"You have made a very wise selection, Mrs. Brown," she said. "I quite
agree with you that there is no book more instructive than the
dictionary. You may read me twenty pages, or such a matter. I deem it
very instructive, indeed--to you."
With a gasp, Dorothy took the book. Oh, how tedious it was, pronouncing
word after word, and giving their definitions!
Every now and then Mrs. Garner would nod her head, remarking that such
and such a word it would be well for her to take extra pains to
remember, as they were in such general use in every-day conversation.
At length she ceased to make remarks altogether, and when Dorothy
glanced up at her through the blue glasses which she wore, she found
that the old lady was fast asleep, and with a very tired look on her
face.
Dorothy laid down the book with a sigh, crossed her thin little white
hands in her lap, and gave herself up to conflicting thoughts.
Only a little while before Jack had loved her so devotedly, and now he
was about to marry Jessie, her friend of other days, whom he scarcely
noticed when she was only Dorothy's friend.
While she was meditating over the matter, one of the maids put her head
in at the door.
"If you please, Mrs. Brown, would you mind coming to Miss Staples a few
moments?" she asked. "Her maid has leave of absence this week, and she
misses her services."
"I will go with pleasure," said Dorothy, rising and following her at
once.
As she entered the pretty blue-and-gold _boudoir_, she saw that Jessie
had changed her mind about going to the opera that evening, for she was
already dressed in opera attire.
"You wished to see me?" said Dorothy, in a husky voice.
"If you please, Mrs. Brown," said Jessie. "I should like you to
accompany Mr. Garner and myself to the opera to-night, as my maid--that
is, if Jack's mother has no objection, of course."
She did not catch the murmured words her companion uttered.
"There are a few little finishing touches to my toilet which I would
like to have you help me with. In that velvet case on the center-table
you will find a necklace of sapphires and diamonds. You may fetch it to
me."
With trembling hands Dorothy clasped the necklace around Miss Staples'
firm white throat.
"They are very beautiful--don't you think so?" she asked, looking at
Dorothy with the old-time burst of enthusiasm which she remembered so
well.
"Yes," returned Dorothy, in a low voice.
"They are Mr. Garner's gift to me. To-day is my birthday," she went on,
"and this is Mr. Garner's gift--beautiful, is it not?"
"Yes," said Dorothy, in the same low, wistful voice.
"He is so considerate of my wishes; I had merely expressed the words
that I admired sapphires and diamonds, and see! he has presented me with
this lovely set!"
"The gentleman must have a very generous heart," said Dorothy, faintly.
Jessie Staples started and looked at her searchingly.
"Do you know that your voice reminds me of the voice of a young girl
whom I once knew and loved dearly?" she said, huskily.
Oh, how those words thrilled every fiber of Dorothy's being!
"She was a very fair young girl," continued Jessie, thoughtfully, "but
she went astray."
The bracelet that Dorothy was holding fell to the floor with a crash.
"Oh, I--I must have broken it!" she sobbed.
"Never mind," said Miss Staples; "you could not help it. Accidents are
liable to happen at any time. It is not past mending, I am sure. Do not
allow it to trouble you."
She quite believed that Mrs. Brown was a trifle awkward--probably a
little nervous, and she did her best to reassure her.
"You must not feel badly about it," she repeated kindly. "I, too, am
nervous sometimes. Why, only to-night I dropped my cup of chocolate,
breaking the cup into bits, my hands were so nervous. I had such a
headache all day, that I did not feel able to go down to the table. Even
now I am by no means free from the terrible pain in my head. We shall
leave the opera early," she went on, adding: "No doubt you are pleased
to hear that."
"It does not matter much to me, madame," came the faint reply.
"The carriage will be here in half an hour. I trust you will be ready,
Mrs. Brown. Please have my wraps in readiness then. One of the maids
will tell you where to find them. You will not have much time to get
your own wraps."
At the hour named, Dorothy stood ready, and a few minutes later Mr.
Garner appeared in the corridor.
Taking Jessie's arm, he led her down to the carriage, seated her, helped
in the little dark figure, and then proceeded carefully to tuck Jessie
in with all the robes.
They were only ordinary attentions bestowed upon her companion, but they
rankled deeply, like the thrust of a sharp sword, in the heart of the
girl who sat there witnessing it all.
They talked upon indifferent subjects, but it seemed to Dorothy that
every word held a double meaning.
Oh, how solicitous he was for her comfort! how he gathered the wraps
about her, anxiously inquiring if she felt the cold air! how low and
tender his words seemed to the girl sitting opposite them, and both
seemed entirely oblivious to her presence.
The curtain was up when they reached their box, but all through the
opera the little dark figure who shrank back behind the silken hangings
saw nothing, heard nothing; she was watching so intently the old lover
who was so near, and yet, alas! so far from her.
In the old days she had loved Jessie Staples, but now, as she saw her
old friend and Jack Garner all in all to each other, she grew in a
single hour to almost hate her for usurping her place in his heart.
True, there was not the same devotion that he had been wont to pay her;
but then, Jack was older now and graver. How he had come by this sudden
wealth puzzled her. Then, by degrees it all came back to her--how he
used to say that some day there was a bare possibility of his being
wealthy---that he had some expectations from a distant relative. Surely
those expectations must have been realized, or he could not be in the
position which he was now enjoying. How strange that the Garners had
lifted Jessie Staples out of the old life, and that she now was Jack's
betrothed bride. And she wondered vaguely if he had forgotten the
Dorothy he had loved so well.
Suddenly he turned toward her, and at that moment Jessie rose hastily to
her feet.
"We will get home as quickly as possible," he said, hurriedly. "Miss
Staples is indisposed."
Jessie leaned heavily on his arm, and they went quickly out of the
building and into the carriage.
All the way home his arm supported her, and her head leaned helplessly
on his shoulder.
Dorothy followed with her wraps up to Miss Staple's _boudoir_.
"Thank you--that will do," she said, wearily, dismissing her at her
door, and Dorothy turned away.
One of the maids had rocked little Pearl to sleep, and the babe lay
slumbering quietly in her crib.
Dorothy did not go toward it, as was her wont upon entering her room at
night--indeed, she had forgotten about the child until she heard her
cough, a little later on.
She was just about to cross the room to the little one, when one of the
maids came hurriedly to her door.
"Would you mind sitting up with Miss Staples?" she cried, breathlessly;
"she is anything but well. It looks to me as though she has a fever, but
she will not hear to having a doctor called, or even of letting Mrs.
Garner know how ill she is. She declares that, with a good night's rest,
she will be all right in the morning."
Dorothy went hastily to Jessie Staples' room, while the girl remained to
take charge of the child for the night.
She found Jessie as the maid had declared--quite ill and
feverish-looking, but still wearing the soft chiffon dress she had worn
at the opera, with the sapphire necklace gleaming on her white throat,
and bracelets shining on her polished arms.
Dorothy went quickly up to her.
"You must let me remove these things, and get you into bed at once," she
said coaxingly but firmly. "Your face is scarlet, and your hands
tremble. You must take some hot lemonade, and go quietly to sleep."
Jessie was quite passive under her commands, but the pain in her head
did not seem to abate.
For long hours, Dorothy worked patiently with her to allay the fever,
but it seemed to increase with every moment.
She wanted to arouse the household, and send for a doctor, but Jessie
pleaded most pitifully.
"You are very, very ill," cried Dorothy, in agony. "I must send for some
one, or you will die!"
"Hush! I want to die!" cried Jessie, in a low whisper; "that is just it;
I do not want to live."
Dorothy tried to soothe her, thinking it was but the idle vagaries of a
wandering mind.