Merle Maxwell; a novel

Preface

I desire here to express my gratitude to those who by kind words encouraged me in the writing of this story. Especially am I indebted to my mother for helpful, encouraging words.

The inspiration of the writing of this story came to me years previous to its beginning. So without harboring malice or ill will towards humanity but with a burning desire to give to the world a message that I trust is elevating and wholesome, I attempt this writing. Should this story lift its readers to a higher conception of life I shall be glad. And with a prayer that this effort may be approved of Him who reigns Supreme this message is sent forth.

L. C. T.

I

Merle Maxwell

•"We hear the sound of the summer breeze And fancy it is sighing,

And feel its touch as it whispers low Of the scented flowers dying.”

Chapter I. %T was the morning of a beautiful y

^ October day. The sun was shining brightly on a clear, blue sky. Mother earth was beginning to put on her autumnal robe of brown. Here and there were scattered fallen leaves of the tall, magnolia trees, while the last blossoms of the sweet cape jasamines were slowly but surely dying

Everyone in the little village of Popularville seemed astir. Children, with their books and lunch baskets, were seen from every direction, wending their way to the old school house on the hill. Light-hearted men were hurrying to their daily work. While the women were busily engaged in washing dishes, making beds, sweeping and dusting, putting the house to order, and preparing the noonday meal for their families.

Popularville boasted of about five hundred inhabitants. A bank, probably about a half dozen stores and a postoffice, where the boys and men usually went each day at mail time, and would usually linger long discussing the events of the day. The little village was made up mostly of farmers who had made a wild rush for the place at first sight of the railroad, perhaps a dozen and onehalf years before the time of this story in hopes of gaining timely wealth and popularity.

Just outside the outskirts of the little village could be heard the sound of hammers, as the workmen were driving the last nails in the repairing of the old Maxwell mansion. The old home was a beautiful sight this bright October morning, with the tall magnolias and cottonwoods scattering their brown leaves on the ground underneath them, on one side of the long gravel walk leading from the stately old mansion down to the old gate, that had swung on its hinges more than a century. While on the other side, little paths lead down through the cape jasamines; and roses, which with the fair lilies were bending their heads in meek submission to the coming winter. Even the honeysuckle r that had made such a fair race at covering the old pailing fence, had drooped in an attitude of contentment. And too, there was the old fashioned well, covered with trailing vines, and almost forgotten in the later and more modern ways of water supplies. Now, just a few more delicate touches of the brush on the inside, and the remodeling of the old home is completed.

Within the walls of this old farm home all was astir. Servants were hurrying from room to room putting each room in order. Here and there were old, worn pieces of furniture, to be replaced by new. Mrs. Maxwell, a sweet faced wife and mother, and mistress of the home, was going about quietly giving orders. While Uncle Tim Maxwell was out in the yard giving directions for the usual day’s work on the farm, and wondering why “wimmin folks” had to have everything turned topsy-turvy from once to twice a year and made over.

Uncle Tim was little more than a middleaged man, with black hair touched here and there with silver locks, probably caused by hard work and careful management from early boyhood. His deep blue eyes that bespoke perseverance and determination; his clean-shaven face, and not too tall but strongly built form, proved him to have been a very handsome man in his younger days. His broad shoulders had begun to slightly droop, but even now as in his youthful days, were thrown back in a moment of excitement, as if to prepare himself to bravely meet the foe.

Timothy Maxwell had been reared in a home as an only child, without brother or sister. His father and mother were good old-fashioned people content with the real necessities of life, that their day and time called for. And he could never understand why it took so much to “go on” these days. Pride and fashion were ruining the world today. He didn’t know anything about “gals, nohow.” And yet he would willingly give the last cent that he possessed for the comforts and pleasures of his family. And right here I want the reader to understand, that it was from hard work and long sleepless nights spent in deep thought that Timothy Maxwell had obtained his large farm, a comfortable home and moderate means. He had never been too good to work at anything that would bring himself and his family an honest dollar. Uncle Tim was a friend to everyone, although he had some peculiar ways, he was loved by all.

On this beautiful October morning Merle Maxwell sat in her room meditating for a few brief moments, then arose and dressed with unusual care for a day’s shopping in the village. She was not what the world terms a beautiful girl, and yet, something in the large, dark, brown eyes, and the sweet expression on her face, would force one to think of her as the loveliest, most wonderful girl in the world. She looked in perfect harmony with the beatiful morning. Her very dark brown mass of waving hair was done low on her smooth white neck, with here and there a stray curl that refused to be pinned back. Her dark, heavy eyebrows, slightly arched, and the long, drooping eyelashes, made her already beautiful eyes appear more wonderful.

She looked unusually girlish in her tailored suit of blue.

The only ornaments she wore on this day were a la valliere set with pure rubies, and a ring set with a very odd stone, which she wore on her right hand.

Merle Maxwell was very careful in her manner of dress. Her toilet being complete, she took a last peep in the mirror, as most girls do, pulled her wide brimmed felt hat a little lower over her eyes; walked out into the spacious hall and out at the door. On the doorsteps, she turned back and called cheerily to some of the servants. Merle was loved by the servants, as by everyone else who chanced to know her. The sweet expression on her face, and her kind disposition, made it impossible for one to know and not love her.

She bounded down the long gravel walk, stopping here and there to pluck a cape jasamine, or bending her slender, girlish form to view some tiny flower, which was almost covered by the fallen leaves of Autumn. On she went, until she was startled by the click of the old swinging gate. As she raised her bright, smiling face, and quickly turned in the direction from which the sound came, she came face to face with two gentlemen. She smiled, bowed and passed out of the gate, and down the village road.

Let us go back for a few brief minutes to the two gentlemen. Mr. Latney, an artist in his profession, had been engaged to give the last delicate touches to the woodwork of the interior of the old mansion.

He was just a little stout for his medium height; but the kind expression on his face, and his gentle ways, bespoke a true gentleman. The baldness on the top of his head, in this case at least, was not a sign of approaching mature years, for he was yet a young man.

As for the other gentlemen, we must go back a few days prior to this eventful morning, when we see a tall, boyish, young man, with black hair and large blue eyes. It has been said that eyes are windows of the soul, and it must be true, in this case at least, for in our hero’s eyes could be read honesty, truthfulness, intelligence, and in fact everything that it takes to make a true, noble character, for his was a pure, manly life. One distinguished feature of his character was that in talking to people he always looked them straight in the face, displaying a frank, open countenance.

Derris Leroy, for several months, had been collecting for a certain company in Shreveport, Louisiana, but something, intuition perhaps, had impressed upon his mind, of late, to give up his work for a few days. He knew not why — he had a good position. For days he tried to overcome the feeling, but some unknown power was impelling him to go to Mayfield, to his mother and sister.

After debating the question with himself and spending several sleepless nights, he boarded the train for that place. Upon arriving he found his mother and sister in their usual healtlvwhich made matters more mystirious than ever. He had thought that one of them might be ill, or that something might have befallen them, thus causing the disturbance of his thoughts and mind.

A few days later, he was sitting in his room, when the postman came with a letter directed to him. Upon opening the sealed envelope he read as follows:

“My dear Derris: I am now at Popularville, a little' country village, giving the finishing touches to the woodwork of the interior of a fine old mansion in the outskirts of the village. Truly, the little place has the right name. I am afraid if I remain here long I shall fall in love with the little country town. It is such a change from the city life that we are used to. Everything in the vicinity seems so romantic.

“Since I have been here, I am continually finding myself in deep reverie of our childhood days. Won’t you come and spend a few days with me? I know you would enjoy a few days of quiet, besides our different careers in life have long separated us from each other, and nothing could give me more pleasure than to enjoy your presence for a few days at least, and again live our boyhood days in this quiet place. Don’t disappoint me, and believe me to be your affectionate friend.

E. L. Latney,”

He sat for a moment in deep thought. Then he drew himself up to the writing desk and wrote an acceptance, hardly realizing why he accepted an invitation of pleasure just at this time, when his work needed him. He was not a boy to take many pleasures- Work had always been first, then pleasure.

However, according to his promise, on the following Tuesday he bid adieu to his mother and sister, and almost wondering at his own maneuvers, departed for Popularvile, arriving late the same evening. He was met by his friend and escorted to the only hotel that the little village afforded. The following morning the two men arose, dressed and went down to breakfast. In spite of the meager accommodations an appetizing breakfast awaited them

Breakfast being finished, the two returned to their room where they discussed their plans for the day. As they entered the room and closed the door, Mr. Latney turned to his young friend:

“Derris, will you accompany me to my work this morning, or do you prefer remaining here until I return this afternoon?”

Mr. Leroy expressed a desire to accompany his friend.

“I, myself, think you should enjoy the day looking over the wonderful old mansion and its beautiful grounds and surroundings,” responded Mr. Latney.

So, accordingly, they set out for their morning walk, which was not more than a mile. They passed down the little village road so engrossed in conversation, with an occasional pause to admire a tall magnolia, or some fading flower, that they were scarcely aware of the fact that they had reached their destination until they had turned in at the old-fashioned gate and stood face to face with Merle Maxwell. Both wished her a pleasant good morning, and went on briskly up the long gravel walk.

They entered the house where Mr. Latney at once set about his work, leaving Derris to amuse himself by looking over the fine old mansion, or strolling out among the beautiful trees and flowers. All day, try as he might, Derris could not help thinking of the girl he had met that morning down the walk. The sweet, cheerful expression on her face; the bright look in her large, round eyes, and the slender, girlish form, was indelibly impressed upon his mind forever.

While he was thus musing. Merle had reached the village, stopping here and there on her way to speak a kind, cheerful word to some school girl or boy. For she, herself, was just free from school cares, having graduated with the highest honors from , Va., the

previous year.

She went from place to place carefully, but cheerfully, selecting the desired articles. To some people shopping is an irksome task, while Merle made it a pleasure. She always found pleasure and happiness in most everything. Seldom anything came her way that she could not find a bright side somewhere. Her friends were numbered by her acquaintances. There was scarcely a child in the entire community that did not know and love her. Even in school she was loved and admired by her school mates. In fact, I think it would have been impossible to have found one half dozen enemies in her host of acquaintances and these were enemies through jealousy and envey of her talents and culture. But we shall speak of these characters in another chapter.

Her shopping finished, she returned home to find the workmen gone; all was peacefully quiet. She bounded up the steps, down the long spacious hall, and out on the back porch where she came into collision with old Aunt Texanna.

■‘Lor,’ honey, yo’ old auntie didn’t see yo’ comin.”

“That is all right, Texanna, I am as much to blame as you.”

And to quiet the old darkey’s fears Merle placed a big, red apple in her hand and went on her way. The whites of the old negro’s eyes were clearly visible as she looked down at the apple in her hand.

“Dat chile am an angel.”

Texanna had been a servant in the Maxwell family for years, even before Merle was born. She was yet a mere child to the old negro, and was loved by her as dearly as the good old soul was capable of loving. The old darkey could hardly believe that Merle had passed her childhood days and was now a young lady of twenty summers.

The next morning the sun was streaming through the long, narrow window into Mr. Latney and Leroy’s room. But above, here and there, dark clouds could be seen floating about and the air seemed a trifle warm for an October morning.

Mr. Latney turned to his young friend:

“Leroy, the weather looks threatening, and if it were not that I might lose your friendship, 1 would ask you to help me these next few days.”

Leroy, just finishing his toilet, turned to address his friend.

“I was half wishing that you would ask me to assist you. We have not had the pleasure of working together since we were mere boys.”

Mr. Latney drew down a pair of trousers that were hanging on the wall.

“Well, it is fortunate that I brought along these extra overalls.”

Leroy had not thought of the nice broadcloth suit he was wearing.

“Since you are so kind as to furnish the working trousers, have you an extra hat?”

Mr. Latney picked up an old white hat, that had evidently seen better days, and stuffed it into the suit case with his own clothes.

As they walked out into the street, each seemingly lost in thought, Leroy was wondering why he was here spending valuable time. And why he had consented to accept this work when he had just left a much more profitable position — these he could not explain. But the thoughts that crowded all others out were: the opportunity of going again to the place where he had met the girl who was so forcibly impressed upon his mind; and, also, a faint hope that he might catch a glimpse of her bright, smiling face.

The floating clouds had gathered and by noon the rain was pouring, yet, that did not interfere with the young men’s work, for it was on the interior of the house.

Merle bounded into the house; her mass of dark hair hanging loose over her shoulders, and as wet as water could possibly make it. Aunt Texanna looked up from the pan of dishes that she was washing.

“Chile, what yo’ been up to now.^’

“Just taking a good, old-fashioned headwash, Auntie. Isn’t this a glorious rain,’’ exclaimed Merle, always turning everything into pleasure.

Just at this moment Mrs. Maxwell entered the room.

“Why, Merle, what have you been doing? Washing your hair on a cool day like this!” for the rain had made it a bit chilly.

“On, mother, I just couldn’t resist the temptation of giving my head one more good shower bath. This, no doubt, will be the last until next summer.”

“Merle,” remarked her mother, “you had best go to your room and change your wet dress to save a cold.”

“All right, mother.” . ; ^ ^

And as she went up to her room, she unexpectedly met Leroy in the hall. She dropped her head but looked up shyly as she passed him. Leroy thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight than this girlish form, with such a wealth of hair. The damp, rainy weather had caused little ringlets and curls to fall over her white forehead — a beautiful picture indeed.

As she entered her dressing room the roses on her cheeks deepened into crimson red. For several minutes she stood in silent thought. Could she ever forget the kind, thoughtful look in those earnest, blue eyes.

Why did this tall, manly form and noble countenance impress her thus differently from all other boys? Underneath the old white sombrero, Merle Maxwell could detect a true worthy gentleman.

Chapter IL

Deceit is the serpent’s way

And holds the innocent ones at bay^

He crawls beneath the foilage deep And bites the innocent as he creeps,

With beastly power and unjust way He [glories to make the meek his prey,

had always been care free, ^ ^ taking life just as it came. Now,

dear reader, do not think for a moment that she was a frivolous and careless girl — she was far from that. In her school days on the little hill, she had studied hard to make good her grades. Then it was with deep, earnest effort that she graduated with highest honors from college, both in literary work and music. She had loved her school mates, both girls and boys, with tender schoolmate love. As yet, she had never burdened her heart with a real lover, though she had had several admirers. She was kind and friendly toward all. She had never consciously harmed any one by word or deed. In early childhood she had given her heart to God and united with the church of the little village. She tried to live true to the vows she had made to God and His church. To watch her daily life was enough to inspire one to a nobler, truer life. She was ever ready to stop and give a cheerful, encouraging word to one in despondency and gloom.

Bright and happy she looked on this cool Sabbath morning as she entered the door of the little church. She preferred walking to driving on a morning like this and the brisk walk, together with the wind blowing from the north, had brought the rose to her cheeks. Some half dozen little Sunday school boys and girls met her at the door, clinging to her as she went up the aisle, for she was teacher of the little juniors. One little lad threw his arm around her and looked up into her sweet face.

‘‘Miss Merle, I think you’re pretty.”

In trying to speak a loving word to each little heart she failed to answer the child.

“Miss Merle, you know why I think you’re pretty?”

‘‘No, Renel, I don’t see why anyone should think me good-looking.”

Little Renel looked up in surprise at this.

“Why, it’s because I love you.”

With tenderness she pressed the lad to her heart. Oh, that she could have always had the confidence in humanity that she now had! Her life had been gentle and pure. She never entertained a thought that all in the world were not honest and truthful. In fact, she trusted others implicitly, as she hoped they trusted her.

As the people of the little village thronged into church that Sabbath morning, for they would attend church, whether to show their finery in dress, or for the lack of some other place to go on the Sabbath morning; or the true Christian spirit of attending church to worship, we cannot say, but go to church they did. There were, no doubt, some under each class. “Miss Merle,” as she was lovingly called by many, knew that the noble character, so forcibly impressed upon her mind, was not there. But it had not occurred to her that while all Popularville were at church he was sitting in his quiet room thinking of her.

On the following day Merle had gone out and mailed a wedding gift to a dear schoolmate whose wedding day was fast approaching. As she turned from the postman and went up the steps of the dear old house she met Leroy coming out. Raising his hat, for every true gentleman is ever ready to take off his hat to pure womanhood, he bowed.

‘‘Miss Maxwell, ere long the work on your grand old house will be finished and Mr. Latney and I will cease to trouble you with our coming and going.”

“Your presence has not been in the least offensive, Mr. Leroy. It has been a pleasure to have both you and Mr. Latney in our home, and should you remain in our village longer we would be glad indeed to have you attend our Sunday school and meet many of the young people.”

“I assure you that nothing could give me more pleasure. Miss Maxwell. And should I decide to remain here longer, I shall afford myself that pleasure.”

As he went on his way to his room, he thought he would go anywhere at any time to look again at that face. He knew that he should go back to his former work but, at the same time, something was compelling him to remain. Could he afford to sacrifice a good position and work with his friend Latney for the pleasure of being near and occasionally seeing this girl, who had so unexpectedly come into his life? Yes, it was worth the price. It meant everything to him. He would remain yet a few days. Then, perhaps, he could get the consent of his heart and mind to return to his old life. His thoughts had always been absorbed in his work; striving to make a success in business life. True^ he had girl acquaintances and friends, but never before had he realized that there was one girl in the world he could not be happy without.

Merle, with the roses in her cheeks which had deepened almost to a flush, ran into the kitchen where Aunt Texanna was preparing dinner.

“Auntie, you do look tired and fatigued this evening. Let me make the fruit pudding for dinner.”

The old negro turned as she mopped the perspiration from her kind old face, for in spite of the very cool fall day, the intense heat of the large range stove made the room most too warm to be comfortable.

“Bless yo; honey, you go right out o’ here this minit’. Think yo’ old auntie going to have her darlin’s fair face blistered by the heat of a cook stove? Where on earth did my little baby learn anything about making puddin’s?”

“Why Auntie, don’t you remember how you used to let me help you cook before I went away to school? Then is when I learned and I am going to help you now for you have had a hard day.”

“Bless yo’ angel heart, chile. Some one does care for ole black mammy.”

The old negro would have, willingly, given her life for the girl she loved, only as a truehearted old servant can love. Merle was, oh, so happy. She knew not why. And in her happiness she wanted to make others happy.

and thus seized the opportunity of assisting the old servant in the preparing of a dinner. Always, when we are superlatively happy, we want others to be happy, too. The girl did not realize the great change that had come into her heart and life. She had always been cheerful and happy, but never before had the world seemed so dear to her.

A few mornings later, Merle and her mother were out at the work house giving careful directions to the servants as to the washing of some dainty, hand-made article s when a servant came out and handed her a card,

“Miss, Merle, a gentleman wishes to see you.”

“All right, Madie, say that I will be in in a few minutes.”

Merle looked down at her plain, linen house frock and, as she shook back the curls that had fallen in clusters about her fair forehead, she walked into the room.

Leroy arose.

“Miss Maxwell, I could not resist the temptation of strolling out to your home again this beautiful morning. We are not often blessed with such wonderful days during the winter months.”

Merle motioned him to a chair, at the same time taking one herself.

“I, too, was out basking in the warm sunshine.”

“I trust I did not discommode you by my unexpected call. Miss Maxwell.”

“No, not in the least, Mr. Leroy, I was just on the eve of returning to the house to try some new music. Shall I sing;”

And without waiting for a reply, she seated herself at the piano and ran her slender fingers deftly over the keys as song after song she sung. To Leroy it seemed that she sang from the depths of her pure heart. And not until he felt that it would be an imposition did he cease to urge her to continue singing. When she sang, she sang from her heart to God, and when she played, she played to God, No wonder her hearers were always so deeply impressed by her music.

Time passed so quickly that when Leroy made his departure it was almost time for lunch. To Merle the few remaining days of that week passed slowly. She was so unmistakably happy that she was on the alert, wanting to do something to help some one. Merle Maxwell had never been one to idle life away, and now, she longed to 'be busy at something.

Another Sabbath morning dawned and with it came a cold wind from the north. Did Merle remain indoors? No, she ordered the pony carriage and at nine forty-five went again to Sunday school. The inclemency of the weather seldom ever kept her away from her little Sunday school class. She realized that these tiny boys and girls were watching her life. And with all of her faults she was striving to lead them to higher, nobler lives. Yes, she had gone out and brought children who had never before attended Sunday school; whose parents had neglected to teach them the true conception of the Sabbath day No child or grown person was so poor or uncouth that she would not offer a kind word or deed. She would do anything, within the bounds of reason, to help one to higher ideals of life.

She was doing her best to rightly instruct the mere handfull of boys and girls who had ventured out on a day like this, when the little church door softly opened causing her to look in that direction just as Derris Leroy entered and took his seat in the young men’s class. Yes, Leroy had gone out to Sunday school, because the dearest girl in all the world — to him — had asked him to go. In childhood days he had been brought up in Sunday school and church. But after leaving home and mother he had grown careless and neglectful of church duties. His was a noble Christian character grown cold and indifferent to church duties through neglect alone. Inspired by the sincere fidelity of this mere girl, he would again attempt the life taught by his

dear mother.

After the dismissal of Sunday school, he waited on the church steps for the one girl in all the world to him. And it was with determination in his heart to prove worthy of such a character that he handed Merle into her waiting carriage.

The days passed on and yet Leroy remained with Mr. Latney, until one day he received a letter from his sister urging him to return home at once. At the same time reproving him for the work he was engaged in He knew that he must go and that he had already put in too much time away from his work. But how could he go away without once more seeing the girl whom he knew he loved more than life itself? He might return again soon, then again, circumstances might not permit him to ever return. Oh, if he could only see her and pour out his heart’s love to her! Then he could go contented; but he dare not yet. He would risk to fate yet awhile. His sister’s letter was an urgent request to come at once and go he must.