L M Montgomery Short Story - A Strayed Allegiance (Part One)

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you.

And let all the worries of the day drift away.

This is your time and your space.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Happy listening.

A Strayed Allegiance Will you go to the cove with me this afternoon?

It was Marion Leslie who asked the question.

Estabrook Elliot underpinned with a masterful touch the delicate cluster of noisette rosebud she wore at her throat and transferred them to his buttonhole as he answered courteously.

Certainly,

My time as you know is entirely at your disposal.

They were standing in the garden under the creamy bloom of dropping acacia trees.

One long plume of blossoms touched lightly the soft golden-brown coils of the girl's hair.

And cast a wavering shadow over the beautiful flower-like face beneath it.

Estabrook Elliot,

Standing before her,

Thought proudly he had never seen a woman who might compare with her.

In every detail she satisfied his critical fastidious taste.

There was not a discordant touch about her.

Estabrook Elliot had always loved Marion Leslie.

Or thought he had.

They had grown up together from childhood.

He was an only son and she an only daughter.

It had always been an understood thing between the two families that the boy and the girl should marry.

But Marion's father had decreed no positive pledge should pass between them until Marianne was 21.

Estabrook accepted his mapped out destiny and selected bride with a conviction that he was an exceptionally lucky fellow.

Out of all the women in the world,

Marianne was the very one whom he would have chosen as mistress of his fine old home.

She had been his boyhood's ideal.

He believed he loved her sincerely.

But he was not too much in love to be blind to the worldly advantages of his marriage with his cousin.

His father had died two years previously,

Leaving him wealthy and independent.

Marion had lost her mother in childhood.

Her father died when she was 18.

Since then,

She'd lived alone with her aunt.

Her life was quiet and lonely.

Estabrook's companionship was all that brightened it.

But it was enough.

Marion lavished on him all the rich womanly love of her heart.

On her 21st birthday,

They were formally betrothed.

They were to be married in the following autumn.

No shadow had drifted across the heaven of her happiness.

She believed herself secure in her lover's unfaltering devotion.

True,

At times,

She thought his manner lacked a lover's passionate ardour.

He was always attentive and courteous.

She had only to utter a wish to find it had been anticipated.

He spent every spare minute at her side.

Yet sometimes she half-wished he would betray more lover-like impatience and intensity.

Were all lovers as calm and undemonstrative?

She reproached herself for this incipient disloyalty as often as it vexingly intruded its unwelcome presence across her inner consciousness.

Surely,

Estabrook was fond and devoted enough to satisfy the most exacting demands of affection.

Marian herself was somewhat undemonstrative and reserved.

Passing acquaintances called her cold and proud.

Only the privileged few knew the rich depths of womanly tenderness in her nature.

Estabrook thought he fully appreciated her.

As he had walked homeward the night of their betrothal,

He had reviewed with unconscious criticism his mental catalogue of Marian's graces and good qualities.

Admitting with supreme satisfaction there was not one thing about her he could wish changed.

This afternoon under the acacias they had been planning about their wedding,

There was no one to consult but themselves.

They were to be married early in September and then go abroad.

Estabrook mapped out the details of their bride on tour with careful thoughtfulness.

They would visit all the old world places Marian wished to see.

Afterwards they would come back home.

He discussed certain changes he wished to make in the old Elliot Mansion to fit it for a young and beautiful mistress.

He did most of the planning.

Marian was content to listen in happy silence.

Afterwards she proposed this walk to the cove.

What particular object of charity have you found at the cove now?

Asked Estabrook with lazy interest as they walked along.

Mrs Barrett's little Bessie's very ill with fever,

Answered Marian.

Then catching his anxious look she hastened to add,

It's nothing infectious,

Some kind of a slow sapping variety.

There's no danger,

Estabrook.

I was not afraid for myself,

Replied quietly.

My alarm was for you.

You're too precious to me,

Marian,

For me to permit you to risk health and life if it were dangerous.

What a lady bountiful you are to those people at the cove.

When we're married you must take me in hand and teach me your creed of charity.

I'm afraid I've lived rather a selfish life.

You will change all that,

Dear.

You will make a good man of me.

You are that now,

Estabrook,

She said softly.

If you were not,

I could not love you.

It is a negative sort of goodness,

I fear.

I've never been tried or tempted severely.

Perhaps I should fail under the test.

I'm sure you would not,

She answered proudly.

Estabrook laughed.

Her faith in him was pleasant.

He had no thought but that he would prove worthy of it.

The cove so called was a little fishing hamlet situated on the low sandy shore of a small bay.

The houses clustered in one spot seemed like nothing so much as larger shells washed up by the sea,

So grey and bleached were they from long exposure to the winds and the spray.

Dozens of ragged children were playing about them,

Mingled with several disreputable yellow curs that yapped noisily at the strangers.

Down on the sandy strip of beach below,

The groups of men were lounging about.

The mackerel season had not yet set in.

The spring herring netting was past.

It was holiday time among the seafolks.

They were enjoying it to the full,

A happy,

Ragged colony,

Careless of what the morrows might bring forth.

Out beyond,

The boats were at anchor,

Floating as gracefully on the twinkling water as seabirds,

Their tall masts bowing landward on the swell.

A lazy,

Dreamful calm had fallen over the distant seas.

The horizon blues were pale and dim.

Faint purple hazes blurred the outlines of a far-off headland.

The yellow sand sparkled in the sunshine as if powdered with jewels.

Marianne led the way to a house apart from the others at the very edge of the shelving rock.

The dooryard was scrupulously clean and unlittered.

The little footpath through it was neatly bordered by white clam shelves.

A weary-faced woman came forward to meet them.

"'Bessie's much the same,

Miss Leslie,

' she said in answer to Marianne's inquiry.

"'The doctor you sent was here today.

"'He did all he could for her.

"'He seemed quite hopeful.

"'She don't complain or nothing,

"'just lies there and moans.

"'Sometimes she gets restless.

"'It's very kind of you to come so often,

Miss Leslie.

"'Eh,

Magdalene,

Will you put this basket,

"'the lady's bought,

Up there on the shelf?

' A girl who'd been sitting unnoticed with her back to the visitors at the head of the child's cot in one corner of the room stood up and slowly turned round.

Marianne and Estabrook both started with involuntary surprise.

In the name of all that was wonderful,

Who or what could this girl be so little in harmony with her surroundings?

Standing in the crepuscular light of the corner,

Her marvellous beauty shone out with the vivid richness of some rare painting.

She was tall and the magnificent proportions of her figure were enhanced rather than marred by the severely plain dress of dark print that she wore.

The heavy masses of her hair a shining auburn dashed with golden foam were coiled in a rich glossy knot at the back of the classically modelled head and rippled back from a low brow whose waxen fairness even the breezes of the ocean had spared.

The girl's face was a full perfect oval with features of faultless regularity and the large full eyes were of tawny hazel darkened into inscrutable gloom in the dimness of the corner.

Not even Marion Leslie's face was more delicately tinted but not a trace of colour appeared in the smooth marble-like cheeks yet the waxen pallor bore no trace of disease or weakness and the large curving mouth was of an intense crimson.

She stood quite motionless there was no trace of embarrassment or self-consciousness in her pose.

This is my niece Magdalene Crawford said Mrs Barrett she inclined her head in grave silent acknowledgement.

As she moved to take Marion's basket she seemed oddly out of place in the low crowded room.

Her presence seemed to throw a strange restraint over the group.

Marion rose and went over to the cot laying her slender hand on the hot forehead of the little child.

How are you today Bessie?

Madeline,

I want Madeline moaned the little voice.

Madeline came over and stood beside Marion.

She wants me she said in a low thrilling voice free from all harsh accent or intonation.

I'm the only one she seems to know these days.

Yes darling,

Madeline's here right beside you.

She knelt by the little cot and passed her arm under the child's neck drawing the curly head close to her throat with a tender soothing motion.

Esther Brooke Elliot watched the two women intently.

One standing by the cot arrayed in simple lit costly apparel with her beautiful high-bred face and the other kneeling on the bare sanded floor in her print dress with her splendid head bent low over the child and the long fringe of burnished lashes sweeping the cold pallor of the oval cheek.

From the moment that Madeline Crawford's haunting eyes had looked straight into his an unnameable thrill of pain and pleasure stirred his heart.

A thrill so strong and sudden and passionate his face paled with emotion.

The room seemed to swim before his eyes and a mist out of which gleamed that wonderful face with his mesmeric,

Darkly radiant eyes burning their way into deeps and abysses of his soul.

Hitherto unknown to him.

When the mist cleared away and his head grew steadier he wondered at himself.

Yet he trembled in every limb and the only clear idea that struggled out of his confused thoughts was an over-mastering desire to take that cold face between his hands and kiss it until his passionless marble glowed into warm and throbbing life.

Who is that girl?

He said abruptly when they left.

She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

The delicate bloom on Marion's face deepened slightly.

It had much better to omit at that last sentence.

She said quietly.

Yes,

She is wonderfully lovely.

A strange beauty,

I fancy.

There seems something odd and uncanny about it to me.

She must be Mrs Barrett's niece.

I remember when I was down about a month ago Mrs Barrett told me she expected a niece of hers to live here.

Her parents were both dead,

She said the father having died recently.

Mrs Barrett seemed troubled about her.

She said the girl had been well brought up and used to better things than the cove could give.

I'd forgotten all about it till I saw her today.

She certainly seems to be a very superior person.

She'll find the cove very lonely,

I'm sure.

It's not probable she'll stay there long.

I must see what I can do for her.

But her manner seemed rather repellent,

Don't you think?

Hardly,

Responded Estabrook curtly.

She seemed surprisingly dignified and self-possessed,

I fancied,

For a girl in her position.

You had much better leave her alone,

Marion.

In all probability,

She would resent any condescension on your part.

Again,

The sensitive colour flushed Marion's cheek as his voice lapsed unconsciously into a dreamy,

Retrospective tone.

And a slight restraint came over her manner which did not depart.

At sunset,

Estabrook went away.

Marion asked him to remain for the evening but he pleaded some excuse.

I shall come tomorrow afternoon,

He said as he stooped to drop a careless goodbye kiss on her face.

Marion watched him wistfully as he rode away with an unaccountable pain in her heart.

She felt more acutely than ever there were depths in her lover's nature she was powerless to stir.

I feel exactly as if Estabrook had gone away from me forever,

She said slowly to herself.

Stooping to brush her cheek against a dew-cold milk-white acacia bloom.

And would never come back to me again.

If that could happen,

I wonder what there would be left to live for.