Part 1 (1/2)

Three Margarets.

by Laura E. Richards.

CHAPTER I.

THE ARRIVAL.

Long ago and long ago, And long ago still, There dwelt three merry maidens Upon a distant hill.

Christina G. Rossetti.

The rain was falling fast. It was a pleasant summer rain that plashed gently on the leaves of the great elms and locusts, and tinkled musically in the roadside puddles. Less musical was its sound as it drummed on the top of the great landau which was rolling along the avenue leading to Fernley House; but the occupants of the carriage paid little attention to it, each being buried in her own thoughts. The night was dark, and the carriage-lamps threw an uncertain gleam on the three figures leaning back in their corners, m.u.f.fled and silent. The avenue was long,--interminably long, it seemed to one of the three travellers; and finally the silence so oppressed her that she determined to conquer her shyness and break it.

”What a _very_ long avenue!” she said, speaking in a low, sweet voice.

There was no reply. She hesitated a moment, and then added timidly, ”Don't you think that, as we are cousins, we might introduce ourselves and make acquaintance? My name is Margaret Montfort.”

”Why, so is mine!” exclaimed the traveller opposite her. ”And mine!”

added the third, from the further corner.

The voice of the second speaker sounded as if it might be hearty, and as if only awkwardness gave it a sullen tone. The third spoke with a soft, languid utterance and the faintest shade of a foreign accent.

”How strange!” exclaimed the first Margaret Montfort. ”Of course I knew that we had the same surname, as our fathers were brothers; but that we should all three be named--and yet it is not strange, after all!” she added. ”Our grandmother was Margaret, and it was natural that we should be given her name. But how shall we manage? We cannot say First, Second, and Third Margaret, as they do on the stage.”

”I am never called anything but Peggy,” said the second girl, still in a half-sullen, half-timid tone.

And ”My home name is Rita,” murmured the third reluctantly; and she added something in an undertone about ”short acquaintance,” which the first Margaret did not choose to hear.

”Oh, how pretty!” she said cordially. ”Then I may call you Peggy and Rita? About myself”--she stopped and laughed--”I hardly know what to say, for I have always been called Margaret, since I was a baby.”

”But one of us might as well _be_ Margaret,” answered Peggy. ”And somehow, your voice sounds as if you looked like it. If this road were ever coming to an end, we might see.”

”Oh, I do see!” cried Margaret, leaning forward to look out of the window. ”I see the lights! I see the house! We are really here at last!”

As she spoke, the carriage drove up before a long building twinkling with lights, and stopped at a broad flight of steps, leading to a stone-paved veranda. As the coachman opened the carriage-door, the door of the house opened too, and a cheerful light streamed out upon the three weary travellers. Two staid waiting-women, in spotless caps and ap.r.o.ns, were waiting to receive them as they came up the steps.

”This way, young ladies, if you please!” said the elder of the two. ”You must be tired with your long drive. This is the library; and will you rest here a while, or will you be shown your rooms at once?”

”Oh, thank you!” said Margaret, ”let us stay here a little while! What do you say, cousins?”

”All right!” said Peggy. The girl whose home name was Rita had already thrown herself down in an armchair, and seemed to think no reply necessary.

”Very well, miss,” said the dignified waiting-woman, addressing herself markedly to Margaret. ”Susan will come in ten minutes to show you the rooms, miss, and supper will be ready in half an hour. I am Elizabeth, miss, if you should want me. The bell is here in the corner.”

Margaret thanked her with a cordial smile, the other two never glancing in her direction, and the woman withdrew.

”Just ten minutes,” said Margaret, turning to her cousins, ”to make acquaintance in, and find out what we all look like! Suppose we begin by taking off our wraps. How delightful the little fire is, even if we are in the middle of June. Let me help you, Peggy!”

Peggy was fumbling at her veil, which was tied in a hard knot; but in a few minutes everything was off, and the three Margaret Montforts stood silent, gazing at each other.