Her Father's Daughter Page #5

"Her Father's Daughter" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a semi-autobiographical novel that tells the story of Ellen, a young woman navigating her complex relationships with her father and the world around her. Set in the early 20th century, the narrative explores themes of identity, familial bonds, and the struggle for independence. Through Ellen's journey, the novel delves into her experiences of love, loss, and the quest for self-discovery, all while capturing the beauty and challenges of rural life in Canada. Montgomery's lyrical prose and deep characterizations bring to life the emotional landscape of a young woman coming of age amidst societal expectations and personal aspirations.

• Short story

								

Rachel unpacked the basket.

Rachel's hands trembled as she took off the cover.  Two huge
pink-spotted shells came first.  How well she remembered them!
Beneath them, carefully wrapped up in a square of foreign-looking,
strangely scented silk, was the dragon teapot. She held it in her
hands and gazed at it with tears gathering thickly in her eyes.

"Your father sent that," said Isabella Spencer with an odd sound
in her voice.  "I remember it well.  It was among the things I
packed up and sent after him.  His father had brought it home
from China fifty years ago, and he prized it beyond anything.
They used to say it was worth a lot of money."

"Mother, please leave me alone for a little while," said Rachel,
imploringly.  She had caught sight of a little note at the bottom
of the basket, and she felt that she could not read it under her
mother's eyes.

Mrs. Spencer went out with unaccustomed acquiescence, and Rachel
went quickly to the window, where she read her letter by the
fading gleams of twilight.  It was very brief, and the writing
was that of a man who holds a pen but seldom.

    "My dear little girl," it ran, "I'm sorry I can't go to your
    wedding.  It was like you to ask me--for I know it was your
    doing.  I wish I could see you married, but I can't go to the
    house I was turned out of.  I hope you will be very happy.  I
    am sending you the shells and teapot you liked so much.  Do
    you remember that day we had such a good time?  I would liked
    to have seen you again before you were married, but it can't
    be.

                                           "Your loving father,
                                           "DAVID SPENCER."

Rachel resolutely blinked away the tears that filled her eyes.  A
fierce desire for her father sprang up in her heart--an insistent
hunger that would not be denied.  She MUST see her father; she
MUST have his blessing on her new life.  A sudden determination
took possession of her whole being--a determination to sweep
aside all conventionalities and objections as if they had not
been.

It was now almost dark.  The guests would not be coming for half
an hour yet.  It was only fifteen minutes' walk over the hill to
the Cove.  Hastily Rachel shrouded herself in her new raincoat,
and drew a dark, protecting hood over her gay head.  She opened
the door and slipped noiselessly downstairs.  Mrs. Spencer and
her assistants were all busy in the back part of the house.  In a
moment Rachel was out in the dewy garden.  She would go straight
over the fields.  Nobody would see her.

It was quite dark when she reached the Cove.  In the crystal cup
of the sky over her the stars were blinking.  Flying flakes of
foam were scurrying over the sand like elfin things.  A soft
little wind was crooning about the eaves of the little gray house
where David Spencer was sitting, alone in the twilight, his
violin on his knee.  He had been trying to play, but could not.
His heart yearned after his daughter--yes, and after a
long-estranged bride of his youth.  His love of the sea was sated
forever; his love for wife and child still cried for its own
under all his old anger and stubbornness.

The door opened suddenly and the very Rachel of whom he was
dreaming came suddenly in, flinging off her wraps and standing
forth in her young beauty and bridal adornments, a splendid
creature, almost lighting up the gloom with her radiance.

"Father," she cried, brokenly, and her father's eager arms closed
around her.

Back in the house she had left, the guests were coming to the
wedding.  There were jests and laughter and friendly greeting.
The bridegroom came, too, a slim, dark-eyed lad who tiptoed
bashfully upstairs to the spare room, from which he presently
emerged to confront Mrs. Spencer on the landing.

"I want to see Rachel before we go down," he said, blushing.

Mrs. Spencer deposited a wedding present of linen on the table
which was already laden with gifts, opening the door of Rachel's
room, and called her.  There was no reply; the room was dark and
still.  In sudden alarm, Isabella Spencer snatched the lamp from
the hall table and held it up.  The little white room was empty.
No blushing, white-clad bride tenanted it.  But David Spencer's
letter was lying on the stand.  She caught it up and read it.

"Rachel is gone," she gasped.  A flash of intuition had revealed
to her where and why the girl had gone.

"Gone!" echoed Frank, his face blanching.  His pallid dismay
recalled Mrs. Spencer to herself.  She gave a bitter, ugly
little laugh.

"Oh, you needn't look so scared, Frank.  She hasn't run away from
you.  Hush; come in here--shut the door.  Nobody must know of
this.  Nice gossip it would make!  That little fool has gone to
the Cove to see her--her father.  I know she has.  It's just like
what she would do.  He sent her those presents--look--and this
letter.  Read it.  She has gone to coax him to come and see her
married.  She was crazy about it.  And the minister is here and
it is half-past seven.  She'll ruin her dress and shoes in the
dust and dew.  And what if some one has seen her!  Was there ever
such a little fool?"

Frank's presence of mind had returned to him.  He knew all about
Rachel and her father.  She had told him everything.

"I'll go after her," he said gently.  "Get me my hat and coat.
I'll slip down the back stairs and over to the Cove."

"You must get out of the pantry window, then," said Mrs. Spencer
firmly, mingling comedy and tragedy after her characteristic
fashion.  "The kitchen is full of women.  I won't have this known
and talked about if it can possibly be helped."

The bridegroom, wise beyond his years in the knowledge that it
was well to yield to women in little things, crawled obediently
out of the pantry window and darted through the birch wood.  Mrs.
Spencer had stood quakingly on guard until he had disappeared.

So Rachel had gone to her father!  Like had broken the fetters of
years and fled to like.

"It isn't much use fighting against nature, I guess," she thought
grimly.  "I'm beat.  He must have thought something of her, after
all, when he sent her that teapot and letter.  And what does he
mean about the 'day they had such a good time'?  Well, it just
means that she's been to see him before, sometime, I suppose, and
kept me in ignorance of it all."

Mrs. Spencer shut down the pantry window with a vicious thud.

"If only she'll come quietly back with Frank in time to prevent
gossip I'll forgive her," she said, as she turned to the kitchen.

Rachel was sitting on her father's knee, with both her white arms
around his neck, when Frank came in.  She sprang up, her face
flushed and appealing, her eyes bright and dewy with tears.
Frank thought he had never seen her look so lovely.

"Oh, Frank, is it very late?  Oh, are you angry?" she exclaimed
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