?"she asked suddenly,then instantly hated herself for the question.
The ambrotype fell to the floor.Miss Ainslie stooped to pick it up and Ruth did not see her face."Perhaps,"she said,in a strange tone,"but I never have asked a lady the name of her friend."Gentle as it was,Ruth felt the rebuke keenly.An apology was on her lips,but only her flushed cheeks betrayed any emotion.Miss Ainslie's face was pale,and there was unmistakable resentment in her eyes.
"I must go,"Ruth said,after an awkward silence,and in an instant Miss Ainslie was herself again.
"No-you mustn't go,deary.You haven't seen my garden yet.I have planted all the seeds and some of them are coming up.Isn't it beautiful to see things grow?""It is indeed,"Ruth assented,forgetting the momentary awkwardness,"and I have lived for a long time where I have seen nothing grow but car tracks and high buildings.May I come again and see your garden?""I shall be so glad to have you,"replied Miss Ainslie,with a quaint stateliness."I have enjoyed your visit so much and I hope you will come again very soon.""Thank you--I will."
Her hostess had opened the door for her,but Ruth stood in the hall,waiting,in obedience to some strange impulse.Then she stepped outside,but something held her back-something that lay unspoken between them.Those unfathomable eyes were fixed upon her,questioning,pleading,and searching her inmost soul.
Ruth looked at her,wondering,and striving to answer the mute appeal.Then Miss Ainslie laid her hand upon her arm."My dear,"she asked,earnestly,"do you light the lamp in the attic window every night?""Yes,I do,Miss Ainslie,"she answered,quickly.
The older woman caught her breath,as if in relief,and then the deep crimson flooded her face.
"Hepsey told me and Aunt Jane left a letter about it,"Ruth continued,hastily,"and I am very glad to do it.It would be dreadful to have a ship wrecked,almost at our door.""Yes,"sighed Miss Ainslie,her colour receding,"I have often thought of 'those who go down to the sea in ships.'It is so terrible,and sometimes,when I hear the surf beating against the cliff,I--I am afraid."Ruth climbed the hill,interested,happy,yet deeply disturbed.
Miss Ainslie's beautiful,changing face seemed to follow her,and the exquisite scent of the lavender,which had filled the rooms,clung to her senses like a benediction.
Hepsey was right,and unquestionably Miss Ainslie had something to do with the light;but no deep meaning lay behind it--so much was certain.She had lived alone so long that she had grown to have a great fear of shipwreck,possibly on account of her friend,the "seafaring gentleman,"and had asked Miss Hathaway to put the light in the window--that was all.
Ruth's reason was fully satisfied,but something else was not.
"I'm not going to think about it any more,"she said to herself,resolutely,and thought she meant it.
She ate her dinner with the zest of hunger,while Hepsey noiselessly served her."I have been to Miss Ainslie's,Hepsey,"she said at length,not wishing to appear unsociable.
The maid's clouded visage cleared for an instant."Did you find out about the lamp?"she inquired,eagerly.
"No,I didn't,Hepsey;but I'll tell you what I think.Miss Ainslie has read a great deal and has lived alone so much that she has become very much afraid of shipwreck.You know all of us have some one fear.For instance,I am terribly afraid of green worms,though a green worm has never harmed me.I think she asked Miss Hathaway to put the lamp in the window,and possibly told her of something she had read which made her feel that she should have done it before."Hepsey's face took on its old,impenetrable calm.
"Don't you think so?"asked Miss Thorne,after a long pause.
"Yes'm."
"It's all very reasonable,isn't it?"
"Yes'm."
In spite of the seeming assent,she knew that Hepsey was not convinced;and afterward,when she came into the room with the attic lamp and a box of matches,the mystery returned to trouble Ruth again.
"If I don't take up tatting,"she thought,as she went upstairs,"or find something else to do,I'll be a meddling old maid inside of six months."
