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[Illustration: Cover of Dainty's Cruel Rivals by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh
Miller]
DAINTY'S CRUEL RIVALS
OR
THE FATAL BIRTHDAY
BY
MRS. ALEX. McVEIGH MILLER
HART SERIES NO. 88
COPYRIGHT 1898 BY GEORGE MUNRO'S SONS
Published by
THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY,
Cleveland, Ohio, U. S. A.
INDEX
CHAPTER PAGE
I "A Sweet Girl Graduate" 3
II "The Prettiest Girl in the Room" 13
III The Happiest Day She Had Ever Known 19
IV The Old Monk 22
V "Only a Dream" 26
VI Love's Rosy Dawn 33
VII "The Trail of the Serpent" 38
VIII The Ellsworth Honor 42
IX "All That's Bright Must Fade" 48
X "The Grim Fates" 56
XI Love's Presentiments 64
XII A Maddened Lover 69
XIII Sad Forebodings 75
XIV Dainty Would Never Forget That Day 81
XV Black Mammy's Story 87
XVI The Ghost Alarm 91
XVII The Night Before the Wedding 97
XVIII The Wedding Morn 101
XIX A Madman's Deed 105
XX The End of the Day 110
XXI Would Heaven Turn Away From Her Wild Appeal 116
XXII Unmasked 120
XXIII Ah! The Pity of It! 126
XXIV The Darkest Hour 130
XXV Among Strangers 137
XXVI The Mother's Woe 142
XXVII It Seemed Like Some Beautiful Dream 146
XXVIII More Bitter Than Death 150
XXIX As We Kiss the Dead 156
XXX A Terrible Deed 163
XXXI Lost! Lost! Lost! 168
XXXII It Was the Overflowing Drop 172
XXXIII A New Home 178
XXXIV Thrown on the World 181
XXXV Grand Company 186
XXXVI "Only to See You, My Darling" 190
XXXVII A Wonderful Discovery 193
XXXVIII Good News 201
XXXIX "For All Eternity" 205
XL Conclusion 210
DAINTY'S CRUEL RIVALS
CHAPTER I.
"A SWEET GIRL GRADUATE."
"Her eyes
Would match the southern skies
When southern skies are bluest;
Her heart
Will always, take its part
Where southern hearts are truest.
"Such youth,
With all its charms, forsooth.
Alas! too well I know it!--
Will claim
A song of love and fame
Sung by some southern poet."
"It's a perfect godsend, this invitation!" cried Olive Peyton, with
unwonted rapture in her cold voice.
"Yes, indeed!" assented her chum and cousin, Ela Craye, joyfully. "I
have wondered over and over how we were going to buy our summer clothes
and spare enough money for a trip, and here comes Aunt Judith's
invitation to her country home just in the nick of time."
"And how lucky, to think of her step-son, Lovelace Ellsworth, getting
home at last from Europe! Either you or I must capture him, Ela!" added
Olive, eagerly, her black eyes sparkling with the hope of getting a rich
husband.
But Ela Craye snapped shortly:
"We might--if only she had not invited Dainty Chase."
Olive frowned, but answered, courageously:
"Pshaw! aunt might just as well have saved her manners. Dainty can not
possibly go. She hasn't a decent thing to wear at such a grand place as
Ellsworth."
"She would look pretty in a rag, and we both know it. Dainty by name,
and dainty by nature," Ela returned, gloomily, yielding reluctant homage
to a fair young cousin of whose charms both were profoundly jealous.
Olive and Ela, who were school-teachers in the southern city, Richmond,
Virginia, boarded with a widowed aunt who took this means of supporting
herself and her only child Dainty, who had but just graduated at a
public school, and hoped to become a teacher herself next year. They
were poor, but Dainty, with her fair face and gay good-nature, was like
an embodied ray of sunshine.
It had been very kind in the rich Mrs. Ellsworth to invite her three
nieces to her grand West Virginia home, and to offer to pay the expenses
of their journey. But for her generosity Dainty could not have gone; but
now, at her mother's wish, she wrote, gratefully accepting the
invitation.
"How thankful I am!" cried the mother, joyfully. "It's just what Dainty
needs, this trip to the mountains! She looks so pale and wan since she
graduated."
"So you really mean to let her go?" Ela exclaimed, with pretended
surprise, while Olive added, spitefully:
"We thought Aunt Judith might be ashamed of her shabby clothes. She
hasn't anything to wear, has she, but her last summer's gowns and the
cheap white muslin she had for her graduation?"
"Mrs. Ellsworth knows we are poor, and that Dainty must dress plainly. I
dare say she is too kind-hearted to be ashamed of her dead
half-brother's only child," Mrs. Chase returned, spiritedly; while the
thought would intrude, that if only Olive and Ela would pay their
neglected board bills she might afford Dainty a new summer gown and
dress.
She summoned up courage to hint this fact to them next day, but they met
the timid appeal with angry reproaches.
"Don't think we are going to cheat you of our board bill because we can
not spare the money till school begins next fall!" cried Olive, sharply;
while Ela chimed in scornfully:
"To think of our own aunt dunning two orphan girls for board!"
The poor lady's face fell, thinking of the rent and the grocer's bill,
both due, and not enough money in her purse to meet them; but she sighed
patiently, and answered:
"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, dears, but you know how poor I am,
and that I must take boarders for a living! I'm sure I would be glad to
board you for nothing if I could afford it, though, after all, I'm not
really any kin to you, you know, only your dead half-uncle's widow."
It was true, what the sweet, patient woman said; she was not related to
them at all, but she had boarded them at the cheapest rates, and been
most kind and motherly. They had intended to pay what they owed that
very day, but jealousy of her daughter, their lovely cousin, crept in
between and made them withhold the pittance, in the malicious hope of
preventing Dainty's trip to Ellsworth.
Both girls were handsome and stylish in their way--Olive, a tall, dark,
haughty brunette of twenty-four, while Ela Craye was twenty-two, pretty
and delicate-looking, with a waxen skin, thick brown hair, and limpid,
long-lashed gray eyes. Each girl cherished a hope of winning the rich
and handsome heir of Ellsworth, and they feared the rivalry of a girl as
fresh and lovely as the morning, and with the rounded slenderness of
eighteen, piquant features, rose-leaf complexion, delicious dimples, a
wealth of curling golden hair, and large, deep, violet-blue eyes full of
soul and tenderness.
How could Love Ellsworth, as his step-mother called him, keep from
losing his heart to such winsome beauty joined to the exquisite timidity
of a very innocent and shy girl? Olive and Ela knew but too well that
finery would not cut much figure in the case. Dainty had a real French
art in dress, and could look as lovely in a print gown as they appeared
in their finest silks. Give her a cheap white gown, and a few yards of
lace and ribbon, and she could look like a Peri just strayed away from
paradise.
Her cousins fairly cudgeled their brains for some scheme to keep Dainty
from going with them, and a happy thought struck them at last.
They knew that Dainty had never traveled alone in her life, and that she
was an arrant little coward among strangers. If they could only give her
the slip, she would sooner give up the trip than to follow alone.
They were to go on Wednesday morning, and Mrs. Chase and her daughter
were up betimes, packing the girl's trunk with her freshly laundered
clothing, after which the mother said:
"All is ready, dear, and you'd better go and tell Olive and Ela that
breakfast will be ready in five minutes, for there's no time to lose."
But when Dainty knocked at the door of the room the girls shared
together, it flew wide open, and she saw that it was vacant, while a
note pinned on the pillow conveyed this explanation:
"DEAR AUNT,--Just for a lark, we concluded, ten minutes
ago, to start to Ellsworth to-night instead of in the
morning. It will be so much cooler traveling at night,
you know. As our trunks were sent down to the station
this afternoon, we will have no trouble going, and will
not wake you to say good-bye for fear of giving you a
midnight scare. It would be no use anyway, for we knew
Dainty could not go with us, as her fresh ironed
clothes would not be dry enough to pack till morning.
So, good-bye, and tell her she can follow us to-morrow,
if she is not afraid to travel alone. Hastily,
"OLIVE AND ELA."
Dainty flew downstairs, the pearly tears streaming down her rose-leaf
cheeks.
"They have done it on purpose, mamma! I knew all along they did not want
me to go!" she sobbed, sinking into a chair by the window, quite
unconscious that a tall young man stood outside, having just pulled the
old-fashioned knocker at the cottage door.
In their excitement they did not hear him, and Dainty continued, in a
high-pitched, indignant young voice:
"I didn't intend to tell you, mamma, but I overheard Olive and Ela
saying to each other that they were sorry I was invited to Ellsworth,
and planning not to pay their board so as to keep you from buying me
anything new to wear."
Mrs. Chase's gentle, care-worn face expressed the keenest surprise and
pain as she exclaimed:
"Oh, how cruel they were! And what good reason could they have for
wishing to deprive you of the pleasure of such a trip?"
"Jealousy, mamma!" Dainty answered, with flashing eyes and burning
cheeks. "They did not tell you all that was in their letter from Aunt
Judith, but I overheard Olive saying that aunt's step-son, Lovelace
Ellsworth, had returned at last from Europe, and that they must set
their caps for him. They were afraid I might rival them. Ela said I
would look pretty even in a rag, and she wished they could leave me at
home. So you see"--bitterly--"they have succeeded in doing it."
"Certainly not, my darling, for you shall follow them this morning, and
let them know you were not afraid to travel alone, as they no doubt
hoped you would be!" exclaimed Mrs. Chase, indignantly.
"Oh, mamma, I dare not venture alone! I shall stay at home with you, and
let them have Mr. Ellsworth!" protested Dainty; but just then the loud
clangor of the door-knocker made both start in alarm.
Mrs. Chase stepped quickly out into the narrow little hall, and opened
the door to a tall, handsome stranger, in whose dancing dark eyes she
failed to read the fact that he had listened with interest to every word
exchanged between her and her daughter.
With a well-bred bow he presented her with a card, on which she read,
with astonishment:
"LOVELACE ELLSWORTH.
"Introduced to Mrs. Chase by Judith Ellsworth."
"I am Mrs. Chase, and I am glad to see you," she said, wonderingly, as
she gave him a cordial handshake, and ushered him into the little
parlor, where he saw a girl, fairer than any flower, wiping the tears
away from lovely eyes that looked like violets drowned in dew.
"My daughter Dainty, Mr. Ellsworth," said the widow; and as he took the
soft little hand, he did not wonder that her cousins had feared to risk
her rivalry for his heart.
With his charmed eyes lingering on her perfect face, he explained:
"I have been in New York for a few days, and mother wrote me to stop in
Richmond and join a party of her nieces who would start to-day on a
visit to Ellsworth."
Dainty's bright eyes laughed through their tears as she replied:
"Oh, how sorry they will be to have missed you! But they went last
night!"
"But were not you, Miss Chase, to accompany them?" he demanded; and she
handed him the girls' note, saying, demurely:
"That explains everything."
Lovelace Ellsworth read it with a somewhat malicious smile, exclaiming:
"How fortunate that I came in time to protect you on your journey!"
Mrs. Chase hastened to say:
"We shall indeed be grateful for your escort, as Dainty was about to
give up her trip through her timidity at venturing alone. Now, as soon
as we have breakfast, she will be ready."
Oh, how angry Olive and Ela would have been to see that pleasant little
party at breakfast, and afterward setting forth for the station in
Ellsworth's carriage, Mrs. Chase accompanying to see her daughter off,
and both of them perfectly delighted with their genial new acquaintance,
of whom the mother could not help thinking:
"How admiringly he looks at my bonny girl, as if indeed Olive and Ela
were right in fearing her rivalry for his heart! And how good and true
he looks, as if he might make any girl a kind, loving husband! What a
grand thing it would be for Dainty--"
She broke off the thought abruptly, for the parting was at hand, and her
daughter clung tearfully about her neck.
In a minute it was all over, and Dainty was seated in the parlor-car
with Ellsworth by her side, saying in his musical voice:
"No more tears now, Miss Dainty; for you must try to amuse me, to make
up for your cousins, who have left us in the lurch. But how glad I am
they went on ahead of us--are not you? For we shall have such a lovely
_tete-a-tete_ journey!"
Dainty emerged from her wet handkerchief, like the sun from behind a
cloud, blushing and dimpling with girlish mischief, as she exclaimed:
"But they will be so sorry! They will never get over it!"
She was only a girl, not an angel, so she could not help being pleased
with the thought of the discomfiture of her scheming cousins who had so
cleverly overreached themselves.
The train sped on through the beautiful sunshine of early June, leaving
the heated city far behind, and Dainty's heart felt as buoyant as the
morning, her journey was so pleasant and her companion so attractive,
placing her so completely at her ease, except when he would fix his
brilliant dark eyes so ardently on her face that she would blush in
spite of herself and look down in sweet confusion while her innocent
heart throbbed wildly with a new, sweet sensation almost akin to pain.
After one of these confusing episodes, Dainty tried to shake off her
embarrassment by saying:
"Tell me all about Ellsworth! Is it indeed so grand that my aunt will be
ashamed of me, as my cousins declared?"
"No one could be ashamed of _you_!" declared Ellsworth, with another
glance that set her pulses beating wildly, though she answered,
demurely:
"Thank you; but, of course, you are not a judge of clothes. Olive and
Ela said I had nothing fit to wear at Ellsworth."
"I have never seen a prettier or more becoming gown than the one you
have on now," he replied, with an approving glance at her crisp, freshly
laundered blue linen, while he added: "We have some very nice young men
in the neighborhood of Ellsworth, and I am sure they will all fall in
love with you at sight."
"Flatterer!" she cried with shy archness; but his words and looks
thrilled her heart, and made her think, with sudden passion:
"If only he would fall in love with me, I could excuse all the rest!"
What a change had come to the tired and weary schoolgirl of only
yesterday! She was parted from her mother for the first time in her
young life, among new scenes and strangers, and Cupid was knocking at
the door of her heart. Hitherto she had known only tranquil happiness
and little sorrow. How would it be now?
"Love and pain
Are kinsfolk twain."
Love changes all the world to the heart that admits him as a guest; but
Dainty was not wise enough to bar the charming little stranger out.