Rensselaer Journal, Volume 11, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 April 1902 — A GATHERING OF LAVENDER. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A GATHERING OF LAVENDER.

By ANNIE E. HOLDSWORTH.

[Copyright, IS9B, by the Author.]

The postman coming down the road could see Miss Caroline in the garden picking lavender. This lavender Miss Jane would afterward make into scent bags for sale. A good summer added so much to their income, but this year there were ruinors of .a blight, and Miss Caroline’s eyes were anxious as she peered among the bushes. While she picked, Joseph purred and rubbed himself against her gown, thereby hindering the work. Every few minutes th» old lady stooped to stroke snd admije his tortoise shell sides. Next to Miss 3> ne - who was still a juvenile —being ten years younger than her sister —Joseph was Miss Caroline's ideal of wnth and youthful spirits. To be SQ <e, no one could remember when Jo--1 pph was a kitten, but to Miss Caroline ne was still young and delightfully frisky. She noticed now that his pur held a ■ hoarse note, and her face became still more anxious. She put up her glasses and gazed at him in concern. “Dear, dearl” she cried. “I do hope you are not going to be ill. Joseph. What should Ido without you ? If we Were parted—if you died”— Here speech failed, and the quick tears of age gathered in her eyes. She was a tall, thin old woman, that looked not unlike a sprig of faded lavender. Her gray gown was faded and matched her gray eyes and her faded hair, but; her sentiment, like the fresh lavender in her apron, had a fragrant pungency. Suddenly she wiped away her tears, and her face brightened. She > had seen the postman coming down the road. It was many years since he had stepped at Lavender cottage, but Miss Jane cherished a pleasant illusion that some day he would bring tidings of a fortune, and his passing along the road was the event of the day for the sisters. k So strongly did Miss Jane believe in her hopes that she had infected Misa Caroline with her expectations. Miss Jane had a practical mind. No doubt she knew that it gave zest to spare meals to believe each one the last they would consume. Hunger could be borne when hope spoke of a letter on its way that would bar the door forever against hunger. It set a halo about the parlor to picture themselves in it undisturbed and safe until death called them. As long as they believed in the fortune they did not see the skeleton that sat all day on the hearth—the dread of the union. Confidence in the letter hid from their eyes the bare boards of the workhouse coffin. If it was Miss Caroline who every summer spared a dozen scent bags for the old women in the workhouse, it was Miss Jane who planted daisies on the paupers’ graves and tended them all the year round. She was very pitiful for the multitude of dead that charity covered so grudgingly. Miss Caroline glanced from the postman to the window. Then she smiled and nodded meaningly. Yes, Miss Jane was there sewing. She would see the postman. • The noise of the latch gave her a shock. She could not believe her eyes. The expected had happened. The postman had stopped at the gate. He was coming up the path. , The corners of the apron fell from her trembling fingers, and the lavender sprigs poured in fragrant rain to the ground. Miss Caroline tottered to the door, not to take the letter, but to call Miss Jane to take it. It was the younger sister who ruled the house. Miss Caroline never even dreamed of opening her eyes in the morning till Miss Jane had said: “Now. sister, it is daybreak. We must be rising.” But Miss Jane was already at the door, and Miss Caroline trembled again to see that her composure was disturbed. For all that, Miss Jane took the letter from the postman in silent dignity. They did not speak till they were secluded in the little parlor; then Miss Jane said solemnly: “I don’t know the writing. It must be the fortune—come at last. ” She laid the letter on the table, and ' Miss Caroline sank into'a chair greatly agitated. “If that is the case, let us thank God, ’ ’ she said in awed tones. She fell on her knees, and Miss Jane, with an uncertain cough, knelt down also. But she remained silent until Miss Caroline murmured, surprised, “Sister, are we not thankful?" Then, blushing faintly and recalling her confidence, Mias Jane thanked God for his mercy in promising them com’’fort and a home for the end of their days. When they rose, their agitation had calmed, they could look at the letter with steady eyes. It lay on the table unopened, waiting Miss Jane’s suggestion. Miss Jane polished her spectacles, and her glance caressed the furniture that had grown old with them. “I was al- ' ways afraid we might have to sell them," she whispered. Miss Caroline lifted Joseph to her knee. “Now we can afford cats’ meat for Joseph, ” she laughed, “and peppermints for the old people in the workhouse. And I should like to give them , a little shawl ench. We know wbet it is to miss warmth. ” “C« n y e a ®°rd them for ourselves, yet? said Miss Jane. She hated to cast doubt on Miss Caroline’s confidence. “Ah, sister, ’ she went on, “if we could purchase liberty!” k “knows ? "said Miss Caroline, “We might have enough to build amlshouses"— “Or an infirmary!" cried Miss Jane, forgetting her doubts. ‘Tshould like the poor to have a strong young nurse when they are ill I thought of that when I had bronchitis last year."

“I forget that I must seem very old to you. Jane." said Miss Caroline, humbly. • “Not old, sister, but aging, ” mid Misa Jane briskly. “I wonder what in in that letter” — “What can it be but the fortune?" asked Miss Caroline. “It is the gift of Providence: just now, too, when the lavender has failed. And we shall be able to put ribbons on the bags after all.” “Ah. sister, you are growing extravagant already," Miss Jane protested. “And you remember you did not believe in the fortune." “But you taught me to believe in it," exclaimed Miss Caroline. Miss Jane colored again. She could not deny her guilt “I think we ought to open the letter, ” she said dryly. Miss Caroline’s excitement subsided. She settled herself in her chair and fold-* ed her hands meekly. “I am ready." she said at last. Miss Jane was a long time wiping and adjusting her glasses. Then she

had to find her paper knife and insert it under the flap of the envelope. To cut the envelope required care and great deliberation, but at length it was done, and the sheet of note paper shook in Miss Jane’s fingers. She looked at the address, and then turned slowly to from William," shesaid quietly. “Frcm William," echoed Miss Caroline, “and we thought him dead." She wondered how Miss Jane could speak so calmly with a letter from her old lover in her hand. “He is dead, ” said Miss Jane, “but recently—there is a postscript”— “And left you a fortune," quavered Miss Caroline joyfully. “I will read the letter." said Miss Jane. But when she had read it aloud the sisters stared at each other with stricken faces from which the life had died. “His lame child—to love and protect," said Miss Jane very firmly and looked at Miss Caroline with defiant eyes. “A lame child—to support!” faltered Miss Caroline. She did not realize quite all that this meant. Her mind groped blindly about the thought. “We have barely enough for two—and a lame child!” she repeated. “It is she who writes the postscript, ” said Miss Jane. “She comes tomorrow at 3.” “And if Joseph were not a good mouser he would often go without meat.” Miss Caroline continued her reflections, “and with barely enough! Jane, Jane, we expected a fortune, and it is a burden!" Miss. Jane remained silent. “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away," sobbed Miss Caroline. “It’s not the money, but the poor creatures in the workhouse. And this year we shall not have even scent bags to give. ” “It is a comfort that William’s child need not go there, "said Miss Jane, and her face worked. “William’s crippled child! Impossible!" Before Miss Caroline’s eye came the picture of lame Susan, who sat all day in the hard workhouse chair, and her tears rushed forth. “That will never, never be!" she cried. “Where there’s enough for two there’s enough for three. ” “Where there’s enough for two there’s certainly enough for three,” repeated Miss Jane flrmly. And silence fell. After awhile Miss Jane rose... “I will go into the village to get muslin for the bags, ’ she said composedly. Miss Caroline lifted her white faca “We must wait, Jane. The lavender is blighted. There will be very little to gather. ’ Her voice failed; then courage returned. “But that is no reason why I should not gather what there is," she added with tremulous cheerfulness. When Miss Jane, shawled and bonneted. hurried down the path, Miss Caroline was too busy over the lavender bushes to bid her hasten back. The poor lady was still stunned by the disappointment. Her thoughts trembled like her limbs. They tottered about the subject. Life had been difficult enough before. How could she hope to meet the additional expense of the crippled child? And William had not treated Jane well in the old days. She looked despairingly at the stunted lavender sprigs. They made the future more hopeless. She was afraid to utter her fears to Miss Jane, whose mouth, when she came back from her marketing, was set with a new firmness. Miss Caroline watched her furtively when she cut the loaf for tea. She could see Miss Jane making mental measurements of the slice. Instead of cutting it in half she divided it into three pieces, then frowned and glanced hastily at Miss Caroline, who, happily, was not looking. But Miss Carbline’s knees were shaking. and she almost cried out when Miss Jane covertly helped herself to the smallest lump of sugar in the bowl. “And Jane Always had a sweet tooth, ” thought Miss Carolina But she said nothing, for the tightness of Miss Jane’s upper lip was something new and dreadful The rest of the day they spent re-

arranging their habits to suit the needs of the crippla “She will have to sleep in the parlor. ” said Miss Jana “We are not. strong enough to carry her up stairs." “That will be pleasant company for Joseph. ” said Miss Caroline. She was bent pn showing the cheerful side of the difficulty. “I think she will be sure to like Joseph," she added confidently. But the words themselves lacked assurance. For the first time in their lives the sisters were conscious of thoughts withheld from each other. As the summer day drew to its close Miss Jane's sternness did not relax, but Miss Caroline’s head shook with a palsy of uncertainty. The hours aged her. She crept about the parlor, touching the furniture lingeringly, and when she carried the loaf to the larder Miss Jane could hear her muttering, “Enough for two. three —enough for three, enough for two." Her manlier was odd and broken. She even omitted to give Joseph the usual last caress. With the unspoken thing between them the sisters went sadly to bed •••• • \ * • “Now. sister, it is daybreak. We must be rising." Miss Jane turned on her pillow when she said the words. Then she raised herself and stared blankly at Miss Caroline’s empty place. She could not believe that her sister had risen without waiting for the signal to rise. Miss Caroline stopped in her dressing to explain. “There is so much to do, "she said nervously. “The child comes at 2. ” “At 8. sister.” Miss Jane corrected. “And yen must meet the train." “I? I had not thought of it," Miss Caroline stammered. “I expected—you —von will meet her. Jane.” Miss Jane reflected a moment. “Well. I can manage it." she said, as if to herself. Soon after 2 o’clock she made herself ready for going out. By this time there was an impassable barrier between the two sisters. They could not face each other’s glance. Miss Jane took np her umbrella and stepped sharply to the door. There she stopped. “I have made enough bags for ail the lavender we are likely to,have, ’’ she said, and there seemed to be whalebone ribs about her voice. Miss Caroline, hidden behind the curtain, gazed after her, sobbing. She wiped away her tears, and love and admiration mingled with the despair in her eyes. She was proud of the strength of that unbending figure. She admired it again while she wondered what Miss Jane had forgotten that she turned at the corner and gazed so earnestly at the cottage.

When Miss Caroline could no longer persuade herself that Miss Jane was in sight, she turned slowly back into thq, room. “Jane is only 60," she murmured. “Her life is before her, and William’s child might have been hers." A pathetic resoluteness conquered her fears. She moved quickly, though her limbs tottered. She hurried up stairs and put on her outdoor garments, tying her bonnet strings with uncertain fingers. “But I must learn to do it,” she said to herself. “I must learn to do without Jane." Sternly checking her emotion she went down stairs. “I have never before acted without her. ’’she whispered. “But I cannot She is so generous. She would refuse. She found a sheet of note paper and wrote upon it; “We have only enough for two, and the child is lame and helpless. I have acted for the best.” As she pinned the paper on the tablecloth. where it could not be missed. Joseph rubbed himself against her gown. A moan escaped her. Not trusting herself to speak to him, she staggered from the house and down the garden path. From long use her eyes wandered toward the lavender bushes. Yes. it was true. The blight was spreading. “I am doing right. I am quite sure 1 am doing right," said Miss Caroline as the gate clicked behind her. Her lips pressed together in a firmness equal to Miss Jane’s, and she trod the weary road with feet that did not fail The master of the workhouse was engaged. If she had come for admission, she must sit in the waiting room till he could see her. Miss Caroline stumbled after the porter, seeing nothing of the long, dark corridor they went through. Dazed and overcome, she bad barely strength enough to drop on to a chair just inside the dim room. To her excited imagination the space seemed to be crowded with witnesses of her humiliation. In effect only one other person was there, and she sat with downcast face and took no notice of the newcomer. Miss Caroline was bowed with misery and doubt and longing and regret. Suddenly the silence was broken. Three strokes rang out from the workhouse bell. Miss Caroline started up. “Three! Three!” she cried shrilly. “Oh, there might have been enough for three! What if it is God speaking?" She stood in the middle of the floor, her head bent a little forward listening for a voice again. “Sister! Sister!’ The thin, strained cry came from the other end of the room and shook Miss Caroline. She fell into her chair. “Jane? You?" she faltered. “You. sister,” said Miss Jane, her mouth trembling, her voice strangely broken. “This is no place for you. You ought not to be here. It is I who must make toom for William’s child.” “Neither of us ought to be here,” sobbed Mies Caroline. “Jane, you ought not to have come. How could I live without you?” “I couldn’t live without you, ” said Miss Jane, and they wept together. By and by Miss Jane rose. “Come, sister, the poor child will find the house empty." “But"— Miss Caroline hesitated. “Theclock says ‘Enough for three.’ ’

Miss Jane answered firmly. “We must go.” f “Yes, let ue go," said Miss Caroline, all eagerness. “Think of that poor child in the empty house, if indeed she has found her way. and no one at the station either!" “I gave the busman minute directions to take her to you, ” said Miss Jane, meekly accepting the reproach. At the gate the porter stopped them. “The master will see you soon.” “Thank you. We will not trouble him.” said Miss Jane with sweet dignity. She supported Miss Caroline along the road, and the silence was not broken at once. When the cottage came in eight, “Sister, you will not do anything so foolish again,” said Miss Jane sternly. “Not unless yon do it first, Jane," Miss Caroline answered. “I have always thought this a very beautiful road," said Miss Jane. And she spoke of the weather and the scenery and the crippled child. “She will have a poor welcome—not even a cup of tea," sighed Miss Jane. “Joseph will welcome her," said Miss Caroline cheerily. “Dear me. how very pleasant it is to think that there is some one at home waiting for us!" “It is very pleasant, sister. It feels quite like a home coming. Ah I The fire is not out! I can see the smoke rising." They hurried on toward the gate. Before Miss Caroline’s eyes could turn to-

ward the bushes some one ran down the path to meet them. The girl came so quickly they did not notice that she limped as she ran. They had not time even to see her bright face and the merry light in her eyes before her arms were round them and her kisses on their cheeks. “Dear aunties, you have come at last! Come right in and have tea. It is all ready I was so hungry.” Miss Caroline turned to Miss Jane, who could only gasp out. “William’s lame child!" “Not so very lame!" the girl cried gayly. “Anyway I can run your errands for you. ” ' She laughed into their astonished eyes. ! “And not a child!" exclaimed Mies Caroline, fumbling for her glasses. ! “Twenty past.” said the girl, laughing again. “My dear, what do they call you?" Miss Jane smiled at her. “Lavender,” the girl answered. Miss Caroline turned a gratified face to her sister. “You see, William did not forget the old days, though he never wrote." “He never forgot,” said the girL “I know all about you i.ad the cottage." | She led them into the parlor and took off their bonnets and settled them in ; their chairs, enjoying the surprise that ■ made them dumb. Mies Caroline was looking uneasily for the note she had pinned to the table. It was hidden under the white cloth. I But the sight of Joseph lapping milk and the spread table restored speech. I “Eggs and butter! My dear, my dear I” protested Miss Jane. “We are very, very poor." quavered Miss Caroline. “Poor? Not a bit of it!" The girl’s laugh tinkled like bells through the house. “We are quite rich. You don’t know how much money my lacemaking brings in. Father used to say it was . fortune enough for two." Miss Jane glanced at Miss Caroline, I and a quick thought chased the doubt and bewilderment from her face. “Fortune?" she echoed, a smile sofi tening her lips. “ Yes, ” Miss Caroline added with her i tender eyes on the girl, “enough for three. ’’

"It is from William,” she said quietly.

“Dear aunties, you have come at last!"