"THE QUEEN ROSE."
"What impudence! She thanks me for my offer, but finds it quite
impossible to accept. And her note is worded as if written to an
equal!" cried Roma angrily, as she tossed Liane's answer to her mother.
Mrs. Clarke examined it somewhat curiously, commenting on the neatness
and correctness of the writing.
"She has made good use of her limited opportunities for education," she
said.
"But, mamma, the idea of her refusing my offer, to remain with Miss
Bray at three dollars a week."
"Perhaps there is a little pride mixed up with her position. She may
consider her present place more genteel, my dear."
"I really do not see any difference to speak of. Poor people are all
alike to me," Roma cried scornfully. "As for Liane Lester, I should
like to shake her! I suppose her pretty face has quite turned her head
with vanity! Why, mamma, she and those other sewing girls at Miss
Bray's have even sent their pictures to the Beauty Show."
"The competition was free to all, my dear, and poverty is no bar to
beauty. I have seen some of the prettiest faces in the world among
working girls. But still, I do not suppose any of Miss Bray's employees
can compete with you in looks," returned Mrs. Clarke, with a complacent
glance at her handsome daughter.
"Thank you, mamma, but you haven't seen this Lester girl, have you? She
is really quite out of the ordinary, with the most classic features,
while I--well, I confess my features are the weak point in my beauty. I
don't see why I didn't inherit your regular features!" complained Roma.
"You do not resemble me, but you are not lacking in beauty, dear. I
suppose you must be more like your father's family, though I never saw
any of them. But don't begin to worry, darling, lest you should lose
the prize. I feel sure of your success," soothed the gentle lady.
"But, mamma, there is Jesse, who will be sure to vote against me for
spite, and I'm afraid that papa is the only one of the judges I can
count upon."
"You cannot count upon him, Roma, because he has declined to serve,
fearing to be accused of partiality if he votes for you."
"Then I shall have to go entirely on my own merits," Roma returned,
with pretended carelessness, but at heart she was furious at her
father's defection, only she knew it was useless to protest against his
decision. She had learned long ago that she could not "wind him around
her little finger," as she could her adoring mother.
Again her hopes recurred to Jesse Devereaux. She must make every effort
to lure him back.
Her mother's patient maid grew very tired dressing Miss Roma for the
show when the night came.
"She was as fussy and particular as some old maid! I did up her hair
three times in succession before it suited! My! But she was cross as
a wet hen! I believe she would have slapped me in the face if she
had dared! I hope to goodness she may fail to get the prize, though
I wouldn't have dear Mrs. Clarke hear me say so for anything in the
world! But I'm just hoping and praying that some poor girl that needs
the money may get that hundred dollars!" exclaimed the maid to her
confidante, the housekeeper.
There was not one among the servants but disliked the arrogant
heiress, who treated them as if they were no more than the dust beneath
her dainty feet. They whispered among themselves that it was strange
that such a sweet, kind lady as Mrs. Clarke should have such a proud,
hateful daughter.
While Roma was arraying herself in the finest of silk and lace, set off
by the coveted new rubies, Liane Lester was making her simple toilet at
the home of Mary Lang, with whom she had promised to attend the show.
Granny had most grudgingly given her consent to Liane's spending the
night with Mary, since she dared not offer any violent opposition.
Since Liane had threatened open rebellion to her tyranny, the old woman
was somewhat cowed.
Liane put up her beautiful, curling tresses into the simplest of knots,
but she did not need an elaborate coiffure for the chestnut glory of
rippling, sun-flecked locks. It was a crown of beauty in itself.
She put on the crisp, white gown she had bought with Mrs. Clarke's
gift, and Mary helped to tie the soft ribbons at her waist and neck.
"Oh, you lovely thing! You look sweet enough to eat!" she cried. "Now,
then, put on the roses your mysterious admirer sent you to wear, and
we will be off."
Liane blushed divinely as she fastened at her waist a great bunch of
heavy-headed pink roses, that had been sent to Miss Bray's late that
afternoon, with an anonymous card that simply read:
FAIR QUEEN ROSE: Please wear these sister flowers at the Beauty Show
to-night.
No name was signed, but the merry girls all declared that Liane had
caught a beau at last, and that he would be sure to declare himself
to-night. They persuaded her to wear the roses, though she was
frightened at the very idea.
"Suppose some great, ugly ogre comes up to claim me!" she exclaimed
apprehensively, as she pinned them on and set off, all in a flutter
of excitement, for the town hall, clinging to Mary's arm, for she was
quite nervous over the prospect of the evening's pleasure.
Now, as she passed along the lighted streets to the festive scene, and
saw others, also gayly bedecked, hurrying to the same destination, she
felt a thrill of pleasant participation quite new and exhilarating.
"Just see what I have missed all my life, through granny's hardness!"
she murmured plaintively to Mary, who squeezed her arm lovingly, and
answered:
"Poor dear!"
The hall was already crowded with people, and the supper of the
Methodist ladies was busily in progress when they entered the place
that was gayly decorated with flowers and bunting, framing the pictures
that lined the walls.
"Let us walk around and look at the beauties," Mary said, and,
following the example of the other visitors, they mingled with the
crowd and feasted their eyes on the five hundred pretty faces that were
deemed worthy to compete for the prize.
They soon found out that Miss Clarke's portrait and the group of six
sewing girls claimed more attention than any others.
But there were many eyes that turned from the pictured to the living
beauty, and whispers went round that drew many eyes to Liane, wondering
at her marvelous grace.
Liane had never appeared at a public function in the town before, and
many of the people thought she was a stranger. Curious whispers ran
from lip to lip:
"Who is the lovely girl with the pink roses?"
Roma, in her rich gown and sparkling rubies, heard the question, and
bit her lips till the blood almost started.
"It is only one of the dressmaker's sewing girls!" she said haughtily,
and started across the room to her mother, who had paused to speak to
Jesse Devereaux.
He had just entered, looking pale and superbly handsome; but with his
right arm in a sling, and the lady, for Roma's sake, resolved to forget
her resentment and try to propitiate him.
"I am afraid I was too hasty that morning," she said gently. "Will you
forgive me and be friends again, Jesse?"
"Gladly," he replied, for he valued her good opinion, little as he
cared for her proud, overbearing daughter.
The next moment Roma, coming up to them, heard her mother exclaim, to
her infinite chagrin:
"Tell me, Jesse, who is that perfectly lovely girl in the white gown
with the pink roses at her waist?"
Jesse looked quickly, and saw Liane again for the first time since that
eventful evening on the beach, when he had saved her from insult and
injury. His heart gave a strangling throb of joy and love, mingled
with pride in her peerless loveliness.
"You are right. She is peerless," he answered, in a deep voice,
freighted with emotion. "Her name is Liane Lester."
"Impossible!" almost shrieked the lady in her surprise; but at that
moment Roma confronted them, her proud face pale, her eyes gleaming,
murmuring:
"Oh, Jesse, how glad I am to see you out again! No wonder you were
cross with me, suffering as you were with your poor arm. But I forgive
you all."
"I thank you," he replied courteously, and Roma took her station at his
side quite as if she had the old right.
He was vexed, for he was anxious to cross over to Liane and ask her
to have an ice with him. Then he would keep at her side all the rest
of the evening. He would see her home, too, and before they parted he
would tell her all his love, and ask for her hand.
With these ecstatic anticipations in his mind, it was cruel torture to
be kept away from her against his will by the two ladies, and, worst
of all, with an air as if they had a right to monopolize him all the
evening.
In desperation he asked them to take an ice with him, vowing to himself
he would escape directly afterward.
But Roma was thirsty that evening, it seemed. She took two ices, and
trifled over them, her mother waiting patiently, while Jesse, outwardly
cool and courteous, inwardly cursed his untoward fate, for he saw other
men seeking introductions to Liane, and loading her with attentions,
carried away by the charm of her beauty.
Still he could not shake off Roma without absolute rudeness, for she
clung to his arm persistently, though it was near the hour for the
announcement of the award of the evening, and yet he had not spoken one
word to fair Liane, the queen of his heart.
Suddenly Malcolm Dean ascended the rostrum, and the gay, laughing
groups about the hall became intensely still, waiting for his verdict.
"I am no orator," he smiled. "So I will briefly announce, as a member
of the committee of the beauty contest, that we examined the pictures
in detail to-day, and unanimously award the prize for most perfect
beauty to Miss Liane Lester!"
A breathless hush had fallen on the crowd as Malcolm Dean's voice was
heard speaking, and every ear was strained, not to lose a word--for
many a fair young girl was listening in feverish excitement, hoping to
hear her own name.
Roma's heart gave a wild leap, her eyes flashed, her cheeks paled, and
she half rose from her seat in uncontrollable excitement.
But the suspense of the aspirants for the prize lasted but a moment,
for Malcolm Dean purposely made his announcement audible to every one
in the hall:
"Miss Liane Lester!"
The name ran from lip to lip in excited tones, while many a young heart
sank with disappointment, so many had hoped to be chosen queen of
beauty, caring more for the honor even than the money.
Then the voices swelled into plaudits, and Liane, shrinking with
bashful joy, heard her name shouted from eager lips:
"Miss Lester! Miss Lester!"
Roma had uttered a stifling gasp of disappointment, and sank heavily
back into her seat.
"She is the most beautiful girl I ever saw!" cried Jesse impulsively.
It was cruel to tell Roma this, and he realized it, but his heart was
on his lips. He could not check it, though he saw the deadly fire of
hate leap into her flashing eyes.
Mrs. Clarke touched her daughter's arm caressingly, saying:
"Do not feel so badly over it, Roma, darling. No doubt the committee
were governed somewhat by partiality, thinking that the prize ought to
be given some poor girl who needed the money."
Jesse felt the delicate thrust, and answered quickly:
"You were struck with her beauty yourself, Mrs. Clarke!"
"Yes, she is a very pretty girl," she replied, rather carelessly, then
paused, as Malcolm Dean lifted his hand for silence, and said in the
hush that followed:
"Will Miss Lester please come forward and receive the prize?"
A wild impulse came to Devereaux to escort Liane forward. How proud
he would be to take that little fluttering hand and lead her to the
rostrum to receive the award! He knew that every eye would be on them,
that it would be a virtual declaration of his sentiments toward her,
but he gloried in the thought. He rose quickly, exclaiming:
"Excuse me, please!"
But Mrs. Clarke's voice, cold and grating, fell on his ear:
"Please escort Roma to the open air--to the carriage! Do you not see
that she is almost fainting?"
Roma was indeed drooping heavily against her mother, in pretended
weakness. Her ruse had its effect. Jesse had to offer his arm and lead
her from the room, followed by her mother. After some little delay
their carriage was found, and, while placing them in it, Mrs. Clarke
said coolly:
"Now if you will find my husband and send him to us, you will add
greatly to the obligation you have placed us under."
He bowed silently and hurried away, meeting Mr. Clarke, fortunately,
coming out. A hasty explanation, and they parted, Devereaux returning
to the room, wild to speak to Liane after all this baffling delay.
But the prize had been presented, and Liane was surrounded by an
obsequious crowd, offering eager congratulations.
By her side stood the handsome young artist, Malcolm Dean, gazing
with rapt admiration on her shy, blushing face, and then Devereaux
remembered that the artist had said, while they were deciding on the
pictures that afternoon, that this was surely the fairest face in the
whole world, and he should not rest until he knew the original.
"If the counterfeit presentiment can be so charming, how much more
lovely, the original!" he exclaimed.
And now by his looks Devereaux saw that his anticipations were more
than realized. The ethereal charm of Liane's beauty held him as by a
spell.
It seemed to Liane as if she had fallen asleep and waked in a brighter
world.
But an hour ago she had been poor little Liane Lester, the humble
sewing girl, who had spent her little fortune, five dollars, the
largest sum she had ever possessed at once in her life, on this simple
white gown for the festal occasion. Now she stood there, the centre
of admiring congratulations, receiving introductions and alternately
bowing and smiling like some great beauty and heiress.
She felt like an heiress, indeed, with that crisp new hundred-dollar
bill tucked into her belt, and her cheeks glowed with shy pride and
joy, for she had dared to indulge some trembling daydreams over gaining
the prize, and now she hoped they might be realized.
There were sad hearts there, too, for many a vain little maiden was
disappointed, among them Dolly Dorr, who stifled her chagrin, however,
and kissed Liane very sweetly, saying:
"Don't forget that I persuaded you to compete for the prize, although I
was afraid all the time you would carry it off from us all."
Every one laughed at Dolly's naïve speech. She was such a frank, pretty
little thing, and, next to Liane, the prettiest girl in Miss Bray's
employ.
But among all the disappointed ones, no one had been so vexed as to
leave the scene like Roma, and it was soon whispered through the room
that she had scolded her lover for giving his vote to Liane instead of
herself.
"I heard them quarreling; I was just behind Mrs. Clarke," said the lady
who had started the report, and she added that Roma had been taken
almost fainting to her carriage, unwilling to remain and witness her
rival's triumph.
There were many who rejoiced over Roma's defeat, and others who
wondered at Devereaux's disloyalty.
He should have paid her the compliment of his vote, since it could have
made no difference in the result, they said.
But Devereaux, returning to the hall, eager to speak to Liane, and
indifferent to comments on his actions, was forced to stand on the
verge of the crowd waiting his turn, till Dolly Dorr, espying him,
hastened to his side.
She said to herself that here was one prize, at least, that Liane had
not won yet, and she would lose no time trying to make good a claim.
"If he has quarreled with Miss Clarke, so much the better. Hearts are
often caught in the rebound," she thought eagerly, as she engaged his
attention with some bantering words.
Devereaux smiled kindly on the sunny-haired little maiden, but she
found it impossible to engross his attention.
She soon saw that his whole mind was fixed on Liane, and he could not
keep from watching her face, until Dolly said quite crossly:
"You are like all the rest! You cannot keep your eyes from off Liane
Lester, now that she has taken the beauty prize!"
Devereaux answered dreamily:
"I could look at her forever!"
His brilliant, dark eyes glowed and softened with tenderness, and a
passionate flush reddened his smooth olive cheek.
Dolly stared, and said sharply:
"Perhaps Miss Clarke wouldn't like that so well!"
"What has she to do with my looking at Miss Lester?" he cried
impatiently.
"But aren't you engaged to Miss Clarke?"
"No, I am not!"
"But everybody says so!"
"Everybody is mistaken."
Dolly's eyes beamed with joy as she cried gayly:
"Then you are free, Mr. Devereaux?"
He answered with a happy laugh:
"Free as the wind--free to look at Miss Lester as much as I choose--or
as long as she will allow me."
This did not please Dolly at all, so she said spitefully:
"I dare say she doesn't care whether you look at her or not! She has
no eager eyes for any one but that handsome Mr. Dean, and he has been
standing beside her ever since he gave her the prize, and walked back
to her seat with her, just as if they were lovers."
"You are trying to make me jealous, Miss Dolly!" he laughed, unwilling
for her to perceive the pain she gave him.
And he added, as some of the crowd around Liane moved aside:
"Please excuse me while I speak to Miss Lester."
Dolly made an angry little pout at him as he moved away. She had
forgiven Liane for winning the prize of beauty, but if she carried
off Devereaux's heart, too, why, that would be quite different. Liane
knew how Dolly had set her heart on him. It would be mean if she came
between them, she thought.
She managed to get near them when they met, and marked Liane's blush
and smile of pleasure.
"And she always pretended not to care for flirting! But I suppose she
will turn over a new leaf from to-night," she muttered jealously, as
she edged nearer, trying to overhear everything that passed between the
pair.
She had one triumph, at least, when she heard Devereaux prefer a low
request to walk home with Liane that evening.
"I am very sorry, but--I have already promised Mr. Dean," the girl
murmured back, in regretful tones.