"Indeed, Peyton, you distress me. What can be the matter? I heard you
walking the floor of your room long after midnight, and feared you
were ill."
"Not ill, Elise, but sorely perplexed. If I felt at liberty to
communicate all the circumstances to you, doubtless you would readily
comprehend and sympathize with the peculiar difficulties that
surround me; but unfortunately I am bound by a promise which prevents
me from placing all the facts in your possession. Occasionally
ministers involuntarily become the custodians of family secrets that
oppress their hearts and burden them with unwelcome responsibility,
and just now I am suffering from the consequences of a rash promise
which compassion extorted from me years ago. While I heartily regret
it, my conscience will not permit me to fail in its fulfilment."
An expression of pain and wounded pride overshadowed Mrs. Lindsay's
usually bright, happy face.
"Peyton, surely you do not share the unjust opinion so fashionable
nowaday, that women are unworthy of being entrusted with a secret?
What has so suddenly imbued you with distrust of the sister who has
always shared your cares, and endeavoured to divide your sorrows? Do
you believe me capable of betraying your confidence?
"No, dear. In all that concerns myself, you must know I trust you
implicitly,--trust not only your affection, but your womanly
discretion, your subtle, critical judgment; but I have no right to
commit even to your careful guardianship some facts which were
expressly confided solely to my own."
He laid his hand on his sister's shoulder, and looked fondly, almost
pleadingly, into her clouded countenance, but the flush deepened on
her fair cheek.
"The conditions of secrecy, the envelope of mystery, strongly implies
something socially disgraceful, or radically wicked, and ministers of
the Gospel should not constitute themselves the locked reservoirs of
such turbid streams."
"Granting that you actually believe in your own supposition, why are
you so anxious to pollute your ears with the recital of circumstances
that you assume to be degrading, or sinful?"
"I only fear your misplaced sympathy may induce you to compromise
your ministerial dignity and consistency, for it is quite
evident to me that your judgment does not now acquit you in this
matter--whatever it may be."
"God forbid that, in obeying the dictates of my conscience, I should
transgress even conventional propriety, or incur the charge of
indiscretion. None can realize more keenly than I that a minister's
character is of the same delicate magnolia-leaf texture as a woman's
name,--a thing so easily stained that it must be ever elevated beyond
the cleaving dust of suspicion, and the scorching breath of gossiping
conjecture. The time has passed (did it ever really exist?) when the
prestige of pastoral office hedged it around with impervious
infallibility, and to-day, instead of partial and extenuating
leniency, pure and uncontaminated society justly denies all
ministerial immunities as regards the rigid mandates of social
decorum and propriety,--and the world demands that, instead of
drawing heavily upon an indefinite fund of charitable confidence and
trust in the clergy, pulpit-people should so live and move that the
microscope of public scrutiny can reveal no flaws. Do you imagine I
share the dangerous heresy that the sanctity of the office entitles
the incumbent to make a football of the restrictions of prudence and
discretion? Elise, I hold that pastors should be as circumspect, as
guarded as Roman vestals; and untainted society, guided by even the
average standard of propriety, tolerates no latitudinarians among its
Levites. I grieve that it is necessary for me to add, that I honour
and bow in obedience to its exactions."
The chilling severity of his tone smote like a flail the loving
heart, which had rebelled only against the apparent lack of faith in
its owner, and springing forward Mrs. Lindsay threw her arms around
her brother's neck.
"Oh, Peyton! don't look at me so sternly, as if I were a sort of
domestic Caiaphas set to catechise and condemn you; or as if I were
unjustly impugning your motives. It is all your fault,--of course it
is,--for you have spoiled me by unreserved confidence heretofore, and
you ought not to blame me in the least for feeling hurt when at this
late day you indulge in mysteries. Now kiss me, and forget my ugly
temper, and set it all down to that Pandora legacy of sleepless
curiosity, which dear mother Eve received in her impudent tête-à-tête
with the serpent, and which she spitefully saw fit to bequeath to
every daughter who has succeeded her. So--we are at peace once more?
Now keep your horrid secrets to yourself, and welcome!"
"You persist in believing that they must inevitably be horrid?" said
he, softly stroking her rosy cheek with his open palm.
"I persist in begging that you will not expect me to adopt the
acrobatic style, or require me to instantly attain sanctification
_per saltum!_ You must be satisfied with the assurance that you are
indeed my 'Royal Highness,' and that in my creed it is written the
king can do no wrong. There, dear, I am not at all addicted to humble
pie, and I have already disposed of a large and unpalatable slice."
She made a grimace, whereat he smiled, kissed her again, and answered
very gently:
"Will you permit me to put an appendix to your creed? 'Charity
suffereth long, and is kind; is not easily provoked, thinketh no
evil.' My sister, I want you to help me. In some things I find myself
as powerless without your co-operation as a pair of scissors with the
rivet lost; I cannot cut through obstacles unless you are in your
proper place."
"For shame, you spiteful Pequod! to rivet your treacherous appeal
with so sharply pointed an illustration! Scissors, indeed! I will be
revenged by cutting all your work after a biased fashion. How would
it suit you, reverend sir, to take the rivet out of my tongue, and
repair your clerical scissors?"
"How narrowly you escaped being a genius! That is precisely what I
was about proposing to do, and now, dear, be sure you bid adieu to
all bias. Elise, I received a letter two days since, which annoyed me
beyond expression."
"I inferred as much, from the vindictive energy with which you thrust
it into the fire, and bored it with the end of the poker. Was it
infected with small-pox or leprosy?"
She opened her work basket, and began to crochet vigorously, keeping
her eyes upon her needle.
"Neither. I destroyed it simply and solely because it was the earnest
request of the writer, that I should commit it to the flames."
"_Par parenthèse!_ from the beginning of time have not discord,
mischief, trouble--been personified by females? Has there been a
serious _imbroglio_ since the days of Troy without some vexatious
Helen? Now don't scold me, if in this case I conjecture,--He? She?
It?"
"The letter was from a mother, pleading for her child, whom I several
years ago promised to protect and to befriend. Subsequent events
induced me to hope that she would never exact a fulfilment of the
pledge, and I was unpleasantly surprised when the appeal reached me."
"Let me understand fully the little that you wish to tell me. Do you
mean that you were unprepared for the demand, because the mother had
forfeited the conditions under which you gave the promise?"
"You unduly intensify the interpretation. My promise was
unconditional, but I certainly have never expected to be called upon
to verify it."
"What does it involve?"
"The temporary guardianship of a child ten years old, whom I have
never seen."
"He? She? It?"
"A girl, who will in all probability arrive before noon to-day."
"Peyton!"
The rose-coloured crochet web fell into her lap, and deep
dissatisfaction spread its sombre leaden banners over her telltale
face.
"I regret it more keenly than you possibly can; and, Elise, if I
could have seen the mother before it was too late, I should have
declined this painful responsibility."
"Too late? Is the woman dead?"
"No, but she has sailed for Europe, and notifies me that she leaves
the little girl under my protection."
"What a heartless creature she must be to abandon her child."
"On the contrary, she seems devotedly attached to her, and uses these
words: 'If it were not to promote her interest, do you suppose I
could consent to put the Atlantic between my baby and me?' The
circumstances are so unusual that I daresay you fail to understand my
exact position."
"I neither desire nor intend to force your confidence; but if you can
willingly answer, tell me whether the mother is in every respect
worthy of your sympathy."
"I frankly admit that upon some points I have been dissatisfied, and
her letter sorely perplexes me."
"What claim had she on you, when the promise was extorted?"
"She had none, save such as human misery always has on human
sympathy. I performed the marriage ceremony for her when she was a
mere child, and felt profound compassion for the wretchedness that
soon overtook her as a wife and mother."
"Then, my dear brother, there is no alternative, and you must do your
duty; and I shall not fail to help you to the fullest extent of my
feeble ability. Since it cannot be averted, let us try to put our
hearts as well as hands into the work of receiving the waif. Where
has the child been living?"
"For nearly seven years in a convent."
"_Tant mieux!_ We may at least safely infer she has been shielded
from vicious and objectionable companionship. How is her education to
be conducted in future?"
"Her mother has arranged for the semi-annual payment of a sum quite
sufficient to defray all necessary expenses, including tuition at
school; but she urges me, if compatible with my clerical duties, to
retain the school fees, and teach the child at home, as she dreads
outside contaminating associations, and wishes the little one reared
with rigid ideas of rectitude and propriety. Will you receive her
among your music pupils?"
"Have I a heart of steel, and a soul of flint? And since when did you
successfully trace my pedigree to its amiable source in--
'Gorgons and hydras and chimeras dire'?
"What is her name?"
Mr. Hargrove hesitated a moment, and, detecting the faint colour that
tinged his olive cheek, his sister smilingly relieved him.
"Never mind, dear. What immense latitude we are allowed! If she prove
a meek, sweet cherub, a very saint in bib-aprons,--with velvety eyes
brown as a hazel nut, and silky chestnut ringlets,--I shall gather
her into my heart and coo over her as--Columba, or Umilta, or
Umbeline, or Una; but should we find her spoiled, and thoroughly
leavened with iniquity,--a blonde, yellow-haired tornado,--then a
proper regard for the 'unities will suggest that I vigorously
enter a Christian protest, and lecture her grimly as Jezebel,
Tomyris,--Fulvia or Clytemnestra.'"
"She shall be called Regina Orme, and if it will not too heavily tax
your kindness, I should like to give her the small room next your
own, and ask Douglass to move across the hall and take the front
chamber opening on the verandah. The little girl may be timid, and it
would comfort her to feel that you are within call should she be sick
or become frightened. I am sure Douglass will not object to the
change."
"Certainly not. Blessings on his royal heart! He would not be my own
noble boy if he failed to obey any wish of yours."
I will at once superintend the transfer of his books and clothes, for
if the child comes to-day you have left me little time for
preparation.
She put away the crochet basket and, looking affectionately at the
grave face that watched her movements, said soberly:
"Do not look so lugubrious; remember Abraham's example of
hospitality, and let us do all we can for this motherless lamb, or
kid,--whichever she may prove. One thing more, and here-after I shall
hold my peace. You need not live in chronic dread, lest the Guy
Fawkes of female curiosity pry into, and explode your mystery; for I
assure you, Peyton, I shall never directly or indirectly question the
child, and until you voluntarily broach the subject I shall never
mention it to you. Are you satisfied?"
"Fully satisfied with my sister, and inexpressibly grateful for her
unquestioning faith in me."
She swept him an exaggerated courtesy, and, despite the grey threads
that began to glint in her auburn hair, ran up the stairway as
lightly as a girl of fifteen.
For some time he stood with his hands behind him, gazing abstractedly
through the open window, and now and then he heard the busy patter of
hurrying feet in the room over head, while snatches of Easter
anthems, and the swelling "Amen" of a "Gloria" rolled down the steps,
assuring him that all doubt and suspicion had been ejected from the
faithful, fond, sisterly heart.
Taking his broad-brimmed gardening hat from the table, the pastor
went down among his flower-beds, followed by Biörn, to whose innate
asperity of temper was added the snarling fretfulness of old age.
A fine young brood of white Brahma chickens, having surreptitiously
effected an entrance into the sacred precincts of the flower-garden,
were now diligently prosecuting their experiments in entomotomy right
in the heart of a border of choice carnations. When Biörn had chased
the marauders to the confines of the poultry yard, and watched the
last awkward fledgling scramble through the palings, his master began
to repair the damage, and soon became absorbed in the favourite task
of tying up the spicy tufts of bloom that deluged the air with
perfume as he lifted and bent the slender stems. His straw hat shut
out the sight of surrounding objects, and he only turned his head
when Mrs. Lindsay put her hand on his shoulder, and exclaimed:
"Peyton, 'the Philistines _be_ upon thee'!"
"Do you mean that she has come?"
"I think so; there is a carriage at the gate, and I noticed a trunk
beside the driver."
He rose hastily, and stood irresolute, visibly embarrassed.
"Why, Peyton! Recollect your text last Sunday: 'No man having put his
hand to the plough,' etc., etc., etc. It certainly is rather hard to
be pelted with, one's own sermons, but it would never do to turn your
back upon this benevolent furrow. Come, pluck up courage, and front
the inevitable."
"Elise, how can you jest? I am sorely burdened with gloomy
forebodings of coming ill. You cannot imagine how I shrink from this
responsibility."
"It is rather too late, dear, to climb upon the stool of repentance.
Take this beast of Bashan by the horns, and have done with it. There
is the bell! Shall I accompany you?"
"Oh, certainly."
Hannah met them, and held up a card.
ERLE PALMA,
_New York City_.
As the minister entered his parlour, Mr. Palma advanced to meet him,
holding out his hand.
"I hope Dr. Hargrove has been prepared for my visit, and understands
its object?"
"I am glad to know you, sir, and had reason to expect you. Allow me
to present Mr. Palma to my sister, Mrs. Lindsay. I am exceedingly----"
The sentence was never completed, and he stood with his eyes fastened
on the child who leaned against the window watching him with an eager
breathless interest as some caged creature eyes a new keeper,
wondering, mutely questioning, whether cruelty or kindness will
predominate in the strange custodian.
For a moment, oblivious of all else, each gazed into the eyes of the
other, and a subtle magnetic current flashed from soul to soul,
revealing certain arcana, which years of ordinary acquaintance
sometimes fail to unveil. From the pastor's countenance melted every
trace of doubt and apprehension; from that of the girl all shadow of
distrust.
Studying the tableau, Mr. Palma saw the clergyman smile, and as if
involuntarily open his arms; and he was astonished when the shy,
reticent child who had repulsed all his efforts to become acquainted,
suddenly glided forward and into the outstretched arms of her new
guardian. Weary from the long journey and rigid restraint imposed
upon her feelings, the closely pent emotion broke all barriers, and,
clinging to the minister Regina found relief in a flood of tears. Mr.
Hargrove sat down, and, keeping his arm around her, said tenderly:
"Are you so unwilling to come and live under my care? Would you
prefer to remain with Mr. Palma?" She put her hands up, and, clasping
them at the back of his head, answered brokenly:
"No--no I it is not that. Your face shows me you are good--so good!
But I can't help crying,--I have tried so hard to keep from it, ever
since I kissed the Sisters good-bye,--and everything is so
strange--and my throat aches, and aches--oh, don't scold me! Please
let me cry!"
"As much as you please. We know your poor little heart is almost
breaking, and a good cry will help you."
He gathered her close to his bosom, and the lawyer was amazed at the
confiding manner in which she nestled her head against the stranger's
shoulder. Mrs. Lindsay untied and removed the hat and veil, and,
placing a glass of water to the parched trembling lips, softly kissed
her tearful cheek, and whispered:
"Now, dear, try to compose yourself. Come with me and bathe your
face, and then you will feel better."
"Don't take me away. I have stopped crying. It rests me so, to feel
somebody's arms around me."
"Well--suppose you try my arms awhile? I assure you they are quite
ready to take you in, and hug you close. Just let me show you how I
put my arms around my own child, though he is a man. Come, dear."
Mrs. Lindsay gently disengaged the clasped hands resting on her
brother's neck, and drew Regina into her arms, while, won by her
sweet voice and soft touch, the latter allowed herself to be led
into another room.
They had scarcely disappeared when Mr. Palma said:
"I find I was mistaken in supposing that you and your ward were
strangers."
"We are strangers, at least I never saw her until to-day."
"Did you mesmerize her?"
"Not that I am aware of. What suggests such an idea?"
"She receives your friendly overtures so graciously, and rejected
mine with such chill politeness. I presume you are aware of the fact
that we have a joint guardianship over this child?"
"If you will walk into the library, where we can escape intrusion, I
should like to have some confidential conversation with you."
When he had placed his visitor in his own easy chair, and locked the
door of the library, Mr. Hargrove sat down beside the oval table,
and, folding his hands before him, leaned forward scrutinizing the
handsome non-committal face of the stranger, and conjecturing how far
he would be warranted in unburdening his own oppressed heart.
Coolly impassive, and without a vestige of curious interest, the
lawyer quietly met his incisive gaze.
"Mr. Palma, may I ask whether Regina's mother has unreservedly
communicated her history to you?"
"She has acquainted me with only a few facts, concerning which she
desired legal advice."
"Has she given you her real name?"
"I know her only as Madame Odille Orphia Orme, an actress of very
remarkable beauty and great talent."
"Do you understand the peculiar circumstances that attended her
marriage?"
"I merely possess her assurance that she was married by you."
"Have you been informed who is Regina's father?"
"The name has always been carefully suppressed, but she told me
that Orme was merely an _alias_."
"Have you ever suspected the truth?"
"Really, that is a question I cannot answer. I have at times
conjectured, but only in a random unauthorized way. I should very
much like to know, but my client declined giving me all the facts, at
least at present; and while her extreme reticence certainly hampers
me, it prevents me from asking you for the information, which she
promises ere long to give me."
Mr. Hargrove bowed and leaned back more easily in his chair, fully
satisfied concerning the nature of the man with whom he had to deal.
"You doubtless think it singular that Mrs. Orme should commit her
daughter to my care, while keeping me in ignorance of her parentage.
A few days since she signed in the presence of witnesses a cautiously
worded instrument, in which she designated you and me as joint
guardians of Regina Orme, and specified that should death or other
causes prevent you from fulfilling the trust, I should assume
exclusive control of her daughter until she attained her majority,
or was otherwise disposed of. To this arrangement I at length very
reluctantly assented, because it is a charge for which I have no
leisure, and even less inclination; but as she seems to anticipate
the time when a lawsuit may be inevitable, and wishes my services,
she finally overruled my repugnance to the office forced upon me."
"I must ask you one question, which subsequent statements will
explain. Do you regard her in all respects as a worthy, true, good
woman?"
"The mystery of an assumed name always casts a shadow, implying the
existence of facts or of reports inimical to the party thus ambushed;
and concealment presupposes either indiscretion, shame, or crime.
This circumstance excited unfavourable suspicions in my mind, but she
assured me she had a certificate of her marriage, and that you would
verify this statement. Can you do so? Was she legally married when
very young?"
"She was legally married in this room eleven years ago."
"I am glad it is susceptible of proof. This point established, I can
easily answer your question in the affirmative. As far as I am
acquainted with her record, Mrs. Orme is a worthy woman, and I may
add, a remarkably cautious circumspect person for one so
comparatively unaccustomed to the admiration which is now lavished
upon her. I believe it is conceded that she is the most beautiful
woman in New York, but she shelters herself so securely in the
constant presence of a plain but most respectable old couple, with
whom she resides, and who accompany her when travelling, that it is
difficult to see her, except upon the stage. Even in her business
visits to my office she has always been attended by old Mrs. Waul."
"Can you explain to me how one so uneducated and inexperienced as she
certainly was has so suddenly attained, not only celebrity (which is
often cheaply earned), but eminence in a profession, involving the
amount of culture requisite for dramatic success?"
A slight smile showed the glittering line of the lawyer's teeth.
"When did you see her last?"
"Seven years ago."
"Then I venture the assertion that you would not recognize her should
you see her in one of her favourite and famous _rôles_. When, where,
or by whom she was trained I know not, but some acquaintance with the
most popular ornaments of her profession justifies my opinion that no
more cultivated or artistic actress now walks the stage than Madame
Odille Orme. She is no mere _amateur_ or novice, but told me she had
laboriously and studiously struggled up from the comparatively menial
position of seamstress. Even in Paris I have never heard a purer,
finer rendition of a passage in _Phèdre_ than one day burst from her
lips in a moment of deep feeling, yet I cannot tell you how or where
she learned French. She made her _début_ in tragedy, somewhere in the
West, and when she reappeared in New York her success was brilliant.
I have never known a woman whose will was so patiently rigid, so
colossal, whose energy was so tireless in the pursuit of one special
aim. She has the vigilance and tenacity of a Spanish bloodhound."
"In the advancement of her scheme, do you believe her capable of
committing a theft?"
"What do you denominate a theft?"
The piercing black eyes of the lawyer were fixed with increased
interest upon the clergyman.
"Precisely what every honest man means by the term. If Mrs. Orme
resolved to possess a certain paper to which she had been denied
access, do you think she would hesitate to break into a house, open a
secret drawer, and steal the contents?"
"Not unless she had a legal right to the document, which was unjustly
withheld from her, and even then my knowledge of the lady's character
inclines me to believe that she would hesitate, and resort to other
means."
"You consider her strictly honest and truthful?"
"I am possessed of no facts that lead me to indulge a contrary
opinion. Suppose you state the case?"
Briefly Mr. Hargrove narrated the circumstances attending his last
interview with Regina's mother, and the loss of the tin box, dwelling
in conclusion upon the perplexing fact that in the recent letter
received from her relative to her daughter's removal to the
parsonage, Mrs. Orme had implored him to carefully preserve the
license he had retained as the marriage certificate in her possession
might not be considered convincing proof, should litigation ensue. He
could not understand the policy of this appeal, nor reconcile its
necessity with his conviction that she had stolen the license.
Joining his scholarly white hands with the tips of his fingers
forming a cone, Mr. Palma leaned back in his chair and listened,
while no hint of surprise or incredulity found expression in his
cold, imperturbable face. When the recital was ended, he merely
inclined his head.
"Do you not regard this as strong evidence against her? Be frank, Mr.
Palma."
"It is merely circumstantial. Write to Mr. Orme, inform her of the
loss of the license, and I think you will find that she is as
innocent of the theft as you or I. I know she went to Europe
believing that the final proof of her marriage was in your keeping;
for in the event of her death, while abroad, she has empowered me to
demand that paper from you, and to present it with certain others in
a court of justice."
"I wish I could see it as you do. I hope it will some day be
satisfactorily cleared up, but meanwhile I must indulge a doubt. On
one point at least my mind is at rest; this little girl is
unquestionably the child of the man who married her mother, for I
have never seen so remarkable a likeness as she bears to him."
He sighed heavily, and patted the shaggy head which Biörn had some
time before laid unheeded on his knee.
During the brief silence that ensued the lawyer gazed out of the
window, through which floated the spicy messages of carnations, and
the fainter whispers of pale cream-hearted Noisette roses; then he
rose and put both hands in his pockets.
"Dr. Hargrove, you and I have been--with, I believe, equal
reluctance--forced into the same boat, and since _bongré malgré_ we
must voyage for a time together, in the interest of this unfortunate
child, candour becomes us both. Men of my profession sometimes resort
to agencies that the members of yours usually shrink from. I too was
once very sceptical concerning the truth of Mrs. Orme's fragmentary
story, for it was the merest _disjecta membra_ which she entrusted to
me, and my credulity declined to honour her heavy drafts. To satisfy
myself, I employed a shrewd female detective to 'shadow' the pretty
actress for nearly a year, and her reports convinced me that my
client, whilst struggling with Napoleonic ambition and pertinacity to
attain the zenith of success in her profession, was as little
addicted to coquetry as the statue of Washington in Union Square, or
the steeple of Trinity Church; and that in the midst of flattery and
adulation she was the same proud, cold, suffering, almost
broken-hearted wife she had always appeared in her conferences with
me. Induging this belief, I have accepted the joint guardianship of
her daughter, on condition that whenever it becomes necessary to
receive her under my immediate protection, I shall be made
acquainted with her real name."
"Thank you, my dear sir, for your frankness, which I would most
joyfully reciprocate, were I not bound by a promise to make no
revelations until she gives me permission, or her death unseals my
lips. I hope you fully comprehend my awkward position. There is a
conspiracy to defraud her and her child of their social and legal
rights, and I fear both will be victimized; but she insists that
secrecy will deliver her from the snares of her enemies. I suppose
you are aware that General----"
He paused, and bit his lip, and again the lawyer's handsome mouth
disclosed his perfect teeth.
"There is no mischief in your dropped stitch; I shall not pick it up.
I know that Mrs. Orme's husband is in Europe, and I was assured that
motives of a personal character induced her to make certain
professional engagements in England and upon the Continent. I am not
enthusiastic, and rarely venture prophecies, but I shall be much
disappointed if her Richelieu tactics do not finally triumph."
"Can you tell me why she does not openly bring suit against her
husband for bigamy?"
"Simply because she has been informed that the policy of the defence
would be to at once attack her reputation, which she seems to guard
with almost morbid sensitiveness on account of her daughter. She has
been warned of the dangerous consequences of a suit, but if forced to
extremities will hazard it; hence I bide my time."
He threw back his lordly head, and his brilliant eyes seemed to
dilate, as though the suggestion of the suit stirred his pulse, as
the breath of carnage and the din of distant battle that of the
war-horse, panting for the onward dash.
A species of human petrel,--a juridic _Procellaria Pelagica_
whose _habitat_ was the court-house,--Erle Palma lived amid the
ceaseless surges of litigation, watching the signs of rising tempests
in human hearts, plunging in defiant exultation where the billows
rode highest, never so elated as when borne triumphantly upon the
towering crest of some conquering wave of legal _finesse_, or
impassioned invective, and rarely saddened in the flush of victory by
the pale spectres of strangled hope, fortune, or reputation which
float in the _débris_ of the wrecks that almost every day drift
mournfully away from the precincts of courts of justice.
The striking of the clock caused him to draw out his watch and
compare the time.
"I believe the regular train does not leave V---- until night, but
the conductor told me I might catch an excursion train bound south,
and due here about half-past one o'clock. It is necessary for me to
return with as little delay as possible, and after I have spoken to
Regina I must hasten to the depot You will find my address pencilled
on the card, and I presume Mrs. Orme has given you hers. Should you
desire to confer with me at any time relative to the child, I shall
promptly respond to your letters, but have no leisure to spend in
looking after her. The semiannual remittance shall not be neglected,
and Regina has a package for you containing money for contingent
expenses."
They entered the hall, and found the little stranger sitting alone on
the lowest step of the stairway, where Mrs. Lindsay had left her,
while she went to prepare luncheon for the travellers. She was very
quiet, bore no visible traces of tears, but the tender lips wore a
piteously sad expression of heroically repressed grief, and the
purlish shadows under her solemn blue eyes rendered them more than
ever--pleadingly beautiful.
As the two gentlemen stood before her she rose, and caught her
breath, pressing one little palm over her heart, while the other
grasped the balustrade.
"Don't you think, dear, that you ought to be well cared for, when you
have two guardians--two adopted fathers, Mr. Palma and I--to watch
over you? We both intend that you shall be the happiest little girl
in the State. Will you help us?"
"I will try to be good."
Her voice was very low, but steady, as if she realized she was making
a compact.
"Then I know we shall all succeed."
Mr. Hargrove walked to the front door, and the lawyer put on his hat
and came back to the steps.
"Regina, I have explained to you that I brought you here because your
mother so directed me, and I believe Dr. Hargrove will be a kind,
good friend. Little one, I do not like to leave you so soon among
strangers, but it cannot be helped. Will you be contented and happy?"
There was singular emphasis in her reply.
"I shall never complain to you, Mr. Palma."
"Because you think I would not 'Sympathize with you? I am not a man
given to soft words, nor am I accustomed to deal with children, but
indeed I should be annoyed if I thought you were unhappy here."
"Then you must not be annoyed at all."
His quick nervous laugh seemed to startle her unpleasantly, for she
shrank closer to the balustrade.
"How partial you are, preferring Dr. Hargrove already, and flying
into his arms at sight! Do you wish to make me jealous?"
His eyes gleamed mischievously, and he saw the blood rising in her
white cheeks.
"Dr. Hargrove opened his arms to me, because he saw how miserable I
was."
"If I should chance to open mine, do you think that by any accident
you would rush into them?"
"You know you would never have dreamed of doing such a thing. Are you
going away now?"
"In a moment. If you get into trouble, or need anything, will you
write to me? Remember, I am your mother's friend."
"Is not Mr. Hargrove also?"
"Certainly."
He took her hands, and bending down looked kindly into the delicate
lovely face.
"Good-bye, Regina."
"Good-bye, Mr. Palma."
"I hope, little girl, that we shall always be friends."
"You are very good to wish it. Thank you for taking care of me.
Because you are my mother's best friend, I shall pray for you every
night."
His sternly moulded lips twitched with some strange passing
reminiscence of earlier years, but the emotion vanished, and,
pressing her hands gently, he turned and went down the walk leading
to the gate.