FATE IS ABOVE US ALL.
It was six o'clock by all the watches and clocks at Stonecliff, and the
girls at Miss Bray's dressmaking establishment hastily put up their
work and were starting for home, chattering like a flock of magpies,
when their employer called after them testily:
"Say, girls, one of you will have to take this bundle up to Cliffdene.
Miss Clarke wanted it very particularly to wear to-night. Liane Lester,
she lives nearer to you than any of the others. You take it."
Liane Lester would have liked to protest, but she did not dare. With a
decided pout of her rosy lips, she took the box with Miss Clarke's new
silk cape and hurried to overtake Dolly Dorr, the only girl who was
going her way.
"What a shame to have to carry boxes along the village street late in
the afternoon when every one is out walking! I think Miss Bray ought
to keep a servant to fetch and carry!" cried Dolly indignantly. "Oh,
look, Liane! There's that handsome Jesse Devereaux standing on the
post-office steps! Shouldn't you like to flirt with him? Let's saunter
slowly past so that he may notice us!"
"I don't want him to notice me! Granny says that harm always comes of
rich men noticing poor girls. Come, Dolly, let us avoid him by crossing
the street."
Suiting the action to the word, Liane Lester turned quickly from her
friend and sped toward the crossing.
But, alas, fate is above us all!
Her haste precipitated what she strove to avoid.
Drawing the veil down quickly over her rosy face, the frolicsome
wind caught the bit of blue gossamer and whirled it back toward the
sidewalk. Jesse Devereaux gave chase, captured the veil, and flew after
the girl.
She had gained the pavement, and was hurrying on, when she heard him at
her side, panting, as he said:
"I beg pardon--your veil!"
A white hand was thrust in front of her, holding the bit of blue gauze,
and she had to stop.
"I thank you," she murmured, taking it from his hand and raising her
eyes shyly to his face--the brilliant, handsome face that had haunted
many a young girl's dreams.
The dazzling dark eyes were fixed eagerly on her lovely face, and
his red lips parted in a smile that showed pearly-white teeth as he
exclaimed gayly:
"Old Boreas was jealous of your hiding such a face, and whisked your
veil away, but out of mercy to mankind I concluded to return it."
"Thank you, very much!" she answered again, and was turning away when
Dolly Dorr rushed across the street, breathless with eagerness.
"How do you do, Mr. Devereaux?" she cried gayly, having been introduced
to him at a church festival the evening before.
"Ah, Miss----" he hesitated, as he lifted his hat, and she twittered:
"Miss Dorr; we met at the festival last night, you know. And this is my
chum, Liane Lester."
"Charmed," he exclaimed, while his radiant black eyes beamed on Liane's
face, and he stepped along by Dolly's side as she placed herself
between them, intent on a flirtation.
"May I share your walk?" he asked, and Dolly gave an eager assent,
secretly wishing her girl friend a mile away.
But as she could not manage this, she proceeded to monopolize the
conversation--an easy task, for Liane walked along silent and ill at
ease, "for all the world," thought the lively Dolly to herself, "like a
tongue-tied little schoolgirl."
No wonder Liane was demure and frightened, dreading to get a scolding
from granny if Jesse Devereaux walked with them as far as her home.
Liane lived alone, in pinching poverty, with a feeble old grandmother,
who was too old to work for herself, and needed Liane's wages to keep
life in her old bones; so she was always dreading that the girl's
beauty would win her a husband who would pack the old woman off to the
poorhouse as an incumbrance.
She kept Liane illy dressed and hard worked, and never permitted her to
have a beau. Marriage was a failure, she said.
"What was the use of marrying a poor man, to work your fingers to the
bone for him?" she exclaimed scornfully.
"But one might marry rich," suggested innocent Liane.
"Rich men marry rich girls, and if they ever notice a poor girl, she
mostly comes to grief by it. Don't never let me catch you flirting with
any young man, or I'll make you sorry!" granny answered viciously.
She had not made her sorry yet, for the girl had obeyed her orders,
although her beauty would have brought her a score of lovers had she
smiled on their advances, but Liane had not seen any man yet for whom
she would have risked one of granny's beatings.
How would it be now, when her young heart was beating violently at
the glances of a pair of thrilling dark eyes, and the tones of a
rich, musical voice, when her face burned and her hands trembled with
exquisite ecstasy?
Old Boreas, why did you whisk her veil away and show Jesse Devereaux
that enchanting young face, so rosy and dimpled, with large, shy eyes
like purple pansies, golden-hearted, with rims of jet, so dark the
arched brows and fringed lashes, while the little head was covered with
silky waves of thick, shining chestnut hair? What would be the outcome
of this fateful meeting?
Sure enough, as they came in sight of Liane's humble home, there was
granny's grizzled head peeping from the window, and, with an incoherent
good evening to her companions, Liane darted inside the gate, hurrying
into the house.
But at the very threshold the old woman met her with a snarl of
rage, slapping her in the face with a skinny, clawlike hand as she
vociferated:
"Take that for disobeying me, girl! Walking out with that handsome
dude, after all my warnings!"
"Oh, granny, please don't be so cruel, striking me for nothing! I'm too
big a girl to be beaten now!" pleaded Liane, sinking into a chair, the
crimson lines standing out vividly on her white cheeks, while indignant
tears started into her large, pathetic eyes.
But her humility did not placate the cruel old hag, who continued to
glare at her victim, snarling irascibly.
"Too big, eh?" she cried; "well, I'll show you, miss, the next time I
see you galivanting along the street with a young man! Now, who is he,
anyhow?"
"Just a friend of Dolly Dorr's, granny. I--I--never saw him till just
now, when he asked Dolly if he might share her walk."
"Um-hum! A frisky little piece, that Dolly Dorr, with her yellow head
and doll-baby face! I don't want you to walk with her no more when he
goes along, do you hear me, Liane? Two's company, and three a crowd."
"Yes, ma'am"--wearily.
"Now, what have you got in that pasteboard box, I say? If you've been
buying finery, take it back this minute. I won't pay a cent for it!"
"It's finery, granny, but not mine. Miss Bray sent me to carry it to
the rich young lady up at Cliffdene, and I just stopped in to see if
you will make your own tea while I do my errand, for I shouldn't like
to come back alone after dark."
"Better come alone than walking with a man, Liane Lester!" grunted the
old woman, adding more amicably: "Go along, then, and hurry back, and
I'll keep some tea warm for you."
"Thank you, granny," the poor girl answered dejectedly, going out with
her bundle again, her face shrouded in the blue veil, lest she should
meet some one who would notice the marks of the cruel blow on her fair
cheek.
Her way led along the seashore, and the brisk breeze of September blew
across the waves and cooled her burning face, and dried the bitter
tears in her beautiful eyes, though her heart beat heavily and slow in
her breast as she thought:
"What a cruel life for a young girl to lead--beaten and abused by an
old hag whom one must try to respect because she is old, and poor, and
is one's grandmother, though I am ashamed of the relationship! I fear
her, instead of loving her, and it is more than likely she will kill me
some day in one of her brutal rages. Sometimes I almost resolve to run
away and find work in the great city; but, then, she has such a horror
of the poorhouse, I have not the heart to desert her to her fate. But I
could not help being ashamed of her when Mr. Devereaux saw her uncombed
head and angry face leering at us out of the window. Never did I feel
the misery of my condition, the poverty of my dress and my home, so
keenly as in his presence. I do not suppose he would stoop to marry a
poor girl like me, especially with such a dreadful relation as granny,"
she ended, with a bursting sigh of pain from the bottom of her sore
heart.
The tide swept in almost to her feet, and the sea's voice had a hollow
tone of sympathy with her sorrow.
"Oh, I wish that I were dead," she cried with a sudden passionate
despair, almost wishing that the great waves would rush in and sweep
her off her feet and away out upon the billows, away, from her weary,
toilsome life into oblivion.
But here she was at the gates of beautiful Cliffdene, the home of the
Clarkes, a handsome stone mansion set in spacious ground on a high
bluff, washed at its base by the murmuring sea.
She opened the gate, and went through the beautiful grounds, gay with
flowers, thinking, what a paradise Cliffdene was and what a contrast to
the tumble-down, three-roomed shanty she called home.
"How happy Miss Clarke must be; so beautiful and rich, with fine
dresses, and jewels, and scores of handsome lovers! I wonder if Mr.
Devereaux knows her, and if he admires her like all the rest? He would
not mind marrying her, I suppose. She does not live in a shanty, and
have a spiteful old grandmother to make her weary of her life," thought
poor, pretty Liane, as she paused in the setting sunlight before the
broad, open door.
At that moment a superb figure swept down the grand staircase toward
the trembling girl--a stately figure, gowned in rustling silk, whose
rich golden tints, softened by trimmings of creamy lace, suited well
with the handsome face, lighted by spirited eyes of reddish brown,
while the thick waves of shining, copper-colored hair shone in the
sunset rays like a glory. Liane knew it was Miss Clarke, the beauty
and heiress; she had seen her often riding through the streets of
Stonecliff.
"What do you want, girl?" cried a proud, haughty voice to Liane as they
stood face to face on the threshold, the heiress and the little working
girl.
"Miss Bray has sent home your silk cape, Miss Clarke."
"Ah? Then bring it upstairs, and let me see if it is all right. I have
very little confidence in these village dressmakers, though Miss Bray
has very high recommendations from the judge's wife," cried haughty
Roma Clarke, motioning the girl to follow her upstairs, adding cruelly:
"You should have gone round to the servants' entrance, girl. No one
brings bundles to the front door."
Liane's cheeks flamed and her throat swelled with resentful words that
she strove to keep back, for she knew she must not anger Miss Bray's
rich customer. But she hated her toilsome life more than ever as she
followed Roma along the richly carpeted halls to a splendid dressing
room, where the beauty sank into a cushioned chair, haughtily ordering
the box to be opened.
Liane's trembling white fingers could scarcely undo the strings, but
at last she held up the exquisite evening cape of brocaded cream silk,
lined with peach blossom and cascaded with billows of rare lace.
It was daintily chic, and had been the admiration of the workroom. All
the girls had coveted it, and Dolly Dorr had draped it over Liane's
shoulders, crying:
"It just suits you, you dainty princess."
The princess stood trembling now, for Roma flew into a rage the instant
her wonderful red-brown eyes fell on the cape.
"Just as I feared! It is ruined in the arrangement of the cascades of
lace. Who did it--you?" she demanded sharply.
"Oh, no, Miss Bray arranged it herself, I assure you," faltered Liane.
"It must be altered at once, for I need it walking out in the grounds
with my guests to-night. You're one of the dressmaker's girls,
aren't you? Yes? Well, you shall change it for me at once, under my
directions. Hurry and rip the lace off carefully."
Liane's heart fluttered into her throat, but she protested.
"I--I cannot stay. I should be afraid to go home after dark. I am sure
Miss Bray will alter it to-morrow."
"To-morrow! when I want it to-night? You must be crazy, girl! Do as I
bid you, or I'll report you to your employer to-morrow and have you
discharged."
Liane's throat choked with a frightened sob, and she dared not disobey
and risk dismissal from Miss Bray and a beating from granny.
"I will do it, but I am terribly afraid to go home alone," she
faltered, taking up the scissors and the garment.
"Nonsense! Nothing will hurt you. Here, this is the way I want it, and
be sure you do not botch it, or you will have to do it all over again!
Now, I am going down to dinner. I'll be back in an hour and a half, and
you ought to have it done by that time!" cried the imperious beauty,
sweeping from the room, though Liane heard her tell the maid in the
hall to keep an eye on that girl from the dressmaker's, that she did
not slip anything in her pocket.
The clever maid sidled curiously into the lighted dressing room, and,
as soon as she saw the tears in the eyes of Liane and the crimson
print on her fair cheek, she jumped to her own conclusions.
"You poor, pretty little thing, did Miss Roma fly in a rage and slap
your face, too?" she exclaimed compassionately.
"Certainly not!" the girl answered, cresting her graceful
chestnut-brown head with sudden pride. "Do you think I would allow your
mistress to insult me so?"
"She would insult you whether you liked it or not," the maid replied
tartly. "She has slapped my face several times in her tantrums since I
came here, and I would have quit right off, but her mother is an angel,
and when I complained to her, the sweet lady gave me some handsome
presents and begged me to overlook it, because her daughter was
somewhat spoiled by being an only child and an heiress. So I stayed for
the kind mother's sake, and if Miss Roma really did strike you in her
rage over the cape, let me tell Mrs. Clarke, and she will reward you
handsomely to keep silence!"
"But I assure you Miss Clarke did not strike me!" Liane protested.
"There's the print of her fingers on your face to speak for itself,
poor child!"
"That mark was on my face when I came," Liane answered, almost
inaudibly, out of her keen humiliation.
"Oh, I see. What is your name?"
"Miss Lester--Liane Lester."
"A pretty-sounding name! I've heard of you before, Miss Lester--the
lovely sewing girl whose grandmother beats her. All the village knows
it and pities you. Why do you stand it? Why don't you run away and get
married? You are so lovely that any man might be glad to get you for
his bride."
The color flamed hotly into Liane's cheek. She was proud, in spite of
her poverty, and it chafed her to have her private affairs so freely
discussed by Miss Clarke's servant.
"Please do not talk to me while I'm sewing," she said firmly, but so
gently that the pert maid did not take offense, but slipped away,
returning when the cape was nearly done, with a dainty repast on a
silver waiter.
"Mrs. Clarke sent this with her compliments. She heard about your being
up here sewing, and felt so sorry for you."
Liane had not tasted food since her meager midday luncheon, but she
was too proud to own that she was faint from fasting.
"She was very kind, but I--I really am not hungry," she faltered.
"But you have not had your tea yet, and one is apt to have a headache
without it," urged the tactful maid, and she presently persuaded Liane
to eat, although not before the cape was done, so great was her dread
of Miss Clarke's coarse anger.
The maid had adroitly let Mrs. Clarke know all about Liane, and now she
slipped a crisp banknote into her hand, whispering:
"Mrs. Clarke sent you this for altering the cape for her daughter."
Liane was almost frightened at the new rustling five-dollar bill in her
hand. She had never seen more than three dollars at a time before--the
amount of her weekly wages from Miss Bray.
"Oh, dear, I can't take this. It's too much! Miss Bray only gets five
dollars for the making of the whole cape," she exclaimed.
"Never mind about that, if Mrs. Clarke chooses to pay you that for
altering it, my dear miss. She is rich and can afford to be liberal
to one who needs it. So just take what she gives you, and say
nothing--not even to her daughter, who has a miserly heart and might
scold her for her kindness," cautioned the maid, who pitied Liane with
all her heart.
Liane cried eagerly:
"Oh, please thank the generous lady a hundred times for me! I love her
for her kindness to a poor orphan girl. Now, do you think Miss Roma
would come and look at the cape? For I must be going. Granny will be
angry at my coming back so late."
"Here she comes now, the vixen!" and, sure enough, a silken gown
rustled over the threshold, and Roma caught the cape up eagerly, crying:
"Ten to one you have botched it worse than before! Well, really, you
have followed my directions exactly, for a wonder! That will do very
well. You may go now, and if you think you ought to be paid anything
for these few minutes' extra work, you can collect it off Miss Bray, as
she was responsible for the alterations. Sophie, you can show the girl
out," and, throwing the cape over her arm, the proud beauty trailed her
rustling silk over the threshold and downstairs again.
"The heartless thing! I'd like to shake her!" muttered Sophie angrily,
as she led the way out of the beautiful house down upon the moonlight
lawn, adding:
"I'll go to the gates with you, so you won't get frightened at Mr.
Clarke's big St. Bernard."
"What a beautiful night, and how sweet the flowers smell!" murmured
Liane, lifting her heated brow to the cool night breeze, and the
pitying stars that seemed to beam on her like tender eyes.
"Would you like some to take home with you? You will be welcome, I
know, for the frosts will be getting them soon, anyhow," cried Sophie,
loading her up with a huge bunch of late autumn roses, "and now good
night, my dear young lady," opening the gate "you have a long walk
before you, but I hope you will get home safely."
Liane opened her lips to tell the woman how frightened she was of the
lonely walk home, but she was ashamed of her cowardice, and the words
remained unsaid. With a faltering "I thank you for your kindness;
good night," she clasped the roses to her bosom and sped away like a
frightened fawn in the moonlight, down the road along the beach, a
silent prayer in her heart that granny would not be angry again over
her long stay, and accuse her of "galivanting around with beaus."
Sophie leaned over the gate, watching her a minute, with pity and
admiration in her clear eyes.
"What a beautiful creature!--a thousand times lovelier than Miss Roma!"
she thought. "But what a cruel lot in life. It is enough to make the
very angels weep."