"Father, where is Golden this morning?"
Old Hugh Glenalvan looked up with a frightened start as his son came
into his presence with a stern brow and heavy footstep.
It was the morning after the Glenalvans' little party, and the old man
was sitting in the sunny bay-window, thinking of his little sunbeam, as
he called her lovingly in his thoughts.
Old Dinah had been in and brought him a message to say that she was
very lonely and wished her grandpa to come and see her and bring her a
bunch of roses. He was just thinking of doing so, when John Glenalvan
came frowningly into his presence.
"Father, where is Golden this morning?" he asked, sharply, and the old
man trembled with fear of, he knew not what, as he replied:
"She is up in the haunted rooms where you told me to put her, John."
"Come with me. I wish to see her," he said, and the old man's face grew
ashen pale as he asked:
"What is the matter? Has Golden done anything, John?"
"You will know soon enough," was the short reply; and full of
apprehension the old man led the way to his granddaughter's room.
Beautiful Golden was walking up and down the dreary chamber, impatient
as a captive bird. She started, and grew very pale as she caught sight
of her Uncle John's stern face. She did not speak to him, but ran up to
her grandfather and kissed his poor, old, wrinkled cheek.
"Good-morning, dear grandpa," she said. "I am very lonely. I miss you
so much. Did black mammy tell you to bring me some roses?"
"Yes, dear, but I did not have the time," said the grandfather,
with a tremulous voice, and stealing a glance at his son. For some
inexplicable reason he stood in great fear of him.
"Have done with such foolish chat, girl," broke in John Glenalvan,
roughly. "So you played the ghost last night, eh, miss?"
Golden gave a violent start, and clung to her grandfather. She
trembled, and her sweet lips grew very pale.
"You need not deny it. Your looks betray your guilt," continued John
Glenalvan, roughly.
"No, no, my Golden would not have done such a thing," cried her
grandfather, warmly. "Who says that she did?"
Golden looked anxiously into her uncle's face as that question left the
old man's lips. Her heart fell at the thought that the handsome man who
had kissed her by the lake, had betrayed her to her merciless uncle.
But his next word relieved her from the dread.
"I say so myself," he replied. "I saw and recognized her myself, as did
Clare and Elinor also. She came and stood in the hall doorway where
they were dancing, tricked out like the ghost of Erma Glenalvan. Deny
it if you dare, miss!"
The girl's quick temper flamed up at his harsh manner.
"I do not wish to deny it," she cried defiantly. "I did it, and I
frightened all your fine company, too! I am very glad of it."
John Glenalvan sprang toward her with upraised hand as though he would
strike her, but she stepped quickly out of his reach, and he said, with
sullen rage:
"You hear the little Jezebel, father. Take care, take care that I do
not put my long-pending threat into execution."
"John, she is but a playful child," he pleaded, pitifully. "She meant
no harm, I am sure. Oh, Golden, my darling! why did you do it?"
"To spite the girls, grandpa, for their cruelty to me," she replied,
"but I am very sorry now, since it has grieved you so. Believe me,
grandpa, I did not think you would ever hear of it. Can you forgive
me?" she pleaded, wistfully.
"You must ask your uncle's forgiveness, not mine, my dear," was the
tremulous reply.
"I will not ask his pardon," she replied, stoutly, her blue eyes
flashing, and the color flaming into her cheeks, "I am sorry to have
displeased you, grandpa, dear, but I do not in the least care for
anyone else whether they are offended or not."
"Where did you get the fine toggery you wore last night?" demanded John
Glenalvan, his fingers tingling with the impulse to slap the fair,
defiant face.
"That is no concern of yours," she replied, resentfully.
"Tell me, dear," whispered old Hugh, intent on preserving a semblance
of peace if it were possible.
Golden threw open the door of the wardrobe and showed him the brocade,
which looked very yellow and old in the clear light of day.
"She had a necklace of pearls around her neck," said John, in an artful
aside to his father.
"Did you, Golden?" asked her grandfather.
Golden went to the little toilet-table and took up the costly necklace
which John Glenalvan instantly snatched from her hand and placed in his
pocket.
Golden looked at him, tearful, dismayed, and excessively angry.
"Give them back to me," she cried. "They are mine! I found them--indeed
I did, grandpa. They had fallen through a hole in the pocket of the
dress into the skirt lining. They are mine, and you shall give them
back to me, Uncle John."
"I will show you whether I will or not," he replied. "The necklace
belongs to me. Everything in the house belongs to me, as well as the
estate itself. You only have a home on sufferance here. Take care that
you do not lose that."
"Is it true, grandpa?" asked Golden, and the old man nodded sadly.
John Glenalvan took down the white brocade, and carried it away in a
compact bundle under his arm.
"I shall take this away," he said, "to make sure that you do not play
any more disgraceful tricks upon us. I depend upon you, father, to see
that she keeps to this room, and behaves herself for the remainder of
the week. If she does not, I emphatically assure you that you both will
suffer through her willfulness and disobedience!"
"I will promise for her," said the old man, putting his hand over
Golden's pouting and rebellious mouth. "She will not be naughty any
more!"
"See that she keeps the promise," his son replied, sternly, as he
turned away.
He went to Elinor's _boudoir_ where he found his two daughters
quarreling over Bertram Chesleigh.
"I tell you he admires me the most," exclaimed the elder girl,
angrily, just as her father threw the necklace and the brocade into her
lap, and said, triumphantly:
"Here is the finery the ghost wore, my dears. Divide it between you."
The brocade was thrown down in disgust, but a pitched battle ensued
over the pearl necklace.
"I am the elder, and I am determined to have it," cried Elinor,
resolutely.
"I shall have it myself, if I perish in the effort," retorted Clare.
A wordy war ensued, from which John Glenalvan, to whom it was nothing
new, retreated in disgust.
The contest was ended at last by the handsome Elinor's boxing the ears
of her sister, and taking possession of the spoil on the barbarous
principle of "might is right."