In the Valley of the Shadow | Page 3

breathing brokenly. Little gusts of orris floated toward him.
"Where are the children?" she asked, almost herself now.
"They're here--Peter wants them one minute and sends them away the
next. I should send them to grandmother's, but he won't hear of it."
A light step sounded on the stair. The nurse appeared on the lower

landing. She was dressed in cool blue gingham; the straps of her white
apron marked the firm, broad lines of her bust and shoulder.
"Is this Mrs. Wylie?" she said in her clear, assured voice. "Mrs. Moore
would like to see her a moment. Will you come with me?"
"I will come directly," and Sue gathered together her gloves and
hand-bag.
"She's very good-looking--it's a pity her hair is so gray," she breathed
in his ear. As the two women stood together a moment on the landing
he realized, not for the first time, that Sue was a little too small. But he
had never thought her sallow before.
Peter came in by the greenhouse door, walking slowly, his hands
behind his back. He looked old for the first time in his jolly,
persistently boyish life.
"Those chrysanthemums are all drying up," he complained fretfully;
"not one of the blamed servants has done a thing since--since--O Lord,
Will, what shall we be doing this time tomorrow? Where are the
children? Where's Miss Strong? There's a woman for you! Caddy took
to her directly. She's there now. She's talking to her about the children.
Oh, my God!"
Belden grasped his hand and they walked silently up and down the hall.
"Aunt Lucia's coming to-night," Peter resumed nervously. "She will
drive me mad. Take care of her, will you? If I could have choked her
off--but when you think she was just like a mother to Cad all these
years, what can you do? She's got a right. You'd think she'd have got
some sense from living with Cad so long. I told Henry to go for
her--and there you are," he added, as the cart drew up before the open
door.
Belden went slowly down the steps; he detested Aunt Lucia, and
Clarice had always stood between them.

"How do you do?" he began, assisting her from the high seat. Her long
crape veil caught in the wheel, and the numberless black and floating
ends of her costume wound themselves about him as he bent down to
disentangle her.
"Oh, Wilmot, this is a terrible day for us all, is it not? Be careful of the
hem of that veil, please. When I kissed Clarice good-by last Christmas I
little thought what a good-by it was! Is she conscious? You have
muddied the boa, I think, but never mind. Can I see her once more?"
"For Heaven's sake, Aunt Lucia, anybody would think Caddy was in
her grave! She's a long way from it yet, thank God! Of course she's
conscious, and spunky as the--as ever. I don't think you really needed
to--"
"My dear Wilmot, I prepared Clarice for her confirmation, I dressed her
for her wedding, and I was here when the children were born. If you
think that I would fail her in this crisis you have a very poor idea of my
character. But then, I am perfectly aware that you always had. Oh, there
is Peter! My poor Peter!" She rushed toward him, and Belden smiled
sardonically as his brother-in-law planted a perfunctory kiss on her
chin.
"This may comfort you, Peter, as it has me so often in such
circumstances. So short, so true, so helpful. 'Underneath are the
everlasting arms!' Do you feel that, Peter?"
"I--I--yes, indeed, Aunt Lucia--you must want a bite of something, I'm
sure, driving so far."
Peter writhed miserably in Aunt Lucia's crape-and-jet arms.
"Not till I have seen her, Peter. Afterwards I shouldn't mind. I have
brought such a beautiful address by Bishop Hunter. It was delivered on
the occasion of the death of Governor -------, unless I forgot to put it in
with my knitted shawl. I believe I did. I will send for it directly. When
my dear husband--he was so fond of Clarice--died, I read it more than
anything else, except the Prayer-book, of course. You will surely find it

a help."
"Yes, Aunt Lucia. Your room is ready, and--"
"Not till I have seen her, Peter."
"Susy is there now, and Miss Strong says nobody else this evening.
Tomorrow--"
Aunt Lucia drew away.
"Do I understand that Susy Wylie--no relation at all--is preferred before
the only mother Clarice has had for all these years?"
Peter winced. "But you weren't here, Aunt Lucia," he argued wearily.
"Who is Miss Strong?"
"Here she is!" There was great relief in Peter's voice. "Miss Strong, my
aunt, Mrs. Wetherly."
"Mrs. Moore sends you her best love, and