CINDERELLA.
The summer had turned round to autumn before Lady O'Brien broached
her project about Esther. I think she waited till she had us all
bound fast to her by ties of affection and gratitude. Things were
much the same with us, except that Pierce had grown a little thinner,
a little more pinched and peaked like an old man, and a little weaker
every day.
His couch now was in Aline's octagon room, and, though the autumn was
a fine one, fires were pleasant. We were there one day, Pierce and
I, and Paudeen at Pierce's feet. A little wood fire sparkled in the
grate, though outside the world was full of brightness--brightness of
blue sky and yellow sun, and golden and scarlet woods. The leaves
were beginning to fall, and old Brandon's shoulders were visible now,
where a month ago we could only see the top of his head.
I was restless, and kept going round the panelling, as I had so often
gone fruitlessly, pressing the spines of every rose, and the leaves
and buds, in search of the hiding-place I always said must be there.
Pierce lay watching me with contented eyes which had a spark of
amusement in them.
"I am quite sure it is here," I said, pausing opposite to him.
"Listen, doesn't the panel ring hollow?"
I tapped with my finger, and he listened.
"There may be only the wall behind," he said, "but it certainly does
ring hollow."
"If there is a hiding-place it should be easily discovered," he said
again. "I have always found a singular innocence in those
contrivances."
Now each panel fitted in squarely, being carved separately and set
into the wall, so that a door might be suspected of any one of them.
I went tapping and pushing in a dissatisfied way round about the
room, and finally came back again to the panel that rang hollow.
On the leaves in many places there were little beetles of the kind we
call lady-birds. They had specially exercised my mind, for they
stood much above the surface of the carving. But, after all, it was
Pierce who discovered the little door, not I.
"Do you see that fellow about the middle of the left-hand side,
Hilda?" he said. "Near your hand now? Yes, that is the one."
"I have tried him over and over, for he has tentacles, and the others
have none."
"Try to twist him instead of pressing him."
I tried, and thought he moved ever so slightly. I tried again: yes,
there was no doubt he turned with my hand, but I had little purchase
on him.
"I know," said I. "I'll get Oona's hammer, and see what that will
do."
The claw-end of the hammer just caught the little beetle. I gave it
a wrench and a turn, and there was the click of a bolt. Then, a
little clink, and the panel opened towards me. It was simply a door
in the wall, where I had been looking for a sliding panel all the
time.
I looked at Pierce with expectant triumph. He was nearly as excited
as I. The light poured full into the little cupboard. There was an
Indian box of lacquer inlaid with mother-of-pearl and gold. A little
gold key stood in it. I handed it to Pierce, and drew out next a
pair of white gloves with tarnished gilt tassels at the wrist. Then
a tiny riding-whip. Next a case containing a miniature of a handsome
young man. That was all. Not a scrap of writing--not a word by
which we could guess at what time the girl had lived who must have
gone away so suddenly leaving all her treasures hidden in the wall.
I opened the lacquer box with a hand that trembled. Inside it was
divided into little square boxes, surrounding a larger box in the
middle.
"This first," said I, lifting the cover.
Within there was nothing but a faint perfumed dust in the corners,
and a tiny bit of blue ribbon.
"Ah!" said Pierce. "All that remains of Dulcinea's breast-knot."
We opened another. Within was a tiny gold bodkin and a thimble
studded with turquoise. In another, an old vinaigrette. In a third
a mother-of-pearl bobbin wound with green silk. In a fourth, a
tablet of ivory, with a gold pencil. The last two were empty.
"So this is all your treasure-trove," said Pierce, looking down at
the quaint box.
"Yes," said I, "aren't they lovely? I am so happy to have found
them," for the romance of the discovery gratified me immensely.
"I don't quite think we have found all," said Pierce, who had been
examining the box. "There must be a tray under here."
After a little search we found the tray, which slid outward. It was
a flat receptacle for jewels, with, at one corner, a diamond-shaped
box like those in the upper part.
"Garnets!" cried I, in an ecstasy when the tray had slid out. "They
will look lovely on Esther, and will make up for her sapphires."
Fortunately Pierce was too interested to notice my slip. He took up
the collar of garnets and looked at it.
"Exquisite setting," he said, turning it over and looking at the gold
honey-combing at the back. "I wonder they put garnets in such a
setting."
"Everything was worth doing well then," said I, lifting up the
bracelets to match. The stones were laid on closely, almost like
beads, except in the pendant, where a heart-shaped garnet was
surrounded by diamonds, There was a whole set of the pretty things,
including stars for the hair.
"Look at their soft fires," I cried, "how they will light up on
Esther's creamy skin!"
"They are for Esther then?"
"Yes, I should like them to be for Esther. They are mine to give,
Pierce, and ... yours."
"Oh, I waive all claim to them, little girl! What should I do with
garnets? I think there's no doubt that the jewels belonged to the
lady who left them there, and you, I should say, are her residuary
legatee."
"I shall give Aline the thimble and bodkin," said I, "and all the
rest I shall keep myself."
"What, the tablet and the vinaigrette, and the whip and gloves and
the portrait! Aren't you rather greedy? And the bobbin--I had
forgotten the bobbin."
But I saw he was laughing, and did not justify myself.
"Hullo, there is something we have forgotten!" said he, lifting the
little corner-box. It was detached from the rest, and inside was
lined softly with silk. It held a lock of brown hair, tied with a
piece of green silk. That was all.
I lifted the hair reverentially, and put it beside the brown head of
the miniature.
"Ah!" said I, "but she should not have tied it with green silk.
Green is so unlucky."
I put back all the things in their hiding-place, except the jewels,
and again slid the bolt.
"Now," I said, "no one is to know the secret, not even Aline. I like
to think it is mine, and yours."
But even as I said it I felt that it would not be his for long.
"You will hoard your own treasures there," he said, "and in a century
or two another Hilda will come upon your locks of hair, and your
love-letters, and the portrait of Him, and wonder about the girl who
treasured those things."
"What nonsense!" said I, blushing. "I shall never have such things.
What she will discover will be piles of rejected manuscripts; and she
will peep inside, and think how very dull they are."
Presently Aline came in, and I told her of my discovery.
"You must make me a present of that one panel in the room," said I,
"but I will never tell you which one it is.
"Very well, Hilda," she said, laughing. "I'm sure you've earned that
panel by your years of industrious search."
"And here is your tribute," said I, putting the bodkin and thimble
into her hand.
Just then we heard that Lady O'Brien was downstairs; and, pushing the
garnets into Aline's work-basket, for I didn't want them to be seen
till they were Esther's own, I went downstairs to ask the old lady to
come up. Since the fire had been lit in the octagon room, and Pierce
had sat there, it had come to be a general assembling-place for the
family.
After she had greeted us all, and perched herself in the big chair by
Pierce, she said:
"You won't guess, my dears, what brings me over to-day. It is to ask
a favour, Aline. There is the County Ball a week from now, and I
want to take my god-daughter."
"But Esther has never been to a ball!"
"So much I heard her say the other day. That's what put it into my
head. Never been to a ball! Why, I had worn out hundreds of
slippers dancing at balls, aye, and on the hearts of my partners,
before I was Esther's age."
"I wonder if she would like it?" said Aline doubtfully. You see it
was such an unheard-of thing in our lives, and there was Pierce so
ill; and then how was she to get a proper frock?
"Of course she will like it, not being a saint like you, nor a
literary woman like Hilda," said the old lady with sparkling eyes.
Just then Esther appeared in the doorway.
"Come here, my dear," said the old lady, "and kiss me. Now tell us,
would you like to put on your glass slippers, and step into my
pumpkin, and be whirled off to the Ball?"
"Better finish it, Lady O'Brien," said I, while Esther stood turning
red and white with excitement. "Cinderella has no frock."
"Tut!" said the old lady; "that must be left to the fairy
godmother.... What do you say, my dear?" to Esther.
"I've never been to a ball," said Esther nervously.
"Well, you're asked to one now, and what do you say?"
Esther said nothing, but looked from Aline to Pierce, wistfully.
"That settles it, Lady O'Brien," said Pierce, speaking for the first
time. "Essie would plainly like it, and she must go. Thank you very
much."
"About the dress," said Aline. "I don't think we need trouble you,
our kindest of friends. I have a few lengths of silk somewhere, and
we have a dressmaker who can make it up...."
"I have a little Frenchwoman who'll do it in half the time, and with
a thousandfold the wit. Put it up in a parcel with an old frock of
Esther's, and throw it into my phaeton. There, my dear,"
impatiently, as Aline hesitated, "don't be too proud with the oldest
friend you have in the world! There's a virtue in receiving as well
as in giving."
So Aline yielded the point, and went off to find her silk. I wasn't
quite satisfied about the silk myself, though it was a lovely bit of
old gray silk gauze, powdered with violets. But gray is just the one
colour that spoils Esther's looks; and then the garnets with those
violets!
However, we can't have everything. I shall never forget Esther's
face of joy when she came timidly to ask if I would lend her my
sapphires, and I put the garnets into her hands, and told her they
were her own.
The day of the ball Lady O'Brien sent over the phaeton for Esther
with a note saying that if I would come over to dine and help her to
dress, they would drop me at Brandon on the way back.
Now it was an ideal arrangement, for we were all anxious to see
Esther dressed for the ball, and more especially the twins, for those
little girls have a most amazing taste for finery, especially
considering that they have hardly ever seen any.
When we arrived at Annagower, we found, instead of dinner, one of
Lady O'Brien's delightful high teas, which was much more to our taste.
"I know girls always think dinner a dull meal," said our hostess.
"It is only as they grow older that they discover how much
consolation is to be found in it."
I noticed that the old lady looked a little excited, and I guessed
that Esther was to be introduced to the pink room that evening, and I
was right.
Towards the end of the meal, to which I did justice if Esther did
not, Lady O'Brien left us, saying that she would have Martha's
services first, and that when Esther rang, Martha would come and do
her hair.
"But where am I to dress?" asked Esther.
"Hilda will show you the way to your room, my dear," said the old
lady, going off rather hurriedly, as if to avoid any more questions.
Just as we had finished tea, the fat page-boy came in with a little
covered dish, and set it before Esther.
"Her ladyship's love," he said, with a grin, "and she hopes Miss
Esther will like the dish."
He whipped the lid off in a hurry, and there was a key with a little
label to it.
"What is this?" asked Esther wonderingly.
"Better read the label," said I.
She read aloud, The key of Esther's room, with her god-mothers love;
but looked as mystified as before.
"Never mind," I said, "come and see the room; I know the way,"--and
off we went, to the disappointment of the page-boy, who would fain
have seen the end of the affair.
I took a lighted candle from the hall-table and led the way upstairs.
When we came to the door we found it locked, but Esther opened it
with her key.
When the door swung back she gave a little cry of delight. There was
a bright fire in the grate, and there were wax-candles, with
rose-coloured shades, lit on the dressing-table. The room glowed
rosily before us. I led the way to the dressing-table. On the glass
was a piece of paper, on which was written in delicate, spidery, old
hand-writing.
_This room and all it contains, a gift to Esther Brandon, from her
old godmother._
Esther gazed at the piece of paper with her eyes full of tears, yet
shining, and her lips parted.
"What! all this for me!" she said incredulously.
"Yes," said I, "and more,"--for I had been using my eyes.
On the back of a big chair by the fire was a cosy little
dressing-gown of soft pink stuff; and before the chair a pair of pink
silk-wadded slippers thrust themselves invitingly forward. We had
hardly taken these in when our eyes wandered to the bed. I took a
candle hastily from the dressing-table and held it high. There lay a
most lovely frock, short-waisted and long-skirted, of palest yellow
silk. Beside it a silk evening cloak, of the same colour. A little
away stood a pair of silk shoes, flanked by silk stockings. Over the
pillows lay an armful of under-linen, all laced and frilled in the
daintiest way. Not one thing had been forgotten that Esther should
wear that evening.
I left Esther staring, and went round the room peeping here and
there. Nothing had been forgotten. On the toilet-table, or put away
tidily in the drawers, were all the requirements of a girl's
toilette,--hair-pins, pins, delicate soaps, perfumes, and all manner
of things. Nothing seemed to have been forgotten.
"I feel like an enchanted princess," said Esther at last. "But, oh,
Hilda, isn't it too much? Is it right to accept so much?"
"I wish Lady O'Brien were my godmother," said I.
Just then Martha knocked at the door to know if Miss Brandon would
have her hair done, so we had to adjourn the discussion.
[Illustration: "GARNETS!" SAID THE OLD LADY, PEERING CLOSELY. "THEY
ARE NO GARNETS."]
Martha was certainly a very clever maid. She piled Esther's hair in
the most beautiful soft masses round her head, seeming to bring out
the bronze shades that I think are so great a beauty in it. She did
everything so quickly and expeditiously that in a very little while
Esther was dressed, and looking so grand and stately a young lady as
she stood in the middle of her little room that I could hardly
recognize her.
"I was to tell my lady when you were ready, Miss," she said. "She
wants to see you before you put on your cloak."
And then she went out, closing the door.
I clasped on Esther's neck the collar and pendant of garnets, and put
the stars in her hair. They looked lovely with the pale yellow, and
Esther, standing there with her head bent, I really thought must be
one of the most beautiful creatures possible.
I had hardly done before Lady O'Brien came in, exclaiming at the
lateness of the hour, in order, I guessed, to cover her
embarrassment. But Esther ran to her and put her arms round the
little old lady and kissed her without a word; and the two seemed to
understand each other perfectly.
I noticed that Lady O'Brien had carried in a little packet with her,
and presently, when she put back Esther, and stood a little way off
to look at her, I saw that it was a jewel-case. Her eyes rested on
the garnets.
"I brought you a little string of pearls, child," she said, "but you
have far more beautiful jewels, and they go better with your frock."
"They are garnets," said Esther, "and Hilda's gift to me. I should
like to wear them."
"Garnets!" said the old lady, peering closely. "They are no garnets.
Take off the collar till I see it in the light."
I felt much abashed, for if the things were mere glass the pleasure
of my gift to Esther would be gone. Lady O'Brien turned them this
way and that way.
"H'mph! garnets indeed!" she cried contemptuously. "They are rubies,
and exceedingly fine ones, if I know anything about it. There won't
be a woman there to-night with finer jewels. I'm only afraid they're
too fine for a girl."
Then Esther turned to me, and said that if the stones were indeed
rubies that they must be mine and not hers; but I laughed at her, for
to my mind and my love Esther is far above rubies, and I told her so.
But there was no time to continue the discussion, for just then the
page-boy knocked at the door to say that the carriage was round; and
Lady O'Brien took the cloak and wrapped Esther in it with great
tenderness, as if she were her own child.
I noticed the pleasure and the gratitude shining in Esther's eyes,
and said to myself that she would not refuse to become Lady O'Brien's
adopted child.
What excitement there was at Brandon, where the twins sat demurely on
chairs against the wall of the big bare drawing-room, and the boys
stood on the rug pretending to feel bored, and Aline leant on the
edge of Pierce's wheeled sofa, which had been brought in, all waiting
for Esther's appearance! And peeping in at the door were Oona and
her handmaidens.
I stood by the door, and whisked off Esther's cloak as she entered.
I heard the twins' rapturous groan of delight, and the murmur of
admiration from the others, and felt a share in Esther's triumph.
Withal, she looked so sweet and modest, that we all felt she would
never be spoilt by the world or its vain praises.
"But the frock!" said Aline, bewildered.
"Ah, my dear," said Lady O'Brien, who had a bright spot of excitement
in each cheek, "that is a little liberty of mine; and nothing at all
to what I shall be taking presently, nothing at all, my dear!"
"Come home early to-morrow, Essie," we cried, as the carriage drove
off, "and tell us all about the ball."