CHAPTER I. THE VAN NORMANS

The old Van Norman mansion was the finest house in Mapleton. Well back
from the road, it sat proudly among its finely kept lawns and gardens,
as if with a dignified sense of its own importance, and its white,
Colonial columns gleamed through the trees, like sentinels guarding the
entrance to the stately hall.

All Mapleton was proud of the picturesque old place, and it was shown to
visiting strangers with the same pride that the native villagers pointed
out the Memorial Library and the new church.

More than a half-century old, the patrician white house seemed to glance
coldly on the upstart cottages, whose inadequate pillars supported
beetling second stories, and whose spacious, filigreed verandas left
wofully small area for rooms inside the house.

The Van Norman mansion was not like that. It was a long rectangle, and
each of its four stories was a series of commodious, well-shaped
apartments.

And its owner, the beautiful Madeleine Van Norman, was the most envied
as well as the most admired young woman in the town.

Magnificent Madeleine, as she was sometimes called, was of the haughty,
imperious type which inspires admiration and respect rather than love.

An orphan and an heiress, she had lived all of her twenty-two years of
life in the old house, and since the death of her uncle, two years
before, had continued as mistress of the place, ably assisted by a
pleasant, motherly chaperon, a clever social secretary, and a corps of
capable servants.

The mansion itself and an income amply sufficient to maintain it were
already legally her own, but by the terms of her uncle’s will she was
soon to come into possession of the bulk of the great fortune he had
left.

Madeleine was the only living descendant of old Richard Van Norman, save
for one distant cousin, a young man of a scapegrace and ne’er-do-weel
sort, who of late years had lived abroad.

This young man’s early life had been spent in Mapleton, but, his fiery
temper having brought about a serious quarrel with his uncle, he had
wisely concluded to take himself out of the way.

And yet Tom Willard was not of a quarrelsome disposition. His bad temper
was of the impulsive sort, roused suddenly, and as quickly suppressed.

Nor was it often in evidence. Good-natured, easy-going Tom would put up
with his uncle’s criticism and fault-finding for weeks at a time, and
then, perhaps goaded beyond endurance, he would fly into a rage and
express himself in fluent if rather vigorous English.

For Richard Van Norman had been by no means an easy man to live with.

And it was Tom’s general amiability that had made him the usual
scapegoat for his uncle’s ill temper. Miss Madeleine would have none of
it. Quite as dictatorial as the old man himself she allowed no
interference with her own plans and no criticism of her own actions.

This had proved the right way to manage Mr. Van Norman, and he had
always acceded to Madeleine’s requests or submitted to her decrees
without objection, though there had never been any demonstration of
affection between the two.

But demonstration was quite foreign to the nature of both uncle and
niece, and in truth they were really fond of each other in their quiet,
reserved way. Tom Willard was different. His affection was of the honest
and outspoken sort, and he made friends easily, though he often lost
them with equal rapidity.

On account, then, of his devotion to Madeleine, and his enmity toward
young Tom Willard, Richard Van Norman had willed the old place to his
niece, and had further directed that the whole of his large fortune
should be unrestrictedly bestowed upon her on her wedding-day, or on her
twenty-third birthday, should she reach that age unmarried. In event of
her death before her marriage, and also before her twenty-third
birthday, the whole estate would go to Tom Willard.

It was with the greatest reluctance that Richard Van Norman decreed
this, but a provision had to be made in case of Madeleine’s early death,
and Willard was the only other natural heir. And now, at twenty-two,
Madeleine was on the eve of marriage to Schuyler Carleton, a member of
one of the oldest and best families of Mapleton.

The village gossips were pleased to commend this union, as Mr. Carleton
was a man of irreproachable habits, and handsome enough to appear well
beside the magnificent Madeleine.

He was not a rich man, but, as her marriage would bring her inheritance,
they could rank among the millionaires of the day. Yet there were those
who feared for the future happiness of this apparently ideal couple.

Mrs. Markham, who was both housekeeper and chaperon to her young charge,
mourned in secret over the attitude of the betrothed pair.

“He adores her, I’m sure,” she said to herself, “but he is too courtly
and polished in his manner. I’d rather he would impulsively caress her,
or involuntarily call her by some endearing name than to be always so
exquisitely deferential and polite. And Madeleine must love him, or why
should she marry him? Yet she is so haughty and formal, she might be a
very duchess instead of a young American girl. But that’s Madeleine all
over. I’ve never seen her exhibit any real emotion over anything. Ah,
well, I’m an old-fashioned fool. Doubtless, they’re cooing doves when
alone together, but their high-bred notions won’t allow any sentiment
shown before other people. But I almost wish she were going to marry
Tom. He has sentiment and enthusiasm enough for two, and the
relationship is so distant it’s not worth thinking about. Dear old Tom!

He’s the only one who ever stirs Madeleine out of that dignified calm of
hers.”

And that was true enough. Madeleine had inherited the Van Norman traits
of dignity and reserve to such an extent that it was difficult for any
one to be a really close friend.

She had, too, a strange little air of preoccupation, and even when
interested in a conversation would appear to look through or beyond her
companion in a way that was discouraging to the average caller.

So Miss Van Norman was by no means a favorite with the Mapleton young
people in a personal sense, but socially she was their leader, and to be
on her invitation list was the highest aspiration of the village
“climbers.”

And now that she was about to marry Schuyler Carleton, the event of the
wedding was the only thing talked of, thought of, or dreamed of by
Mapleton society.

Madeleine, who always kept in touch with Tom Willard by correspondence,
had written him of her approaching marriage, and he had responded by
coming at once to America to attend the ceremony.

Relieved from the embarrassment of his uncle’s presence, Tom was his
jovial self, and showed forth all the reprehensible attractiveness which
so often belongs to the scapegrace nature. He sometimes quarreled with
Madeleine over trifles, then, making up the next minute, he would caress
and pet her with the privileged air of a relative.

He was glad to be back among the familiar scenes of Mapleton, and he
went about the town renewing old acquaintances and making new ones, and
charming all by his winning personality.

In less than a week he had more friends in the village than Schuyler
Carleton had ever made.

Carleton, though handsome and distinguished-looking, was absolutely
without personal magnetism or charm, which traits were found in
abundance in Tom Willard.

The friends of Schuyler Carleton attributed his reserved, almost
repellent demeanor to shyness, and this was partly true. His
acquaintances said it was indifference, and this again, was partly true.

Then his enemies, of whom he had some, vowed that his cold, curt manner
of speech was merely snobbishness, and this was not true at all.

His manner toward his fiancée was all that the most exacting could
require in the matter of courtesy and punctilious politeness. He was
markedly undemonstrative in public, and if this were true of his
behavior when the two were alone, it was probably because Madeleine
herself neither inspired nor desired terms or acts of endearment.

Tom’s attitude toward Madeleine angered Carleton extremely, but when he
spoke to her on the subject he was gaily informed that the matter of
cousinly affection was outside the jurisdiction of a fiancée.

Tom, on his part, was desperately in love with Madeleine, and had been
for years. Repeatedly he had begged her to marry him, and she knew in
her heart that his plea was prompted by his love for herself and not by
any consideration of her fortune.

And yet, should she marry another, all hope of his uncle’s money would
be forever lost to Tom Willard.

But prodigal and spendthrift that he was, if Tom felt any regret at his
vanishing fortunes, he showed no sign of it. Save for sudden and often
easily provoked bursts of temper, he was infectiously gay and merry, and
was the life of the house party already gathered under Madeleine’s roof.

The fact that Tom was staying at the Van Norman house, which of course
Carleton could not do, gave Willard an advantage over the prospective
bridegroom, of which he was by no means unconscious. Partly to tease the
imperturbable but jealous Carleton, and partly because of his own
affection for his cousin, Tom devoted himself assiduously to Madeleine,
especially when Carleton was present.

“You see, Maddy,” Tom would say, “there are only a few days left of our
boy and girl chumminess. I fancy that after you are married, Schuyler
won’t let me speak to you, save in most formal terms, so I must see all
I can of you now.”

Then he would tuck her arm through his own, and take her for a stroll in
the grounds, and Carleton, coming to search for her, would find them
cosily chatting in a secluded arbor, or drifting lazily in a canoe on
the tiny, lily-padded lake.

These things greatly annoyed Schuyler Carleton, but remonstrance was
never an easy task for him, nor did it ever affect Madeleine pleasantly.

“I wish, Madeleine,” he had said one day, when he had waited two hours
for her to return from a drive with Tom, “that you would have a little
regard for appearances, if you have none for my wishes. It is not seemly
for my betrothed wife to be driving all over the country with another
man.”

Magnificent Madeleine looked straight at him, tilting her head back
slightly to look beneath her half-closed lids.

“It is not seemly,” she said, “for my betrothed husband to imply that I
could be at fault in a matter of propriety or punctilio. That is not
possible.”

“You are right,” he said, and his eyes gleamed with admiration of her
glorious beauty and imperious manner. “Forgive me,—you are indeed
right.”

Though Schuyler Carleton may not have been lavish of affection, he
begrudged no admiration to the splendid woman he had won.

And yet, had he but known it, the apparently scornful and haughty girl
was craving a more tender and gentle love, and would gladly have
foregone his admiration to have received more affection.

“But it will come,” Madeleine thought to herself. “I am not of the
‘clinging vine’ type, I know; but after we are married, surely Schuyler
will be less formally polite, and more,—well,—chummy.”

Yet Madeleine herself was chummy with nobody save Tom.

They two were always chatting and laughing together, and though they
differed sometimes, and even quarrelled, it was quickly made up, and
forgotten in a new subject of merry discussion.

But, after all, they rarely quarrelled except regarding Madeleine’s
approaching marriage.

“Don’t throw yourself away on that iceberg, Maddy,” Tom would plead.

“He’s a truly fine man, I know, but he can’t make you happy.”

“How absurd you are, Tom! Give me credit, please, for knowing my own
mind, at least. I love Schuyler Carleton, and I am proud that he is to
be my husband. He is the finest man I have ever known in every way, and
I am a fortunate girl to be chosen by such a man.”

“Oho, Maddy! Don’t do the humble; it doesn’t suit you at all. You are
the type who ought to have ‘kings and crown princes at your feet.’ And
Carleton is princely enough in his effects, but he’s by no means at your
feet.”

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Madeleine angrily.

“Just what I say. Schuyler Carleton admires you greatly, but he doesn’t
love you—at least, not as I do!”

“Don’t be foolish, Tom. Naturally you know nothing about Mr. Carleton’s
affection for me—he does not proclaim it from the housetops. And I
desire you not to speak of it again.”

“Why should I speak of what doesn’t exist? Forgive me, Maddy, but I love
you so myself, it drives me frantic to see that man treating you so
coolly.”

“He doesn’t treat me coolly. Or, if he does, it’s because I don’t wish
for tender demonstrations before other people. I’m fond of you, Tom, as
you know, but I won’t allow even you to criticise the man I am about to
marry.”

“Oh, very well, marry him, then, and a precious unhappy life you’ll lead
with him,—and I know why.”

Madeleine turned on him, her eyes blazing with anger.

“What do you mean? Explain that last remark of yours.”

“Small need! You know why as well as I do;” and Tom pushed his hands
into his pockets and strode away, whistling, well knowing that he had
roused his cousin’s even temper at last.

In addition to some of her Mapleton friends, Madeleine had invited two
girls from New York to be her bridesmaids. Kitty French and Molly
Gardner had already come and were staying at the Van Norman house the
few days that would intervene before the wedding.

Knowing Madeleine well, as they did, they had not expected confidence
from her, nor did they look forward to cosy, romantic boudoir chats,
such as many girls would enjoy.

But neither had they expected the peculiar constraint that seemed to
hang over all the members of the household.

Mrs. Markham had been so long housekeeper, and even companion, for
Madeleine that she was not looked upon as a servant, and to her Kitty
French put a few discreet questions regarding the exceeding reserve of
Mr. Carleton.

“I don’t know, Miss French,” said the good woman, looking sadly
disturbed. “I love Madeleine as I would my own child. I know she adores
Mr. Carleton,—and—yes, I know he greatly admires her,—and yet there
_is_ something wrong. I can’t express it—it’s merely a feeling,—an
intuition, but there _is_ something wrong.”

“You know Mr. Willard is in love with Maddy,” suggested Miss French.

“Oh, it isn’t that. They’ve always had a cousinly affection for each
other, and,—yes, Tom is in love with her,—but what I mean is aside
from all that. The real reason that Madeleine flirts with Tom—for she
_does_ flirt with him—is to pique Mr. Carleton. There! I’ve said more
than I meant to, but you’re too good a friend to let it make any
trouble, and, any way, in a few days they will be married, and then I’m
sure it will be all right,—I’m _sure_ of it.”

Like many people, Mrs. Markham emphasized by repetition a statement of
whose truth she was far from sure.