Dismissing the carriage at the corner of the square, near which she
expected to find Mrs. Mason located in more comfortable lodging,
Regina walked on until she found the building of which she was in
quest, and rang the bell. It was situated in a row of plain,
unpretending but neat tenement houses, kept thoroughly repaired; and
the general appearance of the neighbourhood indicated that the
tenants though doubtless poor were probably genteel, and had formerly
been in more affluent circumstances.
The door was opened by a girl apparently half grown, who stated that
Mrs. Mason had rented the basement rooms, and that her: visitors were
admitted through the lower entrance, as a different set of lodgers
had the next floor. She offered to show Regina the way, and knocking
at the basement door, the girl suddenly remembered that she had seen
Mrs. Mason visiting at the house directly opposite.
"Wait, miss, and I will run across and call her."
While standing at the lower door, and partly screened by the flight
of steps leading to the rooms above, Regina saw a figure advancing
rapidly along the sidewalk, a tall figure whose graceful carriage was
unmistakable; and as the person ran up the steps of the next house in
the row, and impatiently pulled the bell, Regina stepped forward and
looked up.
A gust of wind just then blew aside the thick brown veil that
concealed the countenance, and showed for an instant only the
strongly marked yet handsome profile of Olga Neville.
The door opened; her low inaudible question was answered in the
affirmative, and Olga was entering, when the skirt of her dress was
held by a projecting nail, and in disengaging it, she caught a
glimpse of the astonished countenance beneath the steps. She paused,
leaned over the balustrade, threw up both hands with a warning
gesture, then laid her finger on her lips, and hurried in, closing
the door behind her.
"The lady says Mrs. Mason was there, but left her about a quarter of
an hour ago. What name shall I give when she comes home?"
"Tell her Regina Orme called, and was very sorry she missed seeing
her. Say I will try to come again on Sunday afternoon, if the weather
is good. Who lives in the next house?"
"A family named Eggleston. I hear they sculp and paint for a living.
Good-day, miss. I won't forget to tell the old lady you called."
Walking leisurely homeward, Regina felt sorely perplexed in trying to
reconcile Olga's plea of indisposition and her lingering in bed, with
this sudden appearance in that distant quarter of the city, and her
evident desire to conceal her face, and to secure silence with regard
to the casual meeting. Was Mrs. Palma acquainted with her daughter's
movements, or was the girl's nervous excitement of the morning
indirectly connected with some mystery, of which the mother did not
even dream? That some adroitly hidden sorrow was the secret spring of
Olga's bitterness toward Mr. Palma, and the unfailing source of her
unjust and cynical railings against that society into which she
plunged with such inconsistent recklessness, Regina had long
suspected; and her conjecture was strengthened by the stony
imperturbability with which her guardian received the sarcasms often
aimed at him. Whatever the solution, delicacy forbade all attempts to
lift the veil of concealment, and resolving to banish unfavourable
suspicion concerning a woman to whom she had become sincerely
attached, Regina directed her steps toward one of the numerous small
parks that beautify the great city, and furnish breathing and
gambolling space for the helpless young innocents, who are debarred
all other modes of "airing," save such as are provided by the noble
munificence of New York. The day, though cold, was very bright, the
sky a cloudless grey-blue, the slanting beams of the sun filling the
atmosphere with gold-dust; and in crossing the square to gain the
street beyond Regina was attracted by a group of children romping
along the walk, and laughing gleefully.
One a toddling wee thing, with a scarlet cloak that swept the ground,
and a hood of the same warm tint drawn over her curly yellow hair and
dimpled round face, had fallen on the walk, unheeded by her
boisterous companions, and becoming entangled in the long garment
could not get up again. Pausing to lift the little creature to her
feet, and restore the piece of cake that had escaped from the chubby
hand, Regina stood smiling sympathetically at the sport of the larger
children, and wondering whether all those rosy-cheeked "olive
branches" clustered around one household altar.
At that moment a heavy hand was placed on her shoulder, and turning
she saw at her side a powerful man, thick set in stature, and whose
clothing was worn and soiled. Beneath a battered hat drawn
suspiciously low she discerned a swarthy, flushed, saturnine
countenance, which had perhaps once been attractive, before the seal
of intemperance marred and stained its lineament. Somewhere she
certainly had seen that dark face, and a sensation of vague terror
seized her.
"Regina, it is about time you should meet and recognize me."
The voice explained all; she knew the man whom Hannah bad met in the
churchyard on the evening of the storm.
She made an effort to shake off his hand, but it closed firmly upon
her, and he asked:
"Do you know who I am?"
"Your name is Peleg, and you are a wicked man, an enemy of my
mother."
"The same, I do not deny it. But recollect I am also your father."
She stared almost wildly at him, and her face blanched and quivered
as she uttered a cry of horror.
"It is false! You are not--you never could have been! You--Oh!
never--never!"
So terrible was the thought that she staggered, and sank down on an
iron seat, covering her face with her hands.
"This comes of separating father and child, and rising you above your
proper place in the world. Your mother taught you to hate me, I knew
she would; but I have waited as long as I can bear it, and I intend
to assert my rights. Who do you suppose is your father? Whose child
did she say you were?"
"She never told me, but I know--O God, have mercy upon me! You cannot
be my father! It would kill me to believe it!"
She shuddered violently, and when he attempted to put his hand on
hers, she drew back and cried out, almost fiercely:
"Don't touch me! If you dare, I will scream for a policeman."
"Very well, as soon as you please, and when he comes I will explain
to him that you arc my daughter; and if necessary I will carry you
both to the spot where you were born, and prove the fact. Do you know
where you were born? I guess Minnie did not see fit to tell you that,
either. Well, in was in that charity hospital on ---- Street, and I
can tell you the year, and the day of the month. My child, you might
at least pity, and not insult your poor unhappy father."
Could it be possible after all? Her head swam; her heart seemed
bursting; her very soul sickened, as she tried to realize all that
his assertion implied. What could he expect to accomplish by such a
claim, unless he intended, and felt fully prepared, to establish it
by irrefragable facts?
"My girl, your mother deserted me before you were born, and has never
dared to let you know the truth. She is living in disguise in Europe,
under an assumed name, and only last week I found out her
whereabouts. She calls herself Mrs. Orme now, and has turned actress.
She was born one; she has played a false part all her life. Do you
think your name is Orme? My dear child, it is untrue, and I, Peleg
Peterson, am your father."
"No, no! My mother, my beautiful, refined mother never, never could
have loved you! Oh! it is too horrible! Go away, please go away! or I
shall go mad."
She bound her hands tightly across her eyes, shutting out the
loathsome face, and in the intensity of her agony and dread she
groaned aloud. If it were true, could she hear it, and live? What
would Mr. Lindsay think, if he could see that coarse brutal man
claiming her as his daughter? What would her haughty guardian say, if
he who so sedulously watched over her movements, and fastidiously
chose her associates, could look upon her now?
Born in a. hospital, owning that repulsive countenance there beside
her as parent?
Heavy cold drops oozed out, and glistened on her brow, and she
shivered from head to foot, rocking herself to and fro.
Almost desperate as she thought of the mysterious circumstances that
seemed to entangle her mother as in some inextricable net, the girl
suddenly started up, and exclaimed:
"It is a fraud, a wicked fraud, or you would never have left me so
long in peace. My father was, must have been, a gentleman; I know, I
feel it! You are--you--Save me, O Lord in heaven, from such a curse
as that!"
He grasped her arm and hissed:
"I am poor and obscure, it is true; but Peterson is better than no
name at all, and if you are not my child, then you have no name. That
is all; take your choice."
What a pall settled on earth and sky! The sun shining so brightly in
the west grew black, and a shadow colder and darker than death seized
her soul. Was it the least of alternate horrors to accept this man,
acknowledging his paternal claim, and thereby defend her mother's
name? How the lovely sad face of that young mother rose like a star,
gilding all this fearful blackness; and her holy abiding faith in her
mother proved a strengthening angel in this Gethsemane.
Rallying, she forced herself to look steadily at her companion.
"You say that your name is Peleg Peterson; why did you never come
openly to the parsonage and claim me? I know that my mother was
married in that house, by Mr. Hargrove."
"Because I never could find out where you were hid away, until my
aunt, Hannah Hinton, told me the week before the great storm. Then
she promised me the marriage license, which she had found in a desk
at the parsonage, on condition that I would not disturb you; as she
thought you were happy and well-cared for, and would be highly
educated, and I was too miserably poor to give you any advantages.
You know the license was burned by lightning, else I would show it to
you."
"Proving that you are my mother's legal husband?"
"Certainly, else what use do you suppose I had for it."
"Oh no! You intended to sell it. Hannah told me so."
"No such thing. Minnie does not want to own me now, and I intended to
show the license to the father of the man for whom she deserted both
you and me. She has followed him to Europe, though she knows he is a
married man."
"It is false! How dare you! You shall not slander her dear name. My
mother could never have done that! There is some foul conspiracy to
injure her; not another word against her! No matter what may have
happened, no matter how dark and strange things look, she was not to
blame. She is right, always right; I know, I feel it! I tell you, if
the sun and the stars, and the very archangels in heaven accused her,
I would not listen, I would not believe--no--never! She is my mother,
do you hear me? She is my mother, and God's own angels would go
astray as soon as she!"
She looked as white and rigid as a corpse twelve hours dead, and her
large defiant eyes burned with a supernatural lustre.
He comprehended the nature with which he had to deal, and after a
pause, said sullenly:
"Minnie does not deserve such a child, and it is hard that you, my
own flesh and blood, refuse to recognize me. Regina, I am desperately
poor, or I would take you now, forcibly if necessary; and if Minnie
dared deny my claim, I would publish the facts in a court of justice.
Even your guardian is deceived, and many things would come to light,
utterly disgraceful to you, and to your father and mother. But at
present I cannot take care of you, and I am in need, actual need.
Will my child see her own father want bread and clothing, and refuse
to assist him? Can you not contribute something toward my support,
until I can collect some money due me? If you can help me a little
now, I will try to be patient, and leave you where you are, in luxury
and peace; at least till I can hear from Minnie, to whom I have
written."
"Why do you not go at once to my guardian, and demand me?"
"If you wish it I will, before sunset. Come, I am ready. But when I
do, the facts will be blazoned to the world, and you and Minnie and I
shall all go down together in disgrace and ruin. If you are willing
to drag all the shameful history into the papers, I am ready now."
He rose, but she shrank away, and putting her hand in her pocket,
became aware of the loss of her purse. Had she been robbed, or had
she dropped her _porte-monnaie_ in the carriage?
"I have not a cent with me. I have lost my purse since I left home."
She saw the gloomy scowl that lowered on his brow. "When can you give
me some money? Mind, it must not be known that I am literally
begging. I am as proud, my daughter, as you are, and if people find
out that I am getting alms from you, I shall explain that it is from
my own child I receive aid."
A feeble gleam of hope stole across her soul, and rapidly she
reflected on the best method of escape.
"I have very little money, but to-morrow I will send you through the
post office every cent I possess. How shall I address it?"
He shook his head.
"That would not satisfy me. I want to see you again, to look at your
sweet face. Do you think I do not love my child? Meet me here this
time to-morrow."
Each word smote like pelting hailstones, and he saw all her loathing
printed on her face.
"I have an engagement that may detain me beyond this hour; but if I
live, I will be as punctual as circumstances permit."
"If you tell Palma you have seen me, he must know everything, for
Minnie has hired him to help her deceive you and the world, and all
the while she has kept the truth from him. Shrewd as he is, she has
completely duped him. If he learns you have been with me, I shall
unmask everything; and when he washes his hands of you and your
mother, I will take you where you shall never lay your eyes again on
the two who have taught you to hate me--Minnie and Palma. My child,
do you understand me?"
She shuddered as he leaned toward her, and stepping back, she
answered resolutely:
"That threat will prove very effectual. I will meet you here,
bringing the little money I have, and will keep this awful day a
secret from all but God, who never fails to protect the right."
"You promise that?"
"What else is left me? My guardian shall know nothing from me until I
can hear from my mother, to whom I shall write this night. Do not
detain me. My absence will excite suspicion."
"Good-bye, my daughter."
He held out his hand.
She looked at him, and her lips writhed as she tried to contemplate
for an instant the bare possibility that after all he might be her
parent. She forced herself to hold out her left hand which was
gloved, but he had scarcely grasped her fingers, when she snatched
them back, turned and darted away, while he called after her:
"This time to-morrow. Don't fail."
The glory of the world, and the light of her young life had suddenly
been extinguished, and fearful spectres vague and menacing thronged
the future. Death appeared a mere trifle in comparison with the
lifelong humiliation, perhaps disgrace, that was in store for her;
and bitterly she demanded of fate, why she had been reared so
tenderly, so delicately, in an atmosphere of honour and refinement,
if destined to fall at last into the hands of that coarse vicious
man? The audacity of his claim almost overwhelmed her faint hope that
some infamous imposture was being practised at her expense; and the
severity of the shock, the intensity of her mental suffering,
rendered her utterly oblivious of everything else.
At another time she would doubtless have heard and recognized a
familiar step that followed her from the moment she quitted the
square; but to-day, almost stupefied, she hurried along the pavement,
mechanically turning the corners, looking neither to right nor left.
Fifth Avenue was a long way off, and it was late in the afternoon
when she reached home, and ran up to her own room, anxious to escape
observation.
Hattie was arranging some towels on the washstand, and turning
around, exclaimed:
"Good gracious, miss! You are as white as the coverlid on the bed! I
guess something has happened?"
"I am not well. I am tired, so tired. Have they all come home?"
"Yes, and there will be company to dinner. Two gentlemen, Terry said.
Are you going to wear that dress?"
"I don't want any dinner. If they ask for me, tell Mrs. Palma I feel
very badly, and that I beg she will excuse me. Where is Olga?"
"Busy trimming her overskirt with flowers. You know Mrs. Tarrant
gives her ball to-night, and Miss Olga says she has saved herself,
rested all day, to be fresh for it. Lou-Lou has just come to dress
her hair. What a pity you can't go too, you look quite old enough.
Miss Olga has such a gay, splendid time."
"I do not want to go. I only wish I could lie down and sleep for
ever. Shut the door, and ask them all please to let me alone this
evening."
How the richness of the furniture and the elegance that prevailed
throughout this house mocked the threadbare raiment and
poverty-stricken aspect of the man who threatened to drag her down to
his own lower plane of life and association? Her innate pride, and
her cultivated fondness for all beautiful objects, rebelled at the
picture which her imagination painted in such sombre hues, and with a
bitter cry of shame and dread she bowed her head against the marble
mantlepiece.
For many years she had known that some unfortunate cloud hung over
her own and her mother's history, but faith in the latter, and a
perfect trust in the wisdom and goodness of Mr. Hargrove, had
encouraged her in every previous hour of disquiet and apprehension.
Until to-day the positive and hideous ghoul of disgrace had never
actually confronted her, and with the intuitive hopefulness of youth,
she had waved aside all forebodings, believing that at the proper
time her mother would satisfactorily explain the necessity for the
mystery of her conduct. Was Mr. Lindsay acquainted with some terrible
trouble that threatened her future when in bidding her farewell he
had said he would gladly shield her, were it possible, from trials
that he foresaw would be her portion?
Did he know all, and would he love her less, if that bold bad man
should prove his paternal claim to her? Her father! As she tried to
face the possibility, it was with difficulty that she smothered a
passionate cry, and throwing herself across the foot of the bed,
buried her face in her hands.
If she could only run away and go to India, where Mr. Lindsay would
shield, pity, and love her! How gratefully she thought of him at this
juncture,--how noble, tender, and generous he had always been! what a
haven of safety and rest his presence would be now!
As a very dear brother she had ever regarded him, for her affection,
though intense and profound, was as entirely free from all taint of
sentimentality, as that which she entertained for his mother; and her
pure young heart had never indulged a feeling that could have
coloured her cheek with confusion had the world searched its
recesses.
Were Douglass accessible, she would unhesitatingly have sprung into
his protecting arms, as any suffering young sister might have done,
and, fully unburdening her soul, would have sought brotherly counsel;
but in his absence, to whom was it possible for her to turn?
To her guardian? As she thought of his fastidious overweening pride,
his haughty scorn of everything plebeian, his detestation of all that
appertained to the ranks of the ill-bred, a keen pang of almost
intolerable shame darted through her heart, and a burning tide surged
over her cheeks, painting them fiery scarlet. Would he accord her the
shelter of his roof, were he aware of all that had occurred that day?
She started up, prompted by a sudden impulse to seek him and divulge
everything; to ask how much was true, to demand that he would send
her at once to her mother.
Perhaps he could authoritatively deny that man's statements, and
certainly he was far too prudent to assume guardianship of a girl
whose real parentage was unknown to him.
Implicit confidence in his wisdom and friendship, and earnest
gratitude for the grave kindness of his conduct toward her since she
became an inmate of his house, had gradually displaced the fear and
aversion that formerly influenced her against him; and just now the
only comfort she could extract from any quarter arose from the
reflection that in every emergency Mr. Palma would protect her from
harm and insult, until he could place her under her mother's care.
Two years of daily association had taught her to appreciate the
sternness and tenacity of his purpose, and his stubborn iron will, so
often dreaded before, now became a source of consolation, a tower of
refuge to which in extremity she could retreat.
But if she were indeed the low-born girl that man had dared to
assert, and Mr. Palma should learn that he had been deceived, how
could she ever meet his coldly contemptuous eyes?
Some one tapped at the door, but she made no response, hoping she
might be considered asleep. Mrs. Palma came in, groping her way.
"Why have you not a light?"
"I did not need one. I only wanted to be quiet."
"Where are the matches?"
"On the mantlepiece."
Mrs. Palma lighted the gas, then came to the bed.
"Regina, are you ill, that you obstinately absent yourself when you
know there is company to dinner?"
"I feel very badly indeed, and I hoped you would excuse me."
"Have you fever? You seemed very well when I parted from you at Mrs.
St. Clare's door."
"No fever, I think; but I felt unable to go downstairs. I shall be
better to-morrow."
"Erle desired me to say that he wishes to see you this evening, and
you must come down to the library about nine o'clock. He has gone to
his office, and you know he will be displeased if you fail to obey
him."
"Please, Mrs. Palma, tell him I am not able. Ask him to excuse me
this evening. Intercede for me, will you not?"
"Oh! I never interfere when Erle gives an order. Beside, I shall not
see him again before midnight. I am going with Olga to Mrs.
Tarrant's, and must leave home quite early because I promised to call
for Melissa Gardner and chaperon her. Of course she will not be
ready, young ladies never are, and we shall have to wait. It is only
eight o'clock now, and an hour's sleep will refresh you. I will
direct Hattie to call you, when your guardian comes in. Do you
require any medicine? You do look very badly."
"Only rest, I think. Can't you persuade Mr. Palma to go to the party,
or ball, or whatever it may be?"
"He has promised to drop in, toward the close of the evening and
escort us home. Quite a compliment to Mrs. Tarrant, for Erle rarely
deigns to honour such entertainments; but her husband is a prominent
lawyer, and a college friend of Erle's. Good-night."
She went out, closing the door softly, and Regina felt more desolate
than ever. Was Mr. Palma displeased, because she had gone visiting
without waiting for his consent? If she had been more patient, might
not this fearful discovery have been averted? Was her sorrow part of
the wages of her disobedient haste?
What had become of her purse? How could she without exciting
suspicion obtain the money she had so positively promised?
She rang the bell, and sent Hattie to request Farley to examine the
carriage, and see if she had not dropped her _porte-monnaie_ into
some of its crevices. It was a long time before the servant returned,
alleging in excuse that she had been detained to assist is dressing
Miss Olga. Farley had searched everywhere, and could not find the
purse.
Hattie hurried away to Mrs. Palma, and Regina unlocked a small drawer
of her bureau, and took out what remained of her semi-annual
allowance of pocket money. She counted it carefully, but found only
thirteen dollars.
If she could have recovered her _porte-monnaie_ she would have had
twenty dollars to offer, and even that seemed mockingly insufficient,
as the price of silence, of temporary escape from humiliation.
What could she do? She had never asked a cent from her guardian, and
the necessity of appealing to him was inexpressibly mortifying; but
to whom could she apply?
"'But Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of
these'--society tiger lilies."
The door swung wide open, and as she spoke Olga seemed to swim into
the room, so quick yet noiseless was her entrance.
At the sound of her voice, Regina dropped the money back into the
drawer, and turned to inspect the elegant toilette, which consisted
of gold-coloured silk and Mechlin lace, rich yellow roses with
sulphurous hearts, and a very complete set of topaz, which flashed
amber rays over the neck, ears, and arms of the wearer. With her
brilliant complexion, sparkling eyes, and hair elaborately powdered
with gold dust, she seemed a vision of light, at whom Regina gazed
with unfeigned admiration.
"Beautiful, Olga; beautiful."
"The textile fabrics, the silk and lace? Or the human framework, the
flesh and blood machine that serves as lay figure to show off the
statuesque folds, the creamy waves of cosily Mechlin, the Persian
roses, and expensive pebbles?"
"Both. The dress, and the wearer. I never saw you look so well."
"Thanks. Behold the result of the morning's self-denial, of a day
passed quietly in bed, with only the companionship of pillows and
dreams. I was forced to choose between Mrs. St. Clare's 'lunch' and
Mrs. Tarrant's 'crush,' 'not that I love Cæsar less, but that I love
Rome more;' and the success of my strategy is brilliant. Am I not the
complete impersonation of sunshine? How deadly white and chill you
look! Come closer and warm yourself in my glorious rays. Do you scout
oneiriomancy as a heathenish fable? To-day I unexpectedly became a
convert to its sublime secrets. After you and mamma deserted me for
Cantata and Luncheon, I fell into a heavy sleep, and dreamed that I
was Danæ, with a mist of gold drizzling over me; and lo! when I began
to dress this evening, my dazzled eyes beheld these superb topaz
gems. 'Compliments of Mr. Erle Palma, who thought they would
harmonize with the gold-coloured silk, and ordered them for the
occasion.' So said the card lying on the velvet case! Do you wonder
if the world is coming to its long-predicted end? Not at all; merely
the close of Olga Neville's career; the sun of my maidenhood setting
in unexpected splendour. Do you understand that scriptural paradox:
'To him that hath shall be given, but from him that hath not shall be
taken,' etc., etc? Once when I was better than I am now, and studied
my Bible, it puzzled me; now I know it means that stiff-necked Olga
Neville finds no favour in Mr. Palma's eyes; but the obedient, and
amiable, prospective Mrs. Silas Congreve shall be furnished with
gewgaws, which very soon she will possess in abundance, and to spare.
Just now mamma gave me the delightful intelligence that, having been
informed of my intention to trade myself off for stocks and
brown-stone-fronts, her very distinguished and magnanimous stepson
signified his approbation by announcing his determination to settle
ten thousand dollars on this Lucretia Borgia head, upon the day when
it wears a bridal veil."
All this was uttered volubly, as if she feared interruption; and she
stood surveying her brilliant image in the mirror, shaking out the
silk skirt, looping the lace, arranging the rose leaves and turning,
so as to catch her profile reflection.
Regina readily perceived that she adopted this method of ignoring the
casual meeting in East ---- Street, and resolved to tacitly accept
the cue; but before she could frame a reply, Olga hurried on:
"Were you really sick and unable to dine, or are you practising the
first steps, the initial measure of that policy system, so cordially
commended to your favourable regard? You missed an unusually good
dinner. Octave seems to have days of culinary inspiration, and this
has been one. The _turbot à la crême_ was fit for Lucullus, the
noyeau-flavoured _gauffres_ as crisp as criticism, as light as one of
Taglioni's movements, the marbled _glacés_ simply perfect. But when
your chair remained vacant your guardian darkened like a
thunder-cloud in an August sky, and Roscoe, poor Elliott Roscoe,
looked precisely as I imagine a hungry wolf feels, when crouching to
catch a tender ewe lamb he finds that the watchful shepherd has
safely locked it in the fold. Evidently he believes that you and Erle
Palma have conspired to starve him out, and really he is ludicrously
irate. Don't trifle with his expanding affections; they are not quite
fledged yet, and are easily bruised. Deal with him kindly; he is
better than his cousin, better than any of us. What have you done to
render him so unmanageable?
"I have not seen Mr. Roscoe for a week."
"Certainly he has seen you in much less time--he imagines, as
recently as this afternoon; but appearances are desperately
deceitful, and our fancy often manufactures likenesses. In this world
of fleeting shadows we are often called upon to reject the evidence
of all five of the senses, and what madness, what culpable folly, to
credit that of mere treacherous sight! Shall I tell Elliott that he
was dreaming, and did not see you?"
"I have no message for him. That he may have seen me sometime to-day,
walking upon the street, is quite possible, but certainly of no
consequence. Your bracelet has become unfastened."
She bent down to clasp the topaz crescent, and Olga laid her hand on
the girl's shoulder.
"Something pains you very much, and your face has not yet learned the
great feminine art of masking misery in smiles, and burying it in
dimples. Mind, dear, I do not ask, I do not wish to know what your
hidden fox is, preying so ravenously upon your vitals. Sooner or
later the punishment of the Spartan thief overtakes us all, and after
a while you will learn to bear the gnawing as gaily as I do. I don't
want to know your secret wound, I should only lacerate it with my
callous policy handling, only torment you by pouring into its gaping
mouth the vitriol of my fashionable worldly philosophy, which
consumes what it touches. How I wish stupid society would stand aside
and let me do you a genuine kindness; open your blue veins and let
out gently--slowly--all the pangs and throbs. Dear, it would be a
blessing, like that man in the East who stabbed his devoted wife at
her request, because he loved her and wished to put her at rest; but
something very blind indeed, and which under the cloak of Law mocks
and outrages justice, would blindly hang me! This is the age of Law;
even miracles are severely forbidden, and if the herd of Gadarene
swine had miraculously perished in this generation and country, our
Lord and His disciples would have inevitably been sued for damages.
Don't you know that Erle Palma would have been engaged for the
prosecution? Yes, mamma! quite ready, and coming, Go to sleep,
snowdrop, and dream that you are like me, a topaz-bedizened
_odalisque_ swimming in sunshine."
She stooped, kissed the girl softly on both cheeks, and looked
tenderly, pityingly at her; then suddenly gathered her close to her
heart, holding her there an instant, as if to shelter her from some
impending storm.
"If you love your mother, and she loves you, run away now and join
her, before the chains are tightened. Your guardian is setting
snares; little white rabbit, flee for your life, while escape is
possible."
She floated away like some dazzling gilded cloud, and a moment later
her peculiarly light merry laugh rang through the hall below, as she
ran down to join her mother.