“Miss Hattie,” said Mr. W----, just as the people were leaving work,
and she was rising from her table, “please put this letter in your
pocket, read it after you have had your supper, and think over its
contents. Do not hurry your thoughts--I will wait patiently for an
answer after you have well considered what I have written. Let days
pass, if you choose, I will not urge a reply; I only ask it after you
have given the matter thought.”
She looked up at him with her earnest, truthful eyes, for she noticed
that his voice trembled, and almost intuitively she felt that that
letter contained a declaration of what his eyes seemed to speak when
they met her look--love.
She put the letter in her pocket without a word. She could not have
spoken at that moment. For, noticing his agitation, a strange tremor
came over her.
He turned, blushing, and went toward his office, while she, putting on
her hat and shawl, turned toward the door. At that moment she saw the
stately form of Mr. Legare in front of Mr. W----, and the foreman had
scarcely spoken to him when Mr. W---- called to her.
The millionaire had come in person to see the poor working girl--to
hear her decision, and to ask of her a favor.
“Miss Butler, excuse me that I called at this hour. I knew you would be
disengaged, and perhaps could do me a great favor if it is not already
done by your consenting to the adoption which I had the honor to
propose through Mr. W----.”
“Gratefully, Mr. Legare, I have declined that proposition in an
interview held with Mr. W---- at my boarding-house last evening.”
“Yet, my good young friend, you have never met the lady who would take
you to her home and heart. She is one of the purest, noblest women on
earth. The sister of my dear, dead wife. I have known her these long,
long years, and I never met her equal. Her heart is full of sweet
sympathies, pure charities, and ennobling thoughts.”
“I do not doubt her goodness, sir. Her offer, through you, proves it.
The poor working girl thanks her from the bottom of her heart. But this
adoption cannot be. Alone I have toiled on for almost three long, to
me, very long years. Alone I must continue to tread life’s pathway. I
am contented. Why, then, ask me to change? There are thousands upon
thousands just as worthy as I, and more needy, upon whom such a noble
boon can be conferred. Let your good sister-in-law look for such a one.”
Hattie Butler spoke so earnestly that the two gentlemen deeply felt
her appeal. They knew that she alone had the right to choose. But Mr.
Legare did not yet despair of carrying his point. He had yet another
angle of attack.
“I have received your portfolio of drawings, am delighted with them,
and shall take them at your own price,” he continued.
“I set no value on them. They surely are worth but little more than the
paper they are drawn on. They are the result of lazy moments, not spent
at work or in study.”
“To me they are worth one thousand dollars in gold, and my check is
ready for your acceptance, if the price will suit you.”
“One thousand dollars?” gasped Hattie, utterly taken by surprise. “One
thousand dollars in gold?”
“Yes, Miss Butler. I am serious. I want the drawings--all are good,
and some of them are gems. The street-car scene especially, and the
little sweeper on the crossing. My son and daughter went into ecstasies
over them. By the way, my daughter is in my carriage now, down on the
street, and wishes to see you. She and I have a great favor to ask of
you, and Mr. W---- is included in it.”
“Please tell me what it is, sir. The supper hour once over in my
boarding-house, and I miss the meal altogether, and it will be supper
time now before I can reach there.”
“You will not miss your supper if you do me the favor I ask. It is
this: That, even as you are, in your neat working-dress, of which no
lady need be ashamed, you ride home with me and my daughter, see my
sister-in-law, take a plain family tea with us, Mr. W---- included, and
then let me drive you home to your boarding-house. Don’t say no before
I finish. My dear sister-in-law, almost an invalid, has expressed a
strangely nervous desire to see you, if only for a few moments, before
she sleeps. You will perhaps save her from a fit of sickness if you go.
My daughter came with me to plead for her poor aunt.”
Hattie paused a moment to think. Not of her dress, but whether it would
be right to refuse under such circumstances. Not of the thousand dollar
check waiting for her, but whether it would be proper for a poor,
friendless working girl to thus accept the hospitality of the rich.
She did not hesitate long. The picture of that poor nervous lady
waiting and anxious just to see her arose in her mind, and she said:
“I will go, Mr. Legare, on two conditions. First, that you will drive
past my boarding-house, so that I can leave word where I am going;
next, that you will permit me to make my stay very brief at your house.
Miss Scrimp, where I board, locks her doors at ten o’clock. I have
boarded with her over two years, and have never been out of the house
before after dark.”
“The conditions are agreed to. Mr. W---- shall see you safely home in
my carriage by nine o’clock or half-past at latest. Now, come down and
see my daughter, Lizzie, who waits to greet you.”
Hattie followed Mr. Legare, and Mr. W----, full of surprise, followed
both. He had never reached the entree of that wealth-adorned house,
though he had met young Legare at his club.
At the carriage Mr. Legare called “Lizzie,” and the sweet face of the
young girl beamed out like that of a cherub, when, on Hattie being
presented, she said:
“Jump right in here on the seat by my side, dear Miss Butler. Papa has
talked so much about you that it seems as if I had known you ever so
long.”
And when Hattie stepped in the little girl threw her arms around her
with all the fervor of sweet sixteen, and kissed her.
Hattie could but respond to such a welcome, and she returned the salute.
Mr. Legare seated Mr. W---- on the front seat, and then sat beside
him, and when the number of Miss Scrimp’s house was given, the driver
started for it at a sweeping trot.
“Aunt Louisa will be so glad to see you, you good, dear beauty!” said
Lizzie, clasping Hattie’s hand in hers. “We have been looking your
drawings over and over, and there is one face there on which she dwells
all the time. She says it fairly haunts her, and she wants to know if
it is a portrait.”
“I cannot tell till I see it myself!” said Hattie.
The next moment the carriage had come to a halt. In less than five
minutes it had passed over the space which Hattie could not walk inside
of twenty minutes. And she ever went quickly on, heeding nothing on her
route.
“I will go to the door myself, and explain to Miss Scrimp,” said
Hattie. “It will not take me a half minute.”
The footman opened the carriage door. Mr. Legare himself handed Hattie
out, and she ran to the door, and rung a startling peal on the old bell.
Miss Scrimp, unused to such a peal, came herself to the door instead of
sending Little Jessie, and to her Hattie only said:
“I am going up town on a special errand with Mr. Legare and his
daughter. I will need no supper when I come back, which will be before
ten o’clock!”
Before the astonished Miss Scrimp could ask a single question her fair
boarder darted away, entered the gorgeous carriage, where the old
spinster saw a richly-dressed young lady and two gentlemen, the footman
closed the door and sprang to his place, and the noble horses dashed
forward, and in a second more were out of sight.
All the old maid said then was:
“Sakes alive!”
And this she said as she went in and slammed the door.
In the meantime the carriage swept on up through the wide streets of
the upper part of the city--streets so different from the narrow, busy
thoroughfares below, or down town--and in a little more than half an
hour, passed in cheery talk, mostly kept up by Lizzie Legare, it drew
up before a marble mansion on the finest avenue in the great city.
“Here we are at home!” cried Mr. Legare, as the carriage door flew
open, “and there is my dear son, Frank, to welcome us. Frank, my boy,
this is Miss Butler. Mr. W---- you already know.”
Frank bowed most respectfully to Hattie, as he extended his hand to
help her from the carriage, and he cast a mischievous glance at Lizzie,
as the latter sprang out, and taking Hattie’s arm as if she were a dear
old friend, drew her up the steps, saying:
“We’ll run to my room, dear, to take off our things and dash some water
in our faces before tea.”
And when Hattie came down to tea with Lizzie, just ten minutes later,
her beautiful hair was all down over her shoulders, and a real lace
collarette was around her neck, and she looked, even in her plain
calico dress, as beautiful as beautiful could be; and Lizzie had kissed
her twenty times when she was helping her to make her brief toilet.
At the tea-table Hattie was introduced to Mrs. Emory, whose long,
yearning look fairly entered her soul. It seemed as if in Hattie she
sought to find some favorite resemblance, so eagerly did she scan her
face and form. She said:
“I have heard so much of you, and seen such talent exhibited in your
drawings, Miss Butler, that I felt as if I could not sleep till I had
seen you. Do not think me impertinent or intrusive. You look so good,
so pure, so gentle, I know you will forgive me.”
“I am sure there is nothing to forgive. I was only too happy to come
when they told me you were partially an invalid, and I could do you
good by coming.”
“Bless you, dear child! bless you for it! After tea we will look at
your drawings; there is one especially I wish to know all about.”
Nothing more of any special interest was said until tea was over, and
then they all adjourned to the library to look over the drawings.
“Whose picture is this?--or is it a fancy sketch instead of a
portrait?” asked Mrs. Emory of Hattie, laying her finger on the head of
a young girl that was spoken of before in this story.
“That? Why, it is the portrait of Little Jessie Albemarle,” said Hattie.
A deathly pallor came quicker than thought over Mrs. Emory’s face. She
gasped out, “Jessie Albemarle!” and fainted.