LIVING IN LUXURY.
Mrs. Howard went back and sat down in mournful silence beside her dead
daughter, whose beauty was so soon to be hidden in the grave.
The lovely face, so white and still, with the dark fringe of the lashes
lying on the cheeks, seemed so heavenly pure and peaceful that a
strange awe stole over the mother’s heart, and she murmured:
“My angel child, how sweetly wise you look, as if already you had
fathomed the divine mysteries of heaven.”
Then her sorrow overwhelmed her again, and, quite forgetting Fair
Fielding and her troubles, she bowed her head on her hand, and the
waves of despair rolled over her.
Meanwhile Fair had lain down, as Mrs. Howard had directed, and fallen
asleep upon the luxurious bed. When the maid went in to see after her,
a little later, she found that her breath was hurried and labored, and
her face crimson with fever.
Days of delirious pain followed, and when Fair at last awoke to
consciousness Azalia Howard had been buried more than a week, and the
bereaved mother, with her sad, gentle, blue eyes, sat watching her
protégée with anxious interest.
“Mother!” Fair murmured restlessly; and then, as she met the gaze of
those anxious eyes, memory rushed over her again, and she knew that the
mother on whom she called was dead, and that this gentle lady was the
only friend she had on earth save Sadie Allen, the poor working girl.
But Mrs. Howard, as she heard that tender name fall from Fair’s lips,
fancied that it was applied to herself, and smiled gently as she said:
“Yes, call me mother, dear girl, for from henceforth you are my adopted
child, and my heart hungers for some one to call me mother.”
Fair’s eyes dilated with wondering joy, and Mrs. Howard leaned over
her, and continued, gravely and sweetly:
“I cannot tell whether it came to me in a dream or a vision, Fair, but
on the day when you came to me I sat down by my dead daughter and gave
myself up to bitter despair at her death, almost arraigning Heaven for
taking her from me. But, little by little, that bitter mood passed
away, and a deep calm stole over me, mixed with holy awe. It seemed to
me that Azalia stood beside me in angelic form and bade me take you, my
child, into her place on earth, and let you comfort me for her loss.
She said that Heaven had sent you to me to fill up the aching void in
my heart left there by her death. Oh, child, do you think that this was
only a dream, or a sweet vision granted me by Heaven?”
“I cannot tell,” murmured Fair, in awe and wonder.
“I do not think that I was asleep,” continued Mrs. Howard. “Indeed, I
feel certain I was not; so I firmly believe it was a reality, and I
promised my angel daughter that I would do as she wished.”
Tears of joy and gratitude brimmed over in Fair’s large dark eyes and
fell upon her cheeks. She could not speak, so strong was her emotion,
and Mrs. Howard said:
“You told me that you were alone in the world, Fair. I, too, am alone
in the world, for my husband died of consumption ten years ago, and now
my only child, my sweet Azalia, is dead, at only eighteen years of
age, of the same disease. I am rich, and have no near relations to live
with me, so if you care to stay with me and be my loving daughter, I
will be your loving mother.”
“Oh, how good you are--how noble!” Fair cried, in gratitude, and Mrs.
Howard smiled at her in her sweet, sad way, as she added:
“There is only one condition, and that is that you let your fate remain
a mystery to those who have known you in the past. It seems, from your
own words, that they did not take in you the interest they should have
done, so we will let them drop out of your life as you from theirs, and
this will be the easier as I intend to travel, and want to take you
with me, of course. We will go as soon as you are able to travel. What
do you say to my plan, dear?”
“That I accept your offer with the deepest gratitude. I will be your
devoted daughter, dear, noble mother,” murmured Fair, overjoyed at the
thought of going away from New York and leaving Carl Bernicci forever.
She had but one regret, and that was for her dear, faithful friend,
Sadie Allen.
“But I must bear that for the sake of all that I shall gain by staying
with my adopted mother,” she thought, adding gravely: “Oh, may Heaven
forgive me if I err in not telling this noble lady of my unfortunate
marriage. But I fear to speak. What if she should cast me off in
disgust? I cannot risk it. I must keep that fatal marriage a dead
secret. It is the only safe way.”
And, with the prospect of getting out of New York before her, she
convalesced rapidly, to the delight of her kind adopted mother, who now
set about getting a traveling outfit for Fair.