THE TWO FOSTER-CHILDREN MEET.
Caroline was lying upon a heap of rich garments piled on the sofa. She
was trembling still, and every few moments a burst of bitter sobs broke
from her. Three women were standing by--her own maid, Eliza, upon whose
sympathetic face tears were trembling; Margaret, her sister; and, most
conspicuous of all, Olympia's French maid, who bent over the poor girl,
with a bottle of perfume in each hand, with which she insisted on
assuaging the unhappy girl's anguish.
Lady Clara comprehended the scene at a glance, went up to the sofa, took
the French maid by the shoulders, and wheeled her away so swiftly that
the bottles jingled; then she fell upon her knees by the sofa, and flung
one arm over Caroline.
"Don't mind them; don't let them bother you. Just tell me what has come
over you, and I'll set it right, or know the reason why."
The voice, so sweet, so round and cheering, aroused Caroline.
She rose up on her elbow, and seeing the bright, honest face which had
bent toward her so kindly from the box, reached out her arms, and wound
them over Clara's neck.
"That's right; that's sisterly. I wish you were my sister; but what's
the use of wishing? There! kiss me again, for I mean to be a mother to
you--I do, indeed! Now tell me, what was it that struck you down so? It
was frightful; it took away my breath. Tell me all about it. My maid
here and yours were sisters, and I shouldn't wonder if we knew each
other in America. But that is so long ago, it wouldn't signify, but for
the maids, who love us so, that it makes a sort of tie. Don't you think
so?"
"Oh, if it could! if it could! I have no relative but one, and she will
not pity me!" cried Caroline, clinging to Lady Clara. "She will make me
go back to that hateful part! It was bad enough before, but now I should
die of shame!"
"Why? Why now more than at first?" inquired Clara.
"I will tell you. I know who you are, and how good every one thinks you.
I hate the stage!"
"How strange! I cannot understand it. You don't know how I envied you
when all those people started up, waving their handkerchiefs and
shouting--to see them so sorry and disappointed when you did not come
back. I could hardly keep myself from leaping over the box, and asking
the crowd to let me try!"
Caroline looked into that animated face with wonder. The tears stood
still on her cheeks, a faint smile crept into her eyes. Then she shook
her head.
"Ah! I understand. There was a time when I thought like you, but that
was before--before--"
"Before what? Margaret and the rest of you, just go outside. The room
isn't large enough for so many. There, we are alone now. Just tell me
all about it. You can trust me."
"I know it. Well, Lady Clara--you see I know your name--"
"Exactly. But just call me Clara--nothing more. I really don't care for
being a lady--at any rate, not much. That one thing is going to give me
any amount of trouble yet, you'll see. Well, now, having settled the
lady, tell me why and when you began to hate the stage so. I think it is
a glorious life. Just put me where you stand, without a sovereign to
help myself with, and I'd give up the ladyship to you in a minute."
"But that is because you own your life."
"Own my life? Of course I do. That is just what every soul must own."
"Not if--if she cares for some one more than her life."
"Oh-e! oh-e! That is the secret! And he don't like it? The heathen! I
wish he had seen you just now!"
"He did. He was standing in the box close by you. I saw his face, for
the first time in months. He was leaning forward; his eyes met mine.
They were full of reproach--contempt, perhaps. I could not tell, for the
house swam round, the lights seemed leaping toward me. Then I felt as if
the noise were putting them out, for everything grew dark."
"And you fainted dead away, poor dear! I know how to pity you. Not that
I have had trouble yet; but it is sure to come, and then, of course, you
will be sorry for me."
"I shall, indeed."
"Just as I am sorry for you now. But who is the man?"
"I hardly think I know. He gave me an Italian name, but I feel sure it
was not his."
"That accounts for his antipathy to the stage. If he had really been an
Italian, your singing would have entranced him. It was heavenly; but an
Englishman--. Well, well, we must see!"
That moment the door swung open, and Olympia came in, radiant with
jewels and fierce with anger. She saw Lady Clara, and stopped upon the
threshold in haughty astonishment. Caroline shrank from the stormy
expression of her face, but faltered out:
"Madame, it is Lady Clara, the daughter of Lord Hope."
Instantly the frown lost itself in a bland smile. Olympia was equal to
her part at all times. She did not often see a lady of rank in her
dressing-room, and the honor drove away the indignant wrath intended for
Caroline.
"Ah!" she said, "this poor child--it was so unfortunate! But she will
recover. In a day or two she will get back her courage. What a voice she
has, my lady! Did you hear? So fresh, so powerful, up to the very time
when she broke down. What could have occasioned it?"
"It is indeed a misfortune," said Clara, with some dignity; "because I
am sure she will never do for the stage. Her voice is superb, but so
uncertain! When we compare it with yours, madame, it is to regret that
she ever ventured so far."
Olympia seated herself. She had a few moments to spare before the
call-boy would summon her back to the stage.
"There you mistake, my lady. When I was her age no one ever dreamed that
I would succeed as a singer; but you see what resolution and study can
do."
"But you _had_ study; your guardians gave plenty of time. Let her have
that time; let her friends have an opportunity to think what is best for
her."
"Her friends? I did not know that she had any in England."
"Oh, yes! I am one; Lady Hope is another. Then there is Mr. Closs."
"Oh!" said Olympia. "It is to that gentleman we owe the honor of this
visit?"
"Yes," answered Clara. "He escorted me here. Being Lady Hope's brother,
it was proper, you understand."
Olympia was looking in Clara's face. The girl pleased her. The bright
mobility of her features, the graceful gestures with which she
emphasized her expressions, charmed the experienced actress.
"Ah, if my daughter had your abandon!" she exclaimed, with enthusiasm.
"Or if I had her sweet dignity. But fortune is sometimes very perverse.
Now I should glory in the applause which makes her faint away."
"Ah! she is sensitive as a child, proud as a duchess; but, where we have
plenty of genius, these things only serve to brighten it. I shall take
Caroline into my own training. When you come to hear her sing again, it
will be a different affair."
"Oh, madam, do not ask it!" cried Caroline, in a panic. "I never, never
can go on to that stage again!"
"We shall see," answered Olympia, blandly. "Here comes the call-boy; I
must say adieu, with many thanks for this visit."
"But I have a request to make. You will give her time?"
"Oh! yes, my lady. She shall have sufficient time."
Olympia went out smiling; but Caroline understood the craft that lay
under her soft words.
"You see that I have accomplished something," said Clara, delighted with
her success; "we have gained time."
"No, no! She will have her way."
"What! that soft, handsome creature?"
"Has a will of iron!"
"And so have I!" exclaimed the young girl, "and my will is that she
shall not force you into a life you do not like; but I wonder at it.
Upon my word, if it were not for one thing, I should like to change
places with you."
Caroline shook her head.
"You have no idea what the life is!"
"Oh! yes, I have; and it must be charming. No dignity to keep up, no
retinue of servants to pass every time you come and go; but all sorts of
homage, plenty of work, while everything you have brings in a swift
recompense. Talent, beauty, grace discounted every night. Oh! it must be
charming."
"I thought so once," answered Caroline, with a heavy sigh.
"Well, never trouble yourself to think about it again. If that lovely
woman has an iron will, you must get up one of steel; but here comes
Margaret. I suppose Mr. Closs is getting tired of staying out there in
the dark. Besides, Lady Hope will be frightened. Adieu, my friend; I
will manage to see you again."