STELLA’S APPEAL.
Star went down to the housekeeper’s room after her encounter with Mr.
Richards, and ate her breakfast in a very thoughtful mood.
Mrs. Blunt watched her curiously, and with a troubled expression on her
honest face.
“Child, if you don’t eat more you’ll die, or I’m much mistaken,” and she
deftly slipped a dainty slice of buttered toast on her plate as she
spoke.
“Thank you, Mrs. Blunt, but I believe I am not very hungry this
morning,” she returned, with a smile.
“I should think not, indeed, nor at any other time. You haven’t eaten a
‘square meal’ since you came into this house,” the good woman said, with
an injured air.
Star was too deeply occupied to heed it, and finishing her coffee in
silence, arose and proceeded slowly up stairs to the sewing-room,
intending to finish her other dress that morning.
There was a look of resolution on her young face; her eyes gleamed with
a new purpose.
“I will do it,” she murmured, as she stood thoughtfully outside the door
a moment, one small hand resting upon the knob. “I may as well make a
bold stroke for myself at once, or I shall sink into nothingness. I
_must_ have an education; I cannot—I _will_ not grow up ignorant, and
have poor papa’s kind care in the past all go for nothing.”
She turned the handle of the door and passed into the room.
She found Mrs. Richards standing in the middle of the floor, holding up
the unfinished dress in both hands, and inspecting it with no pleasant
expression of countenance.
She glanced at the young girl as she entered, and as her keen eyes ran
over her dainty figure in its new and tasteful garment, her face grew
dark.
Star bade her a courteous “good-morning,” but she did not even deign to
notice the salutation.
“Who trimmed these dresses?” she demanded, sharply.
“I did,” Star answered.
“Who told you to do it?”
“No one, marm; but I like things made pretty, and as there were plenty
of pieces which could not be used in any other way, I made them up into
ruffles.”
Star spoke very quietly, but a bright red spot burned on either cheek.
“You like ‘things pretty,’ do you? And that is the way you calculate to
spend your time in this house, I suppose?” Mrs. Richards retorted,
sarcastically.
She received no reply, and continued:
“The pieces you have cut up into senseless ruffles I intended you should
make into patch-work for the servants’ beds during your odd minutes.”
Star glanced at the numerous “senseless ruffles” which encircled the
indignant matron’s ample figure, and thought there might be such a thing
as a distinction without a difference.
“I’ve half a mind to make you sit right down and rip off every one,”
Mrs. Richards proceeded, still chafing over the matter, and flushing as
she noticed Star’s glance and half read her thought. “The idea of a
chambermaid with ruffles and furbelows! And I do believe that seamstress
has made your dress so tight that you cannot breathe,” she concluded,
pouncing upon the poor girl to make an examination of the offensive
robe, for the slight, graceful figure before her was not at all pleasing
to her.
“No, marm, my dress is not tight; it only fits me nicely;” and Star’s
slender fingers laid over quite a plait, thus showing that there was
plenty of room for inflating her lungs to their utmost capacity.
“Then you are laced,” persisted madam.
“Laced?” repeated Star, who did not quite understand the obnoxious term.
“Yes; your corsets are too tight.”
“Oh! I never wear corsets; mamma did not approve of them.”
Mrs. Richards bit her lips and colored with vexation. She was not
showing to advantage in this controversy. It was clear that Star’s
perfect form was the work of nature’s own hand, and she would be obliged
to put up with it, unless she tied her up in a sack to hide its comely
outlines.
“Well,” she said, throwing aside the dress she had been examining, “I
want you to come with me now; I am going to assign you your regular
work. For one thing, you are to make all the beds in the house, except
those in the servants’ rooms; then you are to keep Josephine’s and mine
in order, wait upon us generally, and sew when there is nothing else to
be done.”
Star stood looking down at the carpet in a thoughtful way while her
would-be task mistress reeled off these instructions; then she raised
her eyes, which looked almost black instead of their usual beautiful
blue, and fixed them full upon the woman’s face.
“Did you understand,” she began, “when papa wrote to you, asking you to
assume the guardianship of his only child and superintend her future
education, that he had any idea that I should come into your family as a
servant? I am sixteen years old, and although I have been taught to do
many things in my home, and to do them well, I have never done any
_hard_ work. I have spent most of my time in study, and papa left
written instructions with me regarding my future course in that
direction. I am very fond of music; I can paint and draw quite well, I
am told, for one of my age, and papa wished me to keep on with these
accomplishments, so far as I was able to and attend faithfully to the
other branches of my education. I tell you this that you may understand
something of the disappointment I have experienced, since my arrival in
this country, to find that I was expected to fill the place of a common
servant. Do you think my father intended you to make me such?”
Mrs. Richards regarded the girl in astonishment, while her face grew
crimson with shame and anger. She knew very well that Albert Gladstone
had never dreamed that she would degrade his child in any such way. But
Albert Gladstone was dead, and could not interpose to prevent it. She
was obliged to curtail just now in some way, and when she found she must
have this girl in her family, she had decided to dispense with the
expense of one servant and impose the duties on Star.
But she had not once imagined that she would dare question her right to
do with her whatever she saw fit, and she was amazed as well as angry at
the quiet dignity and independence with which she made these statements,
and called her to an account of her duty to her.
“I don’t know _what_ your father _intended_, or what _you expect_,” she
returned, in cold, precise tones. “I know that he wrote me you would
soon be an orphan; that you had hardly a friend in the world, and he
would leave you almost a pauper. He asked me to superintend your
education, so that you would be able to earn your own living by and by.
I intend to do so; and as you have nothing save your own hands to depend
upon in the future, I am going to begin by making you useful at once.
Did you suppose you were going to drop into the lap of luxury, and be
reared in idleness?” she concluded, with biting sarcasm.
“No, marm,” Star returned, respectfully, yet not one whit abashed by the
way Mrs. Richards had perverted the letter which her father had written.
“I am willing to be useful—I _wish_ to be useful—I should be unhappy to
be idle; but I am _very unwilling_ to be made a common drudge, with no
time nor opportunity to pursue my education. You say I have nothing save
my hands with which to earn my living. You are mistaken; I have
_brains_, and I intend they shall serve that purpose.”
“It seems to me that you are making a saucy tongue serve its purpose
pretty early in the day,” retorted Mrs. Richards, an angry red leaping
into her face.
“I do not mean the least disrespect in what I have said, Mrs. Richards;
but I cannot give up all the hopes and aspirations which my father has
fostered all my life without making an effort to accomplish them. I am
frank to confess,” Star continued, coloring, while her lips quivered
slightly, “that from your reply to my father’s letter, I inferred that I
should be received into your family as an equal, and that you would give
me a mother’s care and counsel during the next three or four years of my
life. Papa, I know, also understood it so, and died content, feeling
that I should be well and kindly provided for.”
Mrs. Richards felt very uncomfortable, for she knew that every word Star
uttered was truth. She knew, too, that she was doing a mean and cowardly
thing in making the bright and talented girl a servant; but she _must_
have a house-maid. If she must curtail, she must do it in this way
rather than in her own or Josephine’s wardrobe.
“You are very impertinent, miss, and have been reared with altogether
too high notions for one in your position,” she said, angrily. “You
ought to be thankful for a roof to cover your head, and anything to
cover your nakedness, coming here, as you did, destitute of everything.
An equal in my family, indeed! Music, painting, and drawing! What will
Josephine say to that, I wonder? And who did you suppose was going to
foot the bills? It won’t do you any harm to have some of this
independence taken out of you, and I’ll have you understand, once for
all, that you will fill Maggie Flynn’s position in this house, or none.”
Star bowed her proud head coldly. She saw that she was helpless for the
present, and must yield to the inevitable.
“Very well,” she said, calmly. “I understand from Mrs. Blunt that Maggie
Flynn was about my age; that she had six dollars a month besides her
board, and two evenings out a week. I will consent to fill her place,
_for the present_, upon the same conditions.”
“Upon my word!” exclaimed Mrs. Richards, in a towering passion at this
unexpected proposition. “I never heard anything like it in my life! You
forget that you are indebted to me for the very clothes you have on at
this moment.”
Star could hardly repress a smile at this calculating outbreak.
“You have given me the print for two dresses,” she answered, with ready
tact, “the cost of which, with us in England, would be four pence a
yard. I have nearly made them myself, but you can deduct whatever you
see fit, and I will attend to my own wardrobe in the future. If I do
Maggie Flynn’s work, I must have Maggie Flynn’s pay and privileges,” she
concluded, decidedly.
“You will have nothing of the kind”—Mrs. Richards was fairly hoarse with
anger. “You forget that your father has consigned you to my guardianship
for the next few years, and you will do exactly as I direct you. But we
have wasted time enough in this kind of talk. You are to come with me
now; I will set you to work, and see if we cannot take down some of this
English impudence.”
Star followed the woman as she was bidden, without a word, thinking it
best to discuss the question no further just then; but there was,
nevertheless, a determined gleam in her glorious eyes; her form was as
erect and proud, her step as firm as if she felt herself in every
respect the equal of the woman who appeared bound to oppress her.
All day long she was kept steadily at work; not a moment was she allowed
to rest, except while she was eating. She made beds, swept and dusted
rooms, and ran upon errands, until every bone in her slight body ached
with weariness and her small feet were nearly blistered.
Her delicate hands had never performed such menial duties before, nor
had her gentle heart ever throbbed with such revengeful, rebellious
feelings.
It was eight o’clock before her hard mistress released her from her
labors, and told her to go directly to bed, so as to be up early in the
morning and sweep off the front steps before people should begin to
pass.
She went to her room as directed, but instead of retiring, she took from
a drawer of her bureau one of the packages of papers which she had
rescued from her state-room on that burning vessel, and, weary as she
was, she again descended two flights of stairs, and approaching the
library door, tapped gently upon it.
A deep, manly voice bade her come in, and she entered with a firm and
decided tread.
Mr. Richards was sitting at his desk, engaged in answering some business
letters.
Star had timed her visit to him, for she had watched and seen him go
into the library after tea was over.
He looked up as she closed the door behind her, and his face relaxed
into a kind smile as he saw who it was.
The girl had interested him in the morning by her beauty, grace, and
intelligence, but he had been so busy during the day that he had
scarcely thought of her since.
He did inquire for her at dinner, but there was company present, and his
wife made some evasive reply. If the truth could have been known, she
was rather reluctant to inform him what her intentions were regarding
the young stranger.
“Do I interrupt you, sir?” Star asked, modestly, but without advancing
beyond the threshold.
“Not at all, Miss Star. Come here and sit down; I am just through,” he
answered, heartily.
She went and stood before him. She did not wish to sit down; she could
say what she intended to tell him better standing, she thought.
“You spoke so kindly to me this morning,” she began, “that I have
ventured to come to you for a little advice this evening.”
“Spoke kindly to you! Why on earth shouldn’t I speak kindly to you?” he
asked, in surprise.
Then noticing her pale, weary face, he continued:
“What under the sun have you been doing to-day? You look tired to
death.”
Star tried to smile, but she felt more like dropping her face upon her
hands and sobbing aloud.
She controlled herself with an effort, however, and putting some of her
papers upon the table beside him, said:
“I have brought you some papers which papa gave me just before—just
before he died”—a sob would come in spite of her then. “One is a copy of
a letter which he wrote to Mrs. Richards,” she went on, “and there is
also her reply. Will you kindly read them, and tell me just what you
understand by them?”
“Certainly, if you wish,” he replied, looking a trifle surprised at her
request.
He motioned her again to a seat, then opened the letters and read them
both through.
“I understand,” he said, when he had finished them, “from your father’s
letter that, believing he was soon to die, he wished to provide a home
for you. He states that he has no friends or relatives in England with
whom he would be willing to trust you; that he has next to nothing to
leave you, and begs my wife, as the nearest of kin, to assume the care
of you and your education until you are able to do something for
yourself, trusting to Providence to reward her for her kindness to the
orphan. He mentions that he feels assured she will do this, since she
once entertained such tender feelings for his wife for the signal
service which she once rendered her.”
“Do you know what that service was?” Star asked, in a low tone.
“No; I asked Ellen when I read the letter which she received, but she
seemed to have forgotten to what he referred. Perhaps _you_ know,
though?” Mr. Richards concluded, inquiringly.
Star colored vividly.
“Yes, sir,” she returned, with compressed lips.
“Well, what was it? I should like to know.”
“My mother was a Miss Chudleigh before her marriage, as you doubtless
know, and she lived near Halowell Park, in Devonshire, where Mrs.
Richards was once visiting, and it was during that visit that she saved
her from drowning.”
“Whew! Your mother saved my wife from drowning, eh?” cried Mr. Richards,
in astonishment, and coloring as he remembered his wife’s indifference
upon the topic when he had questioned her about it.
“Yes, sir. Now will you please read Mrs. Richards’ reply to my father’s
letter, and tell me how you interpret it?”
Star did not care to dwell upon the subject of her obligation, since
Mrs. Richards had seen fit to pass it by so lightly.
“I interpret it just as it reads,” he said, after glancing over it;
“that she would be very happy to grant your father’s request, do her
utmost to make a good and useful woman of you, and follow out his wishes
regarding your future education as nearly as she could.”
“Yes, sir, that is the way papa understood it; that is the way I
understand it,” Star said, rising and standing erect before him with a
gravity that made him wonder what was coming next.
“My father,” she continued, “as you know, was a clergyman with a very
limited income, and he conducted my education himself until he became
too weak to do so, therefore I am pretty well advanced for one of my
years. I have read seven books in Virgil, have read two years in French,
and am nearly through trigonometry, and have read a good deal in
history. I was studying harmony in music when papa died, besides doing a
little in painting and drawing. I do not tell you this,” Star
interposed, with a sad smile, “to boast of what I have done, but that
you may understand what my feelings are when I tell you why I came here
to-night. Papa wished me to keep on with my Latin, reading Horace and
Tacitus, with French, music, and history—in fact, he left a written
programme for me to follow out as nearly as I was able. I am ambitious
myself—I am _hungry_ for knowledge. I want a _thorough education_, and
as I must in the future earn my own living, I know of no way so
congenial to my feelings as through literary pursuits. Perhaps I made a
mistake in appealing to you just now, but I could think of no other way
out of my difficulties, for of course I am wholly ignorant of the
manners and customs of this country. I mentioned these things to Mrs.
Richards this morning——”
And now Star’s voice trembled, and the beating of her heart nearly
choked her, for she did not know how this man would receive her appeal
to him against his own wife.
“Well, and what did she say?” he asked, feeling somewhat perplexed over
the matter.
“She told me that I could not go on with my education as papa wished;
that—I was to take the place of a girl named Maggie Flynn in your
family.”
“What!” exclaimed the gentleman, in tones of the most emphatic
astonishment.
“Maggie Flynn, I understand,” Star went on, gathering courage as she
noted his surprise, “was a sort of chamber and waiting-maid, and Mrs.
Richards says that I am henceforth to perform her duties. I cannot tell
you,” she continued, earnestly, “how repulsive such a life would be to
me—to give up all my hopes, to forget, in the ceaseless routine of such
an existence, all that I have already acquired; and I have come to
appeal to you—to ask you if you will not try and persuade your wife to
allow me to continue my studies? I am willing to work, and work hard,
but I _must_ have some time to improve and develop my mind. There are
plenty of girls who can be employed in my place”—Star did not know of
the curtailing business—“and who do not care for an education. Papa
authorized a friend of his to dispose of his library and our household
goods, and give the proceeds to me, after paying all bills. I have a
letter of credit to the amount of a hundred pounds. I do not know the
expense of schooling in this country, but could I not be sent to some
institution for a year or two, and take this money to pay for it? I
should be fitted by the end of that time, I think, to teach, and could
relieve Mrs. Richards of all responsibility regarding my support.”
Mr. Richards’ face was very stern when the young girl concluded, and
Star, looking into it, felt almost frightened at what she had done.
But she reasoned that her situation could not be much worse than it
already was, and it demanded desperate measures.