BROWNIE AT THE COOLIDGE MANSION
Mr. Coolidge glanced up with a smile of welcome, as Brownie, more
beautiful than ever with the excitement of her little encounter with
Miss Walton, entered the office.
“Miss Walton said you wished to see me, sir,” she said, simply.
“Yes, Miss Douglas, as we sail on Monday, I thought best to close your
account with the firm to-night.”
“You have heard from Mr. Conrad, then, I suppose,” she said, taking it
for granted, while her face became radiant with hope.
“No, Miss Douglas; I have not. I wrote immediately, but, receiving no
reply, after waiting three days, I telegraphed, and his clerk returned
word to-day that he had left town for a week.”
Brownie’s countenance fell, and she grew very pale.
All her bright hopes crumbled to dust, and nothing remained for her but
to plod wearily along day by day.
“I am very sorry,” she said, regretfully. “Of course, it is settled that
I am not to go with you.”
“Why not?” he asked, quickly adding: “You jump at conclusions, do you
not? I told you, I believe, that, as we sailed on Monday, I wished to
close your account to-night. That does not look much like not going,
does it?”
She had forgotten his words, and her face lighted a trifle at this; but
she asked:
“But would you be justified, sir, in taking me without a
recommendation?”
“I think so, and I think you are over-sensitive upon that point. I never
met a governess before without a recommendation who did not try to pass
the circumstance over as lightly as possible,” returned the gentleman,
with an amused smile.
“I only desire that you and Mrs. Coolidge should be entirely satisfied,”
she said, with proud dignity.
“Miss Douglas,” he said, fixing a keen look upon her face, “I told you,
when we first talked this matter over, that I considered it a mere form.
I have been fully satisfied from the first that you are a lady, and
amply qualified for the position I offer you. Now, if you will assure me
that there has been nothing in your life, morally speaking, which would
debar you from entering my family, I can rest satisfied, and there will
be time enough in the future to write to Mr. Conrad.”
Anything in her life, morally speaking!
A little smile of scorn curled her red lips, and the color leaped again
to her very brow; but she lifted her clear, truthful eyes to his, and he
was answered, even before she said, with conscious pride:
“There is nothing, there has been nothing in my life which any one could
question.”
“I knew it,” he answered; “and now I have a request to make, and that
is, that you will allow me to send my carriage for you this evening.
There remains only about a day and a half before we sail, and my family
would like to become somewhat acquainted with you beforehand.”
Brownie shrank from this ordeal, but she knew it must come sooner or
later, and the quicker it was over with the better for all parties.
“Very well, sir,” she answered.
“At what time shall I send for you?”
“An hour will give me ample time to make all needful preparations for
the change.”
“It is five o’clock now. Then at six precisely the carriage shall call
for you. We dine at half-past, when you will meet my family. Now, about
this account; it is not a very large one, Miss Douglas,” he said,
smiling, and turning to the books.
After a moment, he continued, with some hesitation:
“Allow me to give you a check on account. You may wish to make some
purchases before leaving New York.”
Brownie drew herself up like a little princess.
“If you will please pay me what I have earned, sir, it will be all I
require, thank you.”
He ran his eye quickly over the figures, and then paid her just sixteen
dollars and a half, the amount of her earnings for three weeks and two
days.
“Thank you; that is correct,” she said, after counting it; then, with a
bow, she withdrew, a strange feeling of pride and independence in her
heart that for three weeks she had supported herself by the labor of her
own hands.
True, it would take about fourteen of it to pay for her board and
washing, leaving her only two dollars and fifty cents surplus.
She was to receive a salary of five hundred dollars a year, and she
smiled to think how large the sum looked to her now and besides there
were her expenses and the opportunity of a year of travel in charming
Europe.
Brownie arrived at the Coolidge mansion in season to be introduced to
the family before dinner was served.
She did not feel particularly drawn toward either Mrs. Coolidge or her
eldest daughter.
They were evidently worldlings, and received her with an air of
superiority and patronage that was intensely galling to our
proud-spirited little Douglas.
The younger girls, Viola and Alma, were more simple and affectionate,
and, although somewhat hoidenish, yet she felt assured that they had
kind hearts, and promised herself some pleasure with them.
After dinner the whole family repaired to the drawing-room, and the
girls being anxious to know what the new governess could do, desired to
hear her play and sing.
She gratified them, playing and singing for an hour, then tempting them
from the piano, she made herself so sweet and engaging that they were
charmed with her, while even Mrs. Coolidge and Miss Isabel relaxed their
haughtiness somewhat, though they both considered her too pretty and
polished for the latter’s interest. She wished no rival in the way at
present.
“If only Wilbur will not lose his senses and fall in love with her at
first sight,” Isabel said to her mother, when they had withdrawn to Mrs.
Coolidge’s boudoir to discuss Brownie’s merits.
“Never fear, dear; Wilbur knows we would never tolerate a wife for him
unless she was his equal in society,” replied the matron, complacently.
“But you know that sometimes young men fall in love with a pretty face,
and become entangled before they know it.”
Miss Isabel was evidently very jealous of Brownie’s beauty and
accomplishments.
She had not been at all pleased that her father should engage a
governess without consulting her own and her mother’s pleasure.
This feeling was shared by Mrs. Coolidge, but she had learned wisdom
from long experience, and did not openly oppose her liege lord’s
authority upon any matter.
“I think you are worrying about nothing,” she said, in reply to her
daughter. “I’m sure I can’t see anything so very beautiful about Miss
Douglas,” and she cast a proud look at her own fashionable darling.
“Where are your eyes, mamma?” was the impatient reply. “Her features are
perfect; she has the loveliest complexion and color I have ever seen in
any face; her hands and feet are at least two sizes smaller than either
mine or Viola’s, and her form just dainty enough to suit a fastidious
young man like Wilbur.”
“Really, Isabel, you must have spent considerable time inspecting the
new governess to serve up such a catalogue of her charms,” remarked Mrs.
Coolidge, contemptuously, adding: “Perhaps you are afraid she may
attract others, and interfere with your own prospects.”
“She may; who knows?” replied the envious girl.
“Well, if you really think there is danger, I will try and persuade your
father to get rid of her even now. But I am of the opinion that you have
exaggerated her good looks; I see nothing so very noticeable about her,
and I’m sure she dresses plainly enough to suit anybody. She does not
wear a single ornament—nothing but those soft ruches at her neck and
wrists.”
“Her dress is all right, but hers is a style of beauty that does not
need dress to set it off. She would look lovely in anything. But it
would never do to think of sending her away now. Papa is bewitched with
her, and I do believe if grandpa was a young man he would fall in love
with her himself; he has done nothing but sound her praises ever since
he met her in the reading-room.”
“Pshaw! Isabel, how extremely foolish you are; do try and get such
nonsense out of your head. But I promise I will take care that Wilbur
does not see much of her, or any other young gentleman whom we may meet
abroad,” said Mrs. Coolidge, resolutely.
“If you can only put that resolution in force she may prove very useful
to us, after all. Her accent is every bit as pure as Monsieur Renaud’s,
and I must confess that her music is perfectly bewildering. She will
save all need of music-masters or teachers in the languages, which will
be quite an item; it has cost me more than her salary every year for my
music and French,” said Isabel.
“True, dear, and she will also be very valuable as an interpreter in our
shopping and sightseeing expeditions abroad. But to turn to more
agreeable things. I want you, Isabel, to do your utmost to make a
brilliant match while we are in Europe. With your father’s purse, your
face, figure, and appearance, I think you ought to win somebody worth
having.”
“I hope I may, mamma; I should really enjoy being ‘lady’ somebody,” and
the vain girl got up and sailed over to the full-length mirror to survey
herself.
“Is it not time for Wilbur to come, mamma?” she asked, presently.
“Yes; he ought to have been here an hour ago,” answered Mrs. Coolidge,
glancing at her watch.
Scarce were the words uttered when the doorbell gave forth a clamorous
peal; another moment, and there was a manly step on the stair, a deep
rich voice called “Mother!” “Isabel!” then the door swung open, and the
only son and heir was received with open arms and joyous exclamations of
greeting.
Wilbur Coolidge was an exceedingly handsome young man of twenty-two
years, with a face that challenged all criticism—bright, careless,
defiant, full of humor, and possessing a gleam of poetry—a face that
girls judge instantly and always admire. He had a frank clear eye of
deepest blue, brown hair tinged with gold, a smiling mouth, from which,
when he spoke, there gleamed two rows of white, handsome teeth. Yet it
was a mouth one could not quite trust—there was something wanting which
made one feel that he lacked depth, that there was no great chivalry in
his nature, no grand treasure of manly truth, no touch of heroism in his
soul. There were few women who would have read him thus critically, yet
Brownie did at a glance, when, descending the stairs arm in arm with his
sister Isabel, they met face to face, and she was obliged to present him
to her.
“My brother, Miss Douglas,” she said, briefly and coldly, and with a
haughty lifting of her head.
Miss Douglas greeted him with quiet politeness, and passed on; but not
before she had caught his stare of surprise and look of admiration as
his eyes for a moment rested on her face, then swept her dainty form
from head to foot.
“And who is Miss Douglas?” he asked, after they had passed beyond her
hearing.
“Oh, she is a young person whom grandpa came across in one of the public
libraries, and persuaded papa to secure as governess to the girls,” Miss
Isabel answered, with a yawn.
“Governess! Young person, indeed! Why, if I ever saw the mark of the
true and cultured lady in any one, I do in her,” he replied, with
enthusiasm.
“Nonsense, Wilbur! I hope you do not allow your head to be turned by
every pretty face you chance to meet.”
“Not I,” and the young man tossed his head, with a gay laugh. “But this
Miss Douglas is something more than pretty. Hers is a face which, if a
man learned to love, he would gladly serve twice seven years for the
sake of making its owner his wife.”
This was said partly to tease his sister, for he well knew her weak
points; yet, it must be confessed, he had been startled by Brownie’s
wondrous beauty.
“Pshaw! Wilbur, I shall get entirely out of patience with you if you run
on like that; and let me warn you beforehand, if mamma discovers you are
‘sweet’ on the governess, it will prove most disastrous to the poor
girl’s prospects, for she will post her off without any ceremony.”
“Don’t be disturbed, sister mine. We men, I admit, have an eye for the
beautiful, be it in princess or maid. I suppose I may admire Miss
Douglas from a distance, as one would admire a picture, with no thought
of possessing it. By the way, to change the subject, what is father
going to do with the horses while we are away?”
“Send them up to the farm, I think.”
“When do they go?”
“Monday morning, I think.”
“Let us go out to the stable, then, and take a farewell look at them,”
proposed Wilbur, cunningly.
“Not I, thank you! I’ve no notion of being perfumed with the scent of
the stable if any one should call. You can go if you choose, and I will
wait for you in the drawing-room.”
The young man gladly availed himself of the permission, laughing
meanwhile in his sleeve that his artifice had succeeded so well. He did
not particularly enjoy a _tête-à-tête_ with the frivolous girl.
He knew well enough that his fastidious sister would not accompany him
to the stable, and he longed to be by himself, that he might feast upon
the remembrance of that lovely face, which had flashed like a gleam from
Paradise upon him.
“She is the loveliest girl I have ever met, and I will see more of her,
Isabel and the maternal to the contrary notwithstanding,” was his mental
resolve, as he paced absently back and forth in the stable, wholly
unconscious of his stated object in visiting the place.