THE BEAUTY SHOW.
Roma was indeed surprised and angry at granny's summons. She flatly
refused to go, declaring:
"The insolence of the lower classes is indeed insufferable. Why, I
offered that girl a situation much more profitable than the one she
holds now, and here that crazy old witch, her grandmother, wishes to
annoy me with all sorts of conditions! Call on her, indeed, in her old
rookery of a house! I shall do nothing of the kind, but I will write a
note to the girl, at Miss Bray's, and I have no doubt she will fairly
jump at the chance, without saying 'by your leave' to that old hag!"
Delighted at the idea of outwitting the insolent old woman, as she
deemed her, Roma quickly dispatched a patronizing, supercilious note to
Liane, and waited impatiently for the reply.
She hardly gave another thought to poor Sophie Nutter, now that she
was gone. Least of all did it enter her beautiful head that the maid
had quit in fear and horror at the crime she had seen her commit that
night.
Mrs. Clarke, in her tenderness over Roma's feelings, had bound all the
servants never to betray Sophie's wild ravings to her daughter.
So, secure in her consciousness that her terrible deed had had no
witness, Roma tried to dismiss the whole affair from her mind,
believing that her victim lay at the bottom of the sea and could never
rise again to menace her with threats of exposure, as he had done that
night, bringing down on himself an awful fate.
The man she had remorselessly hurled from the cliff to a watery grave
belonged to an episode of Roma's boarding-school days, that she hoped
was forever hidden from the knowledge of the world. The thought of
exposure and betrayal was intolerable. It was a moment when she dare
not hesitate. Desperation made her reckless, branded her soul with
crime.
The strongest love of her life had been given to Jesse Devereaux. Woe
be to any one who came between her and that selfish love! Woe be to
Devereaux himself when he scorned that love! Turbulent passion, that
brooked no obstacle, burned fiercely in Roma's breast. Proud, vain,
self-indulgent, she would brook no opposition in anything.
Out of all the five hundred girls whose portraits had been accepted
for the Beauty Show, there was not one more eager than Roma to win the
prize--not for the money, but for the additional prestige it would add
to her belleship.
Her handsomest portrait had been offered, and Roma had scrutinized it
most anxiously, hour by hour, searching for the slightest flaw.
She had a wealth of rich coloring in eyes, hair, and complexion, but
her features were not quite regular; her nose was a trifle too large,
her mouth too wide. Aware of these defects, she would have been a
little uneasy, only that she counted on the votes of her father and
Devereaux as most certain. Besides, she considered that her brilliant
social position must prove a trump card.
"The palm will surely be mine, both by reason of beauty and belleship,"
she thought triumphantly, sneering, as she added: "The town will surely
choose one of its own maidens for the honor, and who would think of
awarding the prize to any one here except myself? True, they say
that all of Miss Bray's pretty sewing girls have had their pictures
accepted, and it's true that some of them are rather pretty, especially
that Liane Lester, but who would think of giving a vote to a common
sewing girl? I don't fear any of them, I'm sure! But, how I should hate
any girl that took the prize from me!" she concluded, with a gleam of
deadly jealousy in her great, flashing eyes, that could burn like live
coals in their peculiar, reddish-brown shade.
But an element of uncertainty was added to the situation, now, in the
defection of Jesse Devereaux.
"What if, in his passionate resentment against me, he should cast his
vote for another?" she thought, in dismay so great that she determined
to humble herself to the dust if she could but win him back.
She sent him flowers every day, and, accompanying them, love letters,
in which she poured out her grief and repentance; but, alas, all her
efforts fell on stony ground.
The recreant knight, busy with his new love dream, scarcely wasted
a thought on Roma. He replied to her letters, thanking her for the
flowers and her kindly sentiments, assuring her that he bore no malice,
and forgave her for her folly; but he added unequivocally that his
fancy for her was dead, and could never be resurrected.
"His fancy! He can call it a fancy now!" the girl moaned bitterly,
and in that moment she tasted, for the first time, the bitterness of a
cruel defeat, where she had been so confident of success.
She could not realize that he loved her no more, that the fancy she
had so carefully cultivated was dead so soon! The pain and humiliation
were most bitter. She rued in dust and ashes her hasty severance of her
engagement.
Added to the bitterness of losing his love was the pain of having him
vote against her at the Beauty Show.
"He will be sure to do so out of pure spite, even if he thought me the
most beautiful of all!" she thought bitterly. "Oh, I wonder for whom he
will cast his vote! How I should hate her if I knew! I--I could trample
her pretty face beneath my feet!"
In desperation she resolved to cultivate the acquaintance of the
artist, Malcolm Dean. He was to be one of the judges, she knew. Perhaps
she could win him over to her side.
Gradually she took heart of hope again.
It could not be possible Jesse's heart had turned against her so
suddenly. No, no! When they met again she would be able to draw him
back again.
She had heard that he was going to be present at the Beauty Show. She
would wear her new rubies and her most becoming gown for his eyes.
There were other girls than Roma planning to look their prettiest that
night, and one was Liane Lester.
Her girl friends had persuaded her to send in her picture with theirs,
and all six had been photographed in a large group by the Stonecliff
artist.
No one could gainsay the fact that it was a beautiful group, from the
petite, flaxen-haired Dolly, to the tall, stately brunette, Mary Lang.
Miss Bray was quite proud of them, and wished she had not been too old
and homely to compete for the prize.
"How sweet they look in their plain white gowns--as pretty as any
millionaire's daughters!" she said proudly. "Indeed, I don't see why
one of them can't take the prize? What if they are just poor sewing
girls? Almost any of them is as pretty as Miss Clarke, with her fame as
a beauty! But her pa's money helped her to that! Look at Liane Lester,
now; that girl's pretty enough for a princess, and if she had fine
fixings, like Roma Clarke, she could outshine her as the sun outshines
the stars! But, of course, I wouldn't have Liane know I said it,
because a poor girl must never cultivate vanity," she concluded to her
crony, Widow Smith, who agreed to everything she said.
Liane had been almost frightened at first when the girls insisted on
her going to the Beauty Show to see the exhibition of photographs, and
hear the prize awarded.
"For if you should be chosen, you must be there to receive the prize,"
cried Dolly.
"I could never dream of being chosen," the girl cried, with a blush
that made her lovelier than ever.
"You must come! Tell granny you have thrown off her yoke now, and
intend to have a little fun, like other young girls. If she rebels,
tell her you will leave her and live with me!" encouraged Mary Lang.
"You mustn't miss it for all the world!" cried Lottie Day vivaciously.
"Did you know that the ladies of the Methodist church intend to have a
supper in the town hall, also, that night?"
Little by little they tempted Liane to rebel against granny's arbitrary
will and accompany them.
"But I have nothing to wear!" she sighed.
"Oh, a cheap, white muslin will do! It will look real sweet by
gaslight, with a ribbon round your waist," suggested Miss Bray herself,
and then Liane's heart gave a thump of joy. She told them about the
five dollars Mrs. Clarke had given her for the work on Roma's cape, and
how she had kept all knowledge of it from granny, longing to enjoy the
money herself.
"You were quite right, since she takes every penny of your wages!" they
all agreed, while Miss Bray added kindly:
"You can get a sweet pattern of white muslin and a ribbon for your
waist and neck, with five dollars. I will cut and fit your gown for
nothing."
"And we girls will take parts of it home at night and help you make
it!" cried her young friends.
"Oh, how good you all are to me! I hope I may be able to return your
favors some day," cried the girl, grateful tears crowding into her
beautiful eyes.
And just then came the note from Roma Clarke, offering Liane a
situation as her maid.
The girl shared the note with her friends, and they were unanimously
indignant.
"The idea of thinking that any of us would stoop to be a maid!" they
cried, while Liane, with flushing cheeks, quickly indited a brief,
courteous, but very decided refusal of the young lady's offer.