Iris found Jenny at home, and terribly alarmed at her friend’s absence.
“Oh, Miss Ir--Maggie, I was so anxious about you,” she cried, embracing
her companion affectionately.
These simple words and display of affection destroyed the last remnant
of strength Iris had striven so hard to retain, and, throwing herself
on Jenny’s breast, she sobbed as if her heart was breaking.
These tears relieved her overtasked brain, and she soon recovered
herself and turned her sweet face toward Jenny, with its own bright,
winning smile.
“There, dear Jenny, I am all right again, and now we will commence our
life all anew. I shall never leave you, dear, as long as you care to
have me with you, but you must not ask me anything about the telegram,
or about anything I do that may seem strange to you. You must only
trust me, dear little friend, and help me to--forget.”
“There is nothing in the world that would make me disturb you, Maggie,
and I shall never question anything you may choose to do, no matter how
strange it may appear to me--but, good gracious! while we have been
talking and crying like two babies, our nice hot tea has been left to
cool on the table. Sit down, dear; I am actually as hungry as a bear.”
The last remark brought a smile to Maggie’s pale face, and the two
girls were soon chatting pleasantly over their simple meal.
After this time, as day followed day, and Iris heard nothing further
from Charles Broughton, she began to experience a sense of peace and
security in her new and humble life. She became a great favorite with
Madam Ward, and by her diligent attention to everything that was shown
to her, bade fair to learn the trade by which she hoped to earn her
livelihood in a very short time.
There was not a girl in Madam Ward’s employ who did not love the
beautiful young apprentice, who never assumed any airs of superiority,
although her every act and word proclaimed her a true lady.
She had a bright smile and a pleasant word for every one; and of the
sorrows gnawing at her heart she never complained, even to Jenny.
But the burden of her secret grief was telling upon her, and one
night after the girls had taken their departure, Madam Ward said in
confidence to her sister:
“I am afraid our little Maggie will not be able to stand the
confinement of a workroom. I can see her failing day by day. She has
not been accustomed to such a life, it is plain to be seen. I shall
give her something to do that will take her out into the air to-morrow
if the day is fine. Let me see--what errand can I send her upon? Oh, I
have it, she shall take this check to the bank and bring me the money
for it. By the way, I did not tell you that Mr. Stuart had sent me the
amount of his wife’s bill--here it is--a check for two hundred dollars,
and----”
Madam Ward’s voice ceased suddenly, for, on chancing to raise her eyes
from the check she was holding in her hand, she saw that the room had
another occupant besides her sister and herself.
“Why, Mrs. Neville, I did not hear you enter; pray pardon me, and be
seated.”
Madam drew forward an armchair for her wealthy customer, and Clara
Neville accepted the invitation, laughing heartily at madam’s look of
dismay.
“Pardon me, my dear madam, I must plead guilty to the crime of
eavesdropping. I was so charmed to hear you speak so kindly of one of
your poor little working girls--won’t you please tell me about this
little Maggie?”
Madam Ward was pleased at the interest Mrs. Neville appeared to take
in the subject, and at once proceeded to tell all she knew of Maggie
Gordon--which was nothing beyond the fact that Maggie had come there
with Jenny Mason to learn the dressmaking and that she had evidently
been reared in a higher sphere of life, as madam expressed herself, and
lastly that she was growing paler and thinner every day for want of
outdoor exercise.
Mrs. Neville listened with an expression of deep interest and sympathy
on her face, exclaiming, when madam had concluded:
“Poor little one! I should like to see her. You are to send her down
to the bank to-morrow, you say, or I should drive down here expressly
to have a glimpse at her, you have interested me so in her story. Of
course, I should come ostensibly on some errand concerning the work you
are doing for me--as I came in reality to-night.”
“You can do so still, Mrs. Neville. Maggie shall go to the bank about
one o’clock. The business will not occupy more than two hours of her
time, and during the rest of the day you can see her,” replied madam,
failing to notice the quick flash of triumph that glittered in the
lady’s eyes at this piece of information.
A few minutes later Mrs. Neville took her departure, promising to call
on the morrow; but when the car door was closed upon her she laughed
aloud, muttering, as she glanced back to the house she had just left:
“If you see either your pretty Maggie or your two hundred dollars after
you send her on that errand to-morrow, it will be because my plan
proves a failure, which I think is scarcely likely to be the case.”