A WONDROUS CHANGE.
“Herein fortune shows herself more kind
Than is her custom.”--SHAKESPEARE.
Mr. Tredick, having accomplished his mission by breaking the good
news to Madame Le Conte and ushering Floy into her presence, quietly
withdrew, and, leaving a message with Mary to the intent that he would
call again the next morning, returned to his office.
This was a memorable day in Floy’s life, the turning of a new page in
her history.
Mary was presently despatched with a note to Mrs. Sharp briefly stating
the facts, and with orders to bring away the few effects of the young
girl which were there.
The news created a great sensation in the Sharp household, as Mary
duly reported on her return, telling her story in a way which showed
that she had keenly enjoyed her part in the scene, and that she was
delighted to know that our heroine was no longer a mere transient
sojourner in the Madame’s house.
Floy, in her capacity of dressmaker, had won golden opinions from the
servants, and both were scarcely less pleased than astonished at the
strange turn affairs had taken.
“It’s perfectly amazin’, as I told ’em down there,” said Mary in
conclusion. “Who’d have thought that day you came here, lookin’ so
sweet and sad in your black dress, to make that new gownd for the
Madame, that you’d more real right in the house than any of us except
the Madame herself!”
“I hope she will never need to look so sad again,” said Madame Le
Conte, gazing with fond pride at the pretty face of her niece. “My
dear, would you be willing to lay off your mourning now for my sake?”
The request caused such a flood of sad and tender memories that for a
moment Floy was utterly unable to speak.
“I long to see you dressed as your mother used to be at your age,”
the Madame went on. “She usually wore white gowns with pink or blue
ribbons, and it was sweetly becoming.”
Floy conquered herself with a strong effort.
“I will, Aunt Nannette; I would do more than that to give you
pleasure,” she said, with a winning smile, though tears trembled in her
eyes and a bright drop rolled down her cheek as she spoke.
Madame Le Conte saw it, and appreciated the sacrifice.
“Dear child!” she said, “I see you are going to be a great comfort to
me. I am no longer alone in the world, thank fortune! nor are you. It
was a happy chance that brought us together at last, wasn’t it, dear?”
“A kind Providence, aunt,” Floy responded in cheerful tones, “and I am
very glad and thankful to know that I have at least one living relative
in the world. And a good home,” she added, with a bright smile. “I
have not been cast adrift for a year without learning the value of
that.”
It was a double house, and Floy had been already assigned a suite of
spacious, elegantly-furnished apartments on the opposite side of the
hall from the Madame’s own, and also told that she was to be joint
mistress with her aunt, take the oversight of the domestic affairs,
order what she pleased for her meals, and make free use of domestics,
carriage and horses, the grand piano in the parlor, the library--in
short, everything belonging to the establishment.
Floy was touched by this kindness and generosity of her aunt, and
felt that she might well be willing to make some sacrifices to
confer pleasure in return. This feeling was increased tenfold by the
occurrences of the next day.
Mr. Tredick called according to appointment, was for a short time
closeted with the Madame in her boudoir; then Floy was summoned to join
them, when, to her amazement, she learned that her aunt had made over
to her property in bonds, stocks, and mortgages to the amount of one
hundred thousand dollars.
The girl’s first impulse was to return it with the idea that Madame Le
Conte was impoverishing herself, and forgetful that other heirs might
yet be found. Grateful tears filled her eyes; she was too much overcome
to speak for a moment.
“It is a very generous gift,” the lawyer said, looking at her in
surprise at her silence.
“Generous? it is far too much!” Floy burst out, finding her voice.
“Dear aunt, what have you left for yourself? and have you not forgotten
that my mother may be living and may have children by her second
husband, who will be quite as nearly related to you as I?”
“No, child, take it. I have plenty left for myself and them,” the
Madame answered, with a pleased laugh.
“That is quite true, my dear young lady,” remarked Mr. Tredick; “for
though I consider this a generous gift for Madame Le Conte to bestow
during her lifetime, it is not one fifth of what she is worth.”
Floy rose hastily and came to the side of her aunt’s easy chair.
“Ah, little one! are you satisfied now to take and enjoy it?” the
Madame asked, touching the fair young cheek caressingly as the girl
bent over her with features working with emotion.
It was not so much the abundant wealth so suddenly showered upon her as
the affection she saw in the act of its bestowal which overcame Floy,
so sweet was love to the lonely heart that for a year past had known so
dreary a dearth of it.
“I will, dear auntie,” she said, smiling through her fast-falling
tears. “But what return can I make for all your generous kindness?”
“My generous kindness!” the Madame repeated in a tone of contempt; then
at some sad memory a look of keen distress swept over her face, and her
voice grew low and husky. “It is a small atonement for the past,” she
said, “the past that can never be recalled!”
Mr. Tredick was busied with some legal document, and seemed quite
oblivious of what was passing between the ladies. Presently he folded
the paper up, handed it, with several others, to Floy with the smiling
injunction to keep them carefully, inquired of the Madame if she had
any further commands for him, and, receiving a reply in the negative,
bowed himself out.
As the door closed on her solicitor, the Madame lifted a tiny silver
bell from the table at her side and tapped it lightly.
“The carriage waits, ladies,” said Mary, appearing in answer.
“Then we will go at once,” returned her mistress. “Pansy, my dear, put
on your hat.”
A heavy rain during the night had wrought a sudden and delightful
change in the temperature of the atmosphere; light clouds still
partially obscured the sun, and a fresh breeze was blowing from the
lake. The ladies had voted it a fine day for shopping, and decided to
avail themselves of it for that purpose.
A few moments later they were bowling rapidly along toward the
business part of the city in the Madame’s elegant, easily-rolling,
softly-cushioned carriage, drawn by a pair of handsome, spirited grays,
the pride of Rory’s heart.
They returned some hours after laden with great store of costly and
beautiful things which Madame Le Conte had insisted upon heaping on her
niece.
There were several ready-made dresses, and in one of these Floy made
her appearance at the tea-table spread for herself and aunt in the
boudoir of the latter.
The robe was white; a fine French muslin, trimmed with beautiful lace.
Floy had fastened it at the throat with a pale pink rose, and placed
another among the glossy braids of her dark brown hair.
“Ah, how lovely you look, my darling!” the Madame exclaimed, gazing
upon her in delighted admiration. Then, the tears springing to her
eyes, “I could almost believe that my little Pansy of other days stands
before me,” she said.
While they were at the table her eyes continually sought her niece’s
face, and when they left it she called for her jewel-box, saying, “You
must let me add something to your attire, Pansy.”
The Madame had a great fondness for gold and precious stones, and
Floy’s eyes opened wide in astonishment and admiration at the store of
diamonds, pearls, rubies, emeralds, amethysts, and sapphires, adorning
brooches, ear-rings, finger-rings, chains, and necklaces shortly spread
before her.
“Have I not a fine collection?” asked their owner, gloating over them
with intense satisfaction. “Take your choice, Pansy; take any or all
you want; they will probably all belong to you some day.”
“Oh, thank you! I should be astonished at such an offer, auntie, had
you not already shown yourself so wonderfully generous,” said Floy,
coloring with pleasure. “But am I not too young to wear such things?”
“Not pearls, at all events,” said the Madame, throwing a beautiful
necklace, composed of several strands of very large and fine ones,
about the young girl’s neck, then adding bracelets, brooch, and
ear-rings to match.
“Oh, auntie, what a present! they are too lovely for anything!” cried
Floy in delight.
“This, too, you must have,” said the Madame, putting a jewel-case into
her hand.
Floy opened it with eager curiosity. It contained a gold chain and a
tiny gold watch, both ornamented with pearls.
“Do you like it?” asked the Madame.
“Like it!” cried Floy; “I am charmed with it! I have always wanted a
watch, but never had one. My dear adopted father had promised me one on
my eighteenth birthday, but I was all alone in the world before that
came,” she added, her voice sinking low and trembling with emotion.