A TERRIBLE ACCUSATION
Mrs. Coolidge looked up with a frown, as Isabel entered the room.
“What have you there?” she demanded, as she caught sight of the casket
which her daughter carried.
“You remember, mamma, what I said about Miss Douglas being the possessor
of such elegant jewels?” said Isabel, not heeding the question.
“Yes; you said you did not believe she came by them honestly. Why?”
“I am sure of it now. Look here!”
She suddenly threw back the lid of the casket, and placed it in her
mother’s lap.
“Merciful heavens, child! Where did you get these? Ah!” she continued,
as Isabel did not reply, “here are the very ornaments which Miss Douglas
wore the other evening.”
She looked up at her daughter, and the two read each other’s faces in
silence for a moment.
“You do not mean to tell me that you found all these in her possession?”
she at length asked, in a low tone.
“I do, mamma,” Isabel said, impressively.
“But how did you happen to discover them? Surely, my daughter, you have
not been guilty of prying into her things during her absence,” said Mrs.
Coolidge, gravely.
Isabel colored violently.
“I have, mamma. I should think it was time some one investigated
matters, when we have a governess in the house possessing such
treasures. I believed her guilty of theft, and I was determined that the
girls should not remain under her influence if anything could be proved
against her. So I set myself to work; and I think when you have examined
the contents of that box, and hear what I have to tell you, that you
will conclude that she is no fit instructress for your daughters.”
“Isabel, I am afraid you have done a very unwise thing,” remarked her
mother, thoughtfully, with her eyes still fixed upon the jewels.
“How so?”
“We cannot prove that she stole a single article in her possession.”
“Why, she has quantities of beautiful things, marked with the initials
‘E. H.’”
And Isabel explained about the case of golden-stoppered perfumery
flasks, and the contents of the writing-desk; also about the note.
“If she is light-fingered, you don’t want her here; she’ll be adding to
her stock by approaching our treasures,” concluded the heartless girl.
“No; if she is that kind of a person, she ought not to be allowed to
remain.”
“Well, do you believe that any girl in her circumstances could be the
honest possessor of that fortune?” Isabel asked, pointing toward the
gleaming jewels.
“N-o, I’m afraid not. Yet I dislike, of all things, that you should have
got them in the way you have.”
Mrs. Coolidge took up the diamond necklace, and it sparkled in her hands
like huge drops of dew in the sun.
“Very well; I will replace them at once, mamma, if you think best, and
we will say no more about it,” replied her daughter, cunningly.
She had noticed the avaricious gleam in her mother’s eyes as they
contemplated their beauty, and she knew she would give as much to
possess them as she would herself.
“That would never do, my daughter. I should not rest easy while there is
a suspicion against Miss Douglas’ honesty in my heart. There is only one
thing to be done now.”
“What is that?”
“We must demand an explanation of her immediately upon her return.”
“Of course, she has a trumped-up story of some kind; she is too artful
not to be prepared for us.”
“She will have to prove her property, my dear. At all events, I shall
advise her to dispose of them in some way. It is not proper for a
governess to have such valuables.”
“Perhaps she would sell them to us, mamma,” said Isabel, a greedy look
in her eyes. “That tiara would be vastly becoming to me.”
“They are the most exquisite jewels I have ever seen in my life, and the
settings are peculiar. But what is there underneath? Have you looked,
Isabel?” Mrs. Coolidge asked, finding the velvet bed was movable.
“No; I was so startled at finding such an array that I did not stop to
make any further investigations, but brought them directly to you.”
Mrs. Coolidge lifted the velvet bed.
“What have we here?” she exclaimed, as she saw the enameled locket
studded with diamonds.
With breathless curiosity she touched the spring, and it flew open,
revealing the face of Lord Dunforth.
“Who can it be, mamma?” asked Isabel, with wonder-wide eyes.
“I do not know; no one who belongs to Miss Douglas, I fancy, from his
looks. How strangely he is dressed—like some court gentleman.”
“And what is this?” said Isabel, taking up the card that lay beneath.
Then she cried out. “Why, mamma, it is a dancing list, and look! here
are the names of counts and lords! Do you believe now that Miss Douglas
ever came by these things honestly?” she demanded, in tones of triumph.
“No, Isabel, I do not,” returned her mother, with firmset lips; “and I
shall inquire into it immediately on her return.”
“What could a young girl eighteen years old—a poor girl without a penny,
too, and who had never been out of her own country before, know of lords
and counts?”
The idea was absurd.
There was a mystery about the whole thing, a tantalizing mystery, which
both women were eager to solve.
Evidently Miss Douglas had seen better days, they reasoned, or she could
never have received the excellent education she possessed; but then any
enterprising person in moderate circumstances could acquire that under
the training of the first-class schools which are found in most of the
larger cities of the United States.
While these thoughts were passing through the mind of Mrs. Coolidge, she
heard the hall door open and close, and Brownie’s voice in cheerful
conversation with Wilbur.
He had joined her by accident (?) while she was walking, and had made
himself so entertaining and agreeable that the clouds upon her face had
all been driven away.
She tripped gayly upstairs, wholly unconscious of the thunderbolt
awaiting her.
Isabel confronted her as she reached the top stairs.
“Mamma would like to see you in her dressing-room immediately, Miss
Douglas,” she said, haughtily.
She colored at the tone and manner, but, wholly unconscious of any
coming evil, she obeyed the summons as soon as she had removed her hat
and jacket.
She found Mrs. Coolidge sitting cold and dignified in her armchair.
“Be seated, Miss Douglas,” she said, solemnly. “I wish to speak to you
upon a matter of importance.”
Brownie sat down, her clear eyes wide with wonder at her reception.
There was a moment’s awkward silence, the lady of the house hardly
knowing how to commence.
“Ahem!” she began, shifting her glance from the clear, innocent eyes,
which she had thought must have fallen before her accusing look. “Ahem!
Miss Douglas, I have sent for you to ask what may seem a strange
question; nevertheless, I feel it to be a duty to myself and family to
ask it.”
Brownie’s fair face began to change color again.
Mrs. Coolidge noticed it, and her assurance was restored.
“I, of course, expect you to give me a straightforward reply,” she
added, impressively.
The shining brown head was lifted a trifle, her delicate nostrils
dilated, while an unwonted spark lighted those beautiful eyes, which
never for a moment left the matron’s face.
She requested to give a straightforward answer!
When had she ever done otherwise?
“I wish to ask you, Miss Douglas,” Mrs. Coolidge said, coming to the
point at once, and feeling very uncomfortable beneath her look, “if you
have anything in your possession which does not honestly belong to you?”
She now fixed her stern gaze full upon the beautiful face. The battle
was begun, and she was prepared to fight it out.
For an instant all three—for Isabel had returned to the room, and now
stood behind her mother’s chair, where she could watch her rival—could
distinctly hear the ticking of Mrs. Coolidge’s watch, which lay upon the
dressing table at her side.
Then Brownie arose, and stood like an insulted princess before her
inquisitor.
“Madam, I ask—nay, I demand—to know why you put such a question to me!”
she said, in low, firm tones.
Her face had grown white as the narrow linen collar which she wore, and
her eyes burned dangerously.
“You forget yourself, Miss Douglas,” Mrs. Coolidge said, pompously. “It
was I who asked you a question.”
“And I consider such a question an insult, madam!”
“Very well; I expected you would; all people who are guilty of wrong
feel insulted, or appear to, when they are accused.”
“Guilty of wrong! accused! I do not understand you, madam. Of what do
you accuse me?” demanded the young girl, with a proud dignity which her
employer had not expected from her.
She began to feel a little shaky, but she was in for it now, and must go
on.
“I accuse you of having stolen costly articles and appropriating them to
your own use,” she said, solemnly.
“Explain yourself, if you please, Mrs. Coolidge.”
Those brown eyes were almost black now, but her answer was intensely
quiet, and the lovely face like a snowflake.
“Allow me to ask you one question before I explain.”
“Certainly.”
“How came you by those beautiful jewels, those very costly ornaments,
which you wore to the opera last Wednesday evening?”
“They were given to me, madam.”
“By whom?”
“By a very dear friend.”
There was a quiver in the sweet voice, a trembling of the scarlet lips,
but the lovely eyes were bright and tearless.
“How long have they been in your possession?” continued Mrs. Coolidge.
“A little over three months, madam.”
“Mamma, mamma, does not that prove enough?” burst out Isabel,
triumphantly. “Why, she has been with us over two months, and she worked
in the factory three weeks. Who would give a poor girl such jewels as
those?”
Brownie’s only reply to this outburst was a look of ineffable scorn, and
the elder lady went on in a severe tone:
“I fear, Miss Douglas, that your story is against you. When you sought
employment from my husband you were in such circumstances that you were
obliged to toil for your daily bread.”
A proud inclination of her head was all the reply to this query. She
dare not trust her voice just then.
“And you say these jewels were given to you about that time?”
Another bow.
“The rich clothing, and other trifles which you have, were they given to
you also?”
“Yes, madam!”
“And all by this same dear friend?”
A peculiar look accompanied this question, while Isabel’s eyes gleamed
in wicked triumph.
She could see whither these questions were tending, if innocent Brownie
did not.
“They were,” she said.
“Was this friend a gentleman, Miss Douglas?”
For one moment there came into the young girl’s lovely eyes a look of
perplexity and astonishment, followed by one of blank horror.
Then all the royal blood in her Douglas veins sprang to arms!
The rich color surged up from her enraged heart over her neck and face;
up, up, as the full force of this horrible thought nearly drove her mad,
until it lost itself among the bands of shining hair, and tingled to her
fingertips. Then it all receded, leaving her colorless as marble, and,
in her proud indignation, like some avenging spirit.
“Mrs. Coolidge,” she said, in the same quiet, ladylike tones, but they
made the woman shiver notwithstanding, “your language and insinuation is
the grossest insult to me, and again I demand an immediate explanation.”
“Isabel, bring me that box,” said Mrs. Coolidge, pointing to Brownie’s
casket, which stood upon the table behind her.
Miss Coolidge obeyed and Brownie uttered a cry of astonishment as she
saw it.
“How came you by that? Where did you get it?” she said, starting forward
her lips quivering, and a choking sensation in her throat.
Her dear, precious casket, still sacred from the last fond touches of
Miss Mehetabel’s hand, profaned by their ruthless handling!
But all this emotion was but an evidence of guilt in the eyes of those
hard-hearted women.
“Is not that guilt, mamma, if you ever saw it?” whispered Isabel in her
mother’s ear.
She nodded her head sternly, and then turned to face her victim again.
“I will explain, Miss Douglas. The jewels which you wore to the opera
are in this box with others of much greater value. Were these others
given to you?”
“They were.”
“At the same time?”
“At the same time, Mrs. Coolidge.”
“By whom?”
“I decline to answer that question, madam,” came defiantly from the
young girl’s compressed lips.
She had been insulted, abused; she would bear nothing more from them.
They—these evil-minded, jealous women—had gone to her room like thieves
and hunted among her possessions to satisfy their low-born curiosity,
and having found something which they could not clearly understand, they
were determined to make use of it to crush her.
Mrs. Coolidge could scarcely restrain her anger at Brownie’s defiance.
She was very curious to know the history of those jewels, that
attractive picture, and that dancing card with its high-sounding names.
“Am I to understand that you refuse to clear yourself from the suspicion
which rests upon you?” she asked, growing white with anger.
“Madam, I question your right to arraign me before you in this manner,
as I also question your right to enter my room in my absence, pry into
my affairs, and abstract from under lock and key things which belong to
me.”
“Whose picture is this?” demanded Mrs. Coolidge, taking up the jeweled
locket and looking again upon that noble face.
She ignored entirely Brownie’s indignant protest, although she colored
deeply, for she knew that if Miss Douglas owned that box with its
contents she and Isabel were the thieves.
“I decline answering,” said Brownie, firmly.
She could hardly refrain from crying out with pain to see those sacred
relics of a lost love and a shattered life thus profaned by their rude
handling.
“Beware, Miss Douglas; this defiance goes against you, and I fear will
be your ruin if you persist in it,” said the woman, majestically; then
she added, feeling that she needed to make some explanation: “You see
that it is something very unusual for a poor person like you to have
such rich apparel and jewelry in her possession. We invite you to go to
the opera. We do not wish you to wear black, and ask you to wear some
other color. You appear more elegantly clad than any member of my
family, and you tell Viola that it is the simplest dress you have. Now,
what are we to think? Would not any mother having daughters desire to
investigate the matter? You say these things were all given to you at
the same time and by the same person, and only three months ago. Can you
not see how very improbable such a statement appears, when we know that
you have been toiling for your daily bread nearly the whole of that
time? It would have taken a small fortune,” she went on, after an
impressive pause, “from anyone, to buy all these precious stones at one
time, and young girls like you are not in the habit of receiving so much
at once. Why, Isabel thinks herself fortunate to get one piece of
diamond jewelry at a time. Besides all this, I find here a card with the
names of counts and lords upon it. We do not have counts and lords in
America; you have never been abroad before, consequently I know you have
never had any acquaintance with persons of such high degree. Here is
also a glove marked six and a half—I happen to know that you wear a
six.”
This was said with a frowning look at the little white hands, which were
folded in a clasp of pain, and hanging against the folds of her sable
dress.
“You refuse also to give me the name of the young man in the locket.
Now, I can account for all this in two ways only.”
Mrs. Coolidge, as she made this statement, bent her stern gaze upon the
pale face and downcast eyes of the haughty girl before her, and thought
she could see guilt in every feature. She thought she had very cleverly
argued the matter, and paused a moment, well satisfied with herself,
before clinching her point.
“And those are,” she continued, in a hard, unfeeling voice, “you have
either stolen them from some wealthy families with whom you have served,
or——”
“Madam!”
The downcast eyes were raised now, and the fire which flashed from them
seemed almost to sear the heartless woman’s face.
“I dare say, mamma, she was waiting-maid in some rich family, and came
by them in that way,” put in Isabel, spitefully.
“Do not interrupt me, Isabel. Miss Douglas, please wait until I finish
before you make any remarks,” Mrs. Coolidge said, coldly, with a wave of
her hand; then continued: “As I was saying, I think you either stole
them, or you have had relations with some person which would debar you
from ever entering any respectable family, though I cannot conceive how
anyone could be such a fool as to lavish so much upon a——”
“Cease!” came in a hoarse whisper from Brownie’s lovely lips, which had
grown of the color of ashes, and were quivering with insulted pride and
anger, while her heart stood still with horror.
The word checked Mrs. Coolidge, in spite of her insolent self-assurance,
and, bad as her language had been, she was ever after glad that she had
not uttered that last maddening word.
To be accused of theft had been almost more than Brownie could bear.
A Douglas accused of stealing!
But the other insinuation! She had hardly been able to comprehend it at
first.
She grew sick at heart, dizzy and faint, when the woman’s meaning at
length burst upon and nearly crashed her.
For one moment her blood seemed turned to ice, and her brain on fire.
The next, conscious virtue asserted itself.
The proud figure grew more proudly erect, the little head was lifted
with a haughty grace, and Queen Margaret Tudor herself, of whom Miss
Mehetabel had been wont to boast, would have gloried in the majesty of
her appearance.
Then the pained, almost convulsed expression about her delicate mouth
relaxed into a withering smile of scorn.
What were these two base spirits, that she, a Douglas, with royal blood
in her veins, should fear them?
She turned her blazing eyes full upon her accusers, and she found they
could not bear the glance; their eyes dropped guiltily beneath it.
Then, with that mighty calmness in her tones and manner, Brownie said to
Mrs. Coolidge:
“Have you anything further to say to me regarding those jewels, madam?”
“Not unless I can persuade you to confess and make restitution,” she
answered, uneasily.
“I have no confession to make; I have no restitution to make. These
articles of jewelry are legally mine—how, I do not intend to explain to
you, either now or at any other time. The manner in which you or your
daughter became possessed of them does you infinite credit; it is an act
of which doubtless you will be proud all your life. Now, if you please,
I will relieve you of them; and from this moment consider my engagement
with you at an end, as, after such repeated insults I could no longer
remain in your family.”
She reached forth her hand to take the casket, but Mrs. Coolidge
clutched it with the grip of a miser.
“Oh, no, Miss Douglas, you cannot have this again; you have not yet
proved to me that it is yours, and I cannot allow such a valuable
possession to go out of my hands until I am assured who the rightful
owner is.”
She sneered, white with anger, that the girl should dare brave her so.
“You can put on as many grand airs as you choose, miss, but you’ll find
that we know how to take them for just what they are worth,” said
Isabel, scoffingly.
“Mrs. Coolidge, that box and all its contents are mine, and I demand
that you yield it up to me,” Brownie said, sternly, fully aroused.
“Hear the minx, mamma; do dismiss her instantly,” cried Isabel, angrily.
“You cannot have them, Miss Douglas, until you prove that they are
yours,” returned Mrs. Coolidge, firmly, and she closed the box with a
snap.
“Then I shall be obliged to take legal measures to obtain them,”
returned the young girl, with decision.
“Ha, ha! hear her, mamma. She speaks like a princess, and she says she
shall consider her engagement with you at an end, as if that were a
matter she only can decide,” cried Isabel, actually quivering with rage.
Brownie noticed her by neither word nor look.
Addressing Mrs. Coolidge again very gently, she said:
“Once more, madam, will you give up my property?”
She spoke so imperatively that for a moment the woman was staggered, and
began to think she had better yield the point, for, if the girl should
call in official aid, it might make things very awkward and unpleasant.
Isabel saw her mother’s indecision, and, stooping, she whispered in her
ear:
“Don’t you do it, mamma; wait until papa comes, at least.”
“You prize them very highly?” Mrs. Coolidge asked, after a moment’s
thought.
“I do.”
“They are not suitable for you to wear in your position; you are
poor—could you be persuaded to part with them for a consideration?”
A sudden idea had come to her that if she could persuade the governess
to sell them, they would hush the matter up among themselves.
She was greedy for the jewels, and was determined that they should not
go out of her hands if she could help it.
“What do you mean by ‘a consideration,’ madam?” asked Miss Douglas, in a
peculiar tone.
“Why, if I should pay you something handsome for them, and pledge myself
to say nothing more about the matter, would you give them up?”
“Really, Mrs. Coolidge, you are very discriminating in your ideas of
honesty. You assert that I have stolen property?”
The woman’s face grew crimson with rage at this shaft.
“You can leave the room, Miss Douglas, your insolence is insufferable,”
she cried, rising and pointing with her shaking finger to the door.
“You understand me, madam; I shall take the law, unless you give me my
property,” returned the young girl, calmly confronting her, and taking
no notice of her command.
“Take the law, then; you’ll have a fight of it, if you do, let me tell
you, for no one will believe the tale of a governess, who has been
dismissed for unworthy conduct. Now, go!” cried the irate woman, almost
beside herself with passion.
Brownie uttered no words, but walked like a queen from the room; but
once within her own, she broke down utterly.
To lose those treasures, which had been the silent companions of her
heart-broken aunt during all those lonely years, and around which
clustered so much of hope and despair, was more than she could bear.
The little chain, too, with its golden key, which her aunt had told her
to wear as long as she lived, that, too, was in the power of those cruel
women.
She grew nearly wild over the thought of her loss.
She must have them again—she would have them, but how to get them was
the question.
She realized all the difficulties which lay in her path.
She was a stranger in this foreign land, without a friend outside the
family to whom to turn in her hour of need.
If she should take the law, as she had threatened, no one would believe
the story, as Mrs. Coolidge had said.
Only Isabel and her mother knew anything of what had just transpired,
and if they should deny her statement, how could she help herself, and
who, indeed, would believe that a poor governess owned such valuables?
The more she thought the more hopeless her case seemed to become.
Once her thoughts turned involuntarily to Adrian Dredmond; perhaps he
would help her.
But her maidenly delicacy recoiled from seeking aid from him, a
stranger.
Where should she go? What should she do?