John Meredith looked at Carl standing bravely in front of him, boy's golden brown hair shimmering in the dim light, and in his dark blue eyes held a small flicker of fear, like a shadow, exactly like the one beloved Cecilia had as she had hesitated to tell him something, Carl's face was pale and narrow in the dim light, his dear son whom he had almost lost six weeks before, when John had sat by Carl's bed in a powerless, interminably long night, when his faith had been tested, as Cecilia had perished, so suddenly, but Carl had pulled through.

John Meredith threw the switch he had picked up from the forest onto the floor of his study, with force, it rolled onto the carpet. "Go, I can't whip you." Carl, looked into his father's ivory-pale face, and the look in his dark eyes cut Carl's heart, as he fled to the Methodist graveyard, where his sisters waited restlessly on Pollock's large tombstone.

In a few words, accompanied by sobs, Carl recounted the course of events as he said quietly, "I almost wish he had punished me, I could have taken it, I think, he's just sitting in the study, and he's feeling absolutely awful."

Quietly, and carefully, Una slipped away, and soon she stood at the threshold of her father's study, and quietly like a little mouse she opened the door, and glanced around. The dusk was glowing, John Meredith was bent over his desk. John Meredith, spoke in broken, burning, anguished fragments, in half-murmured sentences, as if it were a prayer in which one particular name was repeated.

Una, heard, and understood, and the sudden illumination that sometimes comes, to especially sensitive children, and silently Una, slipped out again, thoughtfully. John Meredith, continued his cutting, remorseful soliloquy, full of pain, never before had the name of Rosemary passed his lips before this evening, for that name lived in the depths of his heart as firmly as the memory of Cecilia.

Una sat in the wardrobe of the guest room, among the moth balls and spare clothes, and wiped her eyes above her hung a dove gray silk dress - Cecilia's wedding dress - and from its rustling folds one could still feel the breath of a gentle floral perfume, like the breath of immortal love. Una gently touched the silk hem, and whispered, "Mother, I will never forget you, and I will always love you, but you know, he is so unhappy, and I must do it, even though it is so extremely difficult, for Father must be made happy. I know you want him to be happy, and not unhappy. I try to be good to her and love her, even though she might be like Mary Vance said most stepmothers were, though she suspected she wasn't, but never can be sure."

That night, Una slept peacefully, slight traces of tears on her narrow cheeks. In the afternoon dawned bright, scorchingly sweltering Una dressed carefully in her best dress and hat, which were shabby, for every girl in the Glen had had new clothes this summer, except lasses at the Manse.

Two days ago in Rainbow Valley, Mary Vance had mildly presented her summer dress, with a slight bragging air. It was of white embroidered lawn, with delicate pintucks, with scarlet silk sash and shoulder bows, Cornelia's craftsmanship had come into play in truly spectacular fashion. Ingelside twins had looked a little sideways at the shoulder bows that had blown in the wind, because their hue was so vivid, as well as the contrast that ensenble created of Mary Vance´s still pale form and tow-colored thick braids.

Resolutely, Una carefully washed her face, and combed and braided her shiny dark hair as neatly as possible. Today she did not mind her shabbiness, as she only wanted to be most presentable, which she was able to do. Practically, Una sewed a few runs of her only pair of good stockings, and hoped that the repaired parts wouldn't show, very much. But she couldn't find a box with black anywhere, so she couldn't blacken her small shoes. At last Una slipped through Rainbow Valley, through humming, enchanted trees, toward the road that led to West's house.


Rosemary West, sat in a wicker chair, in the blooming garden, that was like delicate high verse, or hymn, under a large apple tree, and a handsome dahlia bench was beside her. Her fingers tapped restlessly, on the volume of Keats poems, but she did not read, for Rosemary gazed in the direction of the harbor, where the sun-dappled sea shimmered, and her thoughts were sorrowful.

Life was not pleasant in the house on the hill, for a deep suffocated silence of speechlessness prevailed in those once so cozy rooms, where music no longer echoed, as every piece was like an cutting thorn, or so Rosemary felt like it. Ellen was not peevish or overtly sulky, as that was not her way, at all. She was a brick. Their little shared routines that had made life harmonious and sweet, Rosemary found now that they too had a slicing edge of bitterness that stung.

And occasionally, that monotony was broken by the presence of Norman Doulgas, who in his annoyingly fierce way tried to bully or coax Ellen in turns, sometimes fierce arguments, raged in the living room like a sudden gale mixed with hail, it was completely exhausting to behold. Rosemary believed that one fine day she would arrive at an empty house, for Norman would surely drag Ellen along with him. And once again, Rosemary found herself wishing that moment would come soon, for Norman was like a lightning rod that crackled. Afterwards, existing in this old house would be lonely, but at least the air would no longer be full of dynamite, then there would be no need to live, looking over one's shoulder, waiting for the tension to dissipate.


Suddenly Rosemary felt the touch of a delicate little hand on her shoulder, and with a little start she looked up and saw before her Una Meredith, whose little pale face was terribly solemn, and her large dark blue eyes were anxious, and filled with tears. Rosemary cautiously opened her arms, and embraced Una carefully.

Una, pressed against Rosemary, and looked into her eyes that looked so gentle, and open, and her hug was just as soft, and warm, as Faith had said, and the tone of her voice was warm and sympathetic as she inquired, "Una, dear, what's the matter, don't be afraid to tell me?" Una took a deep breath, and said with a gasp, "I have come to ask you to marry my father."

Rosemary was silent from sheer utter astonishment, verging on dumbfoundment. She stared at Una blankly. " Oh, don't be cross, dear Miss West," said Una appealingly, " For everybody says that, you don't want to marry our father because we are wicked, and unruly, but that is not true. He is so very unhappy about it. So I thought, to tell you that we are never malicious on purpose, and if you only want our father we will be so very good, oh please Miss West."

Rosemary thought quickly, it was obvious that gossip had caused this misunderstanding, and now she had to be honest and direct with that sweet child. "Una dear," Rosemary said softly. " At no point did I imagine that you were bad or maclicious or unruly. There is another reason why I can't be your father's wife, which is completely unrelated to you." "Don't you like our Father Miss West?" Una raised her slightly reproachful eyes, "He is so, so good. And surely he would make a good husband, for he already has experience in that."

Rosemary's feelings were in turmoil, full of perplexity and distress, but in the midst of all that a light twisted smile rose on her lips, because there was something so infinitely sweet and comical about the situation she was in now. Una, exclaimed frantically, "Don't laugh Miss West, Father feels dreadful about it." "I think you're mistaken, dear," said Rosemary, a little stiffly, but still gently.

And in a few words Una told what had happened yesterday at the Manse, and then Una whispered two sentences in Rosemary's ear, and hearing those burning, delightful words, Rosemary felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks. Rosemary stilled, her thoughts racing wildly, for apparently John still cared, cared more deeply than Rosemary had ever imagined or thought, even in her rosy quiet dreams, and mechanically she stroked Una's hair with one hand. And then she said, "Will you take a little letter from me to your father, Una?"

"Oh, are you going to marry him, Miss West?" asked Una, in her sweetly eager way. "Perhaps - if he really wants me to," and Rosemary blushed slightly. Una, took a deep breath and said in a trembling voice, "I'm so glad, but I hope you won't turn Father against us, as Mary Vance said stepmothers do?"

Rosemary, stared again, and then she said, gently, " Oh, poor darling, Una you're right, heroine, a brick as Ellen would say, Well listen very carefully dearheart. Mary Vance, doesn't know very much, she only guesses, and perhaps her her own experiences may have twisted her a little, but surely Cornelia will mend it with time. I would never dream of trying to turn your father against you. I would love you all dearly. I don't want to take your own mother's place—she must always have that in your hearts, as you should, and I'm not going to be a stepmother to you. I want to be your companion instead, and your friend a chum, as they say, do you think you'd like that?"

As Rosemary spoke, a transformation had taken place in Una's face, her eyes sparkled, and she impulsively and tightly embraced Rosemary, and exclaimed, "Oh, that would be so loverly!"

A little hesitant Rosemary inquired, "What about the others, do they have a similar assumption that you had until now?" Una shook her head vigorously, and said, sincerely, "No, Faith loves you, already and the boys too in time, I´m sure. If, you come to live with us, Miss West, can you teach me a little, cooking and other things too, I want to learn ,and I'll learn fast, I promise!"

Rosemary glanced at Una, who was trembling with slight excitement, and gently she said, "Darling, of course I'll help you where I can, but please. Don't tell anyone about this until your Father gives permission, if he does. Would you like to come and have a spot of tea with me, there's a piano and things that might interest you, and is somewhere, you like cats, don't you?"

Una, glanced into the drawing-room shaded by the lace curtains, where there were painted plants on the window-sill, and a shining piano and ornaments, and a bookcase, the spines of the leather books gleaming dimly, and quietly but surely Una said, "Oh, thank you. I think I'd rather go right back and take the letter to father." "I see," said Rosemary. She went to the house, wrote a note and gave it to Una.

And soon the little dark-haired figure had disappeared, running around the curve of the red country road.

Rosemary went around the house and went to Ellen, she was shelling Peas on the back porch. Quietly, Rosemary glanced at her sister and said matter-of-factly, "Una Meredith was here just now, and she asked me to marry her father."

Ellen, glancing up sharply, emotion glowing in her dark blue eyes, slowly, she said, "Well, are you going to do that?"

Rosemary, said, "Perhaps, I might."

Ellen continued her work, and then she suddenly covered her face with her hand, and the knife dropped into an enamel bowl almost full of split peas. And her eyes were full of tears, which, however, did not fall on her cheeks, and in her dark tone Ellen said lowly, in a choked voice, "I, I hope we will all be happy."


The sunset reddened the firs, and the air was scented with resin, at the woodland spring, Rosemary West and John Meredith, were leaning on each other, and gazing in quiet, sincere happiness at the little forest spring. Carefully, John touched Rosemary's slender white hand, and said, "My love, lovely, lovely Rosemary."

And with a smile shining in her eyes, Rosemary smiled sweetly and said with a little laugh on her lips, "Oh, John, someday I'm sure we'll laugh at this, but now it's too near. This kind of happiness is almost too divine."

Rosemary glanced at John Meredith's refined profile, and in a low voice she whispered a few of her wishes into his ear. Smilig slightly impish way, John pressed a gentle but passionate kiss to her burning lips, and that touch was so sure, and so present. John held out his hand to his betrothed, as they walked away from the forest spring, dusk of the evening turning bluish, and the shimmering pearly birdsong sparkling in the clear evening.


Norman Douglas' sharp blue eyes twinkled as he said in a slightly gruff way, "Well, I finally got you here. Any questions?" The patch of light reflected on the large stacks of books, on the small slouchy table, which had no dust at all, and which Ellen had previously eagerly studied, world politics, literature, economics, and a worn blue cover volume full of Blake.

Ellen's skirts rustled as she glanced around the shadowy living room of Doulgas Farm and said sharply, "Your kitchen is downright awful, it needs to be renovated, first, never mind the expense. I want my own space, I'll take that upstairs room as my own, you have your study too. I hope you don't smoke a pipe inside, it does terrible things to books. And of course we have to talk about the furniture, but I think I'll be very comfortable here."

Light footsteps were heard, and a reddish-furred dog crept in front of Norman through the hall door, the dog looked earnestly at Ellen with its amber eyes, and its slightly fox-like tail with a white tuft swung once, and Norman said in his booming voice that had a very gentle ring to it, "Tempest, is used to cats, for they are everywhere here. Why are you so troubled, Ellen I can see that much. I hope you are not going back on your promise, at this point?"

Ellen, looked at Norman seriously, and said bluntly, "I don't want white on me, even though it's traditional." Norman burst into a roar of laughter, and swept his luxuriant beard as he said, "Through damnation and the gates of Jerusalem, Ellen, I don't care what you wear, as long as you get to the altar, you can wear trousers and a work shirt if you want!"

Ellen, looked askance at Norman, as she remarked, "Don't be absurd." Norman, touched Ellen's shoulder cautiously, as he said, "Of course I am, if I wasn't you wouldn't like me so much, would you?"

Ellen's gleeful laughter filled the entire hall.


The streets of the Glen were literally humming with rumors and speculation when it turned out that the West girls were getting married, the double wedding would be held in September. Rosemary West had after all taken John Meredith for herself and Norman Douglas had finally won Ellen West. Mrs. Kirk remarked under her breath to Mrs. Reese, "Rosemary's bridal things are almost too fine, almost the whole Glen has been up the hill to see them, including Susan Baker of Ingelside, perhaps she too hopes that seeing them will give her a chance to have someone propose to her, someday."

Mrs. Reese laughed, as she said, "I heard that Ellen wasn't going to wear white at all, very odd, and queer, but that's how Ellen always has been. The other day I ran into Norman Douglas, who was arguing something queer with John Meredith, on the front steps of the Manse, and wonder of wonders, Reverend seemed like a changed man, he was even awake, as he actually greeted me!"

Mrs. Kirk lowered her voice as she said, " Earlier, today I saw Cornelia Elliot, she was walking contentedly around Glen looking like she's arranged both weddings, and that orphan girl Mary Vance was walking by her side, talking animatedly about something to do with the honeymoon, whatever that means."

Mrs. Kirk, smiled, and said, "Well, Laidies Aid is going to have a hard time getting the Manse up and running, as it is so shabby, but at least Glen's choir is getting a great pianist, because of course Rosemary is taking on that job."


One bright beautiful morning in September, 1907, the whole Glen was in the church to see a double wedding, which was one of the events of that fall season, in the Glen Annals. Cornelia Elliot said later in Ingelside, to Anne Blythe, over a cup of tea, "I have seldom seen a bride as beautiful as Rosemary Meredith was today. But did you notice that Ellen's wedding bouquet had dark red roses, and I heard that Leslie had sent them with a card from Toronto for the occasion. "

Anne's gray-green eyes twinkled, and she said dreamily, "It's so lovely that Rosemary's wedding day was in September too, the service was beautiful, and joyful, and only a couple of days after our own anniversary, what a beautiful symmetry. How Una's eyes twinkled, and Faith's also when they sat in the front pew." Cornelia, smiled and said, "They are all in Rainbow Valley."

Fae bells were jingling, and on the grassy knoll, a crowd of Manse and Ingelside lads and lassies had gathered around Walter. Jem sprang to his feet, and laughed in his flying way, "Oh, Walt, Let him come this Piper of yours, I'll gladly follow him through the world, if there is need!"

The bright red maple leaves waved, in the wind, luminous laughter rang and glowed, in that little Eden like dell, an idyll that would weather the storms to come, for love, hope, and loyalty were immortal.