THE TIGRESS AND THE DOVE.
"Oh, wanton malice--deathful sport--
Could ye not spare my all?
But mark my words, on thy cold heart
A fiery doom shall fall."
In the golden glow of the morning, Minnette Wiseman stood at the door,
gazing out--not watching the radiant beauties of nature--not listening
to the sweet singing of the birds--not watching the waves flashing and
glittering in the sunlight--but nursing her own dark, fathomless
thoughts.
From the first moment of the coming of Celeste she had hated her, with a
deep, intense hatred, that was destined to be the one ruling passion of
her life. She was jealous of her beauty, angry to see her so petted and
caressed by every one, but too proud to betray it.
Pride and jealousy were her predominant passions; you could see them in
the haughty poise of her superb little head, in the dusky fire
smoldering in her glittering black eyes, in the scornful, curling upper
lip, in the erect carriage and proud step. In spite of her beauty no one
seemed to like Minnette, and she liked no one.
Among her schoolmates her superior talents won their admiration, but her
eagle ambition to surpass them all soon turned admiration into dislike.
But Minnette went haughtily on her way, living in the unknown world of
her dark, sullen thoughts, despising both them and the love she might
have won.
A week had passed since the coming of Celeste. Miss Hagar, feeling she
was not competent to undertake the instruction of such a shy, sensitive
little creature, wished to send her to school. The school to which
Minnette and Gipsy went (sometimes) was two miles distant, and taught by
the Sisters of Charity. Miss Hagar would have sent her there, but there
was no one she could go with. She mentioned this difficulty to her
brother.
"Can't she go with Minnette?" said the latter, impatiently.
"No, she sha'n't," said the amiable Minnette. "I'll have no such
whimpering cry-baby tagging after me. Let Madam Hagar go with her
darling herself if she likes."
"Just what I expected from you," said Miss Hagar, looking gloomingly in
the sullen face before her. "If the Lord doesn't punish you one day for
your hatred and hard-heartedness, it'll be because some of his creatures
will do it for him. Take my word for it."
"I don't care for you or your threats," said Minnette, angrily; "and I
_do_ hate your pet, old Miss Hagar, and I'll make everybody else hate
her if I can, too."
"Minnette, hold your tongue," called her father, angry at being
interrupted in his reading.
Minnette left the room, first casting a glance full of dislike and
contempt on Celeste, who sat in a remote corner, her hands over her
face, while the tears she struggled bravely to suppress fell in bright
drops through her taper fingers. Sob after sob swelled the bosom of the
sensitive child, on whose gentle heart the cruel words of Minnette had
fallen with crushing weight. Dr. Wiseman, after a few moments, too, left
the room, and Celeste, in her dark corner, wept unseen and uncared for.
Suddenly a light footstep entering the room startled her. Her hands
were gently removed from her tear-stained face, while a spirited voice
exclaimed:
"Hallo! Sissy! what's the matter? Has that kite-heart, Minnette, been
mocking you?"
"No-o-o!" faltered Celeste, looking up through her tears into the bright
face of Archie Rivers.
"What's the case, then? Something's wrong, I know. Tell me, like a good
little girl, and I'll see if I can't help you," said Archie, resolutely
retaining the hands with which she struggled to cover her face.
"Miss Hagar wants to send me to school, and I've no one to go with.
Minnette doesn't like to be troubled with----"
"Oh, I see it all! Minnette's been showing her angelic temper, and won't
let you go with her, eh?"
"Ye-e-es," sobbed Celeste, trying bravely not to cry.
"Well, never mind, birdie! I have to pass the Sisters' school every day
on my way to the academy, and I'll take care of you, if you'll go with
me. Will you?" he said, looking doubtfully into her little, shrinking
face.
"I--I think so," said Celeste, rather hesitatingly. "I will be a
trouble, though, I'm afraid."
"Not you!" exclaimed Archie, gayly. "I'll be your true knight and
champion now, and by and by you'll be my little wife. Won't you?"
"No-o-o, I don't like to," said Celeste, timidly.
Archie seemed to think this answer so remarkably funny that he gave way
to a perfect shout of laughter. Then, perceiving the sensitive little
creature on the verge of crying again, he stopped short by an effort,
and said, apologetically:
"There! don't cry, sis: I wasn't laughing at you. I say, Miss Hagar," he
added, springing abruptly to his feet as that ancient lady entered,
"mayn't I bring Celeste to school? I'll 'tend to her as carefully as if
she was my daughter. See if I don't."
A grim sort of smile relaxed the rigid muscles of Miss Hagar's iron face
as she glanced benignly at his merry, thoughtless face over the top of
her spectacles.
"Yes, she may go with you, and the Lord will bless you for your good,
kind heart," she said, laying her hand fondly on his curly head.
Archie, throwing up his cap in the exuberance of his glee, said:
"Run and get ready, sis, and come along."
"No; wait until to-morrow," said Miss Hagar. "She cannot go to-day."
"All right; to-morrow, then, you've to make your _debut_ in the school
of St. Mark's. I say, Miss Hagar, what shall we call her? not your
name--Dedley's too dismal."
"No; call her Pearl--she _is_ a pearl," said Miss Hagar, while her voice
became as gentle as _such_ a voice could.
"Very well, Celeste. Pearl then be it. And so, Celeste, be ready bright
and early to-morrow morning, and we'll go by Sunset Hall, and call for
Gipsy and Louis. By the way, you haven't seen Louis yet, have you?"
"No," said Celeste.
"Oh, then, you must see him, decidedly, to-morrow. But mind, you mustn't
go and like him better than you do me, because he's better-looking. I
tell you what, little sis, he's a capital fellow, and _so_ clever; he's
ahead of every fellow in the academy, and beats _me_ all to smash,
because I'm not clever at anything except riding and shooting, and I'm
his equal in those branches. So now I'm off--good-bye!"
And with a spring and a jump, Archie was out of the room and dashing
along the road at a tremendous rate.
The next morning Celeste, with a beating heart, set out with Archie for
school. How pretty she looked in her white muslin dress, her white
sunbonnet covering her golden curls--a perfect little pearl!
Archie, having paid her a shower of compliments, took her by the hand
and set out with her for Sunset Hall. At the gate Celeste halted, and no
persuasions could induce her to enter.
"No, no; I'll wait here until you come back. Please let me," she said,
pleadingly.
"Oh, well, then, I won't be long," said Archie, rushing frantically up
the lawn and bursting like a whirlwind into the hall door.
In a few moments he reappeared, accompanied by Louis.
"Look, old fellow! there she is at the gate. Isn't she a beauty?" said
Archie.
Louis stopped and gazed, transfixed by the radiant vision before him. In
her floating, snowy robes, golden hair, her sweet, angel-like face, on
which the morning sunshine rested like a glory, she was indeed lovely,
bewildering, dazzling.
"How beautiful! how radiant! how splendid! Archie, she is as pretty as
an angel!" burst forth Louis, impetuously.
"Ha, ha ha! a decided case of love at first sight. Come along and I'll
introduce you," exclaimed Archie.
Having presented the admiring Louis to Celeste, who, after the first shy
glance, never raised her eyes, he informed her that Gipsy had gone out
riding early in the morning, and they were forced to go without her.
"Celeste, you must sit to me for your portrait," said Louis,
impulsively, as they walked along.
"I don't know," said Celeste, shrinking closer to Archie, whom she had
learned to trust in like an old friend.
"I'm sketching the 'Madonna in the Temple' for Sister Mary, and your
sweet, holy, calm face will do exactly for a model," said Louis.
"That's a compliment, sis," said Archie, pinching her cheek; "you'd
better sit. Hallo! if that isn't Gipsy's bugle! And here she comes, as
usual, flying like the wind. If she doesn't break her neck some day, it
will be a wonder."
As he spoke, the clear, sweet notes of a bugle resounded musically among
the hills above them; and the next moment the spirited little Arabian,
Mignonne, came dashing at a break-neck pace down the rocks, with Gipsy
on his back, a fowling-piece slung over her shoulder, and sitting her
horse as easily as though she were in an easy-chair. With a wild
"tally-ho!" she cleared a yawning chasm at a bound, and reined her horse
in so suddenly that he nearly fell back on his haunches. The next
instant she was beside them, laughing at Celeste, who clung, pale with
fear, to Archie.
"What luck this morning, Diana?" exclaimed Archie.
"Pretty well for two hours. Look!" said Gipsy, displaying a well-filled
game-bag.
"Did you kill those birds?" inquired Celeste, lifting her eyes in fear,
not unmixed with horror, to the sparkling face of the young huntress.
"To be sure! There! don't look so horror-struck. I declare if the little
coward doesn't look as if she thought me a demon," said Gipsy, laughing
at Celeste's sorrowful face. "Look! do you see that bird away up there,
like a speck in the sky? Well, now watch me bring it down;" and Gipsy,
fixing her eagle eye on the distant speck, took deliberate aim.
"Oh, don't--don't!" cried Celeste, in an agony of terror; but ere the
words were well uttered, they were lost in the sharp crack of her little
rifle.
Wounded and bleeding, the bird began rapidly to fall, and, with a wild
shriek, Celeste threw up her arms, and fell to the ground.
"Good gracious! if I haven't scared the life out of Celeste!" exclaimed
Gipsy, in dismay, as Archie raised her, pale and trembling, in his arms.
"What a timid little creature!" thought Louis, as he watched her,
clinging convulsively to Archie.
"Oh, the bird! the poor bird!" said Celeste, bursting into tears.
Gipsy laughed outright, and pointing to a tree near at hand, said:
"There, Louis, the bird has lodged in that tree; go and get it for her."
Louis darted off to search the tree, and Gipsy, stooping down, said,
rather impatiently:
"Now, Celeste, don't be such a little goose! What harm is it to shoot a
bird?--everybody does it."
"I don't think it's right; it's so cruel. Please don't do it any more,"
said Celeste, pleadingly.
"Can't promise, dear? _I_ must do something to keep me out of mischief.
But here comes Louis. Well, is it dead?"
"No," said Louis, "but badly wounded. However, I'll take care of it; and
if it recovers, Celeste, you shall have it for a pet."
"Oh, thank you! you're _so_ good," said Celeste, giving him such a
radiant look of gratitude that it quite overcame the gravity of Master
Rivers, who fell back, roaring with laughter.
Celeste and Gipsy stood a little apart, conversing, and the boys sat
watching them.
"I say, Louis, what do you think of her?" said Archie, pointing to
Celeste.
"I think she is perfectly bewitching--the loveliest creature I ever
beheld," replied Louis, regarding her with the eye of an artist. "She
reminds me of a lily--a dove, so fair, and white, and gentle."
"And Gipsy, what does _she_ remind you of?"
"Oh! of a young Amazon, or a queen eaglet of the mountains, so wild and
untamed."
"And Minnette, what is she like?"
"Like a tigress, more than anything else I can think of just now," said
Louis, laughing; "beautiful, but rather dangerous when aroused."
"Aroused! I don't think she could be aroused, she is made of marble."
"Not she. As Miss Hagar says, the day will come when she will, she must
feel; every one does sometime in his life. What does Scott say:
"'Hearts are not flint, and flints are rent;
Hearts are not steel, and steel is bent.'"
"Well, if you take to poetry, you'll keep us here all day," said Archie,
rising. "Good-bye, Gipsy; come along Celeste!"
* * * * *
True to promise, Louis adopted the wounded bird; and under his skillful
hands it soon recovered and was presented to Celeste. She would have set
it free, but Louis said: "No; keep it for my sake, Celeste." And so
Celeste kept it; and no words can tell how she grew to love that bird.
It hung in a cage in her chamber, and her greatest pleasure was in
attending it. Minnette hated the very sight of it. That it belonged to
Celeste would have been enough to make her hate it; but added to that,
it had been given her by Louis Oranmore, the only living being Minnette
had ever tried to please; and jealousy added tenfold to her hatred.
Seeing the bird hanging, one day, out in the sunshine, she opened the
cage-door, and, with the most fiendish and deliberate malice, twisted
its neck, and then, going to Celeste, pointed to it with malignant
triumph sparkling in her bold, black eyes.
Poor Celeste! She took the dead and mangled body of her pretty favorite
in her lap, and sitting down, wept the bitterest tears she had ever shed
in her life. Let no one smile at her childish grief; who has been
without them? I remember distinctly the saddest tears that ever I shed
were over the remains of a beloved kitten, stoned to death. And through
all the troubles of after years, that first deep grief never was
forgotten.
While she was still sobbing as if her heart would break, a pair of
strong arms were thrown around her, and the eager, handsome face of
Louis was bending over her.
"Why, Celeste, what in the world are all those tears for?" he inquired,
pushing the disheveled golden hair off her wet cheek.
"Oh, Louis, my bird! my poor bird!" she cried, hiding her face on his
shoulder, in a fresh burst of grief.
"What! it's dead, is it?" said Louis, taking it up. "Did the cat get at
it?"
"No, no; it wasn't the cat; it was--it was----"
"_Who?_" said Louis, while his dark eyes flashed. "Did any one dare to
kill it? Did Minnette, that young tigress----"
"Oh, Louis! don't, don't! You mustn't call her such dreadful names!"
said Celeste, placing her hand over his mouth. "I don't think she meant
it; don't be angry with her, please; it's so dreadful!"
"You little angel!" he said, smoothing gently her fair hair; "no, for
your sake I'll not. Never mind, don't cry; I'll get you another, twice
as pretty as that!"
"No, Louis; I don't want any more! I'd rather have the dear birds free!
And now, will you--will you bury poor birdie?" said Celeste, almost
choking in her effort to be "good and not cry."
"Yes; here's a nice spot, under the rose-bush," said Louis; "and I'll
get a tombstone and write a nice epitaph. And you must console yourself
with the belief that it's happy in the bird's heaven, if there is such a
place," added Louis, as he placed poor "Birdie" in its last
resting-place.
Half an hour after, Celeste sought the presence of Minnette. She found
her sitting by the window, her chin resting on her hand, as was her
habit, gazing out. She did not turn round as Celeste entered; but the
latter went up softly, and, placing her hand on hers, said gently:
"Minnette, I'm afraid you're angry with me? I'm very sorry; please
forgive me?"
Minnette shook her roughly off, exclaiming:
"Don't bother me, you little whining thing! Go out of this!"
"Yes; but only say you forgive me, first! Indeed, indeed, Minnette, I
didn't mean to offend you. I want to love you, if you'll let me!"
"Love!" exclaimed Minnette, springing fiercely to her feet, her black
eyes gleaming like fire. "You artful little hypocrite! You consummate
little cheat? Don't talk to me of love! Didn't I see you in the garden,
with your arms around Louis Oranmore, in a way for which you ought to be
ashamed of yourself--complaining to him of my wickedness and cruelty in
killing the bird he gave you. And yet, after turning him against me,
you come here, and tell me you love me! Begone, you miserable little
beggar! I hate the very sight of you!"
Her face was convulsed with passion. With a cry of terror, Celeste fled
from the room to weep alone in her own chamber, while Minnette sat by
the window, watching the stars come out in their splendor, one by one,
with the germs of that jealousy taking deep root in her soul, that would
grow and bear fruit for evermore!