ISABEL’S DISCOVERY
A few days later Brownie donned her hat and jacket, and went out for a
stroll.
She had been very brave and defiant while confronting Mrs. Coolidge, but
the reaction followed immediately, and she had been sad and low-spirited
ever since.
She felt so alone in the world—so weary of this loveless life.
It was evident that she was looked upon as a mere machine, fit only to
make herself obliging and useful.
To be sure, there had been no more unkind or insolent speeches, for
Isabel had been warned by her mother that Miss Douglas was so extremely
high-spirited that she would not submit to them; but their manner to her
was so arrogant and overbearing that it was absolutely painful to be in
their presence.
She was thinking of it to-day as she went out, and try as she would to
rise above it, to feel that it was beneath her to notice anything so low
and ignoble, yet it did sting with a keenness which was very hard to
bear.
She almost began to long for the old days in the straw factory, and the
independence of being her own mistress again even though she was obliged
to live less luxuriously and work more laboriously.
She walked briskly on for a mile or two, past elegant residences, modern
villas, and ancient halls, wholly unconscious of the more direful
calamity which would befall her upon her return—of the fearful cloud
about to burst above her head.
* * * * *
Isabel Coolidge had, so to speak, been dying of envy ever since the
night of their attendance at the opera.
How did Miss Douglas happen to have such elegant apparel? Where did she
get such wonderful jewels?
She did not believe her mother’s theory that she had been suddenly
reduced from prosperity to poverty.
“Mamma, I tell you I don’t believe the girl came by them honestly,” she
said one day.
“Why, child, you do not mean to say that you believe the girl is a
thief?” exclaimed her mother, aghast.
“It is an ugly word, I know, but you said yourself that you considered
her artful.”
“Yes, I think she is about attracting the attention of gentlemen;
although, with her drooping eyes and unconscious manner, one less versed
in the ways of the world would say she was the impersonation of
modesty.”
“I hate such prudish airs, and I do not think there will be any harm in
watching her.”
Since Adrian Dredmond’s evident attraction toward her on the night of
the opera, she had resolved that Brownie Douglas and she should not live
long in the same house.
With these thoughts continually in her mind, she had kept up a constant
espionage upon the governess’ actions, and to-day, when she saw her
leave the house, equipped for a long walk, she concluded that the right
time had come to carry out certain plans which she had formed.
Watching her opportunity, when no one was about, she slipped quietly
into Miss Douglas’ room, and locked the door after her.
She had never deigned to enter there before, and she was now surprised
to find how tastefully everything was arranged.
She noticed the few choice pictures upon the walls, and here and there
an exquisite little statuette or article of bronze—those relics of
Brownie’s beautiful home in Philadelphia, which she dearly loved.
She went to her dressing-case, and was surprised at the elegance of her
toilet appurtenances. She had none so rich!
One little thing in particular struck her.
It was an exquisite case of Russia leather, with the initials “E. H.”
engraven in gilt upon its handle.
She opened it, and an exclamation of delight escaped her.
Within were six tiny flasks of cut glass, with gold stoppers, filled
with choicest perfumes, upon each of which the same letters were cut.
“Ah, ha! ‘E. H.,’ that does not stand for Mehetabel Douglas!” she said,
with a sinister smile.
She took them out, one by one, removing their gold stoppers and inhaling
the delicious perfume with which they were filled.
Suddenly her attention was attracted by a folded paper in the bottom of
the case.
She took it up, opened it, and read, in a gentleman’s handwriting:
“My Darling: To-morrow will be our wedding day. I cannot come to you
to-day, as I promised, but I send my little gift to help grace your
table. I pray Heaven that the fragrance which this little case contains
may be but the emblem of your future life with me. Ever thine,
“WILLIAM.”
Could it be that Miss Douglas had been rich, and about to be married,
and then disappointed?
There was no date, and no name but that of William, to give the prying
girl any clew as to the author of the note.
No, this could have been no wedding gift intended for her, or the
initials would have been different.
She replaced the note, also the bottles, and then turned her attention
to other things, but becoming more and more convinced of Brownie’s
dishonesty.
She opened the bureau drawers, and was surprised to find several other
articles marked with the same initials.
Two or three sets of undergarments, trimmed with costly laces and
embroideries, a couple of handkerchiefs, which made her eyes water to
look at them, an emerald ring and a pearl pin.
She found Brownie’s jewel-box, containing only a few plain articles of
jewelry, and one or two sets of jet, which she had purchased since her
aunt’s death, and the cuff button, the mate of which was in Adrian
Dredmond’s possession.
But the jeweled cross and hair ornament were not to be found there.
“I wonder where she keeps them?” Miss Coolidge soliloquized, as, after
examining all the drawers, she turned her gaze about the room.
Her eye fell upon a large writing-desk, which stood upon a table at the
further side of the room.
She went over to it, and tried to raise the lid.
It was locked, and the key removed.
Brownie’s keys, which were held together in a bunch by a steel ring,
hung by one of their number in the trunk from which she had taken her
evening dress on the night of the opera.
Isabel’s quick eye soon caught sight of them, and, with a cry of
pleasure, she darted across the room to secure them, then returned to
the desk, and finally succeeded in fitting the right key in its lock.
The desk, in itself, was nothing remarkable, for it had seen long usage,
but its contents were rare and lovely.
A golden penholder and pen lay within; also an elaborate paper knife of
the same metal; a silver paper weight of exquisite workmanship and
design; a seal of onyx, in which blazed a huge ruby; besides several
other things; and all these were marked with the same initials, “E. H.”
Isabel lifted the inner lid, and, behold! the casket of ebony, inlaid
with pearl, which Miss Mehetabel had given Brownie on that last day of
her life, was within.
There were also several packages of letters and papers, but to these she
paid no heed.
“I have found them,” she cried, and was about to seize the casket, when
she caught the sound of a footstep outside the door.
Her heart stood still with fear, and cold chills crept down her back.
She had not dreamed that Miss Douglas would return so soon, for she had
heard her tell Alma she would be gone for an hour or more.
She would not be caught in this contemptible act for all the jewels in
the queen’s crown, and she began to look about for some way of escape.
A hand was laid upon the doorknob, and it turned. A moment’s silence,
and it was tried again—this time with more force.
Then a voice called:
“Miss Douglas, please, may I come in a moment?”
It was Viola’s; and Isabel grew faint with a sense of relief, but she
stood silent, scarcely daring to breathe, lest she should be heard, and
her sister insist upon coming in.
Presently she heard Alma call out:
“Viola, Miss Douglas is not there; she has gone out for a walk.”
Then the steps moved away, and the guilty girl was obliged to sit down
to gather strength, before she could continue her investigations.
Cowardice and guilt are inseparable.
She dare not wait long, however, and soon turned her attention to the
ebony casket again.
Fortunately for her, the little golden key, with its curious chain
attached, was in the lock.
Brownie had forgotten to clasp it about her neck again after replacing
the jewels.
As she was about turning the key she hesitated, while a feeling of her
own meanness stole over her.
“If I didn’t mistrust the girl, I wouldn’t do it,” she apologized to
herself. Then she added: “If she is not what she pretends, of course, it
is better for us to know it before the girls become contaminated; but if
I do not discover anything, why, then it is all right.”
With this bit of doubtful sophistry in her mind, she turned the key and
lifted the lid.
The sight which greeted her dazzled her, even as it had Brownie when she
had first looked upon those treasures.
There lay the coral cross and the butterfly hair ornament, for which she
had been seeking, but she almost lost sight of them while gazing upon
those others, of tenfold more value and beauty.
“Now I know she is a thief!” murmured the astonished girl, when she had
somewhat recovered from her surprise. “It is not possible,” she added,
“that any girl of her age, outside of royalty itself, could ever be the
rightful possessor of such magnificence as this. Why, there is a fortune
here,” she went on; “and no one need tell me that a girl would choose to
work for her daily bread when she has the means of living in luxury in
her possession. But no, it is evident that she has stolen them, and does
not dare to sell them for fear of detection. Yes, and she must have
stolen all those other things marked ‘E. H.’ What a creature we have
been harboring! I imagine Wilbur and Mr. Dredmond will not think her
quite so charming when they come to know that her dainty hands have been
guilty of kleptomania. How exquisite,” she said, bending over them and
touching the precious stones with her white fingers. “This diamond
necklace is fit for a princess. But what shall I do about them?” she
asked, after she had inspected them all. “If she has stolen them, as I
do not doubt she has, they certainly ought not to be left in her
possession. I will take them to mamma, and ask her what shall be done
with them.”
With this decision arrived at, Isabel closed the lid of the casket,
remarking its beautiful inlaid cover as she did so; then, removing it
from the desk, she shut and locked that, and restored the keys to the
trunk where she had found them. Then she sped swiftly to her mother’s
boudoir, devoutly hoping that Brownie would not return until she had
displayed her treasures to her, made her explanation, and they could
decide what was best to be done about the matter.
If the truth had been known, the meddlesome girl had a secret longing to
possess the jewels herself.