Page:Emily Climbs.pdf/309

Its beauty had a subtly romantic quality all its own. There was enchantment in the curve of the dark-red, dew-wet road beyond—remote, spiritual allurement in the Three Princesses—magic in the orchard—a hint of intriguing devilment in the fir wood. How could she leave this old house that had sheltered and loved her—never tell me houses do not love!—the graves of her kin by the Blair Water pond, the wide fields and haunted woods where her childhood dreams had been dreamed? All at once she knew she could not leave them—she knew she had never really wanted to leave them. That was why she had gone about desperately asking advice of impossible outsiders. She had really been hoping they would tell her not to go. That was why she had wished so wildly that Dean were home—he would certainly have told her not to go.

“I belong to New Moon—I stay among my own people,” she said.

There was no doubt about this decision—she did not want any one to help her to it. A deep, inner contentment possessed her as she went up the walk and into the old house which no longer looked reproachfully at her. She found Elizabeth and Laura and Cousin Jimmy in the kitchen full of its candle magic.

“I am not going to New York, Aunt Elizabeth,” she said. “I am going to stay here at New Moon with you.”

Aunt Laura gave a little cry of joy. Cousin Jimmy said, “Hurrah!” Aunt Elizabeth knitted a round of her stocking before she said anything. Then———

“I thought a Murray would,” she said.

Emily went straight to Ashburn Monday evening. Miss Royal had returned and greeted her warmly.

“I hope you’ve come to tell me that Miss Murray has decided to be reasonable and let you come with me, honey-sweet.”

“She told me I could decide for myself.”

Miss Royal clapped her hands.

“Oh, goody, goody! Then it’s all settled.”