White Magic Page #4

"White Magic" is a collection of short stories by Lucy Maud Montgomery, known for her enchanting storytelling and vivid characters. The book explores themes of love, friendship, and the passage of time, often infused with a sense of wonder and magic. Each tale reflects Montgomery's ability to capture the beauty of everyday life while weaving in elements of the mystical and the extraordinary, showcasing her deep appreciation for nature and the human spirit. Through lyrical prose and memorable characters, Montgomery invites readers into a world where magic exists in the simplest moments.

• Short story

								

might as well take care of it.

Having got her ointment, the next thing was to make use of it. This
was not so easy--because, in the first place, it must not be done when
there was any danger of Avery's seeing some other than Randall
first--and it must be done without Avery's knowing it. The two
problems combined were almost too much for Janet. She bided her chance
like a watchful cat--but it did not come. Two weeks went by and it had
not come. Janet was getting very desperate. The wedding day was only a
week away. The bride's cake was made and the turkeys fattened. The
invitations were sent out. Janet's own bridesmaid dress was ready. And
still the little pill box in the till of Janet's blue chest was
unopened. She had never even opened it, lest virtue escape.

Then her chance came at last, unexpectedly. One evening at dusk, when
Janet was crossing the little dark upstairs hall, Aunt Matilda called
up to her.

"Janet, send Avery down. There is a young man wanting to see her."

Aunt Matilda was laughing a little--as she always did when Randall
came. It was a habit with her, hanging over from the early days of
Randall's courtship. Janet went on into their room to tell Avery. And
lo, Avery was lying asleep on her bed, tired out from her busy day.
Janet, after one glance, flew to her chest. She took out her pill box
and opened it, a little fearfully. The toad ointment was there, dark
and unpleasant enough to view. Janet tiptoed breathlessly to the bed
and gingerly scraped the tip of her finger in the ointment.

She said so little would be enough--oh, I hope I'm not doing wrong.

Trembling with excitement, she brushed lightly the white lids of
Avery's eyes. Avery stirred and opened them. Janet guiltily thrust her
pill box behind her.

"Randall is downstairs asking for you, Avery."

Avery sat up, looking annoyed. She had not expected Randall that
evening and would greatly have preferred a continuance of her nap. She
went down crossly enough, but looking very lovely, flushed from sleep.
Janet stood in their room, clasping her cold hands nervously over her
breast. Would the charm work? Oh, she must know--she must know. She
could not wait. After a few moments that seemed like years she crept
down the stairs and out into the dusk of the June-warm September
night. Like a shadow she slipped up to the open parlour window and
looked cautiously in between the white muslin curtains. The next
minute she had fallen on her knees in the mint bed. She wished she
could die then and there.

The young man in the parlour was not Randall Burnley. He was dark and
smart and handsome; he was sitting on the sofa by Avery's side,
holding her hands in his, smiling into her rosy, delighted, excited
face. And he was Bruce Gordon--no doubt of that. Bruce Gordon, the
expected cousin from Scotland!

"Oh, what have I done? What have I done?" moaned poor Janet, wringing
her hands. She had seen Avery's face quite plainly--had seen the look
in her eyes. Avery had never looked at Randall Burnley like that.
Granny Thomas' abominable ointment had worked all right--and Avery had
fallen in love with the wrong man.

Janet, cold with horror and remorse, dragged herself up to the window
again and listened. She must know--she must be sure. She could hear
only a word here and there, but that word was enough.

"I thought you promised to wait for me, Avery," Bruce said
reproachfully.

"You were so long in coming back--I thought you had forgotten me,"
cried Avery.

"I think I did forget a little, Avery. I was such a boy. But
now--well, thank Heaven, I haven't come too late."

There was a silence, and shameless Janet, peering above the window
sill, saw what she saw. It was enough. She crept away upstairs to her
room. She was lying there across the bed when Avery swept in--a
splendid, transfigured Avery, flushed triumphant. Janet sat up,
pallid, tear-stained, and looked at her.

"Janet," said Avery, "I am going to marry Bruce Gordon next Wednesday
night instead of Randall Burnley."

Janet sprang forward and caught Avery's hand.

"You must not," she cried wildly. "It's all my fault--oh, if I could
only die--I got the love ointment from Granny Thomas to rub on your
eyes to make you love the first man you would see. I meant it to be
Randall--I thought it was Randall--oh, Avery!"

Avery had been listening, between amazement and anger. Now anger
mastered amazement.

"Janet Sparhallow," she cried, "are you crazy? Or do you mean that you
went to Granny Thomas--you, a Sparhallow!--and asked her for a love
philtre to make me love Randall Burnley?"

"I didn't tell her it was for you--she thought I wanted it for
myself," moaned Janet. "Oh, we must undo it--I'll go to her again--no
doubt she knows of some way to undo the spell--"

Avery, whose rages never lasted long, threw back her dark head and
laughed ringingly.

"Janet Sparhallow, you talk as if you lived in the dark ages! The idea
of supposing that horrid old woman could give you love philtres! Why,
girl, I've always loved Bruce--always. But I thought he'd forgotten
me. And tonight when he came I found he hadn't. There's the whole
thing in a nutshell. I'm going to marry him and go home with him to
Scotland."

"And what about Randall?" said Janet, corpse-white.

"Oh, Randall--pooh! Do you suppose I'm worrying about Randall? But
you must go to him tomorrow and tell him for me, Janet."

"I will not--I will not."

"Then I'll tell him myself--and I'll tell him about you going to
Granny," said Avery cruelly. "Janet, don't stand there looking like
that. I've no patience with you. I shall be perfectly happy with
Bruce--I would have been miserable with Randall. I know I shan't sleep
a wink tonight--I'm so excited. Why, Janet, I'll be Mrs. Gordon of
Gordon Brae--and I'll have everything heart can desire and the man of
my heart to boot. What has lanky Randall Burnley with his little
six-roomed house to set against that?"

If Avery did not sleep, neither did Janet. She lay awake till dawn,
suffering such misery as she had never endured in her life before. She
knew she must go to Randall Burnley tomorrow and break his heart. If
she did not, Avery would tell him--tell him what Janet had done. And
he must not know that--he must not. Janet could not bear that thought.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was a pallid, dull-eyed Janet who went through the birch wood to
the Burnley farm next afternoon, leaving behind her an excited
household where the sudden change of bridegrooms, as announced by
Avery, had rather upset everybody. Janet found Randall working in the
garden of his new house--setting out rosebushes for Avery--Avery, who
was to jilt him at the very altar, so to speak. He came over to open
the gate for Janet, smiling his dear smile. It was a dear smile--Janet
caught her breath over the dearness of it--and she was going to blot
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