ROSAMOND LEYTON.
Rosamond had been some weeks at Riverside, and during all that time
Mr. Browning had scarcely noticed her at all. On the first day of her
arrival he had spoken kindly to her, asking her how old she was, and
how long her mother had been dead, and this was all the attention he
had paid to her. He did not even yet know the color of her eyes, or
texture of her hair,--whether it were curly or straight, black or
brown; but he knew in various ways that she was there--knew it by the
sound of dancing feet upon the stairs, which were wont to echo only to
Mrs. Peters' heavy tread--knew it by the tasteful air his room
suddenly assumed--by the ringing laugh and musical songs which came
often from the kitchen, and by the thousand changes which the presence
of a merry-hearted girl of thirteen brings to a hitherto silent house.
Of him Rosamond stood considerably in awe, and though she could
willingly have worshipped him for giving her so pleasant a home, she
felt afraid of him and kept out of his way, watching him with childish
curiosity at a distance, admiring his noble figure, and wondering if
she would ever dare speak to him as fearlessly as Mrs. Peters did.
From this woman Rosamond received all a mother's care, and though the
name of her lost parent was often on her lips, she was beginning to be
very happy in her new home, when one day toward the middle of October
Mrs. Peters told her that Mr. Browning's only sister, a Mrs. Van
Vechten, who lived South, was coming to Riverside, together with her
son Ben. The lady Mrs. Peters had never seen, but Ben, who was at
school in Albany, had spent a vacation there, and she described him as
a "great, good-natured fool," who cared for nothing but dogs, cigars,
fast horses and pretty girls.
Rosamond pushed back the stray curls which had fallen over her face,
glanced at the cracked mirror which gave her _two_ noses instead of
one, and thinking to herself, "I wonder if he'll care for me,"
listened attentively while Mrs. Peters continued,--"This Miss Van
Vechten is a mighty fine lady, they say, and has heaps of niggers to
wait on her at home,--but she can't bring 'em here, for _I_ should set
'em free--that's, so. I don't b'lieve in't. What was I sayin'? Oh, I
know, she can't wait on herself, and wrote to have her brother get
some one. He asked me if you'd be willin' to put on her clothes, wash
her face, and _chaw her victuals_ like enough."
"Mr. Browning never said that," interrupted Rosamond, and Mrs. Peters
replied--"Well, not that exactly, but he wants you to wait on her
generally."
"I'll do anything reasonable," answered Rosamond. "When will she be
here?" "I'll do anything reasonable," answered Rosamond, "I must
hurry, or I shan't have them north chambers ready for her. Ben ain't
coming quite so soon."
The two or three days passed rapidly, and at the close of the third a
carriage laden with trunks stopped before the gate at Riverside, and
Mrs. Van Vechten had come. She was a thin, sallow-faced, proud-looking
woman, wholly unlike her brother, whose senior she was by many years.
She had seen much of the world, and that she was conscious of her own
fancied superiority was perceptible in every movement. She was Mrs.
Richard Van Vechten, of Alabama--one of the oldest families in the
state. Her deceased husband had been United States Senator--she had
been to Europe--had seen the Queen on horseback--had passed the
residence of the Duchess of Sutherland, and when Rosamond Leyton
appeared before her in her neatly-fitting dress of black and asked
what she could do for her, she elevated her eyebrows, and coolly
surveying the little girl, answered haughtily, "Comb out my hair."
"Yes, I will," thought Rosamond, who had taken a dislike to the grand
lady, and suiting the action to the thought, she did comb out her
hair, pulling it so unmercifully that Mrs. Van Vechten angrily bade
her stop.
"Look at me, girl," said she; "did you ever assist at any one's toilet
before?"
"I've hooked Mrs. Peters' dress and pinned on Bridget's collar,"
answered Rosamond, her great brown eyes brimming with mischief.
"Disgusting!" returned Mrs. Van Vechten--"I should suppose Ralph would
know better than to get me such an ignoramus. Were you hired on
purpose to wait on me?"
"Why, no, ma'am--I live here," answered Rosamond.
"Live here!" repeated Mrs. Van Vechten, "and pray, what do you do?"
"Nothing much, unless I choose," said Rosamond, who, being a great pet
with Mrs. Peters and the other servants, really led a very easy life
at Riverside.
Looking curiously into the frank, open face of the young girl, Mrs.
Van Vechten concluded she was never intended to take a negro's place,
and with a wave of her hand she said, "You may go; I can dress myself
alone."
That evening, as the brother and sister sat together in the parlor,
the latter suddenly asked, "Who is that Rosamond Leyton, and what is
she doing here?"
Mr. Browning told her all he knew of the girl, and she continued, "Do
you intend to educate her?"
"Educate her!" said he--"what made you think of that?"
"Because," she answered, with a sarcastic smile, "as you expect to do
penance the rest of your lifetime, I did not know but you would deem
it your duty to educate every beggar who came along."
The idea of educating Rosamond Leyton was new to Mr. Browning, but he
did not tell his sister so--he merely said, "And suppose I do educate
her?"
"In that case," answered the lady, "Ben will not pass his college
vacations here, as I had intended that he should do."
"And why not?" asked Mr. Browning.
"Why not?" repeated Mrs. Van Vechten. "Just as though you did not know
how susceptible he is to female beauty, and if you treat this Rosamond
as an equal, it will be like him to fall in love with her at once. She
is very pretty, you know."
Mr. Browning did not know any such thing. In fact, he scarcely knew
how the young girl looked, but his sister's remark had awakened in him
an interest, and after she had retired, which she did early, he rang
the bell for Mrs. Peters, who soon appeared in answer to his call.
"Is Rosamond Leyton up," he asked.
"Yes, sir," answered Mrs. Peters, wondering at the question.
"Send her to me," he said, and with redoubled amazement Mrs. Peters
carried the message to Rosamond, who was sitting before the fire,
trying in vain to undo an obstinate knot in her boot-string.
"Mr. Browning sent for me!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing up.
"Wants to scold me, I suppose, for pulling his sister's hair. I only
did what she told me to," and with a beating heart she started for the
parlor.
Rosamond was afraid of Mr. Browning, and feeling sure that he intended
to reprove her, she took the chair nearest to the door, and covering
her face with her hands, began to cry, saying--"It was ugly in me, I
know', to pull Mrs. Van Vechten's hair, and I did it on purpose, too;
but I won't do so again, I certainly won't."
Mr. Browning was confounded. This was the first intimation he had
received of the _barbaric_ performance, and for a moment he remained
silent, gazing at the little girl. Her figure was very slight, her
feet and hands were very small, and her hair, though disordered now
and rough, was of a beautiful brown, and fell in heavy curls around
her neck. He saw all this at a glance, but her face, the point to
which his attention was chiefly directed, he could not see until those
little hands were removed, and as a means of accomplishing this he at
last said, kindly--"I do not understand you, Rosamond. My sister has
entered no complaint, and I did not send for you to censure you. I
wish to talk with you--to get acquainted. Will you come and sit by me
upon the sofa?"
Rosamond's hands came down from her face, but she did not leave her
seat; neither did Mr. Browning now wish to have her, for the light of
the chandelier fell full upon her, giving him a much better view of
her features than if she had been nearer to him. If, as Mrs. Peters
had said, Ben Van Vechten was fond of pretty girls, he in a measure
inherited the feeling from his uncle, who was an ardent admirer of the
beautiful, and who now felt a glow of satisfaction in knowing that
Rosamond Leyton was pretty. It was a merry, sparkling, little face
which he looked upon, and though the nose did turn up a trifle, and
the mouth was rather wide, the soft, brown eyes, and exquisitely fair
complexion made ample amends for all. She was never intended for a
menial--she would make a beautiful woman--and with thoughts similar to
these, Mr. Browning, after completing his survey of her person, said--
"Have you been to school much?"
"Always, until I came here," was her answer; and he continued--"And
since then you have not looked in a book, I suppose?"
The brown eyes opened wide as Rosamond replied,--"Why, yes I have.
I've read over so much in your library when you were gone. Mrs. Peters
told me I might," she added, hastily, as she saw his look of surprise,
and mistook it for displeasure.
"I am perfectly willing," he said; "but what have you read? Tell me."
Rosamond was interested at once, and while her cheeks glowed and her
eyes sparkled, she replied--"Oh, I've read Shakespeare's Historical
Plays, every one of them--and Childe Harold, and Watts on the Mind,
and Kenilworth, and now I'm right in the middle of the Lady of the
Lake. Wasn't Fitz-James the King? _I_ believe he was. When I am older
I mean to write a book just like that."
Mr. Browning could not forbear a smile at her enthusiasm, but without
answering her question, he said,--"What do you intend to do until you
are old enough?"
Rosamond's countenance fell, and after tapping her foot upon the
carpet awhile, she said, "Mrs. Peters will get me a place by-and-by,
and I s'pose I'll have to be a milliner."
"Do you wish to be one?"
"Why, no; nor mother didn't either, but after father died she had to
do something. Father was a kind of a lawyer, and left her poor."
"Do you wish to go away from here, Rosamond?"
There were tears on the long-fringed eye-lashes as the young girl
replied, "No, sir; I'd like to live here always, but there's nothing
for me to do."
"Unless you go to school. How would you like that?"
"I have no one to pay the bills," and the curly head shook mournfully.
"But I have money, Rosamond, and suppose I say that you shall stay
here and go to school?"
"Oh, sir, _will_ you say so? _May_ I live with you always?" and
forgetting her fear of him in her great joy, Rosamond Leyton crossed
over to where he sat, and laying both her hands upon his shoulder,
continued--"Are you in earnest, Mr. Browning? May I stay? Oh, I'll be
so good to you when you are old and sick!"
It seemed to her that he was old enough to be her father, then, and it
almost seemed so to him. Giving her a very paternal look, he answered,
"Yes, child, you shall stay as long as you like and now go, or Mrs.
Peters will be wondering what keeps you."
Rosamond started to leave the room, but ere she reached the door she
paused, and turning to Mr. Browning, said, "You have made me _so_
happy, and I like you so much, I wish you'd let me kiss your hand--may
I?"
It was a strange question, and it sent the blood tingling to the very
tips of Mr. Browning's fingers.
"Why, ye-es,--I don't know. What made you think of that?" he said, and
Rosamond replied,--"I always kissed father when he made me very happy.
It was all I could do."
"But I am not your father," stammered Mr. Browning; "I shall not be
twenty-five until November. Still you can do as you please."
"Not twenty-five yet," repeated Rosamond;--"why, I thought you were
nearer _forty_. I don't believe I'd better, though I like you just as
well. Good night."
He heard her go through the hall, up the stairs, through the upper
hall, and then all was still again.
"What a strange little creature she is," he thought; "so childlike and
frank, but how queer that she should ask to _kiss me!_ Wouldn't Susan
be shocked if she knew it, and won't she be horrified when I tell her
I _am_ going to educate the girl. I shouldn't have thought of it but
for her. And suppose Ben does fall in love with her. If he knew a
little more, it would not be a bad match. Somebody must keep up our
family, or it will become extinct. Susan and I are the only ones left,
and _I_"--here he paused, and starting to his feet, he paced the floor
hurriedly, nervously, as if seeking to escape from some pursuing evil.
"It is terrible," he whispered, "but I _can_ bear it and will," and
going to his room he sought his pillow to dream strange dreams of
tresses black, and ringlets brown,--of fierce, dark eyes, and shining
orbs, whose owner had asked to kiss his hand, and mistaken him for her
sire.