Hastings, Mamma—what shall I do?” “See him, love. I am not suffering much.” “Oh, Mamma, I can’t leave you alone!” “With Priggett, my dear? Of course. Perhaps he might know of a physician.” “Of course, Mamma! I will see him. Ask the man to shew Mr. Hastings up.” And when Guy was ushered into the stiffly-furnished sitting room a pale young lady with her crown of golden hair somewhat disturbed & her white dress rumpled, came forward to meet him. “Oh, Mr. Hastings …” “Has anything happened, Miss Graham?” The tears were hanging on Madeline’s lashes & her quiet manner was changed for a trembling agitation. “Mamma has sprained her ankle,” she said, “& Papa is away. He went to the Lauterbrunnen this morning, & an hour ago Mamma slipped on the staircase—” she ended rather abruptly by pressing her handkerchief to her eyes. “My dear Miss Graham, how unfortunate! Have you sent for a physician? Can I do anything for you?” “Oh, thanks,” said Madeline, “we have got the maid & I have bound her ankle up, but we didn’t know where to find a physician.” “How lucky that I came!” Guy exclaimed. “I believe there is no good native doctor, but Sir Ashley Patchem is at my Hôtel & I will go back at once.” “Oh, thank you, thank you!” Madeline could scarcely control her tears, as she held her hand out. “May I come back & see if I can help you in any other way?” Guy said, as he took it; & then he was gone, at a quick pace. Half an hour later, the famous London physician was in Mrs. Graham’s room at the Hôtel Belvidere. “A very slight sprain, I assure you,” he said, as Madeline followed him anxiously into the sitting-room. “Don’t disturb yourself. Only have this sent for at once.” He put a prescription in her hand, & as he left the room Guy came in again. “I am so much relieved,” said Madeline, “& I don’t know how to thank you.” “What does Sir Ashley say?” “It is very slight, not at all dangerous. I am so thankful! But this prescription … I suppose one of the servants …” “Let me take it,” said Guy. Then, glancing at his watch; “Mr. Graham ought to be here shortly, but you will send for me in case of need, Miss Graham? Are you sure that I can do nothing else?” “You have done so much,” Madeline answered, with a smile. “No, I think everything is arranged, & as you say Papa will be here soon.” “I will not delay the prescription, then. Goodbye, Miss Graham!” “Goodbye.” She held out her hand again, as to a friend, & again he took it & pressed it for an instant. As he walked homeward in the soft Summer dusk, he had the pleasant feeling of a man who knows that he has gained the admiration & gratitude of a pretty, interesting girl by an easy service just at the right time. No man wins his way so easily as he who has the good luck to prove himself “a friend in need”; & Guy felt that in one day he had come nearer to Madeline Graham than months of casual acquaintance could have brought him.
—————
X.
At Interlaken.
“Through those days
Youth, love & hope walked smiling hand in hand.”
Old Play.
It is certain that in this world the smallest wires work the largest machinery in a wonderful way. The twist that Mrs. Graham’s foot took on the Hôtel staircase, led gradually up a ladder of greater events to a most unexpected climax, & influenced her daughter’s life as the most carefully laid plans could perhaps not have done. Strangely & wonderfully, “Dieu dispose.” The Grahams had not intended to remain over a week at Interlaken, & had all their Summer plans arranged after the approved tourist fashion. These plans Mrs. Graham’s sprained ankle of course overset. Slight at the accident was, it tied her to her couch for five weeks at the least; & all that could be done was to accept the circumstances & engage the best rooms which the Hôtel Belvidere could offer, for that length of time. Mr. Graham was thoroughly disgusted. “To be mewed up in this hole,” he complained to Hastings, “with nothing to do but look at the mountains out of one’s bedroom windows. In fact, though the continent is very pleasant for a change & very nice to travel in, England’s the place to be quiet in!” “Yes, I agree with you,” said Guy; “but I hope this unfortunate accident won’t frighten you off to England?” Mr. Graham shook his head despondently! “I wish it could, my dear Hastings, I wish it could. But, you see, our Madeline is too delicate for the rough English weather, & as we’ve got to choose between Nice & Rome of course we’ll go to Rome again.” As for Madeline, she accepted the change with youthful adaptability, invented fancy-work for her mother, collected flowers, played on the rattling Hôtel piano which had been moved into her sitting-room, & took long walks with her father & Mr. Hastings. These walks, indeed, were the pleasantest part of her quiet, contented days; Mr. Hastings talked so well & got her such pretty wild-flowers, she said simply to her mother. And Mrs. Graham sighed. Madeline was a good, dutiful girl, & full of worship for her father; but perhaps she was not sorry when, on the morning which had been chosen for a long pilgrimage, Mr. Graham got some business letters which required immediate answers, & announced at the breakfast table that he could not go. “Oh, what a pity, John,” said Mrs. Graham, from the sofa. “It is such a beautiful day, & Maddy has been counting on this walk.” Madeline looked studiously at her plate, but the pink was beginning to flutter up into her cheek. “Nonsense!” said Mr. Graham. “Madeline shall go, of course. What do you suppose Hastings wants with an old fellow like me, eh? No, no, Mother; Madeline shall go & they will be only too glad to be rid of me.” “Oh, Papa!” murmured Madeline. But when Guy Hastings appeared an hour later, she was ready in her gray walking dress, with a quantity of light blue veil floating about her leghorn hat & looped around her throat. There was a slight flush on her face, & she had never looked more lovely. “This morning was made for a walk,” said Guy, as he stood by Mrs. Graham’s couch. “But the one we have planned is long. I hope we shall not tire Miss Graham.” “Oh, no,” said Madeline, coming up, “but—Papa can’t come this morning.” “Mr. Graham has some business letters to attend to,” explained Mrs. Graham. Guy glanced at Madeline; “You are dressed,” he said: “won’t you trust to my guidance?” Madeline stood still, blushing; but just then Mr. Graham came in, & overhearing Guy’s words, said warmly: “Yes, indeed she will! Take good care of her, Hastings. I say, she will be glad to have her old father out of the way.” “Oh, Papa,” said Madeline again. So the two started out, Guy carrying her flower-basket & shawl, through the sunny morning weather. A handsome couple they made; & as they walked through the Hôtel garden together, a Russian princess, who was taking an early airing, observed to her little French secretary: “that those English were fiancées; she could see it.” As they reached the gate, a little child who was racing after a hoop, stumbled & fell crying across their path; & Madeline stooped down & picked him up very tenderly. “Are you hurt?” “Not very much, Madame,” said the child; & Madeline felt the blood flying into her face, & wondered whether Guy were very much vexed at having her mistaken for his wife. On through the sunny morning weather: who can tell of that walk, with all its pretty little incidents, & surprises & adventures? It was such a pastoral as drops now & then between the tragedies & farces of life. Madeline was perfectly happy; & if Guy was not as happy as she, he was in a better mood than he had been for many a day, & the bright morning air, the beautiful scenery, the sweet English face at his side, warmed him more & more into hearty enjoyment. As they walked, the flower-basket was filled with new trophies; & when they reached their destination, Guy spread Madeline’s shawl under a nut-tree, & sat down by her side to sketch. “Why not take a drawing lesson today?” he said, as she watched him pointing his pencils & making his slight preparations. “I think one could learn anything in such beautiful weather.” “I had rather watch you,” said Madeline, “& you know I have to arrange my flowers too. Oh, what a beautiful day!” “Perfect. I didn’t know what an attractive little nook Interlaken is before.” “And you are going tomorrow?” asked Madeline, dropping her lashes. “I think so. Every artist is at heart a wanderer—begging Pope’s pardon for taking such a liberty with his line. There, Miss Graham, what do you think of those outlines?” “How quick you are! Oh, how cleverly you have done it.” Guy laughed. “Such injudicious
