Led by poppy-wreathed wands, through those fabled ivory gates that
open into the enchanted realm of dreams, the weary girl forgot her
woes, and found blessed reunion with the absent dear ones, whose loss
had so beclouded the morning of her life.
Under the burning sun of India, through the tangled jungles of Oude,
she wandered in quest of the young missionary and his mother, now
springing away from the crouching tigers that glared at her as she
passed; now darting into some Himalayan cavern to escape the wild
ferocious eyes of Nana Sahib, who offered her that wonderful lost
ruby that he carried off in his flight, and when she seized it,
hoping its sale would build a church for mission worship, it
dissolved into blood that stained her fingers. With a fiendish laugh
Nana Sahib told her it was a part of the heart of a beautiful woman
butchered in the "House of Massacre" at Cawnpore. On and on she
pressed, footsore and weary but undaunted, through those awful
mountain solitudes, and finally hearing in the distance the bark of
Hero, she followed the sound, reached the banks of Jumna, and there
amid the ripple of fountains, and the sighing of the cypress, in the
cool shadow cast by the marble minarets and domes of Shah Jehan's
Moomtaj mausoleum, Mr. and Mrs. Lindsay joyfully welcomed her; while
upon the fragrant air floated divine melodies that Douglass told her
were chanted by angels in her mother's grave, beneath the clustering
white columns.
When after many hours she awoke, it was night. A faint light trembled
in one of the globes of the gas chandelier, and a blanket had been
laid over her. Starting up she saw a figure sitting at the window,
apparently watching what passed in the street below.
"I hope you feel refreshed. I can testify you have slept as soundly
as the youths whom Decius put to bed some time since near Ephesus."
Olga rose, turned on the gas that flamed up instantly, and showed her
elaborately dressed in evening toilette. Her shoulders and arms,
round and pearly white, were bare save the shining tracery of jewels
in necklace and bracelets; and in the long train of blue silk that
flowed over the carpet, she looked even taller than in the morning
walking suit. Her ruddy hair, heaped nigh on her head, was surmounted
by a jewelled comb, whence fell a cataract of curls of various
lengths and sizes, that touched the filmy lace which bordered her
shoulders like a line of foam where blue silk broke on dimpled flesh.
As Regina gazed admiringly at her, Olga came closer, and stood under
the gas-light.
"A penny for your thoughts! Am I handsome? Somebody says only 'fools
and children tell the truth.' You are not exactly the latter;
certainly not the former; nevertheless, being a rustic, all unversed
in the fashionable accomplishment of 'fibbing,' you may dispense with
the varnish pot and brush. Tell me, Regina, don't you feel inclined
to fall at my feet and worship me?"
"Not in the least. But I do think you very handsome, and your dress
is quite lovely. Are you going to a party or a ball?"
"To a 'Reception,' where the people will be crowded like sardines,
where my puffs will be mashed as flat as buckwheat cakes, and my
train will go home with various gentlemen, clinging in scraps to
their boot-heels! Were you ever at the seashore? If you have ever
chanced to walk into a settlement of fiddlers, and seen them
squirming, wriggling, backward, forward, sideways, you may
understand that I am going into a similar promiscuous scramble.
Human ingenuity is vastly fertile in the production of fashionable
tortures; and when that outraged and indignant poet savagely
asserted, that 'Man's inhumanity to man makes countless thousands
mourn,' I have an abiding conviction that he had just been victimized
at a 'Reception,' or 'German,' or 'Kettle-drum,' or 'Masque
Ball,'--or some such fine occasion, where people are amused by
treading on each other's toes, and gnawing (metaphorically) their
nearest neighbour's vertebræ."
"Do you not enjoy going into society?"
"_Cela dépend!_ You are an unsophisticated little package of innocent
rusticity, and have yet to learn
'Society is now one polished horde,
Formed of two mighty tribes,
The Bores and Bored!'
I speak advisedly, for lo these four years I have energetically
preyed, and been preyed upon. When I was your age, I was impatient to
break away from my governess, and soar into the flowery pastures of
fashionable gaiety, with the crowd of other butterflies that seemed
so happy, so lovely; but now that I have bruised my pretty wings, and
tarnished the gilding, and rubbed off the fresh enamelling, I would
if I could crawl back into a safe brown cocoon, or hide in some quiet
and forgotten chrysalis. Did you ever hear of Moloch?"
"Yes, of course; I know it was a brazen image, heated red hot, in
whose arms children were placed by idolatrous heathen parents."
"No such thing! that is a foolish, obsolete Rabbinical myth. You must
not talk such old-fashioned folly. Hearken to the solemn truth that
underlies that fable; Moloch reigns here, in far more pomp and
splendour than the Ammonites ever dreamed of. Crowned and sceptred,
he is now called 'Wealth and Fashion,' holds daily festivals and
mighty orgies where salads, boned turkeys, charlotte russe,
_fistachio soufflés, creams, ices, champagne-julep, champagne
frappé_, and persicot call the multitude to worship; and there while
the stirring notes of Strauss ring above the sighs and groans of the
heroic victims, fathers and mothers bring their sons and daughters
bravely decked in broadcloth and satin, white kid and diamonds, and
offer them in sacrifice; and Moloch clasps, scorches, blackens all!
Wide wonderful blue eyes, how shocked you look!"
Olga laughed lightly, shook out the fringed ends of her broad white
silk sash, and glanced in the mirror of the bureau, to see the
effect.
"Regina, don't begin city life by a system of starvation that would
do infinite credit to a Thebaid anchorite. Eat abundantly. Take
generous care of your body, for spiritual famine is inevitably ahead
of you. Yonder on the table, carefully covered, is your dinner. Of
course it is cold, stone-cold as this world's charity; but people who
sleep until eight o'clock, ought not to expect smoking hot viands. A
good meal gives one far more real philosophy and fortitude, than all
the volumes Aristotle and Plato ever wrote. Do you hear that bell? It
is a signal to attend the festival of Milcom. Oh, Mammon I behold I
come."
She moved towards the door, and said from the threshold:
"I say unto you--eat. Then come downstairs and amuse yourself looking
about the house. There are some interesting things in the parlours,
and if you are musical, you will find a piano that cost one thousand
dollars. When I am away, there are no skeletons in this house, so you
need not fear sleeping here alone. My room is on the same floor.
Good-night."
Refreshed by her sound sleep, Regina bathed her face, rearranged her
hair, and ate the dinner, which although cold, was very temptingly
prepared. When Hattie came to carry down the silver tray containing
the delicate green and gold china dishes, she complimented the
stranger upon the improvement in her appearance, adding:
"Miss Olga directed me to show you the house, and anything you might
like to look at, so I lighted the palours and reception-room; and the
library always has a fire, and the gas burning. That is next to Mr.
Palma's bedroom, and is his special place. He comes and goes so
irregularly that we never can tell when he is in it. Once last year
he got home at nine o'clock unexpectedly, and sat up all night
writing there in the cold. Next morning he gave orders for fire and
light in that room, whether he was at home or not. Miss, if you don't
mind looking about yourself, I should like to run around to Eighth
Avenue for a few minutes, to see my sick aunt. Terry has gone out,
and Mary promised to answer the bell, if any one called. Farley says
be easy about your dog; he had a hearty dinner of soup and meat, and
is on a softer bed than some poor souls lie on to-night. Can I go?"
"Certainly, I am not afraid; and when I get sleepy I will come up and
go to bed. When will Mrs. Palma and Miss Neville come home?"
"Not before midnight, if then."
She explained to Regina how to elevate and extinguish the gas, and
the two went down to the sitting-room, whence Hattie soon
disappeared. Raising the silk curtain that divided this apartment
from the parlours, Regina walked slowly up and down upon the velvet
carpet in which her feet seemed to sink, as on a bed of moss; and her
eyes wandered admiringly over the gilded stands, gleaming bronzes,
marble statuettes, papier maché, ormolu, silk, lace, brocatel,
moquette, satin and silver which attracted her gaze.
Beautiful pictures adorned the tinted walls, and the ceiling was
brilliantly frescoed, while one of the wide bay-windows contained a
stand filled with a superb array of wax flowers. Regina opened the
elegant grand piano, but forbore to touch the keys, and at last when
she had feasted her eyes sufficiently upon some lovely landscapes by
Gifford and Bierstadt, she quitted the richly decorated parlours, and
slowly went up the stairs that led to the room which Hattie had
pointed out as Mr. Palma's library.
Leaving the door partly open, she entered a long lofty apartment, the
floor of which was of marquetry, polished almost as glass, with
furred robes laid here and there before tables, and deep luxurious
easy chairs.
Four spacious lines of book shelves with glass doors bearing silver
handles, girded the sides of the room, and the walls were painted in
imitation of the Pompeian style; while the corners of the ceiling
held lovely frescoes of the season, and in the centre was a zodiac.
Bronze and marble busts shone here and there, and where the panels of
the wall were divided by representations of columns, metal brackets
and wooden consoles sustained delicate figures and groups of
sculpture.
Filled with wonder and delight the girl glided across the shining
mosaic floor, gazing now at the glowing garlands, and winged figures
on the wall, and now at the elegantly bound books Whose gilded titles
gleamed through the plate glass.
She had read of such rooms in "St. Martin's Summer," a volume Mrs.
Lindsay never tired of quoting; but this exquisite reality
transcended all her previous flights of imagination, and, approaching
the bright coal fire, she basked in the genial glow, in the
atmosphere of taste, culture, and rare luxury. A quaint clock inlaid
with designs in malachite, ticked drowsily upon the low black marble
mantle, which represented winged lions bearing up the slab, and near
the hearth was an ebony and gold escritoire which stood open,
revealing a bronze inkstand and velvet penwiper. Before it sat the
revolving chair, with a bright-coloured embroidered cushion for the
feet to rest upon; and in a recess behind the desk, and partly
screened by the sweep of damask Curtains, hung a man's pearl-grey
dressing-gown, lined with silk; while under it rested a pair of black
velvet slippers encrusted with vine leaves and bunches of grapes in
gold bullion.
Wishing to see the effect, Regina took a taper from the Murrhine cup
on the mantle, and standing on a chair lighted the cluster of burners
shaped like Pompeian lamps, in the chandelier nearest the grate; then
went back to the rug before the fire, and enjoyed the spectacle
presented.
What treasures of knowledge were contained in this beautiful, quiet,
brilliant room!
Would she be permitted to explore the contents of those book shelves,
where hundreds of volumes invited her eager investigation? Could she
ever be as happy here as in the humble yet hallowed library at the
dear old parsonage?
An oval table immediately under the gas-globes held a china stand
filled with cigars, and seeing several books lying near it, she took
up one.
It was Gustave Doré's "Wandering Jew," and, throwing herself down on
the rug, she propped her head with one hand, while the other slowly
turned the leaves, and she examined the wonderful illustrations. She
was vaguely conscious that the clock struck ten, but paid little
attention to the flight of time, and after awhile she closed the
book, drew the cushion before the desk to the rug in front of the
fire, laid her head on it, and soothed by the warmth and perfect
repose of the room fell asleep.
Soon after the door opened wider, and Mr. Palma entered, and walked
half way down the room ere he perceived the recumbent figure. He
paused, then advanced on tiptoe and stood by the hearth, warming his
white scholarly hands and looking down on the sleeper.
With the careless grace of a child, innocent of the art of
attitudinizing, she had made herself thoroughly comfortable; and as
the light streamed full upon her, all the marvellous beauty of the
delicate face and the perfect modelling of the small hands and feet
were clearly revealed. The glossy raven hair clung in waving masses
around her white full forehead, and the long silky lashes lay like
jet fringe on her exquisitely moulded cheeks; while the remarkably
fine pencilling of her arched brows, which had attracted her
guardian's notice when he first saw her at the convent, was still
more apparent in the gradual development of her features.
Studying the face and form, and rigidly testing both by the
fastidious canons that often rendered him hypercritical, Mr. Palma
could find no flaw in contour or in colouring, save that the
complexion was too dazzlingly white, lacking the rosy tinge which
youth and health are wont to impart.
Stretching his arm to the escritoire, he softly opened a side drawer,
took out an oval-shaped engraving of his favourite Sappho, and
compared the nose, chin, and ear with those of the unconscious girl.
Satisfied with the result, he restored the picture to its
hiding-place. Four years had materially changed the countenance he
had seen last at the parsonage, but the almost angelic purity of
expression which characterized her as a child, had been intensified
by time and recent grief, and watching her in her motionless repose
he thought that unquestionably she was the fairest image he had ever
seen in flesh; though a certain patient sadness about her beautiful
lips told him that the waves of sorrow were already beating hoarsely
upon the borders of her young life.
Standing upon his own hearth, a man of magnificent stature and almost
haughty bearing, Erle Palma looked quite forty, though in reality
younger; and the stern repression, the cautious reticence which had
long been habitual, seemed to have hardened his regular handsome
features. Weary with the business cares, the professional details of
a trip that had yielded him additional laurels and distinction, and
gratified his towering pride, he had come home to rest; and found it
singularly refreshing to study the exquisite picture of innocence
lying on his library rug.
He wondered how the parents of such a child could entrust her to the
guardianship of strangers; and whether it would be possible for her
to carry her peculiar look of holy purity safely into the cloudy
Beyond--of womanhood?
While he pondered the clock struck, and Regina awoke.
At sight of that tall stately figure, looming like a black statue
between her and the glow of the grate, she sprang first into a
sitting posture, then to her feet.
He made no effort to assist her, only watched every movement, and
when she stood beside him, he held out his hand.
"Regina, I am glad to see you in my house; and am sorry I could not
have been at home to receive you."
Painfully embarrassed by the thought of the position in which he had
found her, she covered her face with her hand; and at the sound of
his grave deep voice the blood swiftly mounted from her throat to the
tip of her small shell-shaped ears.
He waited for her to speak, but she could not sufficiently conquer
her agitation, and with a firm hand he drew down the shielding
fingers, holding, them in his.
"There is nothing very dreadful in your being caught fast asleep,
like a white kitten on a velvet rug. If you are never guilty of
anything worse, you and your guardian will not quarrel."
Her face had drooped beyond the range of his vision, and when he put
one hand under her chin and raised it, he saw that the missing light
in the alabaster vase had been supplied, and her smooth cheeks were
flushed to brilliant carmine.
How marvellously lovely she was in that rush of colour that dyed her
dainty lips, and made the large soft eyes seem radiant as stars, when
they bravely struggled up to meet his, so piercing, so coolly
critical.
"Will you answer me one question, if I ask it?"
"Certainly, Mr. Palma; at least I will try.
"Are you afraid of me?"
The sweet mouth quivered, but the clear lustrous eyes did not sink.
"Yes, sir; I have always been afraid of you."
"Do you regard me as a monster of cruelty?"
"No, sir."
"Will your conscience allow you to say, 'My guardian, I am glad to
see you'?"
She was silent.
"That is right, little girl. Be perfectly truthful, and some day we
may be friends. Sit down."
He handed her a chair, and, rolling forward one of the deep cushioned
seats, made himself comfortable in its soft luxurious latitude.
Throwing his massive head back against the purple velvet lining, he
adjusted his steel-rimmed spectacles, joined his hands, and built a
pyramid with his fingers; while he scrutinized her as coldly, as
searchingly as Swammerdam or Leeuwenhoek might have inspected some
new and as yet unclassified animalculum, or as Filippi or Pasteur
studied the causes of "_Pébrine_."
"What do you think of New York?"
"It seems a vast human sea, in which I could easily lose myself, and
be neither missed nor found."
"Have you studied mythology at all? Or was your pastor-guardian
afraid of paganizing you? Did you ever hear of Argus?"
"Yes, sir, I understand you."
"He was merely a dim prophecy of our police system; and when
adventurous girls grow rebellious and essay to lose themselves a
hundred Arguses are watching them. You seem to like my library?"
"It is the most beautiful room I have ever seen."
"Wait until you examine the triumph of upholstering skill and genius
which Mrs. Palma calls her parlours."
"I saw all the pretty things downstairs, but nothing will compare
with this lovely place." She glanced around with undisguised
admiration.
"Pretty things! _Objets de luxe!_ Oh, ye gods of fashionable
_bric-à-brac!_ verily 'out of the mouths of babes,' etc., etc. Be
very careful to suppress your heretical and treasonable preference in
the presence of Mrs. Palma, who avoids this pet library of mine as if
it were a magnified Pandora's box. Regina, I have reason to apprehend
that you and she declared war at sight."
"I know she does not like me."
"And you fully reciprocate the prejudice?"
"Mrs. Palma of course has a right to consult her own wishes in the
management of her home and household."
"Just here permit me to correct you. My house, if you please, my
household, over which at my request she presides. Upon your arrival
you did not find her quite as cordial as you anticipated?"
Her gaze wandered to the fire, and she was silent.
"Be so good as to look at me when I speak to you. Mrs. Palma appeared
quite harsh to you to-day?"
"I have made no complaint against your mother."
"Pardon me, Mrs. Palma, my father's wife, if you please. Tell me the
particulars of your reception here."
The beautiful face turned pleadingly to him.
"You must excuse me, sir. I have nothing to tell you."
"And if I will not excuse you?"
She folded her hands together, and compressed her lips.
"Then I have some things to tell you. I am acquainted with all that
occurred to-day."
"I thought you were in Philadelphia? How could you know?'
"Roscoe told me everything, and I have questioned Farley, who has not
taken your vow of silence. Mrs. Palma has some prejudices, which, as
far as is compatible with reason, a due sense of courtesy constrains
me to respect; and as I have invited her to officiate as mistress of
my establishment, it is eminently proper that I should consult her
opinions, and encourage no rebellion against her domestic
regulations. One of her sternest mandates, inexorable as Mede and
Persian statutes, prohibits dogs. Now what do you expect of me?"
He leaned forward, eyeing her keenly.
"That you will do exactly----"
"As I please?" he interrupted.
"No, sir, exactly right."
"That amounts to the same thing, does it not?"
She shook her head.
"Your impression is, that I will not please to do exactly right?"
"I have not said so, sir."
"Your eyes are very brave honest witnesses, and need no support from
your lips. Suppose we enter into negotiations and compromise matters
between Mrs. Palma and you? This troublesome dog is a pestiferous
creature, which might possibly be tolerated in country clover fields,
but is most woefully out of place in a Fifth Avenue house. Beside,
you will soon be a young lady, and your beaux will leave you no
leisure to pet him. You are fifteen?"
"Not yet; and if I were fifty it would make no difference. I don't
want any beaux, sir; but--I must have my Hero."
"Of course, all misses in their teens believe that their favourite is
a hero."
"Mr. Palma, Hero is my dog's name."
He could detect a quiver in her slender nostril, and understood the
heightening arch of her lip.
"Oh! is it indeed? Well, no dog that ever barked is worth a household
hurricane. You must make up your mind to surrender him, to shed a few
tears and say _vale_ Hero! Now I am disposed to be generous for once,
though understand that is not my habit, and I will buy him. I will
pay you--let me see--thirty-five, forty--well, say fifty dollars?
That will supply you with Maillard's _bonbons_ for almost a year;
will sweeten your bereavement."
She rose instantly, with a peculiar sparkle leaping up in her
splendid eyes.
"There is not gold enough in New York to buy him."
"What! I must see this surly brute, that in your estimation is beyond
all price. Tell me truly, do you cling to him so fondly, because some
schoolboy sweetheart, some rosy-cheeked lad in V---- gave him to you
as a love token? Trust me; we lawyers are locked iron safes for all
such tender secrets, and I will never betray yours."
The rich glow overflowed her cheeks once more.
"I have no sweetheart. I love my Hero, because he is truly noble and
sagacious; because he loves me, and because he is mine--all mine."
"Truly satisfactory and sufficient reasons. I might ask how he came
into your possession; but probably you shrink from divulging your
little secret, and I am unwilling to force your confidence."
She looked curiously into his face, but the handsome mouth and chin
might have been chiselled in stone for any visible alteration in
their fixed stern expression, and his piercing black eyes seemed
diving into hers through microscopic glasses.
"At least, Regina, I venture the hope that he came properly and
honestly into your heart and hands?"
"I hope so too, because you gave him to me."
"I?"
"Yes, sir. You know perfectly well that you sent him to me."
"I sent you a dog? When? Is he black, brown, striped, or spotted?"
"Snow-white, and you know as well as I do that you asked Mr. Lindsay
to bring him to me soon after you left me at V----."
"Indeed! Was I guilty of so foolish a thing? Did you thank me for the
present?"
"I asked dear Mr. Hargrove to tell you when he wrote that I was
exceedingly grateful for your kindness."
"Certainly it appears so. All these years the dog was not worth even
a simple note of thanks; now all the banks in Gotham cannot buy him."
The chill irony of his tone painfully embarrassed her.
"You positively refuse to sell him to me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Because you love him?"
"Because I love him more than I can ever make you comprehend."
"You regard me as a dullard in comprehending canine qualities?"
"I did not say so."
"Do you really find yourself possessed of any sentiment of gratitude
toward me? If so, will you do me a favour?"
"Certainly, if I can."
"Thank you. I shall always feel exceedingly obliged. Pray do not look
so uneasy, and grow so white; it is a small matter. I gave you the
dog years ago, little dreaming that I was thereby providing future
discord for my own hearthstone. With a degree of flattering delicacy,
which I assure you I appreciate, you decline to sell what was a
friendly gift; and now I simply appeal to your generosity, and ask
you please to give him back to me."
She recoiled a step, and her fingers clutched each other.
"Oh, Mr. Palma! Don't ask me. I cannot give up my Hero. I would give
you anything, everything else that I own."
"Rash little girl! What else have you to give? Yourself?"
He was smiling now, and the unbending of his lips, and glitter of his
remarkably fine teeth, gave a strange charm to his countenance,
generally so grave.
"You would give yourself away, sooner than that unlucky dog?"
"I belong to my mother. But he belongs to me, and I never, never will
part with him!"
"_Jacta est alea!_" muttered the lawyer, still smiling.
"Mr. Palma, I hope you will excuse me. It may seem very selfish and
obstinate in me, and perhaps it really is so, but I can't help it. I
am so lonely now, and Hero is all that I have left to comfort me.
Still I know as well as you or any one else, that it would be very
wrong and unkind to force him into a house where dogs are
particularly disliked; and therefore we will annoy no one here,--we
will go away."
"Will you? Where?"
He rose, and they stood side by side.
Her face wore its old childish look of patient pain, reminding him of
the time when she stood with the cluster of lilies drooping against
her heart. He saw that tears had gathered in her eyes, tendering them
larger, more wistful.
"I do not know yet. Anywhere that you think best, until we can write
and get mother's permission for me to go to her. Will you not please
use your influence with her?"
"To send you from the shelter of my roof? That would be eminently
courteous and hospitable on my part. Besides your mother does not
want you."
Observing how sharply the words wounded her, he added:
"I mean, that at present she prefers to keep you here, because it is
best for your own interests; and in all that she does, I believe your
future welfare is her chief aim. You understand me, do you not?"
"I do not understand why or how it can be best for a poor girl to be
separated from her mother, and thrown about the world, burdening
strangers. Still, whatever my mother does must be right."
"Do you think you burden me?"
"I believe, sir, that you are willing for mother's sake to do all you
can for me, and I thank you very much; but I must not bring trouble
or annoyance into your family. Can't you place me at school? Mrs.
Lindsay has a dear friend--the widow of a minister--living in New
York, and perhaps she would take me to board in her house? I have a
letter to her. Do help me to go away from here."
He turned quickly, muttering something that sounded very like a
half-smothered oath, and took her little trembling hand, folding it
gently between his soft warm palms.
"Little girl, be patient; and in time all things will be conquered.
As long as I have a home, I intend to keep you, or until your mother
sends for you. She trusts me fully, and you must try to do so, even
though sometimes I may appear harsh,--possibly unjust. Of course Hero
cannot remain here at present, but I will take him down to my office,
and have him carefully attended to; and as often as you like you
shall come and see him, and take him to ramble with you through the
parks. As soon as I can arrange matters, you shall have him with you
again."
"Please, Mr. Palma! send me to a boarding school; or take me back to
the convent."
"Never!"
He spoke sternly, and his face suddenly hardened, while his fingers
tightened over hers like a glove of steel.
"I shall never be contented here."
"That remains to be seen."
"Mrs. Palma does not wish me to reside here."
"It is my house, and in future you will find no cause to doubt your
welcome."
She knew that she might as efficaciously appeal to an iron column,
and her features settled into an expression that could never have
been called resignation,--that plainly meant hopeless endurance. She
attempted twice to withdraw her hand, but his clasp tightened.
Bending his haughty head, he asked:
"Will you be reasonable?"
A heavy sigh broke over her compressed mouth, and she answered in a
low, but almost defiant tone:
"It seems I cannot help myself."
"Then yield gracefully to the inevitable, and you will learn that
when struggles end, peace quickly follows."
She chose neither to argue, nor acquiesce, and slowly shook her head.
"Regina."
She merely lifted her eyes.
"I want you to be happy in my house."
"Thank you, sir."
"Don't speak in that sarcastic manner. It does not sound respectable
to one's guardian."
She was growing paler, and all her old aversion to him was legible in
her countenance.
"Let us be friends. Try to be a patient, cheerful girl."
"Patient,--I will try. Cheerful,--no, no, not here! How can I be
happy in this house? Am I a brute, or a stone? Oh! I wish I could
have died with my dear, dear Mr. Hargrove, that calm night when he
went to rest for ever while I sang!"
One by one the tears stole over her long lashes, and rolled swiftly
down her cheeks.
"Will you tell me the circumstances of his death?"
"Please do not ask me now. It would bring back all the sad things
that began when Mr. Lindsay left me. Everything was so bright until
then,--until he went away. Since then nothing but trouble, trouble."
A frown clouded the lawyer's brow; then with a half smile he asked:
"Of the two ministers, who did you love best? Mr. Hargrove, or the
young missionary?"
"I do not know, both were so noble, good, and kind; and both are so
very dear to me. Mr. Palma, please let go my hand; you hurt me."
"Pardon me! I forgot I held it."
He opened his hands, and, looking down at the almost childish
fingers, saw that his seal ring had pressed heavily upon, and
reddened the soft palm.
"I did not intend to bruise you so painfully, but in some respects
you are such a tender little thing, and I am only a harsh, selfish
strong man, and hurt you without knowing it. One word more, before I
send you off to sleep. Olga has the most kindly ways, and really the
most affectionate heart under this roof of mine, and she will do all
she can for your comfort and happiness. Be respectful to Mrs. Palma,
and she shall meet you half way. This is as you say the most
attractive room in the house, this is exclusively and especially
mine; but at all times, whether I am absent, or present, you must
consider yourself thoroughly welcome, and recollect, all it contains
in the book line is at your service. To-morrow I will talk with you
about your studies, and examine you in some of your text-books. _A
propos!_ I take my breakfast alone, before the other members of the
family are up, and unless you choose to rise early and join me at the
seven o'clock table, you need not be surprised if you do not see me
until dinner, which is usually at half-past six. If you require
anything that has not been supplied in your room, do not hesitate to
ring and order it. Try to feel at home."
"Thank you, sir."
She moved a few steps, and he added:
"Do not imagine that Hero is suffering all the torments painted in
Dante's 'Inferno'; but go to sleep like a good child, and accept my
assurance that he is resting quite comfortably. When I came home, I
took a light, went out and examined his kennel; found him liberally
provided with food, water, bed, every accommodation that even your
dog, which all New York can't buy, could possibly wish. Good-night,
little one. Don't dream that I am Blue Beard or Polyphemus."
"Good-night, Mr. Palma."