"WHAT DO YOU HOPE TO ACCOMPLISH?"
"DO you know," said Mrs. Roberts, addressing Gracie Dennis, who, with
young Reid, had waited in the hall for her to join them (they were
ready for the lecture, and were to take up Mr. Roberts on the way)—"do
you know that I have a desire which I see no way of realizing? If Mr.
Colson should bring his sister with him to-night, I should like so much
to get possession of her and bring her home with me. But I have been
planning all day, and see no possible excuse for such an apparently
wild proceeding."
I want you to notice how naturally Mrs. Roberts said "Mr. Colson." She
never talked about Dirk under any other name; she even taught herself
to think of him as "Mr. Colson." Consequently, when she spoke the name
in his presence, there was not a trace of unnaturalness in tone or
manner. The others tried in vain to follow her example. Dr. Everett
could not speak of him in this way without slight hesitation and a
touch of embarrassment.
"The truth is," said he, "I think 'Dirk' all the week, and on the
Sabbath I find it impossible to reach up to 'Mr. Colson' without an
effort."
There was no touch of "reaching up" or reaching down about Mrs.
Roberts's talk with her pupils. It is possible that this is one link in
the chain of influence which she was weaving around them.
Gracie Dennis's face expressed curiosity, and when they were seated in
the carriage, she referred to the cause:—
"But, Flossy, I cannot imagine why you should want to do such a thing.
It will certainly be too late to-night to try to get acquainted with
her. I should think some time when you could have an unbroken evening
would be the better for experimenting."
"For some sorts of experimenting it would," Mrs. Roberts answered,
smiling quietly; "my experiment, in part at least, was to see how the
pink room might impress her."
"Flossy Shipley!"
When Gracie took refuge in that name, her hostess knew she was not only
much excited, but a trifle disapproving; at such times she made haste
to change the subject.
It happened that the thing for which she had been planning shaped
itself so naturally as to give not the slightest colour of
premeditation to the act.
When Dirk and his sister worked their way through the dense crowds
to the open air, they discovered that it was raining heavily. For
almost the first time in her life the fact struck terror to Mart
Colson's soul. Ordinarily no duck could have been more indifferent to a
rain-storm than herself. On this evening she gave vent to her dismay in
short, expressive words,—
"Sallie's bonnet!—And cape!" This last after a moment's thought. "And
shoes!" she added, as the magnitude of her troubles grew upon her.
Drawn up close to the sidewalk stood a carriage and a pair of horses
that Dirk could not help giving admiring attention to, despite the
rain. A fine horse always held his attention. No thought of the
occupants of the carriage came to him, not even after a head leaned
forward and a hand beckoned; of course it was beckoning to somebody
else. Then a clear voice spoke:—
"Mr. Colson."
He started quickly forward; there was but one person who ever said "Mr.
Colson," and besides, that voice belonged only to one.
"I want your sister to go home with me. It is raining so hard that she
ought not to walk, and I should like very much to have her stay with me
to-night. Won't you ask her to, please?"
If Mrs. Roberts had been asking a favour, instead of conferring one,
her voice could not have been sweeter and more winning.
Dirk went back to his sister, too much bewildered by the state of
affairs even to express surprise. "Mart," he said, "she wants you."
A quick spring to the sidewalk, and young Reid was standing beside Mart.
"It is raining so hard," he explained, "Mrs. Roberts would be very glad
if you would come."
And Mart, thinking of nothing at all save Sallie's bonnet and cape and
shoes, turned toward the waiting carriage.
Mr. Reid had his umbrella raised, and carefully shielded the bonnet,
assisting its wearer to enter the carriage with as much courtesy as he
had bestowed on Gracie Dennis but a few moments before. Not a movement
was lost on the watching Dirk.
When the door was closed and the good-nights had been said—Mrs. Roberts
leaning from the carriage again for that purpose—and when the horses
had dashed around the corner, he still occupied his position on the
curbstone, gazing down the street, gazing at nothing unless he saw a
reflection of his own bewildered thoughts.
"Come!" said a policeman who knew him, and was therefore suspicious.
"What are you hanging about here for? Move on!"
"Humph!" said Dirk, as he slowly took his hands out of his pockets,
eyes still fixed on the corner where the carriage had turned. "What if
I should?"
Something in his eye would have told Mrs. Roberts, had she been
there, that he meant more than moving down the street, though that he
presently did, regardless of wind and rain.
Meantime the bonnet and cape in the carriage stepped somewhat into the
background, and the girl who wore them allowed herself once more to
think of her individuality, and to wonder at her position. She sat bolt
upright on the edge of the soft, gray seat, and gazed about her as well
as she could by the glimmer of the street lamps. She in a carriage!
Mart Colson sitting on a back seat, beside a grand lady, and rolling
down the avenue! Who would have supposed that such a thing could have
happened to Sallie Calkins's bonnet?
Mrs. Roberts recognized the bonnet and cape with a smile of
satisfaction. She had studied much over the possibilities of this
girl's costume. Was it probable that she had anything suitable to wear
to a lecture? She had passed the cellar where the girl lived but once,
and had had but one glimpse of her; yet these glimpses had been enough
to render it highly improbable that she had any street costume. Then
had Mrs. Roberts canvassed the possibilities of getting a street suit
for her; there were apparently insurmountable difficulties in the way.
She was too utterly unacquainted with the ground to venture. Besides,
there were reasons for believing that anything of value would find its
way from that cellar to a pawnbroker's in a very short space of time.
Having spent hours over many different schemes, and rejected each
one as liable to bring disaster, Mrs. Roberts was obliged to betake
herself to prayer. If the watching Saviour wanted her to work through
the medium of this lecture on this particular child of his, he could
certainly see that she was present; could furnish her with clothes to
wear, either through herself or some other of his servants. She would
wait and watch.
Not once had she thought of Sallie Calkins and the new bonnet that
her own fingers had helped to fashion; yet here it was beside her on
the head of this girl, toward whom she was drawn! The fact made Mrs.
Roberts radiant.
She said almost nothing to the startled prisoner at her side, beyond a
murmured, "So glad you let me carry you home with me!" Then she drew a
bright-coloured wrap about her, and left her to her amazement, while
the eager tongues of the rest of the party talked continuously.
By the way, you are not acquainted with the pink room, I think. You
should see it before it is invaded for the night. Large it is. I
think little people sometimes have a peculiar fondness for large
rooms; Mrs. Roberts had. The walls were tinted with what might be
called a suggestion of pink, with just a touch of sunset gold about
the mouldings. The carpet was soft and rich; it gave back no sound of
footfall. It was strewn with pink buds; some just opening into beauty,
some half-blown. Accustomed to the sight of elegant carpets as you are,
you would almost have stooped to pick one of these buds, they looked so
real. The curtains to the windows were white, but lined with rose pink;
they were looped back with knots of pink ribbons. The bed was a marvel
of pink and white drapery; so was the dressing-bureau. The easy-chairs
were upholstered in soft grays with a pinkish tinge; and the tidies,
lavishly displayed, were all of pink and white.
There was nothing conventional about the room. A professional would
have been shocked by some of its appointments. Many a lady of wealth,
accustomed to having things as "they" decree, would have been more than
doubtful over the pink ribbons and the profusion of white drapery.
Aside from the carpet, and a choice picture or two, there was nothing
especially expensive about the furnishings. It was simply a room in
which Mrs. Roberts had allowed her own sweet little fancies to take her
captive.
The gas was lighted; the door was ajar into a toilet-room; a lavish
display of great, beautiful towels could be seen as you peeped in, and
various touches told of an expected guest. Flowers were blossoming
on the mantle, and a tiny vase which stood on a bracket near the
toilet-stand held a single rose of a peculiar hue and perfume, which
had blossomed for this hour—at least, Mrs. Roberts thought it had.
Into this room, in all its purity and beauty, went Sallie Calkins's
bonnet and cape and her strong, new, thick shoes; and the wearer
thereof pushed the bonnet away from her flushed face, and stood and
looked about her.
Downstairs they discussed in curious tones not her, but the mistress of
the mansion.
"Flossy, I do think you are too queer for anything! Why don't you have
her go to Katy's room? Katy is away for the night, you know, and I'm
sure her room is as neat and pretty as can be. Imagine what a contrast
it would be to anything that she has ever seen!—Mr. Reid, you ought to
see the room into which she has been put. There isn't a more elegant
one in the house. Some of its furnishings are so delicate that I hardly
like to touch them. What sort of a disease is it that has taken Mrs.
Roberts, do you suppose, to send her there?—Flossy, she will get no
rest to-night; she will be afraid of that immaculate bed."
This, of course, was Gracie Dennis.
Mr. Roberts looked from her to his wife, his face smiling, curious, yet
with a sort of at-rest expression.
"What do you hope to accomplish, Flossy?" He asked the question as
one who was pleased to watch a new experiment, yet felt sure that the
experimenter had an end to attain which would justify any measures that
she might take. Mr. Roberts had believed in his wife when he chose her
from all others; but he was learning to believe in her in a peculiar
sense, as one led by a hand that made no mistakes.
She turned to answer his question, her face bright, yet half puzzled:—
"I am not sure that I can explain to you what I hoped for," she said;
"I caught the idea from Mr. Reid."
"From me!" and the young man thus mentioned looked so astonished and
incredulous that Gracie laughed.
"He is sure he never thought of anything so wild," she said gaily.
"Flossy, you must find a better excuse than that."
"Yet it was something that he said.—Do you remember telling me,
not long ago, about your sister's idea that all the world had lost
its place because of sin; that God intended everything here to be
beautiful, and all life to be bright with joy, and that Satan had
gotten hold of men's lives, and was trying to ruin them, and that every
beautiful creation was God's picture to the world of what his intention
had been? I'm telling it poorly; but it made a very deep impression.
This girl's face, you know, is beautiful. It is what God meant some
faces to be—at least, I mean he has given her the frame for a face of
beauty. I have a vague, half-understood sort of wish to give her a
glimpse of harmony—something that will fit her golden hair and lovely
complexion—and see what she will think of God's idea, and whether she
will understand that it is sin which has spoiled it, and whether she is
willing to serve the author of her ruin. I don't believe I am making
myself plain, but I know what I mean, at least."
"If we do not, I think it must be because you have caught a thought
from God that we are not able to reach up to."
It was Mr. Roberts who made this reply. Something in his wife's
experiment had deeply moved him.
As for Mr. Reid, his face lighted, as it always did, at the mention of
his sister's name.
"Sometimes I almost think that it is Esther still at work, and that He
lets her work through this woman."
It was what he said to Gracie Dennis in an aside. Mrs. Roberts had
already gone to see, in person, to the comfort of her guest.