A REVELATION.
"I am as I am, and so will I be,
But how that I am, none knoweth truly;
Be it ill, be it well, be I bond, be I free,
I am as I am, and so will I be."
--Wyatt.
Sir Barry Traleigh's parlour, at his bachelor apartments, is lit only by
the flickering firelight. It chases the dark shadows out of the dim
corners, and throws a cheerful brightness over the pretty crimson and
gold satin furniture. Sir Barry's little dog "pug" lies on the tiger
skin rug in front of the cheerful blaze, keeping watch over his master's
slippers. Mr. Litchfield and Dolores sitting there, awaiting Sir Barry's
return, are not slow to enjoy the luxuries spread so lavishly about
them. It is nearly five o'clock on a December afternoon, and the short
day is almost gone. The woman in charge of the rooms had brought in
lights, but Dolores had refused to have them lit, saying the fire light
was so very pleasant. Sir Barry had sent to Mr. Litchfield to know where
he could secure a good boarding place for a few weeks for sister Jean.
She had a persisting, little, hacking cough, that worried Sir Barry, and
made him persuade her to try a change of air. Aunt Adeline, in her
goodness of heart, said the girl should come to them. And Dolores was
sent with her father with a special invitation. They had gone to the
hotel on their arrival, and afterward drove to see Sir Barry. He was
out, but they awaited his return in his pretty fire-lit parlour. Dolores
has slipped off her seal skin jacket and gloves, and is sitting on the
rug patting the little grey coated, brown eared dog, when the door
opens.
"Mr. Litchfield, why, this is a pleasant surprise; have you been waiting
long?" Sir Barry says, coming forward. Then his eyes fall on the girl
crouched there by the fire, with the dog in her lap. "Dolores, Miss
Litchfield."
There is an eager, expectant look in Sir Barry's pleasant eyes, he has
longed so to see the girl's face, to hear her musical voice; now she is
here, here in the room where he can talk to and hear her talk. Dolores
rises leisurely and puts the dog down.
"How do you do, Sir Barry Traleigh?" she says coldly, not offering even
to shake hands with him. She does not, she can not yet trust herself to
look at the man standing before her, and Sir Barry turns to Mr.
Litchfield.
"You got my letter; have you gained a place for my little friend yet?"
"My Sister sent us to take her home with us."
"Miss Adeline was always kind; I hope she has overlooked my deception
ere this?"
Sir Barry glances across the room where Dolores stands beside a cabinet
of rare old china, her blue velvet and silk dress making a pleasant
rustle as she moves about the pretty room, admiring the pictures and the
ornaments. Sir Barry lets her be, he will not force his company upon
anyone.
"Oh yes, long ago, my lad; we laugh at your masquerade now as a fine
joke. I explained away all the difficulties. Now when can we see this
sister Jean? Mr. Litchfield's voice breaks in upon Sir Barry's
meditation.
"We can go now; ah!"--The door is thrown open, and Blondine's pretty
face, radiant with welcome, appears.
"I just thought I would come over; I got your telegram, uncle Edward,
and as you were not at the hotel I came here. I hope you will pardon me,
Sir Barry, for invading your room in such an unceremonious way. Dolores,
my darling, how are you?"
"We are going to the convent, Miss Gray, will you come?" asks Sir Barry,
as he assists Dolores on with her coat.
"Do, dear," Dolores says, drawing on her fur gloves. "I hate to go, yet
I want to."
Blondine is always ready and willing to go anywhere for a change, so
consents. Sir Barry had said he would arrange some plan for taking Mr.
Litchfield to the convent; this must be the way, and Blondine begins to
feel a great excitement creeping around her. They arrive and are
admitted by a sister, who takes them up-stairs to the Mother Superior's
parlour, where a cosy fire burns in the polished grate.
"Will you see the mother St. Marguerite? as sister Jean has just come
home and is too tired to see anyone to-night," asks the sister. This is
just what Sir Barry wants, so he said if it were possible he would see
mother St. Marguerite. Sir Barry is very restless; he walks up and down
the pretty, homelike little room, until Blondine thinks she will go
wild, if he does not sit down. Blondine's eyes are full of suppressed
fire; she and Sir Barry are soon, any moment, to be either rewarded or
mistaken in what they have long been patiently planning. There is a
sound of approaching footsteps, Sir Barry wheels around his face in deep
shadow; the door is opened softly, and mother St. Marguerite stands
within the room.
"Estelle, my wife? Thank God I have found you at last," Mr. Litchfield
cries, springing forward.
"Edward," gasps mother St. Marguerite.
"Blondine, what does it all mean?" Dolores demands.
"It means that you have found your dear mother."
"Surely this is Dolores." Mother St. Marguerite takes the trembling girl
in her arms. "And my little, spirited baby, my Zoe, she is well? Ah! the
good God has preserved my dear ones until this happy day." Blondine's
eyes are full of happy tears.
"Are you not glad, dear Sir Barry? Dolores will never be able to thank
you enough. If it had not been for you, she would never have found her
mother."
Sir Barry feels glad that so much happiness had been brought around for
all hands concerned, but feels most woefully forlorn himself. It seems
now they are all united, that he is left entirely out in the cold.
Blondine's voice awakens him.
"Yes, I suppose so," he says, absently.
"Dolores is going to stop a few days with me; come in and see us any
time, when you are lonely," Blondine says, cheerfully. She intends
giving naughty Dolores a good scolding for her persistent coolness to
Sir Barry. "And at one time I imagined they were getting so fond of each
other," Miss Gray thinks, ruefully.