DRESSING FOR THE OPERA
The passage proved to be an exceedingly rough one, and Brownie suffered
more than any of the party, not being able to leave her stateroom during
all the voyage.
Upon their arrival at Liverpool, she was so weak and wan that Mr.
Coolidge and Wilbur were obliged to bear her in their arms from the boat
to the carriage which was to convey them to their hotel, much to the
annoyance and disgust of Isabel and her mother.
Adrian Dredmond had waited in vain for the opportunity he had so
desired. He had not once seen Brownie during the voyage. He stood by
when they carried her to the carriage, and a feeling of pain smote his
heart as he saw her wan face and sunken eyes.
“I cannot give it to her now, but I will seek an opportunity. I will see
her again,” he breathed to himself.
They lifted her into the carriage, shut the door, and drove away.
“Brownie Douglas—the name is as sweet as she looks—good-by, my Brownie;
we shall meet again,” he murmured; and, with a deep tenderness in his
heart for her Adrian Dredmond went his own way.
From Liverpool, the Coolidges, after a few days of rest went to London,
where they proposed establishing their headquarters for three or four
months, while they made excursions about the country.
Here they took a house in the neighborhood of Regent’s Park, and, to
Isabel’s delight, entered at once upon the gayeties of the season.
Brownie’s heart is stirred with various emotions as she finds herself
thus settled among the very scenes of her aunt’s former life.
Here Miss Mehetabel lived when she was a girl; here she was wooed and
won; here she had lived that short, bright year, loving and beloved, and
which was followed by a lifetime of mourning and sadness.
She wondered if Lord Dunforth were still living, and if it would be her
lot while abroad to meet him. She hoped so; and she was confident that
she should recognize him, from the picture which was now in her
possession, even though so many years had passed, and he was an old man
of over sixty.
Of course, she never expected to meet him as an equal, or even speak to
him; but she longed for just one look into his face, to see if he had
fulfilled the promise of his early manhood, and to assure herself that
he was the noble, high-minded knight which her little romantic heart had
pictured him from Miss Mehetabel’s description.
During the first hours of the day Miss Douglas and her pupils dived deep
into the mystic lore; and so charming did she make their studies, and so
interested did she appear in everything pertaining to their welfare,
that, to their credit be it said, they applied themselves with the
utmost diligence to their tasks, and soon gave promise of becoming quite
proficient.
The afternoons were devoted to sightseeing and riding, the evenings to
receiving company, attending drawing-rooms, the opera, or the theatre.
One morning Wilbur came home in considerable excitement, and throwing
some tickets upon the table, said:
“There, mother, are some tickets for her majesty’s opera, and I want
every member of this family to attend, for there are wonderful
attractions to-night.”
“Then, of course, we must all go, and the girls will be delighted that
you remembered them, for they are not often allowed to appear in
company, you know,” she said, smiling.
“And Miss Douglas, too, mother; I procured a ticket for her,” he added.
Mrs. Coolidge demurred at this.
“But Miss Douglas is in deep mourning; it would not be suitable for her
to appear with us in her black garments,” she said.
“Pshaw! she can wear something else for once. It is a shame to debar her
from such a luxury; any one can see that she is passionately fond of
music, and I should feel mean to take all the others and leave her
behind,” he returned, indignantly.
Mrs. Coolidge thought a moment, and finally assented.
She well knew that too much opposition often whetted passion, and she
had no desire to provoke Wilbur into being a champion for the governess,
and accordingly gave her consent.
He met Brownie in the hall a few moments afterward, and told her of the
arrangement for the evening.
Her face lighted with pleasure.
“Please, if I may be so bold as to make the request, wear something not
quite so somber as this,” and he just touched the black dress.
Her face grew very sad, and her eyes filled with tears. Miss Douglas had
been dead just two months, and the thought of gay attire seemed
unsuitable to her.
“Forgive me if I pain you, but I would like to see you for once as
bright as the others,” the young man added, and then passed on.
She knew her black dress would not be suitable for the opera, and yet
she hesitated about changing it for two reasons.
Her own feelings rebelled against it, as if it were doing a wrong to
Miss Mehetabel.
“And yet,” she said, thinking it over, “I know auntie would not wish me
to deprive myself of the pleasure of attending the opera, and I know,
also, she would not like me to appear in such a place in black.”
The other reason was the fear of displeasing Mrs. Coolidge if she made
any change.
But that matter was settled for her by that lady herself. She came to
her room during the day, repeating the invitation which Wilbur had given
her, and concluded by saying:
“Miss Douglas, have you not something a little more appropriate that you
could wear? This black is hardly the thing.”
“I have several nice dresses which I used to wear upon such occasions,
but I fear they are hardly suitable for my position now,” Brownie
replied, with heightened color, for the first time alluding to the
change in her circumstances.
“Ah!” said the matron, in surprise, and pleased with this evidence of
the governess’ modesty; then she added, patronizingly: “You have seen
better days, I presume?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Well, I leave the matter to your own judgment, only do not wear black,
nor white, for Alma will wear that. Indeed,” she added, after a moment’s
thought, “if you have a nice dress, Miss Douglas, wear it, for, as we
are all going together, I do not care how nicely our party appears.”
An amused smile curled her lips at the expression, “if you have a nice
dress,” and when the door closed after Mrs. Coolidge, she laughed
outright.
Evidently she thought if the governess had seen better days, they could
not have been very remarkable ones.
She crossed the room, and opened the trunk in which she had packed the
richer portion of her clothing, and took out her evening dresses.
The decision was a difficult matter, and it was more than an hour before
she could make up her mind which one of those beautiful garments it
would do to wear.
She had no desire to outshine Miss Isabel.
But that young lady, with all her love for show and fashion, had nothing
more elegant than Brownie’s own wardrobe contained.
She at length fixed upon a delicate maize-colored silk, trimmed with
puffings of soft illusion, and ruffles of fine thread lace.
When the hour came for dressing, she arrayed herself with a throbbing
heart.
She had nearly completed her toilet, when Viola came sweeping in, lovely
in blue silk and white tulle.
In her hands she carried a most exquisite bouquet of flowers.
She stood breathless on the threshold as she caught sight of Brownie.
“Miss Douglas,” she at length exclaimed, “how perfectly lovely you are!”
“Thank you, Viola; but you are altogether too enthusiastic in your
compliments,” Brownie returned, with a smile.
Yet as she glanced into the mirror, she grew suddenly conscious, and
blushed with a sense of her own beauty.
Her hair was drawn away from her broad, low forehead, and knotted
gracefully at the back of her small head.
Her beautiful neck gleamed through the misty fichu, and her rounded arms
were only half concealed by the fall of delicate lace from her sleeves.
She wore a finely wrought chain of gold about her neck, from which was
suspended the beautiful coral cross, set with brilliants, which her aunt
had given her at the same time she gave her the other contents of the
casket.
The butterfly hair ornament to match she had fastened in her glossy
hair, and it sparkled and gleamed with her every movement.
She surely was lovely, as Viola said:
“I’m afraid your mamma will think me too fine,” she said, half
regretfully, and struck by the young girl’s words.
“But,” she added, “this is the simplest thing I have, unless I wear
white, and your mamma said Alma was to dress in white.”
“Miss Douglas, who—what are you?” Viola asked, an expression of
perplexity on her young face.
“My dear, must I repeat my dreadful name? I am Mehetabel Douglas, and a
poor governess,” Brownie said, gayly.
“I know that, of course; but haven’t you been a fine lady at some time
in your life?” demanded the young girl, impatiently.
“That depends altogether upon what you mean by the term ‘fine lady,’
Viola.”
“Why, one who has everything rich and elegant, and who goes among
fashionable people.”
Brownie smiled at this definition of the term, but she replied, gravely,
and a little sadly:
“My dear, you have been so kind to me, I will gratify you in this, only
please remember that I do not care to have it spoken of again. A year
ago—yes, and much less—my prospects in life were as bright as your own
are now. But death and misfortune took everything from me, and I was
obliged to do something for my own support.”
“Did you live in an elegant house, and have servants, horses, and
carriages?”
“Yes.”
“Have you always had these things until now?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Then you are every bit as good as we are, and it’s a shame that you are
not treated as an equal,” burst from Viola’s lips, indignantly, as she
remembered all Isabel’s sneers about “the governess,” and her mother’s
scathing remarks regarding “that person, Miss Douglas.”
“Hush, Viola!” Brownie said, quietly, yet again smiling at the child’s
naïve remark. “Shall I tell you what my idea of a fine lady is?”
“Yes, do,” Viola said, eagerly.
“In the first place, it is to be always kind and courteous to every one;
to respect one’s self, so that one would never do a mean or cruel act;
and never to triumph over or hold one’s self above others who may be
less fortunate in life.”
“That’s it! that’s it! I only wish mamma and Isabel could hear you. They
think they are fine ladies, but, dear Miss Douglas, I’d rather be one
after your standard, and I will!” and the impulsive girl threw her arms
around Brownie’s neck and kissed her heartily.
Brownie was afraid she had made a mistake in speaking thus.
She thought it wise now to change the subject, and asked:
“Where did you get such lovely flowers, dear?”
“Oh, I nearly forgot! Wilbur sent them to you, with his compliments,”
Viola said, apologetically, as she gave them to her.
Miss Douglas colored a vivid crimson.
She did not like to take gifts from him, knowing the feelings of Mrs.
Coolidge and Isabel; and, at the same time, she did not like to wound
him by refusing them.
“They are very beautiful, dear, and it is very kind of your brother to
remember me. But there are so many of them, let me fasten this spray in
your hair.”
She took the loveliest cluster of white moss rosebuds from the bouquet.
“There, see for yourself. Is it not an improvement?” she asked, as her
deft fingers wove it among Viola’s golden braids.
“Thank you,” the young girl said, her face beaming with pleasure. “But
you have given me the prettiest you had, Miss Douglas,” she added,
regretfully.
“And why shouldn’t I, dear? I have not forgotten who was so kind and
faithful to a poor, sick, useless little body when we were crossing the
ocean,” Brownie playfully replied, as she kissed the flushed cheek.
She then selected a few flowers for herself, and telling Viola that she
was ready, they both descended to the drawing-room.
A hush of expectation followed their entrance.
Isabel’s eagle eye took in at one sweeping glance the simple elegance of
the governess’ toilet, and her astonishment was plainly visible as she
noticed those two almost priceless ornaments which she wore upon her
bosom and in her hair.
“Indeed, Miss Douglas, I did not expect to see you quite so radiant,”
said Mrs. Coolidge, in cold tones, and wondering where her governess got
such elegant jewels.
Brownie blushed deeply, but replied, courteously:
“Do I not meet your approbation, madam? If not, any change you may
choose to suggest, I will gladly make.”
“They’ll spoil all her pleasure, the vixens,” was Wilbur’s inward
comment, as his eyes gloated upon her wonderful beauty, and gleamed with
a stronger ray of love than he had henceforth dared betray.
Mrs. Coolidge knew she had tied her own tongue by what she had said to
Brownie in her own room, but she inwardly resolved that the same thing
should never happen again.
“Your costume is rather rich for your position,” she remarked, with
well-assumed indifference, “but it is of no consequence for once.”
Then, as they left the house, she whispered to her daughter:
“No one need know but that she is a guest.”
“It’s fine, isn’t it, to have your governess outshine your own daughter?
I do hope this night’s experience will teach you wisdom,” grumbled the
envious girl.