Silver Wings (2 page)

At last she came to a huge fence, like wrought-iron lacework, towering above her head, and behind it the soft feathery fringe of a beautiful hemlock hedge. It cast a cool shade along the road, and its breath seemed to fill the air with balm. It reminded her of the woods behind the old sawmill at home, and her step quickened eagerly.

The hedge with its iron enclosure reached farther than any of the other estate boundaries she had passed, but at last she came to an opening that was hidden, almost disguised by the thick growth of great trees, which had been increasing the farther she went until now it seemed almost like a forest. Here suddenly the drive swept in by a cool dark curve into dense shade.

She stopped and caught her breath in delight. The sun was hot, and she was very warm and tired. It was like a cooling breath, this lovely shaded way.

She entered cautiously, like Alice going into Wonderland. It seemed unbelievable that she should be entering a place like this and presuming to think she belonged there. Could it be possible that this was the place where she was to spend the summer?

She sat down on her suitcase again and taking off her hat, let the breeze fan her heated forehead. She leaned back and looked up at the cool interlacing branches overhead and drew in a deep breath of the resinous fragrance. Then with quick memory of the car that had swept into that other entrance farther back, she smoothed her hair and hastily put on her hat again, straightening it by the little mirror in her handbag. Someone might drive in here any minute, and she would not wish to be caught this way, even by a servant.

With renewed courage, she took up her suitcase and went on with brisker step up the drive.

Even then it was a good quarter of a mile before she reached the house. The lovely winding drive went for a long distance, cool and deep among the pines and hemlocks, until she began to think she had made a mistake and gone into a forest instead of a gentleman’s driveway. Then, just as she was beginning to get anxious, the foliage thinned, and there came a glimpse of a wonderful stone mansion like a crown upon a rise of ground. She caught her breath in wonder, this time exclaiming aloud. Could this be one man’s house? A mansion indeed! It was like a castle! It could not be that this was the place where she was engaged to serve as secretary! She had somehow made a great mistake, come too far or something. But at least now that she had come, she would go up to the mansion and see it. She could have the excuse that she had missed her way, and once, just once in a lifetime, she would see what a great castle looked like close at hand.

She had some thought of leaving her suitcase back under the bushes till she should return. It would be safe enough hidden under some of those low-hanging hemlocks, and it would be so much easier walking, and so much more dignified than appearing at the door of a place like that to ask the way, carrying a great shabby suitcase.

Then she reflected that something might happen to it—some dog might pull it apart, or a tramp find it, and she could not afford to lose her meager wardrobe. So she toiled on.

The way grew lovelier as she neared the house. Fountains were revealed in nooks by the way, dripping cool water from the rocky crevice of a little unsuspected grotto into a great stone jar that reminded one of Old Testament wells and shepherd girls, or showering soft silver spray into a quiet pool where lazy lilies rested and silent goldfish glided like brilliant phantoms beneath the surface. And higher up in the sunlight there were great bursts of flowers, like embroidery, in borders on the lawns and fringing the terraces. More than once she stopped in ecstasy over the beauty opening up before her, and still the castle seemed far away.

The drive wound out at last, and suddenly the mansion stood before her and was almost overwhelming in its grandeur. Built of rough stone in severe but classic lines, it seemed like some great rock that had not been made with hands. Its battlements, clear cut against the bright afternoon sky, were startling. She could scarcely believe that she was standing so near to something that looked so much like a picture from the old world, so much a thing of history and of the past. Of course it was a reproduction of some great old historic wonder. Nothing modern could be so perfect and so much a thing that seemed to have stood through the ages.

A stone seat withdrawn from the edge of the drive into a shelter of sweeping trees offered harbor while she caught her breath and gathered courage, and she dropped upon it and gazed, gradually turning her eyes from the house itself to the view across the great lawn and down the valley. And now she saw that she had climbed far above the tall hemlocks that fringed the road so thickly, and could look across them, to the hills beyond. The country club seemed a mere toy in the distance from this point. A wonderful view, with a silver river winding in the valley like a plaything! One could not think of even a mansion in the sky having any more wonderful view.

The sound of an approaching motor brought her back to her own situation once more, and she arose hastily and hurried toward what appeared to be the main entrance of the house, wondering if perhaps she ought not to hunt a door more fitting for a mere secretary’s entrance.

An imposing butler answered her timid ring, and when she said, “I’m Miss Lorrimer,” he said, “Oh, yes, Miss Lorrimer. The maid will show you to your room.”

Amory had a glimpse of a space and beauty, soft colors and abundant ease, a suggestion of lovely things in their rightful settings such as she had read about and dreamed about but never hoped to see with her earthly eyes.

The maid appeared like a genie and led her up wide stairs and down a corridor that gave light to the room below through many little latticed windows. She had a glimpse of lovely rooms done in soft pastel colorings, of silken draperies, priceless rugs, and luxury everywhere. Then a door was thrown open into a room done in cool pale green and silver with wide windows, low seats, and a couch and desk that were attractive.

The maid opened another door and Amory saw another smaller room, with a rosy spread on the bed and matching draperies at the windows. She glimpsed a white tiled bath through the door beyond.

“Madam thought you could be comfortable here,” said the maid in a colorless voice. “She wanted you near her own apartments for convenience in the mornings.”

“Oh, it is lovely!” said Amory, with her heart in her eyes. Then she remembered that she must not gush before servants and that she must not behave as if she were not used to nice things—two of the principles in which she had been trying to school herself ever since she received the letter saying her application had been accepted.

“Thank you,” she said less eagerly, with a lovely smile to the other young woman. “I am sure I shall be quite comfortable here. And now, I wonder if you can tell me when I can see Mrs. Whitney.”

“Tomorrow morning,” said the maid, still colorlessly. “Madam has a house party on and the place is full of guests. She’ll be busy all the afternoon and evening, but she’ll see you at ten tomorrow. She’ll ring for you then, and I’ll show you the way to her room. She said you’d want to rest and get settled. Has your luggage come yet? Did you bring it in the taxi with you?”

Amory grew pink, remembering her long walk and the precious dollar she had saved, and conscious, too, of her dusty slippers. But she must not tell the servant that she had walked. She must remember her two principles. And of course she should have known that this was no way to arrive at a place like this—on foot and carrying her own suitcase! However, she would probably learn.

“They are sending my trunk from the station soon,” she said, walking toward the window and trying to look unflustered. And then, catching sight of the view from the window, she forgot her resolve about gushing and burst forth again with a soft exclamation.

“Oh, isn’t it lovely from the window!” she said, as if the maid were another girl like herself. “I shall just drink in all this beauty!”

“Yes, it’s a lovely place,” said the girl, as if such things mattered little to her. “Would you like me to unpack your suitcase for you? Madam said I was to help you in any way you needed.”

Amory turned and flashed another smile at her.

“Oh, no, please,” she said, with an inward gasp at the idea of this prim maid going over all her intimate little possessions and pitiful makeshifts. “I’ve nothing else to do, you know, and I’ll enjoy getting settled.”

“Very well,” said the colorless voice. “Then I’ll go down. It’s time to serve tea, and they’ll be wanting me. I’ll bring your tea up here.”

“Oh!” said Amory, quite wondering at the idea, for tea wasn’t served as a rule in Rayport unless one was giving an affair. But she realized that she was hungry, and tea would be very refreshing.

“But do you need to bother coming up? Couldn’t I just slip down and get it myself, if you would show me the way about?”

“It’s no trouble,” said the maid, and Amory couldn’t be sure whether there was a note of scorn in her voice for one who had offered to serve herself, or whether it was gratitude.

“I’ll show you about later, if you like,” added the maid, and going out, closed the door.

Suddenly Amory felt tremendously alone, shut in by walls so thick that no sound penetrated, surrounded by a loveliness that was so foreign to all that she had known before that it made her throat ache to look at it. She felt as if she had stolen, unaware to the owners, into a spot that was too great for her small powers. She ought to go down and find them, somewhere, somehow, and tell them that she was only a bluff and that she would never be able to fill any kind of a position in such a great house as this.

But here she was, and bidden to keep out of the way till the morrow. There was nothing to do but put her things neatly away and bide her time until summoned to her employer.

She went about the room examining every article and making soft little gleeful noises of pleasure over things. This room was no servants’ quarters. It had evidently been one of the regular guest rooms, for everything in it was beautiful.

She went into the rose-draped bedroom and looked around in delight. She flung open a door that she thought must be a closet and a light sprang forth, revealing a room as large as Aunt Hannah’s bedroom in Rayport. Rods and hangers and shelves! Shoe trees and hat trees galore! Surely the maid had made a dreadful mistake and put her in the wrong room. Perhaps she ought to do something about it.

She hung up her small dark hat on a hand-painted dolly. She hung up her limp little georgette coat in which she had journeyed on a pink satin hanger finished in rosebuds. Then she went into the spacious white bathroom finished in rose and black borders, and washed her face and hands with a cake of soap that she had seen much advertised in the magazines but had never hoped to use because of its price. If this room was a mistake, at least she would have these few minutes of fun, playing it belonged to her.

When she had made her hair smooth and tidy and had hung up one or two things out of her suitcase that she was afraid might wrinkle, she went and sat down by the window in her green sitting room.

“This is my dressing room!” she said to herself, looking around with shining eyes. “What fun I’ll have writing to Aunt Hannah and Aunt Jocelyn about it!”

Then her eyes sought the lovely distance.

And all at once she saw something like a bird, or perhaps it was only a large insect sailing across the sky. Of course it was an airplane, but what fun to watch it from such a high place! She never had been where she could watch one so well. They were always high up overhead when they went over Rayport.

The insect became a bird, and the bird a great airplane at last, flashing its silver wings in the sunlight. She knelt by the windowsill and looked up at it. It seemed to be coming straight toward the house, and she could hear the throb of the engine now. Was that the flier looking down? It thrilled her to think she was so near to the great machine and to the man who dared to navigate the skies.

Then down below she heard voices, laughing, and a group of young people suddenly appeared on the terrace in light lovely dresses, sport frocks, and uniforms, things she had read about. They were looking up and calling, waving their hands. One girl took the long coral scarf from her head and waved it.

“That’s Teddy!” they called. “There he is! I knew he’d be on time!”

A white paper fluttered down as the plane circled away, and the girls ran screaming and laughing to catch it.

“It’s mine!” they called.

“No! It’s mine!”

“Better give it to Diana!” someone said, laughing. “She claims all that flies as her own!”

Amory drew back into the shadow of the curtain lest she be seen by the crowd below, but her eyes were on the great plane that was circling lower and lower now, and she realized with another thrill that it was going to land right there, and she was going to be able to see it.

The airstrip was not a quarter of a mile away, just beyond the garden, and the hedge was low there. Amory was far above the ground and felt that she had a front seat at the most exciting moment of her life.

Like a great silver moth it settled down, ran smoothly for a little space, and came to rest. She watched it in wonder, and presently a figure disengaged itself from the body of the machine and after walking about the creature and examining it here and there, started toward the garden gate.

As he came nearer, Amory could see that he wore an aviator’s uniform and that he had a handsome face, tanned to a lovely golden brown.

Striding through the garden gate as the group of young people ran laughing to meet him, he pulled off his helmet and swung it in his hand. Amory saw that he had golden brown hair, crisp and curly and short cut, and a strong, well-chiseled chin and nose. His eyes were very blue, and he raised them suddenly to her window, while the group of giddy girls below caught him and pulled him and pretended to try to kiss him. They were laughing eyes, and they looked straight into Amory’s with a laughing, astonished question in their blue depths.

“What does he see? What is he looking at?” cried the struggling girls as he warded them off, and they all looked up at Amory’s window, but Amory was not there. She had dropped suddenly to her knees, with her burning cheeks hidden in her hands.