"I am very sorry to have intruded upon you," said Dolly, as Hope met her
at the door of her room.
Dolly meant to be very dignified and rather haughty, but she behaved
instead like what she was,--a cross, tired, homesick girl. Hope, seeing
the red, swollen eyelids, forgave the crossness, and saying something
pleasant about its being no intrusion, pointed out the little bed behind
the screen that Dolly was to occupy, and went on with the work of
regulating her bureau drawers, that Miss Marr had interrupted, begging
to be excused as she did so. If Dolly had done the proper thing, the
thing that was expected of her, she would have retired behind the screen
and gone to bed then and there. But she had no idea of going to bed, so
long as there was a light burning, and anybody was stirring; so she
dropped down into an easy-chair that stood near the door, and took up a
book that was lying on the table. It was a copy of "Le Luthier de
Cremone,"--a charming little play by Francois Coppee. Miss Dolly turned
the leaves over a moment, then put the volume down, and cast an
interested, curious look at Hope, who at that moment was busy arranging
her boxes. Dolly had studied French sufficiently to enable her to read
some very simple stories, but "Le Luthier de Cremone" was quite beyond
her power, and her glance at Hope was compounded of envy and admiration.
Hope, without apparently observing her, was yet nervously conscious of
every movement, and thought to herself,--
"Oh, dear! why _doesn't_ she go to bed?"
Putting down the book, Dolly's eyes next turned to a certain oblong case
that was lying upon a chair near her.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "do you play the violin?"
"Yes, a little," answered Hope.
"So do I. May I look at your violin?"
Hope hesitated a second, then lifted the instrument from its case. It
was not the good little fiddle that she had earned for herself five
years ago. That was safely packed away. This was a much more costly
fiddle, and had been purchased in Paris for her by a brother of Mr.
Kolb, who was an extensive dealer in violins Dolly had taken lessons of
an excellent teacher, who was also an excellent judge of a violin, and
had chosen hers for her. She had at various times heard him talk about
some of the famous old violin-makers, and recognized their names when
she heard them spoken. As she took Hope's violin from her hands, she
said,--
"Oh, yours is about the size of mine. Mine is English, but it is
modelled on the famous old Stradivari pattern of Cremona, my teacher
said. You know Stradivari was one of the most famous of the Cremona
makers," looking up at Hope with an air of wisdom.
[Illustration: "SHE TOOK HOPE'S VIOLIN FROM HER HANDS"]
Hope nodded.
"But this is a pretty little violin,--sort of quaint-looking," went on
Dolly, amiably. She was fast recovering her spirits, forgetting her
grievances and homesickness in her present interest, with her accustomed
alacrity.
"Yes, I think it is pretty," Hope answered quietly.
"Very pretty; I really think it is prettier than mine, and what a nice
red color it has! Who made it, do you know?"
"An Italian named Montagnana."
"Oh! does he have a shop in London? Did your teacher get it for you
there?"
"No, I don't think he was ever in London, even when he was living. But
he died a great while ago. He lived in Cremona first, then in Venice."
"In Cremona! How long ago?"
"Well, he was a pupil of Stradivari, and he lived in Cremona in the year
1740, and after he had studied for a time with Stradivari, he went to
Venice, where the manufacture of violins was very flourishing."
"What! this is a real Cremona violin?" cried Dolly. "Why--why, Mr.
Andrews, my teacher, said that they were very rare, and when you did
succeed in getting hold of one that it took a lot of money to buy it."
Hope made no response to this speech; and Dolly, looking up at her,
caught the expression of her face, and hastened to say,--
"I didn't mean that I didn't believe it was a Cremona violin; but I was
so astonished, you know, because I'd heard Mr. Andrews go on so about
Cremona violins."
Hope was old enough now to see that Dolly was honest in her
excuse,--that she had really meant no offence,--and, relenting a little,
replied,--
"Yes, I suppose it _is_ hard to find a genuine old Cremona; but my first
teacher was an old German musician, and his brother, who is a dealer in
violins in Paris, procured this for me."
"But didn't it cost a lot of money?"
"It was expensive."
Dolly would have given a great deal to know just how expensive was that
beautiful little instrument, with its nice red color; but even she
couldn't bring herself to ask the question outright of that tall,
reserved girl, who was so perfectly polite and yet so far off from her.
Who was this girl, anyway, she thought,--this girl, no older than
herself, whose father could and would buy a Cremona violin for her? Her
own father--the Hon. James Dering--was a rich man, and a generous one,
but he would have laughed at the proposition of buying a Cremona violin
for his daughter. Why, Cremona violins were for professionals--when they
could get them--and enthusiastic collectors. But perhaps--perhaps this
girl was going to be a professional. With this new idea in her mind,
Dolly gave another glance at Hope. A professional? No, that could not
be. A girl who was preparing to be a professional wouldn't be here at
Miss Marr's school. But a Cremona violin! Dolly wouldn't have been at
all astonished if a girl had shown her a fine watch-case set about with
diamonds. Mary had a very valuable watch of that kind, and she herself
had the promise of one like it when she was as old as Mary. It didn't
occur to her that a Cremona violin was a piece of property that was
yearly advancing in value; that it was, in fact, a better investment, as
the phrase is, than diamonds even. She had heard her father say often
that diamonds would always bring their market value, and that they were
therefore very safe property to hold, though not bringing in any
interest. That a violin of any kind could have this property value did
not enter her head, and Hope's possession grew more and more puzzling to
her. Hope all the time had a keen sense of her companion's wonder and
curiosity, and was half amused, half irritated by it. But she succeeded
very well in concealing the state of her feelings, and was as polite as
ever, even when Dolly nearly dropped the precious Cremona, only giving
utterance to a little gasping "Oh!" Dolly herself was rather frightened
at the possible accident, and was glad to hand the instrument back to
its owner. As she did so, she asked suddenly,--
"Have you lived abroad? Did you take lessons abroad?"
"Yes, I have lived abroad, and I took lessons nearly all the time I was
away."
"Where were you,--in Germany?"
"No, in Paris part of the time and part of the time in London."
"How jolly!"
"Yes, it was rather jolly sometimes, though both my French and English
teachers were very exacting, and made me work hard."
"Oh! I don't mean the work,--the violin lessons; I mean the living in
London and Paris," answered Dolly, frankly.
Hope couldn't help laughing at this frankness.
Dolly laughed a little too, but she was quite in earnest, nevertheless,
and began another string of questions,--what Hope saw, where she went,
what she bought, etc.
Hope's answers did not open the field of entertainment that Dolly
expected, for galleries and museums and music and quiet pleasures of
that kind were not what Dolly was thinking of in connection with Paris
and London.
"But didn't you visit people, and go to theatres and things, and have
fun?" she asked at length.
Hope smiled a queer, amused smile that Dolly didn't understand, as she
answered: "I didn't go abroad to have fun of that sort, but I had a
beautiful time."
"I suppose you had a beautiful time slaving away at that violin."
"I did, indeed," answered Hope, laughing outright.
"What a lot you must know about a violin!"
"I? Oh, no, no!"
Hope at that instant was putting a pile of music upon a little
music-rack. Dolly caught sight of the upper sheet.
"What! you play those things of Bach? Well, you _must_ know a lot!"
"No, I _love_ a lot, and I've studied hard, that's all."
"I should say so; and here," turning over the pages, "are Mendelssohn
and Beethoven and Chopin. Why, I should think you were studying to play
in public. Oh! but here is something more frivolous, more in my style,"
pouncing upon a waltz. "Oh, I just dote on waltzes; try this now, do."
"Oh, no, not now; it is too late. We must have our lights out by ten,
and it is fifteen minutes to ten this moment."
"Oh, bother!" and Dolly wrinkled up her forehead. "I hate to go to bed."
Hope's only reply to this remark was, "Then, if you'll excuse me and
turn out the gas when you are ready, I'll say good-night, for I'm very
tired;" and hastily retreating behind her screen, she left Dolly to her
own devices.
Tired as she was, however, it was a long time before Hope could sleep.
Dolly, too, lay awake for a while, thinking over the many incidents of
the day. But her thoughts were not perplexed thoughts like Hope's. She
had no hurt remembrance of the past to perplex her. She had not by any
means entirely forgotten the little flower-girl, though she had
forgotten her name; but the memory of her was a latent one, and was not
for an instant stirred by her present companion's personality. Hope was
quite a new acquaintance to her. It never occurred to Dolly that she had
ever seen her before, unless she was really that girl whom she had seen
with the Edlicotts last spring. It was one of Dolly's characteristics
not to brood long over anything disagreeable; and lying there in the
still darkness, and reflecting upon the incidents of the day, the little
surprises and mortifications began to give way to a sense of interest
and anticipation, the principal point of interest at the moment being
Hope and her violin. Oddly enough, from the time that Dolly had seen
Hope coming down the hall, and had received that courteous little
greeting from her, she had been attracted towards her. The rather stiff
politeness that had followed, if disappointing, had not been repelling,
and the subsequent bedroom chat, with its revelation of musical
accomplishments and foreign experiences, to say nothing of that
wonderful Cremona violin, had made a fresh impression upon Dolly of such
power that even Miss Marr's attractiveness became quite secondary in her
mind.
Hope could not but see something of this. She was not flattered by it,
however, for as she thought over it, she said to herself,--
"It is not the real Hope Benham who attracts her, but a young lady who
has lived abroad, and who is rich enough to own a Cremona violin, and to
play Bach and Beethoven studies upon it. If she knew that I was the girl
who sold her the flowers at the Brookside station, things would be quite
different."