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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29862-8.txt b/29862-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0370e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/29862-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10718 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Old Countess; or, The Two Proposals, by +Ann S. Stephens + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Old Countess; or, The Two Proposals + +Author: Ann S. Stephens + +Release Date: August 30, 2009 [EBook #29862] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD COUNTESS *** + + + + +Produced by Roberta Staehlin and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + THE OLD COUNTESS; + OR, + THE TWO PROPOSALS. + + BY + + MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS. + + AUTHOR OF "LORD HOPE'S CHOICE," "THE REIGNING BELLE," "MARRIED + IN HASTE," "MABEL'S MISTAKE," "DOUBLY FALSE," "WIVES AND + WIDOWS," "MARY DERWENT," "THE REJECTED WIFE," "THE SOLDIER'S + ORPHANS," "THE OLD HOMESTEAD," "FASHION AND FAMINE," "THE + HEIRESS," "RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY," "THE CURSE OF GOLD," "SILENT + STRUGGLES," "THE WIFE'S SECRET," "PALACES AND PRISONS," "THE + GOLD BRICK," "A NOBLE WOMAN." + + + A SEQUEL TO "LORD HOPE'S CHOICE." + + + PHILADELPHIA: + T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; + 306 CHESTNUT STREET. + + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by + T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, + In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + Chapter PAGE + + I.--LOVE LIGHTS IN TWO HEARTS. 23 + + II.--CLARA APPEALS TO HER STEPMOTHER. 30 + + III.--LOVERS' QUARREL. 40 + + IV.--THE ITALIAN TEACHER. 48 + + V.--THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER IN OPPOSITION. 57 + + VI.--SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES GET INTO A CONJUGAL + DIFFICULTY. 68 + + VII.--THE OPERATIC SUPPER. 77 + + VIII.--BEHIND THE SCENES. 86 + + IX.--THE FIRST PERFORMANCE. 91 + + X.--THE TWO FOSTER-CHILDREN MEET. 96 + + XI.--LADY CLARA QUARRELS WITH HER STEPMOTHER. 101 + + XII.--THE OLD PRISONER. 107 + + XIII.--THE OLD COUNTESS. 116 + + XIV.--THE OLD COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT. 122 + + XV.--THE EARL'S RETURN. 133 + + XVI.--THE WIFE AND THE DAUGHTER. 143 + + XVII.--HUSBAND AND WIFE. 152 + + XVIII.--THE STORMY NIGHT AND SUNSHINY MORNING. 159 + + XIX.--AFTER THE FAILURE. 167 + + XX.--LORD HILTON TAKES SUPPER WITH OLYMPIA. 176 + + XXI.--ON THE WAY TO HOUGHTON CASTLE. 184 + + XXII.--THE OLD COUNTESS. 191 + + XXIII.--EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS. 197 + + XXIV.--DOWN BY THE BROOK AMONG THE FERNS. 203 + + XXV.--HOW LADY CLARA GOT HER OWN WAY. 208 + + XXVI.--THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER. 214 + + XXVII.--MAGGIE CASEY MEETS HER OLD LOVER. 220 + + XXVIII.--JUST FIFTY POUNDS. 224 + + XXIX.--OLYMPIA'S DEFEAT. 232 + + XXX.--THE FAMILY MEETING AT HOUGHTON. 240 + + XXXI.--DOWN AMONG THE FERNS AGAIN. 247 + + XXXII.--OUT AMONG THE TREES. 253 + + XXXIII.--THE BALL AT HOUGHTON. 263 + + XXXIV.--THE OLD WOMAN WANDERS BACK AGAIN. 269 + + XXXV.--LADY HOPE IN THE CASTLE. 274 + + XXXVI.--DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER. 280 + + XXXVII.--THE NEMESIS. 289 + + + + +THE OLD COUNTESS; OR, THE TWO PROPOSALS. + +CHAPTER I. + +LOVE-LIGHTS IN TWO HEARTS. + + +During fourteen years Hepworth Closs had been a wanderer over the earth. + +When he was carried out from the court-room after Mrs. Yates' confession +of a crime which he had shrinkingly believed committed by another, he +had fainted from the suddenness with which a terrible load had been +lifted from his soul. + +In that old woman's guilt he had no share. It swept the blackness from +the marriage he had protested against as hideously wicked. The wrong he +had done was divested of the awful responsibilities which had seemed +more than he could bear. The revelation had made him, comparatively, an +innocent and free man. But a shock had been given to his whole being +which unfitted him for the common uses of society. + +After all that had passed through his mind he could not bear to think of +joining his sister or husband. The keen feelings of a nature, not in +its full development wicked or dishonorable, had been startled into +life, when he saw into what a gulf he had almost plunged. He saw the sin +and the wrong he had done in its true light, and not only repented of +it, but abhorred it from the very depths of his soul. He longed to make +atonement, and would have given ten years from his life for a chance by +which he could have sacrificed himself to any one that poor murdered +lady had loved. + +These feelings rose up like a barrier between him and his sister. Her +influence over his youth had been so powerful that his own better nature +never might have asserted itself but for the tragedy which followed his +first plunge into deception and wrong-doing. He loved this beautiful +young woman yet, as few brothers of any age or class ever did; but the +shock of that tragedy was on him, and his impulse was to flee from her +and the man for whose sake all this trouble had come. + +Hepworth Closs was not the first youth whose life has opened with evil +thoughts and evil deeds, from which his manhood shrank appalled. + +The unformed intellect and quick passions of youth have wrecked many a +noble soul, by the sin of an hour or a day, beyond the redemption of a +toiling and regretful after-life. The man who does redeem himself must +have a powerful nature, which will force its strength to be recognized, +and make its regeneration felt. But to the sins of youth much should be +forgiven, which, in the mature man, justice might utterly condemn. + +Hepworth Closs arose from that fainting fit humbled and grateful. That +moment his resolve was taken. He would not share the benefits which +might come to him through his sister's marriage, nor in anything partake +of a reward for the evil he had, in mercy, been saved from. The world +was before him. He would work his way into prosperity, if possible; if +not, bear his fate like a man who had deserved suffering, and could +endure it. + +One act of restitution was in his power. The property of the unfortunate +person, whom he knew as Lady Hope, had fallen into his possession, for +the house had been purchased in his name, and, in like manner, her +deposits had been made. He had never intended to claim this money as his +own, and invested it now, holding himself as the trustee. This done, he +threw himself upon the world, quite alone. + +During fifteen years he had asserted the honorable manhood that had +sprung out of his erring youth. That fearful tragedy had sickened him +with deception, and with all ambition which did not spring out of his +own honest exertions. He went forth, with all his energies on the alert, +and his intellect free from the suspicions that had for a time +enthralled it. He had craved riches, and hoped to obtain them through +Rachael's marriage. This had been a temptation. He had ambition still, +but it took a far more noble direction. With wealth he would gather +knowledge; with both, mental force and moral power. + +He went. Men saw him in the gold mines of California, in Australia, and +among the traders of India and Japan. Then he came back to New York, and +was honorably known upon the exchange. Then came a yearning wish to see +his sister, the only relative he had on earth; and we find him at the +gate of Oakhurst Park, just as Lady Clara dashed through it, as bright a +vision of joyous, happy girlhood as ever crossed the path of any man. + +That moment I think that Hepworth Closs fell in love with the girl. If +so, it was absolutely his first love. The boyish and most unprincipled +passion he had felt for that murdered lady had no similitude with the +feelings that possessed him now. It was a wicked, insane desire, +springing out of his perverted youth--a feeling that he would have +shuddered to have recognized as love, in these, his better days. + +Yes, it is certain Closs loved the girl at first sight, but was +unconscious of it, as the nest is when a dove settles down to its +brooding. + +As for the girl, she had seen but few men in her life calculated to +disturb the repose of a creature so gifted and rich in imagination. At +first Hepworth had seemed rather an old person to her, notwithstanding +the gloss of his black hair, and the smooth whiteness of his forehead. +With a trust in this, which gradually betrayed her, she accepted him +frankly as a relative, and in less than three weeks, grew restless as a +bird. She wondered what had made the world all at once so gloriously +beautiful, and why it was so difficult for her to keep the tears out of +her eyes when the soft purple evening came down, and divided the day +which had been spent with him, from the night, when she could only hope +to see him in shadowy dreams. + +Rachael Closs saw all this, and it filled her with bitter rejoicing. How +would her powerful old enemy receive the intelligence that a brother of +hers had won the heart of the future Lady Carset? that he would be lord +of the proud old castle, which must go with the title, and mingle the +blood she had so often denounced as base with that which had turned +against her, with such hot scorn, ever since she entered England as Lord +Hope's wife? + +The very thought of that haughty old peeress so humiliated was +wonderfully pleasant to the wounded pride of Rachael Closs. But far +beyond this was the yearning, almost passionate fondness she felt for +her brother and the beautiful girl who had been to her at once a Nemesis +and an infatuation. + +This was what Lady Hope had hinted at when Hepworth first came. The +great wish of her heart had grown to be the union of these two persons, +next to one supreme object of love, the dearest beings to her on earth. +It seemed to her that those long, weary intervals, which grew more and +more frequent, when Lord Hope left her alone in the desolate splendor of +that great house, would be more endurable if she were certain that these +two persons would always be near her. She was not ambitious for her +brother. That feeling had died out years ago; but her love sprang to +him, like a freshly-kindled flame. + +With Lady Hope, as with Rachael Closs, there was no moderation in her +feelings, which were tenacious as they were powerful and exacting. But +Rachael, with all her impetuosity, had strong contradictory qualities. +She was sagacious, and could rein in her passion of love or hate as an +Arab controls his desert steed. That which her soul most desired she +could wait for. + +One night, when the moonbeams lay like silver on the stone terrace, and +the shadow of the peacock fell from the balustrade like a second bird, +Lady Hope complained of fatigue, and retreated into her own room, +leaving Hepworth and Clara sitting upon a flight of steps which led down +to a flower-garden, somewhat neglected of late years, which lay beneath +the stone terrace and brightened the grounds nearest to the lady's +apartments. Not far from these steps was a noble old cedar of Lebanon, +rooted deep, where the drawbridge had been hundreds of years before. +Beneath it was a rustic seat, and in its branches innumerable birds were +sleeping. + +There never was, perhaps, a finer contrast of silver light and black +shadow in any landscape than surrounded these two persons, as they sat +together side by side, both thinking of the same thing, and both +reluctant to break the delicious silence. + +At last Hepworth spoke--it was but a single word, which made his +companion start and hold her breath. + +"Clara!" + +She did not answer him; that one word frightened her. She had half a +mind to start up and hide herself in the shadows, for he was looking in +her face, and the moonlight fell like a glory over his features, which +she now saw were grave even to sadness. + +"Clara, do you know that I must go away soon?" + +"Oh, no! no!" + +The girl had not expected this. The infinite tenderness in his voice had +led her completely astray, and she broke forth in an eager protest. + +"I must, dear child." + +"Dear child!" repeated the girl, half crying. "Yes, yes, you treat me +like a child--as if I could help being young--as if I could not feel and +think and be miserable like other people. It's hard, it's cruel, +it's--it's--" + +Here Clara burst into a flood of tears, and leaping to her feet, would +have run into the room where Lady Hope was sitting, but Closs caught her +in his arms. + +"What are you crying for, Clara? Why do you wish to run away? It is +wrong to say this, but I must go, because of loving you as no man ever +loved a woman before." + +"A woman?" said Clara, and gleams of mischief peeped out from behind her +tears. "You called me a child just now." + +"Woman or child, Clara, you are the dearest thing to me on earth." + +Clara struggled in his arms, and tried to push him from her. + +"I--I don't believe you. There!" + +"Don't believe me?" + +Hepworth released the girl, and allowed her to stand alone. On any +subject touching his honor he was peculiarly sensitive. + +"Because--because men who love people don't run away from them. It--it +isn't reasonable." + +All the mischief in her eyes was drowned in fresh tears. She thought +that he was offended, and the estrangement of a moment seems eternal to +first love. + +"Honorable men do not permit themselves to speak of love at all where +they have reason to think it unwelcome," was his grave reply. + +"Unwelcome? Oh, Mr. Closs!" + +Clara held out both her hands and came nearer to Hepworth, like a child +that wants to be forgiven. He drew her close to his side, but spoke a +little sadly. + +"You see how much I must love you, Clara, to forget all that a guest in +your father's house should remember." + +"I--I don't know; I can't understand what it is that you have done +wrong. I'm sure I'm ready to forgive you." + +She might have said more, but he took the breath from her lips, and held +her so close to his heart that she could feel its tumultuous beatings. + +"But I can never forgive myself, darling." + +"Oh, yes you will!" + +The creature pursed up her lips and offered them for his kiss--thus, as +she thought, tempting him into self-forgiveness. + +"Is it that you really--really love me?" questioned Hepworth, searching +the honest eyes she lifted to his with a glance half-passionate, +half-sorrowful, which brought a glow of blushes to her face. + +"Can you ask that now?" she questioned, drooping her head. "Will a good +girl take kisses from the man she does not love?" + +"God bless you for saying it, darling! Oh, if it could be--if it could +be!" + +"If what could be, Mr. Closs?" + +"That you might be my wife, live with me forever, love me forever." + +"Your wife?" answered Clara, pondering over the sweet word in loving +tenderness. "Your wife? Are you asking me if I will be that?" + +"I dare not ask you, Clara. What would your father say? What would he +have a right to say?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," answered Clara, ruefully, for she could not +honestly say that her father would consent. + +"You see, Clara, I have nothing to do but say farewell, and go." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +CLARA APPEALS TO HER STEPMOTHER. + + +Lady Hope had retreated into her own room, for the absence of her +husband was beginning to prey upon her; and she was all the more sad and +lonely because she knew in her heart that the two persons whom she saw +together in the moonlight were thinking, perhaps talking, of the love +which she must never know in its fullness again--which she had never +known as good and contented wives experience it. + +Indeed, love is the one passion that can neither be wrested from fate or +bribed into life. It must spring up from the heart, like a wild flower +from seed God plants in virgin forest soil, to bring contentment with +its blossoming. The sunshine which falls upon it must be pure and +bright from heaven. Plant it in an atmosphere of sin, and that which +might have been a holy passion becomes a torment, bitter in proportion +to its strength. + +Ah! how keenly Rachael Closs felt all this as she sat there alone in her +bower room, looking wistfully out upon those two lovers, both so dear to +her that her very soul yearned with sympathy for the innocent love she +had never known, and never could know upon earth! Yet, dear as these two +persons were to her, she would have seen that fair girl and the manly +form beside her shrouded in their coffins, if that could have brought +back one short twelve-months of the passionate insanity which had won +Lord Hope to cast aside all restraint and fiercely wrench apart the most +sacred ties in order to make her his wife. She asked for +impossibilities. Love born in tumult and founded in selfishness must +have its reactions, and between those two the shadow of a wronged woman +was forever falling; and, struggle as they would, it grew colder and +darker every year. But upon these two persons time operated differently. +The wild impetuosity of his character had hardened into reserve. His +ambition was to stand high among men of his own class--to be known as a +statesman of power in the realm. + +But, in all this Rachael knew that she was a drawback and a heavy weight +upon his aspirations. Was it that she was less bright or beautiful? No, +no. Her mirror contradicted the _one_ doubt, and the power which she +felt in her own genius rebuked the other. + +Once give her a foothold among the men and women who had so persistently +considered her as an intruder, and the old vigor and pride of her life +would come back with it: the idolatry which had induced that infatuated +man to overlook these stumbling blocks to his pride and impediments to +his ambition would surely revive. + +"Let him see me at court; let him compare me with the women whose +cutting disdain wounds me to death, because it disturbs him; let him +place me where this intellect can have free scope, and never on this +earth was there a woman who would work out a husband's greatness so +thoroughly." + +In the first years of her marriage, Rachael would say these things to +herself, in the bitterness of her humiliation and disappointment. +Others, less beautiful and lacking her talent, had been again and again +introduced from lower ranks into the nobility of England, accepted by +its queen, and honored by society. Why was she alone so persistently +excluded? The answer was always ready, full of bitterness. The enmity of +old Lady Carset had done it all. It was her influence that had closed +the queen's drawing-room against Lord Hope's second wife. It was her +charge regarding the Carset diamonds that had made Rachael shrink from +wearing the family jewels, which justly belonged to her as Lord Hope's +property. It was this which made her so reluctant to pass the boundaries +of Oakhurst. It was this that embittered her whole life, and rendered it +one long humiliation. + +These reflections served to concentrate the hopes and affections of this +woman so entirely around one object, that her love for Hope, which had +been an overwhelming passion, grew into that idolatry no man, whose life +was in the world, could answer to, for isolation was necessary to a +feeling of such cruel intensity. + +As the hope of sharing his life and his honors gave way, doubts, +suspicions, and anxieties grew out of her inordinate love, and the +greatest sorrow to her on earth was the absence of her husband. It was +not alone that she missed his company, which was, in fact, all the world +to her; but, as he went more and more into the world, a terrible dread +seized upon her. What if he found, among all the highly born women who +received him so graciously, some one who, in the brightness of a happy +life, might make him regret the sacrifice he had made for her, the +terrible scenes he had gone through in order to obtain her? What if he +might yet come to wish her dead, as she sometimes almost wished herself! + +In this way the love, which had flowed like a lava stream through that +woman's life, engendered its own curse, and her mind was continually +haunted by apprehensions which had no foundation, in fact, for, to this +day, Lord Hope loved her with deeper passion than he had ever given to +that better woman; but with him the distractions of statesmanship, and +the allurements of social life, were a resource from intense thought, +while she had so little beside himself. + +She had striven to bind him to her by kindness to his child, until the +bright girl became, as it were, a part of himself, with whom it would be +death to part. + +Is it strange, then, that this dream of uniting Clara to her only +brother should have been very sweet to the unhappy woman? + +Lord Hope had been absent a whole month now, and even with the +excitement of her brother's presence, Rachael had found those four weeks +terribly long. + +What would she do if that fair girl were separated from her entirely? +Then solitude would be terrible indeed! + +But another anxiety came upon her by degrees. In what way would her +husband receive Hepworth Closs? How would he accept the position the two +persons out yonder were drifting into? Would he consent to a union which +even her partiality admitted as unsuitable, or would he, in his cold, +calm way, plant his foot upon their hearts and crush her fond desire out +of existence? + +As Lady Hope pondered over these thoughts in silence and semi-darkness, +Clara came through the window, in great excitement. + +"Oh! mamma Rachael! He is going away from us. He told me so just now; +but you will not let him. You will never let him!" + +Lady Hope started out of her reverie. + +"Going away? Where? Who? I cannot understand, Clara!" + +"Hepworth--Mr. Closs, I mean. Oh, mamma! he threatens to leave us here +all alone by ourselves--the most cruel thing that ever was heard of. I +thought how angry you would be, and came at once. You can do anything +with him--he loves you so dearly. Let him threaten if he likes, but you +will not let him go. You will tell him how foolish, how cruel it is to +leave us, while papa is away. Oh! mamma Rachael, you can do anything! Do +this! Do this!" + +"But why, darling--why do you care so much?" + +"Why! why!" Clara threw back her head till the curls waved away from her +shoulders, then a burning crimson came over her, the shamed face drooped +again, and she answered: "I don't know--I don't know." + +Rachael bent her face till it almost touched that hot cheek, and +whispered: + +"Is it that you love him, my own Clara?" + +Again Clara lifted her face. A strange light came upon it. Her lips were +parted, her blue eyes opened wide. + +"Love him--love him? Oh! mamma Rachael, is this love?" + +Rachael smiled, and kissed that earnest face, holding it between both +hands. + +"I think it is, darling. Nay, I am sure that you love him, and that he +loves you." + +"Loves me? Then why does he go away? I should think so but for that." + +"Because of that, I am afraid, Clara." + +"Loves me, and goes away because he loves me!" said the girl, +bewildered. "I don't understand it." + +"There may be many reasons, Clara." + +"I can't think of one. Indeed I can't. Papa never was cruel." + +"He may not think it quite honorable to let--make you love him, when +your father knows nothing about it." + +"But papa would not mind." + +"Hepworth does not know that; nor do I. Your father is a very proud man, +Clara, and has a right to look high, for his only child." + +"What then? Mr. Closs is handsomer, brighter, more--more everything that +is grand and royal, than any nobleman I have ever seen. What can papa +say against that?" + +"But he is a man of no family position--simply Hepworth Closs, nothing +more. We can scarcely call him an Englishman." + +"What then, mamma? He is a gentleman. Who, in all this neighborhood, can +compare with him?" + +"No one! no one!" answered Rachael, with enthusiasm. "There is but one +man on all the earth so far above the rest; but persons who look upon +birth and wealth as everything, may not see him with our eyes, my Clara. +Then there is another objection. Hepworth is over thirty." + +"Mamma Rachael, you know well enough that I never did like boys," said +Clara, with childish petulance. + +"And compared with the great landed noblemen of England, he is poor." + +"Not so, mamma Rachael. He has made lots and lots of money out in those +countries where they dig gold from the earth. He described it all to me, +about washing dirt in pans, and crushing rocks in great machines, and +picking up pure gold in nuggets--why, he found an awful big one himself. +I daresay he has got more real money than papa. I do, indeed." + +Lady Hope sighed. Perhaps she thought so too; for Oakhurst was closely +entailed, and ready money was sometimes scarce in that sumptuous +dwelling. + +"And then how much shall I have? Let me ask that of papa." + +"But you will inherit something with the Carset title in spite of your +grandmother." + +"Yes, I know. An enormous old castle with just land enough to keep it in +repair. That isn't much to boast of, or make a man like Mr. Closs feel +modest when he thinks of me." + +"But the title. Is it nothing to be a peeress in your own right?" + +"I would rather he were an earl, and I a peeress in his right." + +"You are a strange girl, Clara." + +"But you love me if I am, mamma Rachael." + +"Love you, child! You will never know how much!" + +"And if it so happened that he did really like me, you wouldn't go +against it?" + +"But what would my will be opposed to that of your father?" + +"Only this--you can do anything with papa. Don't I remember when I was a +little girl?" + +Rachael sighed heavily. + +"That was a long time ago, Clara, and childish wants are easily +satisfied." + +Clara threw both arms around her stepmother's neck and kissed her. + +"Never mind if he is a little stubborn now and then; you can manage him, +yet, mamma. Only, don't let Mr. Closs do that horrid thing. I never +could ride alone with the ponies after the last three weeks. You don't +know how instructive he is! Why, we have travelled all over the world +together, and now he wants to throw me overboard; but you won't let him +do that, mamma Rachael. What need is there of any thought about what may +come? We are all going on beautifully, now, and, I dare say, papa is +enjoying himself shooting grouse. When he comes back and sees how much +Mr. Closs is like you, everything will be right. Only, mamma Rachael, +tell me one thing. Are you sure that--that he isn't thinking me a child, +and likes me only for that? This very night he called me 'my child,' and +said he was going. That made me wretchedly angry, so I came in here. Now +tell me--" + +"Hush! hush! I hear his step on the terrace." + +The girl darted off like a swallow. For the whole universe she could not +have met Hepworth there in the presence of a third person. + +As she left the room, Closs entered it. + +"Rachael," he said, standing before his sister, in the square of +moonlight cast like a block of silver through the window, "I have been +weak enough to love this girl whom we both knew as an infant, when I was +old enough to be a worse man than I shall ever be again; and, still more +reprehensible, I have told her of it within the last half-hour; a +pleasant piece of business, which Lord Hope will be likely to relish. +Don't you think so?" + +"I do not know--I cannot tell. Hope loves his daughter, and has never +yet denied anything to her. He may not like it at first; but--oh! +Hepworth, I know almost as little of my husband's feelings or ideas as +you can." + +"But you will not think that I have done wrong?" + +"What, in loving Clara? What man on earth could help it?" + +"Well, I do love her, and I think she loves me." + +"I know she does." + +"Thank you, sister; but she is such a child." + +"She is woman enough to be firm and faithful." + +"You approve it all, then?" + +Hepworth sat down by his sister and threw his arm around her. + +"My poor Rachael! how I wish this, or anything else, could make you +really happy!" + +She did not answer; but he felt her form trembling under his arm. + +"But I only see in it new troubles for you and dishonor for myself. +There is really but one way for me to act--I must leave this place." + +"And Clara? After what you have said, that would, indeed, be +dishonorable." + +"She is so young; the pain would all go with me. In a few months I shall +probably have scarcely a place in her memory." + +"You wrong the dearest and finest girl in the whole world when you say +that, Hepworth! To desert her now would be profound cruelty." + +"Then in what way am I to act?" + +"Write to Lord Hope; tell him the truth--that you have won the respect +of men by your actions, and have, with your own energies, acquired +wealth enough to make you a fair match in that respect for his daughter. +Make no allusion to the past; he is proud, and terribly sensitive on +that point, and might suspect you of making claims to equality because +of it." + +Hepworth smiled as he stood before her in the moonlight, and she saw it. +Wide travel and experience among men had led him to think that, after +all, the highest level of humanity did not always range with hereditary +titles; but he only said, very calmly: + +"Lord Hope cannot accuse me justly of aspiring where he is concerned." + +Rachael felt the hot crimson leap to her face. Did Hepworth dare to +equal himself with Lord Hope, the one great idol of her own perverted +life? She answered, angrily, forgetting that the sinner was her only +brother: + +"Lord Hope need have no fear that any man living will so aspire." + +"Poor foolish girl!" said Hepworth, feeling the flash of her black eyes, +and touched with pity, rather than anger, by her quick resentment. "Do +not let us quarrel about Hope. If he makes you happy, I have nothing to +say against him." + +"Happy! happy!" + +Rachael shrank back in her seat, uttering these two words in a voice so +full of pathetic sorrow, that it brought the pain of coming tears into +Hepworth's eyes. He was glad to turn the subject. + +"Then you are not willing that I should go away?" + +"It would almost kill me to lose you again, Hepworth." + +The young man felt that she spoke the truth; the very tones of her voice +thrilled him with a tender conviction. + +"I will write to Hope," he said; "it must end in that or absence. It +shall not be my fault, Rachael, if I ever go far away from you again." + +Lady Hope took her brother's hand between hers. + +"That is kind, and I really think the only wise thing to be done," she +said. "Hope knows that you were born a gentleman." + +"And having married into the family himself, can hardly say that it is +not good enough for his daughter. This is answer enough for all +objections of that kind. In fact, Rachael, I begin to think we can make +out a tolerable claim. Now that we have decided on the letter, I will +write it at once, here, if you will let me order more lights." + +Hepworth rang the bell as he spoke, and directly wax candles were +burning on the ebony desk at which Lady Hope was accustomed to write. + +Having made up his mind, Closs was not the man to hesitate in doing the +thing he had resolved on. He spread a sheet of paper before him, and +began his letter at once. Rachael watched him earnestly as his pen flew +over the paper. + +For the first time she realized, with a pang of apprehension, the step +she was so blindly encouraging. What if Lord Hope took offense at the +letter, or should condemn her for the intimacy which had led to it? She +was afraid of her husband, and each movement of Hepworth's pen struck +her with dread. Had she, indeed, laid herself open to the wrath of a +man, who was so terrible in his anger, that it made even her brave heart +cower? + +"There, it is finished," said Hepworth, addressing his letter, and +flinging down the pen. "Now let us throw aside care, and be happy as we +can till the answer comes." + +Lady Hope sighed heavily, and, reaching forth her hand, bade him +good-night. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +LOVER'S QUARREL. + + +They were sitting together, under the great cedar tree, declared lovers; +perhaps not the less happy because some little doubt rested over their +future, so far as the young lady was concerned. + +As for Hepworth Closs, he had made up his mind to expect difficulties, +and knew how to conquer them, if human ingenuity could do it. He loved +the bright young creature, and had resolved within himself that no +unreasonable opposition on the part of his former friend should prevent +him marrying her, while there was a possibility of conciliating his +bride, or working upon the love which he had always evinced for his +child. + +Hepworth had learned, from conversation with both the ladies, that the +Lord Hope of the present day was a very different person from the rash, +headstrong, audacious young man whom he had almost threatened with +disgrace fourteen years back. + +Then he was ready to cast wealth, rank, conscience, everything, aside +for the gratification of any wild passion that beset him. Now he held +the rank to which he was born sacred above all things; was careful, if +not covetous, of wealth, because it added power to rank; and was known +the whole country round as one of the proudest noblemen and most +punctilious magistrates in the three kingdoms. + +This man's daughter he--Hepworth Closs--desired to make his wife. Nay, +in spite of fate, meant to make his wife, unless she, in her own self, +cast his love from her. Having settled upon this, he cast off all care, +and gave himself up to the supreme happiness of loving and being +beloved. + +So, as the two sat under the cedar tree, that bland autumn day, Clara +thought, in her wilful little heart, that the man looked too confident +and happy. She had no idea of settling down into a commonplace +engagement, sanctioned or unsanctioned. What business had he to look so +supremely contented? Did he not know that girls sometimes changed their +minds? + +In short, Lady Clara was in a wilful mood, and could be provoking enough +when the fit came on her. Just now she was embroidering diligently. The +golden stamens of a superb cactus glowed out stitch by stitch, as her +needle flew in and out of its great purplish and crimson leaves. + +"Why don't you look up, Clara? I haven't seen your eyes these ten +minutes." + +"Indeed! Well, I'm too busy. Pray hand me a thread of that yellow silk." + +"Not if I can help it, ladybird. It's very tiresome sitting here, only +to watch your sharp little needle as it drops color into that great +flower. One never gets a sight of your full face." + +"Then you don't like the profile?" said Clara, demurely, and her needle +flashed almost into Hepworth's eyes as he bent over her. "That is just +what I expected. It isn't three days since you first pretended to care +for me." + +"Pretended! Clara?" + +"That was the word," answered Clara, holding her work at arms' length, +and examining it, with her head on one side, like a bird eyeing the +cherry he longs to peck at. "Lovely, isn't it?" + +"I have been where you could gather armsful of them from the wayside," +answered Hepworth. "That is well enough, of course, for silk and +worsted; but you never can get that mixture of crimson, purple and +glittering steel, that makes the flower so regal in the tropics; then +the soft tassel of pale gold, streaming out from the heart, and thrown +into relief by this exquisite combination of colors. Ah, some day I will +show you what a cactus really is, Clara." + +"Perhaps," said the provoking girl, searching her work-basket for the +silk she wanted. "Who knows?" + +A flash of color flew across Hepworth's forehead. The handsome fellow +never had given himself much to the study of women, and even that pretty +creature had the power to annoy him, mature man as he was. She saw that +he was vexed, and rather liked it; for if the truth must be told, a more +natural coquette never lived than Lady Clara. + +"Are you beginning to doubt, Clara?" + +"Doubt? Oh! not at all. I don't honestly believe that there ever was a +more perfect flower than that. See how the colors melt into each other; +then the point of that long, prickly leaf coming out behind. I tell you, +Mr. Closs, it's perfect." + +She was looking down at her work, and he could not detect all the +mischief that sparkled under her drooping lashes. + +"Clara, what does this mean?" + +The girl looked up at him so innocently. + +"Mean? Why, it means a cactus-flower." + +Hepworth Closs had never been a patient man, and the feelings which that +wild girl had awakened in his heart were all too earnest for such +trifling. He rose to leave her. Then she gave him a side glance, half +comic, half repentant. + +"Are you going?" + +"Yes." + +"Dear me, I am so sorry, because I wanted to tell you something." + +The girl spoke and acted like a penitent child. Hepworth sat down again, +but his face was clouded. + +"You can do anything with mamma Rachael, and I want you to ask a great +favor for me." + +"Why not ask yourself? My sister denies you nothing." + +"But this is something peculiar, and she may think papa would not like +it. There is to be a new opera brought out in London, and such a lovely +girl is to make her first appearance in it, handsome as the morning, and +with a voice like ten thousand nightingales. Now, I do so want to hear +her on the first night." + +"Well, that is easy." + +"Yes, yes--if mamma Rachael would only think so. But papa is awful +particular, and she may be afraid to take me. But with you for an +escort, there can't really be any harm; so I want your help." + +"But how did you know about this? I have not seen it in the journals." + +"No, it hasn't got abroad yet. I will tell you all about it. When I was +a very, very little girl, my poor mother died in America, where she was +travelling among the Indians, I believe, with my father. Well, you see +how hard it was on papa to be left with a poor little girl among the +savages. I do not know just how it was; but when he married mamma +Rachael, ever so long after, of course she got an American nurse in New +York, who has been with me ever since. I call her my maid now, and won't +have any other, French or not--for she's good as gold, and loves me +dearly. You will believe that when I tell you our head gamekeeper wanted +to marry her--she loved him, too, but wouldn't leave me. Margaret left a +sister behind in New York that she was very fond of, and has been pining +to see for years. Just before you came she received a letter from +London, saying that her sister was there, travelling with some lady +connected with the stage, and asking Margaret to come and visit her. Of +course, Margaret went, and has been all this time on a long visit to her +relative, who came to Europe with the great prima donna, Olympia. It is +her adopted daughter that is coming out." + +"Olympia. Yes, I saw her in America last year--a wonderfully beautiful +creature, in a certain way; but her style of acting is not exactly what +I should choose for you, Lady Clara, though her voice is wonderful." + +"Oh, it isn't her I care about, but the young lady. Margaret says she is +lovely as an angel, with a heavenly voice, but that she is frightened to +death at coming on the stage, and begs and pleads with her mother not to +insist on it; but Olympia is determined. My heart quite aches for this +poor girl. She is about my age, Margaret says, and so beautiful--not a +bit like me. I dare say it's true, for I would give the world to be an +actress, and have the whole world go mad over my singing. By-the-way, +Mr. Closs, do you know that I can sing? Mamma Rachael often says, if I +were not a lady, I might go on the stage and beat half the prima donnas; +besides, she says, I am a natural actress, and that seems to displease +her." + +"I think you are a natural actress," said Closs, with a tinge of +sarcasm, for this whole subject displeased him, he scarcely could have +told why. + +"Now you mean to be unkind," said Clara, rising, with a warm flush in +her cheeks; "I will not ask another favor of you." + +Clara gathered up her embroidery, and prepared to leave the sheltered +seat in which this conversation had been held. She certainly was not +acting now, for Closs saw that her eyes were full of tears. + +"Clara," he said, holding out both hands; "Clara, forgive me." + +She hesitated a minute, then set down her basket, and crept close to his +side, wiping the tears with one hand, while he clasped the other. Then +she snatched her hand away, and held it behind her. + +"No--I won't forgive you." + +"Not if I persuade Lady Hope to take you up to London for this +appearance?" + +"Ah, then, perhaps." + +"And go with you myself?" + +"That will be splendid." + +"That Olympia is a magnificent creature. I took supper with her once in +New York." + +"You, Mr. Closs! You took supper with her?" + +"She sang for us that night, divinely." + +"And you admire her so much?" + +"Very much." + +"Mr. Closs, I do not think I care to go. There is no need of your asking +Lady Hope--I decline the whole thing." + +"Still, I think we will go, Clara, if it is only to show you how much a +woman can be worshipped, and yet despised. Yes, yes, we will go and hear +Olympia sing." + +But Clara was not to be so easily appeased. She gathered up her worsted +and embroidery, huddled them together in her work-basket and went away, +refusing to let Closs carry her basket, or even walk by her side. + +While he stood watching the haughty little thing, a voice from the other +side of the cedar tree arrested him. He turned, and saw a face that had +once been familiar, but which he could not at the moment recognize. + +The woman came forward with a startled look. She was evidently past +thirty, and had an air of independence, which he had never seen in an +English domestic. + +She came closer, their eyes met, and he knew that it was Maggie Casey, +the chambermaid who had led him up to that death-chamber, the last time +he visited it. She had recognized him from the first. + +"Mr. Hepworth," she said, in a low voice: "Mr. Hepworth!" + +Closs had almost been prepared for this, and did not allow himself to be +taken by surprise. + +"You have got half the name right at any rate," he said, quietly; +"Hepworth Closs, and you have it complete. You never could have heard it +in full, when you lived in New York, I fancy." + +"Closs, Closs? No, I never heard that name given to you; but it once +belonged to Lady Hope, I remember." + +"And of course, naturally belongs to her brother, my good girl," said +Closs, with a quiet smile. + +"Her brother? Whose brother? Not the Lady that was--" + +The girl broke off, and her voice died in a low whisper. + +"No, no!" broke in the man, with sudden impatience; "that was a terrible +thing, which you and I will be all the happier in forgetting. The poor +woman who did it is suffering a hard penalty, if she is not in fact +dead." + +"Yes, sir, yes; but how came her grandchild here? How came you there?" + +"Hush!" said Hepworth, in a voice of command, that startled the woman; +"who gave you authority to ask such questions? What can you know about +the old woman's grandchild?" + +"I know that the young lady who left you ten minutes ago was the little +girl they called her grandchild. I saw the coroner holding the poor +little thing up to look on the dead lady. I think that lady was her +mother." + +"And have told her so, perhaps?" + +"No; I never did, and I never will. She called the old woman, Yates, +grandmother; but I know better than that, for I know where her +grandchild is this very minute." + +"You know her grandchild?" + +"Yes, I do, and a prettier creature never lived." + +"You know her, and will tell me?" + +"Indeed, I will do nothing of the sort," answered Margaret, for she had +thrown off the jaunty abbreviation of her name. "There is something +about all this that puzzles me. People that I never expected to see +again keep crossing my path like ghosts, and somehow most of them have +something to do with that time. Why can't the whole thing rest? I'm sure +that poor old woman, Yates, has had her punishment, and I don't want to +talk about what I don't understand." + +"You are wise," said Closs, whose face had lost all its cheerfulness; +"there is no good in even thinking of a dead past, and, as you say, that +poor old woman has her punishment. I am glad you have said nothing of +these things to my sister, or Lady Clara." + +"Why should I?" said Margaret, with shrewd good sense: "what good would +it do? In fact, what do I know? I only hope no such trouble will ever +come to this house." + +"Heaven forbid!" said Closs, fervently, and the two parted. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE ITALIAN TEACHER. + + +Lady Clara was right. Olympia had brought her daughter to London after a +professional tour on the continent, not as her daughter. Olympia would +not force herself to admit that the tall Juno-like girl, who outshone +her in beauty, and rebuked her flippant grace by a dignity at once calm +and regal, could, by any possibility, be her own offspring, at least as +yet. She had arranged it with Brown that no public acknowledgment of +Caroline's relationship should be made, and that she should pass as an +adopted child or protege, at least until her success on the operatic +stage was confirmed. + +Brown had stipulated, on his part, that the girl should receive her +musical training in strict privacy, so far as that was possible, and, in +no case, should be moved from his personal supervision, a condition that +Olympia accepted with delight, for, after a month or two, she began to +feel the presence of her cast-off husband something of a restraint, and +regarded the quick growth and blooming loveliness of the young girl as +almost a wrong to her own ripe beauty. Still she would not loosen her +hold as a parent on the girl's life, but still hoped to reap a golden +harvest from her talent, and sun her own charms, as they waned, in the +splendor of her child's beauty. + +With these feelings, Olympia opened her campaign in Europe, and swept a +brilliant career from France to Italy, and from thence to Austria and +St. Petersburg, leaving Caroline with her guardian and maid, in a +village near Florence, where she could perfect herself in Italian and +music at the same time. + +There Caroline's life really began. They were staying at a pretty villa, +terraced up from the banks of a bright little stream, that emptied +itself into the Arno, so isolated and lonely, that it was perfect heaven +to Brown, who was set down at once as the young lady's father, and to +Eliza, who delighted in the chance of rest this arrangement promised. + +While in Florence, Brown had taken his charge to one of the best +teachers in Europe, who consented to break through his usual rules and +give her lessons in the pretty home she had decided on. He would also +charge himself with selecting a teacher of the language, who should make +her pronunciation of the sweet Tuscan perfect as her voice, which was, +in fact, something wonderful. + +Some persons were in the musician's room when these arrangements were +made, and one of them, a young man, drew slowly toward the piano, like a +bird charmed against its will, and listened with rapt attention while +Caroline took her first lesson. The girl looked up once or twice, as her +voice rang out with unusual power, and unconsciously answered back the +warm smile that enkindled his whole face. A musician himself--she knew +by the very expression of his dark eyes. + +Brown saw it too, and was delighted with the effect of her genius; which +he, in his partial affection, deemed transcendent. + +"He is a professor, I dare say, or perhaps a great singer," thought the +kind old man; "but she charmed him at once." + +Brown was confirmed in this idea when the eminent teacher he had +consulted fell into a discussion with the man in Italian, which Caroline +did not hear, and Brown himself could not understand, but which +evidently turned upon Caroline's performance. They were both delighted +with it; that was evident from the very ardor with which they spoke. +Brown was pleased with all this, but Caroline, perhaps, remembered it +with greater interest than he had felt, for the young man's face haunted +her long after she was settled in the pretty villa, and had made herself +at home among the vines and flowers that turned those terraces into a +jungle of fruit and blossoms. + +Nothing could be more lovely than the home Brown had chosen, and +certainly no place could have been found more completely isolated. The +coming of her teachers even became a matter of deep interest to +Caroline. + +One morning, when her language-master was expected, she went out early +and stood upon the lower terrace, looking down the little stream which +led to the Arno, as I have told you, impatient for his coming; impatient +to know what sort of a person he would prove, and if his society might +not break the monotonous stillness of that beautiful place. It was early +yet. She had no reason to believe that her new teacher would be there +for hours. She felt it very tiresome, walking up and down those terraces +and watching the ripe olives drop one by one into the long grass from +the branches overhead. The restlessness of youth was upon her, and she +longed for some means of leaping over the next three hours, when the new +teacher would come, perhaps with a disappointment. + +He might be some poor old soul, whose very presence would prove an +annoyance. No matter; a disappointment or an annoyance was better than +utter stagnation. She wished the new man would come, she wished there +was something for her to work at till he did come. + +A flight of stone steps fell down to the water from the lower terrace. +Fastened to an iron staple sunk deep into the granite, was a little boat +swinging by a cable. Caroline's heart gave a leap at the sight. + +She ran down the steps, untied the cable, and in a moment was sweeping +down the little stream, pulling her oars like an Indian girl. + +It was a lovely flow of water, clear as crystal. The sky was mirrored in +it softly blue; the sun struck it with arrows of silver, the flowering +shrubs trailed down from its banks, and rippled the waters like the lost +plumage of a peacock; fruit-laden vines broke away from the olive +branches, and dipped their purple clusters in the stream, where they +shone out richly--amethysts gleaming through crystal. Everything was +beautiful around her. Full of youth and health she gloried in the +exercise of rowing; gloried in the sunshine and quivering shadows +through which her pretty boat ploughed its way, breaking up pictured +trees and clouds, and turning them to foam. + +The current was with her, the wind swept softly down stream, bringing a +scent of wall-flowers and jessamines with it. The boat shot downward +like the shuttle through a web. The water deepened, the stream grew +wider; she could hear the broad, free rush of the Arno, a little way +off. Still she went on. + +It would be glorious, finding herself in the broad river sweeping toward +Florence, in her arrow-like boat. Of course she could turn at any time, +but not yet. + +Something stopped the boat. A wild vine, hidden in the water, had seized +upon it, and swept it half around, then a current tossed it forward into +a sweeping whirl of waters. She was close by a vortex near the mouth of +the river, a ravenous little whirlpool that threatened to swallow her +up. The oars dropped from her hands; she seized the sides of her boat +and sat still, rigid as stone, white as death. Then a great arrow, or +what seemed to be one, shot through the water close by her, ploughing it +white with foam. Then a man leaped into her boat, pitching a pair of +oars in before him, and holding the cable of another boat in his hand. + +He neither spoke nor looked at her, but twisting the cable around one +ankle, and setting the other foot upon it further up, seized his oars, +and for a minute or two battled like a tiger with the waters. + +The boat rocked, wheeled slowly away from the awful danger, then plunged +forward with a shock that brought a sharp cry from Caroline's white +lips. + +"Do not be afraid. The danger is over." + +She turned her pallid face, and over it came a flash of recognition. It +was the man who had listened to her first lesson in Florence. He +recognized her, pale as she was, and slackened his oars--they were out +of danger now. + +"Am I so fortunate? My pupil! This is a great happiness." + +Caroline leaned forward and held out her trembling hands. Words of +gratitude were on her lips, but they only trembled there, without +utterance. He leaned over the little hands, as they came quivering +toward him, but could not touch them, his own being sufficiently +occupied with the oars. + +"There is nothing to fear now sweet lady," he said, in Italian, which +never sounded so sweet to her before. "The danger is wholly past--but it +_was_ danger!" + +Caroline shuddered; she almost felt those curling waters sweep over her. +The sensation was terrible. + +"And you saved me?--you, whose face I have seen before so often, so +often. It seems like that of a friend." + +"Once--only once. I wish it had been a thousand times, if that could +lessen your fright." + +"Tell me how it was," said Caroline, beginning to recover herself. "I +cannot realize it." + +"Nor I, sweet lady, it was all so sudden. I saw a boat whirling toward +that treacherous vortex, the flash of a blue mantle, the whiteness of an +upturned face. What I did, you know. I cannot tell how it was done; did +not dream who the person was. Now, I long to fall upon my knees and +thank God." + +Caroline clasped the hands which had fallen to her lap, bent her head, +and unspoken words of thanksgiving trembled in her heart. The man looked +upon her eagerly. That gentle glow of devotion gave her face the +sweetness of a madonna. + +He thought this, and almost dropped the oars, the longing to fall down +upon his knees by her side was so intense. + +She saw this, understood it, and smiled for the first time. + +"I was asking God to forgive me for being grateful to you before I +thought of Him." + +"And I was asking Him to make me grateful enough for having saved you. +Surely that should bring his blessing on us both." + +Caroline bent her head, and a sweet smile crept over her lips. Then she +bethought herself of the things of this world, and grew troubled. + +"But I am taking you from your course. Forgive me!" + +"From my course? Not so. It was for this purpose I come. Perhaps you are +not informed that I am to make your Italian more perfect than it is, +which is scarcely needed." + +"You sir!--you?" + +She said no more, but her face lighted up, and he saw her hands softly +clasp themselves, as if she were thanking God over again. Then his own +head bent forward, and he made a great effort with the oars, but it was +only to hide the smile that broke over it. + +So up the little river these two people went more and more slowly, for +the stillness and the beauty were pleasant beyond anything, and both +dreaded the moment when this delicious happiness would end. But they +reached the steps at last, and there was Mr. Brown and Eliza, on the +lower terrace, in great trouble. + +They had missed her and the boat. Dreading they scarcely knew what +danger, both were anxious to follow her, but they had no means. Thus an +hour of keen anxiety had passed, while they stood watching the river. + +"There is your father, looking anxious," said the young man. "I hope he +has not suffered much." + +Caroline did not answer him, but sprang to the steps and ran up them, +holding out her hands. + +"My child! my dear, dear child!" cried Brown, throwing both arms around +her. + +He often used endearing terms like this when much affected, and she +thought nothing of it, but kissed his face, and kissed Eliza also, who +scolded her terribly, as was her habit when disturbed by a sudden fit of +tenderness--a state of feeling she was sure to resent. + +"Father Brown, this is my new teacher. The professor sent him. He has +just saved my life. I have tried to thank him, but could not. You have +more power." + +Brown and Eliza both came close to the young man; but he shook his head, +and tried to evade them. After her tender thankfulness, their gratitude, +generous and pure as it was, seemed coarse to him. + +"We must begin the lesson," he said, laughing, and drawing a book from +his pocket. "This little accident, which was nothing, has made us lose +time." + +He said this in Italian, which, of course, silenced them; and at this +moment the man could say nothing which his companion would not confirm. + +Caroline smiled, and went up the steps from terrace to terrace, while he +kept by her side. Her color had come back more vividly than ever. The +sunshine struck her hair, and turned all its brown to gold. She was +dressed like a peasant of the better class, with some scarlet in her +blue bodice, and more bordering the bottom of her skirt. Her neck was +uncovered, for the blue mantle had fallen off and now lay in the bottom +of the boat. It was a becoming dress, but not for her--she was too +queenly. + +They went into that old stone dwelling, forming one group; but the +moment the parlor was reached, Eliza went off to her work, she said--but +if any one had followed her, it would have been to a chamber under the +roof, where she was upon her knees full twenty minutes, thanking God for +Caroline's escape from death. + +Then Brown went away, and seated himself in an arbor on one of the +terraces, where he was seen once or twice to take out his handkerchief +and wipe his eyes, as if the dust troubled him. + +The man up yonder, brave as he was, had rather evaded his gratitude; but +he knew that God would listen. + +Then Caroline took one of the volumes her new teacher had brought, and +retreated to a latticed window, which had a cushioned seat in it large +enough for two, though I really do not believe she thought of that. At +any rate, he did not accuse her of it, even in his thoughts, but went +quietly to the window and took a seat by her side, at which she blushed +a little, but did not move. + +Caroline was very well grounded in her Italian; so, instead of grammars, +these young people fell to reading the native poets, and began with +Tasso--a course of studies well calculated to produce more results than +one; but Brown did not understand Italian, though he was a splendid +musician, and repeated it like a parrot. Besides, what did Eliza know +about Tasso, Petrarch, Dante, or any of those wild fellows that +disseminate love-poison by the line? + +When her teacher was ready to go, Brown asked his name. I have no idea +that Caroline had thought of it. The young man seemed quite taken aback +for a minute, but answered, after that, something that would have +sounded like an English name rendered in Italian, had a thorough +Italian scholar been present, which there was not. + +Well, for three months those young people sat twice a week in the seat +in the lattice-window, and read the poets together. Need I say more +about that? + +At the end of three months Olympia had an engagement in London, and sent +for Brown to join her there with his charge. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER IN OPPOSITION. + + +Of course there is no such thing as arousing all London into a fit of +enthusiasm, because millions of people are not moved at the same moment +by anything less than a revolution. But the West End, just then, wanted +an excitement, and found it in the coming of Olympia. Her style was new, +her action a little too free, perhaps, for the high-bred dames of the +aristocracy; but they all went, and were amused, shocked, fascinated, +and went again, but only to keep the young people, they said, from utter +demoralization--the creature really was irresistible. + +At any rate, Olympia was the fashion, and drew famously, till a rival +novelty proclaimed itself. Then she was horror-stricken by seeing a few +empty seats in the house. To Olympia, an empty seat was desolation. + +That night Olympia went to her daughter's room the moment she reached +her hotel after a late performance. The cloak which she had worn from +the theatre still hung about her shoulders. Her cheeks blazed with +rouge, her eyes were restless and anxious. + +Caroline started up from her sweet sleep, disturbed and almost +terrified. + +"What is it, mamma?" she said, holding back the hair from her lovely +face with both hands. "Is any one ill--Mr. Brown?" + +Olympia sat down on her daughter's bed, and drew the cloak around her; +not that she was cold, but to show that her resolution was taken. + +"No one is ill, Caroline; as for Brown, I know nothing about him. But I +come to prepare you; for this week we shall bring you out. In what opera +have you practiced most?" + +"Bring me out? Oh, mamma!" + +The girl fell back on her pillow, dismayed, and clasping both hands, +held them out imploringly. + +"Oh! I thought you had given it up." + +"Foolish child! I never give anything up. Ask Brown." + +It was true; that woman never gave up her own will to any one. The +possibility of sacrifice or willing concession could not enter her mind. + +"But I cannot, I cannot! Oh, mother! think how little I have seen of +crowds. To sing before one would _kill_ me!" + +"Mother!" repeated Olympia, "how often must I tell you that I hate the +word!--an American vulgarism!" + +"Forgive me, mamma; it was only because I was so frightened at the idea +of singing in public. But I know that you did not mean it." + +The poor girl made a pitiful attempt at disbelief, and tried to win +acquiescence with a timid smile. + +"I not only mean it, but will have no more evasion or protest. When we +left New York, you were dying to get on the stage." + +"Oh, that was before I knew--before I dreamed--" + +"Before you knew--before you dreamed what?" + +"That it made one so--so--" + +"Well, speak out!" + +"So unhappy. Indeed, indeed, I cannot say what I mean; only, I would +rather die than put rouge on my face, and--oh, forgive me! I did not +mean to make you look so angry!" + +But Olympia was angry. The prima donna of a company does not usually +bear much opposition, even in trifles, and here Olympia had great +interests at stake. + +Through the young girl before her she intended to run a second career, +and thus crowd the enjoyment of two lives into one. + +"This all comes of Brown," she said. "He would have you kept quiet, and +out of the world, pretending that society would distract attention from +your practice; but it was all an artful plan to keep you to himself. I +have not been so busy as not to understand that, let me tell him." + +Caroline started up in bed, almost as much excited as the actress. + +There was plenty of good honest character in the girl; and, if she +appeared timid, it was from delicacy, not weakness. + +"You wrong Mr. Brown. There is not a selfish feeling in his heart. What +he does, is always done for my good." + +"Yes; I suppose it is for your good when he drinks too much!" + +There was a sneer on Olympia's lip, an evil spirit in her eye, which +destroyed all its beauty; but even this did not make the girl shrink; +she only put out both her hands, and turned her head away. + +"Oh! how can you?" she cried. "I never saw him in my life when he was +not in all respects a gentleman." + +"But I have! I have!" + +"Ah, madam, it is cruel to say this. Mr. Brown was my friend, my only +friend, long before--before you came and took me away from my poor +little home. If you could make me think ill of him, would it be kind?" + +"But he has been treacherous; he has taught you hatred of the profession +which you were so crazy for at one time." + +"No, no; it was not Mr. Brown. I saw for myself." + +"Yes, the dark side; never in its brightness or its glory. But you +shall, you shall." + +Caroline lay back upon her pillow and covered her face with one hand. +The sight of that beautiful woman, so hard in her resolve, so completely +ignoring all feelings but her own, was hateful to her. + +"Please let me rest to-night," she pleaded. + +"To-night, yes. It is enough that you understand me now; but, after +this, I shall expect no opposition. If you are so stupidly ignorant of +the power which lies in your own beauty and genius, I am not. So try and +come to your senses before morning. Good-night." + +The woman went out, with her head aloft, and her cloak trailing behind +her, for, in her excitement, she had flung it away from one shoulder, +that she might gesticulate with the arm that was free. + +Caroline turned upon her pillow and cried bitterly till morning. + +Olympia was right. The girl had been scrupulously kept from all society +that her freshness might be preserved, and her education completed. + +She had been to the theatres, here and there, when some new piece was +presented, but it was rather as a study than an amusement; and after a +knowledge of the public idol in private life had slowly swept away all +the romance of their first meeting, the innate coarseness of this +beautiful, selfish woman was not long in revealing itself to the +pure-minded girl, who soon began to grieve that she could not love and +still admire the mother she had at first almost worshipped. Olympia, who +had found it easy enough to dictate to managers, and oppress +subordinates, had far different material to act upon when she broke in +upon the midnight sleep of the girl Daniel Yates had grounded in the +nobility of true womanhood. + +The next day, being Sunday, was Olympia's great day of rest and +amusement. She slept till long after mid-day, ate an epicurean breakfast +in a little dressing-room with rose-tinted draperies, ran lazily over +the pages of some French novel, in the silken depths of a pretty Turkish +divan, heaped up with cushions, till long after dark; then threw herself +into the mysteries of a superb toilet, and came into her exquisite +little drawing-room like a princess--say Marguerite of Navarre--ready to +entertain the guests, invariably invited on that evening, in a fashion +that made her quite as popular in this particular social strata as she +was behind the footlights. + +From these little suppers Caroline had been carefully excluded up to +this time; but the morning after she had left the young girl in tears +upon her pillow, Olympia broke into her day of luxurious repose by +sending for her agent, with whom she had a rather stormy interview in +the dressing-room, from which Brown came out pale as death, but with an +uprightness of the person, and an expression in the eyes that no one had +ever seen there before. + +About an hour after he had departed, Olympia's French maid was seen +hurrying up stairs to the chamber which Caroline occupied, and where she +stood that moment, just as she had sprung from her chair, with a wild +and startled look; for every knock she heard seemed to come from her +mother, whose appearance she dreaded terribly that morning. But, instead +of Olympia, the French maid came in, with a creamy-white dress of India +gauze thrown over her arm, its whiteness broken up by the blue ripple of +a broad sash, with a purple tinge in it; and in her hands the woman +carried some half-open moss-roses, with a delicate perfume absolutely +breaking from their hearts, as if they were the outgrowth of a generous +soil--which they were not, however difficult it might be to decide from +a first or second look; these French are so like nature in everything +but themselves. + +The French maid laid these things daintily on Caroline's bed, where the +roses glowed out, as if cast upon the crust of a snow-bank. Then, +looking upon the girl's magnificent hair, which was simply turned back +from her forehead and done in braids behind, she said, with pretty, +broken speech: + +"I will do it in crimp and puffs, if mademoiselle pleases. With her +face, it will be charming." + +Caroline drew a deep breath, and cast a half-frightened, half-pleased +glance at her maid, Eliza, who stood near by, looking grimly at +preparations she could not understand. This was not half so dreadful as +the presence she had expected, and the dress was so lovely that she +could not keep her eyes from it. + +"What is it all about?" questioned staunch America, with a look at +France which was not altogether friendly. + +"It is," answered the French maid, spreading out her little hands, "It +is that madame will have mademoiselle down to her little supper. The +evening will be very charming because of mademoiselle." + +Caroline glanced at the blush-roses, and her eyes began to sparkle. Then +she caught a glimpse of Eliza's face, and turned her glance resolutely +away, looking penitent. Eliza knew something of madame's little suppers, +but Caroline did not. If bursts of laughter and a soft tangle of voices +sometimes came up to her room in the night, she had no means of knowing +that the noise was not from the servants' hall, and Eliza would have +died rather than enlighten her. Besides, she had nothing absolutely +wrong to tell, for some of the first young noblemen in England came to +Olympia's little entertainments; and when Eliza heard their names +announced she had not a word to say, having lived long enough to attain +a reverence for titles. + +In fact, it is doubtful if she did not value her charge a little more +highly from the fact that she lived in a house where noblemen came and +went with such evident sociability. + +At first Eliza had darted fiery glances at the robe of India gauze, +thinking it a theatrical costume; but when she learned that it was only +a dress which would introduce her darling into the best society, from +which a selfish mother had rigidly excluded her, she allowed her +features to relax, and absolutely smiled on the little French woman. + +Then the smile, which had been struggling all the time about Caroline's +mouth, broke over her whole face. She could neither keep her hands from +the dress or the moss-roses, but touched them daintily, half doubtful, +indeed, if they were intended for her. + +"If mademoiselle will please," said the little French woman, drawing a +low chair before the dressing-table, and taking an ivory brush, carved +at the back like a Chinese puzzle, in her hand. + +Caroline sat down, smiling in spite of herself. Eliza stood a little on +one side, resolved to be upon her guard. + +While she was looking, down came that abundant hair in a torrent, tress +upon tress, wave after wave, with tinges of gold rippling through and +through the brown. The little French woman held up both hands, brush and +all, in astonishment, and burst out in a noisy cataract of French, which +delighted Eliza all the more because she could not understand a word of +it. + +But Caroline did understand, and this outburst of genuine admiration +pleased her so much that, in a moment, her face was glowing like a whole +thicket of roses, and she hadn't the courage to lift her eyes, from fear +that Eliza would see how foolish she was to care about what the little +French woman said. + +Eliza saw all this, but it only made that grim smile broader and deeper +on her own face; and when the golden-brown hair was frizzed and rolled, +and dropped in two rich curls on that white shoulder, she turned her +face upon the French woman and said, "Very nice!" in a way that made the +little woman put her head on one side, and nod it half a dozen times, +while she answered: + +"Yes, I tink so." + +India gauze was dropped like a cloud over Caroline's head; the sash of +purplish blue was girded around her waist, and bunched up in superb bows +behind; then the cloudy stuff was gathered up in drapery from a silken +under-skirt, tinted like the sash, and fastened back with clusters of +the moss-roses. + +This completed the toilet. No jewels were there, not even a string of +pearls, though Olympia had ropes of them; and Caroline rather sighed for +their completeness when she took a full-length view of herself in the +mirror, as foolish girls will, who never learn the value of simplicity +and freshness until both are lost. + +Then the little French woman went away to Olympia, giving Caroline +plenty of time for reflection. The first thing the girl did was to look +shyly at Eliza, who pursed up her lips, and did her best to keep from +smiling. Then she took courage, and said: + +"Eliza." + +"I hear," answered the grim hand-maiden. + +"Eliza, do you think _he_ would know me in this dress? Or, if so, would +he like it, as he did that dear Italian costume?" + +"I don't know," answered Eliza. "Them Italians have queer notions about +dress. Now, for my part, them short skirts and low-necked waists did +well enough for common-sized girls; but you're too tall, and carry your +head too high, for anything but a skirt that sweeps out and puffs up +like that." + +"Still, I shall always like the dear old costume, Eliza. Oh, what a +happy, happy life madame broke up when she sent for us!" + +"Yes, I suppose so. You seemed to enjoy it; and as for that young +fellow, what with his boating on the river, his shooting birds--which I +hate--on the hills, and his lessons--well, really, he might about as +well have lived with us." + +"Oh! Eliza, shall we ever be so happy again?" cried the girl, kindling +up with bright memories. + +"Not just in the same way; real folks never are. But I suppose people +have a pretty equal share of the good and bad things of life, as they go +along. Now I haven't an idea but that the young fellow thought all was +up with him when he got the letter you left at the house." + +"I should not wonder," said Caroline, and her bosom began to heave with +an after-swell of the indignation which had stormed it, when she left +Italy at an hour's notice. "It was a cruel thing. I never will forgive +you or Mr. Brown. A few hours would have made no difference, and he was +coming the next day." + +"What then? If he was a teacher, Mr. Brown left his money, with two +months' overpay." + +"His money!" repeated Caroline, with infinite scorn. + +"If not money, what did he come for?" questioned the hand-maiden, +sharply. + +"Eliza, you shall never think that--it degrades him and me. He never +touched--he never thought of money. If Mr. Brown left it, as you say, I +am sure he felt insulted." + +"Then what did he come for?" inquired Eliza, with dry emphasis. + +"Because--because he loved me, and could not live without seeing me, +because I--I--" + +"Loved him," said the maid. + +But Caroline had broken down wholly with this first passionate +confession. The poor girl sank to a couch, flushed all over with such +shame as only a woman of fine sensibilities can feel for that of which +she has no reason to be ashamed at all. + +"Oh! Eliza, how can you be so cruel?" she exclaimed, dropping her hands, +and revealing a face of crimson, wet with tears. "I never meant to keep +it from you." + +"Of course, you never meant it, and you didn't do it, which is more. You +supposed I didn't know. Men may be blind as bats--they usually are; and +our Brown is worse than the commonality. But trust an old maid for +spying out a love secret. It's like exploring a strange land for her, +you know. Lord! Miss Carry, you can't keep a secret from Eliza Casey; +but then, why should you? Isn't she bound to be your staunch friend +forever and ever?" + +These words opened a new source of anxiety to the really unhappy girl, +who forgot her love-shame, and plunged at once into a new subject. + +"Oh! Eliza, if you could help me. Madame is determined. That is, she +wishes me to go on the stage." + +"Well, you have been told that from the first." + +"I know--I know; but it seemed so far off then, like death, or any other +evil that you know will come, but cannot tell when. But now she says it +must be at once. Oh! Eliza, I never can do it. The very fear of it makes +me shudder." + +"But why? I remember, when we first came out here, you had no other wish +but to be like her--your mother, I mean. Like her! I would rather see +you dead!" + +Eliza muttered the last words under her breath, and Caroline only heard +the question. + +"Yes, I know. Everything seemed so bright then--she brightest of all; +but I was getting to shrink from it before we went up to that dear +little villa, and since then it has seemed like death. Oh! tell her +this, Eliza, and beg of her to let me be as I am." + +"But shall I tell her all, and say that is the reason?" + +"No, no, no! You may think it. Mr. Brown may think it. That is like +myself having a secret; but do not tell her for the whole world." + +"Tell her! Well, well, I aint likely to; but if she is set upon it, what +can I say? Madame is not a woman to give up her plans, and you have got +_such a voice_! Sometimes I think it would be splendid to see you taking +the wind out of her sails." + +"But it would kill me!" + +"Poor thing! Well, never mind--I will stand by you, right or wrong; but +this will be a tough battle. Tell me, though, did that young fellow have +anything to do with setting you against the profession?" + +"There it is, Eliza. He never knew that I thought of it, and used to +speak of female performers with such careless contempt, as if they were +ten thousand degrees beneath him." + +"And he only a teacher!" said Eliza, lifting her head in the air. + +"And he only a teacher; but so proud, so sensitive, so regal in all he +said or did. Oh! Eliza, if he knew that Olympia, grand, beautiful, and +worshipped as she is, were my mother, I fear he would never care for me +again." + +"Why, how on earth could you help that?" + +"I could not, and it would be wicked to desire it. But, Eliza, I ought +to have had the courage to tell him, and I put it off. Every day I said +to myself, the very next time he comes, and at last you know how it was. +I had no chance, and now I may never see him again. He will always think +me Mr. Brown's daughter, and I shall feel like an impostor. I cannot +help this; but to go on the stage, when he has said so much against it, +that I will not do, unless forced there by my mother's authority." + +"Well, as I said before, I will stand by you, right or wrong; and so +will Mr. Brown, I know. I only wish he was your father." + +"He could not be kinder if he was," said Caroline. + +Just then the door opened, and Olympia's French maid looked through. + +"Madame is in the drawing-room, and waits for mademoiselle." + +"I will come! I will come!" exclaimed Caroline, breathlessly, and she +hurried down stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES GET INTO A CONJUGAL DIFFICULTY. + + +Lord Hope had a house in Belgravia, that could always be made ready for +the family at a day's notice. So Rachael, who could refuse nothing to +her brother, sent up her steward to make preparations one day, and +followed him the next with Lady Clara and Hepworth Closs; Margaret Casey +and other servants in attendance, of course. + +These persons reached London on the very Saturday when Olympia was +stricken with dismay by finding an empty seat or two in her usually well +packed houses. When this discovery first broke upon the prima donna, +Hepworth Closs was sitting quietly in the pit, where he found himself, +as if by accident. They had reached town only in time for a late dinner, +when the ladies, being greatly fatigued, proclaimed their intention of +retiring early, which was, in fact, casting him adrift for the evening. +Being thus let loose upon the world, he very naturally brought up at the +opera, and was seated so near the stage that his eyes more than once +caught those of Olympia, who gave him one of those quick glances of +recognition, which seemed aimed at the whole audience, but hit only one +person. + +"I beg your pardon, sir, but isn't she a stunner!" said a voice, as the +first act closed. Hepworth might not have recognized these words as +addressed to himself, but for the weight of a large hand which was laid +on his arm. As it was, he turned promptly, and encountered a stout, +heavy man, handsomely dressed, but for a massive gold chain which passed +across his bosom into his vest pocket, and drooped in glittering lengths +far down the rotundity of his capacious person, and a large diamond that +blazed on his plaited shirt bosom. From the chain and the diamond, +Hepworth's first thought was, that the person must be some Californian +or Australian acquaintance, belonging to his old mining days, but the +man soon set that idea aside. + +"You don't happen to remember me, Mr. Hepworth, but I knew you at the +first sight. Ask my lady here. Didn't I say, Mrs. Stacy, that gentleman +with the coal-black mustacher, and them splendid eyes, is Mr. Hepworth, +if ever I set my two eyes on Mr. Hepworth, which I did many a time, when +he used to come to Forty-third street?" + +Hepworth started. Forty-third street! Was he to be forever haunted by +the place and people connected with that awful tragedy? Why was this? +The guilt was not his, yet he could not feel himself near any person, +however remotely connected with it, without thrills of dread. + +The man had been talking on, but Hepworth heard nothing at first, he had +been too painfully startled; when he did listen, these words fell on his +ear: + +"That was an awful affair, Mr. Hepworth; most people was astonished, but +I never was; always had my suspicions of that old woman; believe she +robbed the house of lots and lots of things, after the lady was dead; in +fact, am sure of it. Mrs. Stacy here is of my opinion. There was a girl +in the house--perhaps you remember her, sir--Maggie we used to call her; +she and the old woman Yates was thick as thieves, and both laid their +heads together. It wasn't for nothing, let me tell you; their nests were +feathered, you may believe. There never was a sharper girl than Maggie +Casey." + +"She was just a forerd, imperdent cretur as set her cap at you like a +fiery draggon," broke out the woman, who occupied a seat by the stout +man, and was evidently his wife; "a cretur as I wouldn't wipe my shoes +on, after a long walk--no, not if she'd give me fifty pair for doing of +it." + +"I am not saying anything to the contrary, my dear, am I? That girl was +after me sharp enough, but I never encouraged her. Mr. Hepworth can +satisfy you on that point, my own Harriet, for I remember, as if it was +yesterday, he and I talking about it the very day afore that murder, and +we both agreed that her conduct was scandalous." + +Hepworth shuddered. How well he remembered that artful conversation. How +hideous it appeared to him now. + +"But I don't think Mr. Hepworth remembers us for positive, even now," +said the woman; "just look in my face, young gent, and say if you do." + +"Harriet, my dear, isn't that a little, just a little, promiscous?" said +the husband, as a broad, red face, with a pointed nose, turning up in +the centre, and two small leaden blue eyes looking across it, was bent +forward, and challenged Hepworth's inspection. "Remember, things have +changed since we knew this gentleman." + +"In course they have changed, and I haven't no doubt that is just what +is a puzzling him now; but when I ask Mr. Hepworth if he remembers the +first punken-pie he ever eat in his born days, and who made it, he'll be +sure to remember Harriet, and I ain't ashamed to say that I am her, if I +do wear an Injur shawl, and if that diment in your bozzom is a flashing +right in his eyes. Self-made men, and women too, mayn't be of much +account in England, but in New York, the aristocracy are always a trying +to make out that they were born next door to the alms-house, and started +life with just twenty-five cents in their pockets, so you and I needn't +be ashamed." + +Hepworth was not cosmopolitan, and managed to get the truth out of this +confusion of cockney, Irish, and Yankee dialect. In fact, at the first +moment, he had recognized Matthew Stacy and Harriet Long in the persons +who claimed his acquaintance, and they stung his memory like a nest of +serpents. + +"You'll be glad to know," said Stacy, "that Harriet has been, in all +respects, up to the 'casion whenever I've made a rise in the world. +There's smartness in that woman, I can tell you. When I was elected +alderman of our ward, she just went into the saloon and dealt out licker +to my constituents with her own hand. There is no telling the number of +votes she got for me by that perseeding. You'd be astonished." + +Here the curtain went up with a rush, and Stacy could only make himself +heard by sharp whispers, which reached Hepworth in fragments, when the +music sank lowest. + +"Got into a first-rate thing. Mayor with us--street contracts--cut +through, widened--got hold of a dead charter--revived it--stock went up +like winking--kept the Irish vote of the ward in my fist--no counting +the presents that woman got. I never took one, of course; such a woman!" + +Here Olympia's voice swept through the house, with an outpouring of +melody that brought the audience to its feet, but when the tumult +subsided, Hepworth found that the man had been talking on and on, with +an under-tow of political gossip, that reached him in words at last. + +"They wanted the Legislature, which wasn't to be had without money, you +know; two or three men had been seen--nothing less than a hundred +thousand would do it. I was president of the board, went up myself, saw +the members, who sent me to their confidential men--jackals we call 'em, +ha! ha!--got it done for sixty thousand--said nothing, but divided the +rest--jackals got twenty, the other twenty--you understand. She got an +Inger shawl out of that operation, the very one she has on." + +"No, it isn't nothing of the sort. This one was the other," whispered +Mrs. Stacy, holding up a corner of the magnificent shawl she wore. + +Hepworth turned and gazed upon the shawl until his face grew white as +death, in the gaslight. The very sight of that rich garment made him +faint. + +The mistake he had made had a silencing effect upon Stacy too. He had no +wish that the history of that garment should be produced, and when his +wife was about to speak, silenced her at once. + +"My dear Harriet," he said, "how often have I told you that talking at a +theater or the operer is awfully vulgar. I wonder you can persist in +it, and Mr. Hepworth by. Just listen to that music! Haven't you no +taste? If you haven't, just take a look around the boxes. That young +feller there is the Prince of Wales." + +Mrs. Stacy took a mother-of-pearl opera glass from her lap, and +obediently turned it upon the royal box. + +Before the performance was over, and while Hepworth was drawn back, in +spite of himself, to the most painful scenes of his life, an usher came +down the nearest passage, and put a little twisted note into his hand. +It was from Olympia, inviting him to supper the next evening. + +Hepworth crushed the pretty missive in his hand, while he turned to send +a verbal refusal, but the usher had withdrawn, and he had no other way +of sending a reply that night. + +The opera was at its close now, and Hepworth left the house, irritated +and restless. Could he find no place in which this miserable past would +not haunt him? He had hardly made his way through the crowd when his arm +was seized, and Stacy almost wheeled him around on the pavement. + +"My dear sir, this way. Mrs. Stacy is already in the carriage. Of course +we would not ride and let you go afoot. Have been a poor man myself +once--needn't deny that to you. Know what it is to keep up a show +without capital. But no old friend of mine shall go afoot while I have +the wherewith to pay for a carriage, and an empty seat in it. Shall set +in the back seat with Mrs. Stacy, upon my soul you shall, and that's an +honor I don't offer to every man. Now just tell me where you are putting +up." + +Hepworth laughed, in spite of his annoyance. The patronizing fussiness +of the ex-alderman struck a keen sense of the ridiculous, which was +strong in his character. + +"If you insist," he said. "But you are too generous." + +"Not at all, not at all. When Alderman Stacy does a thing, he does it +handsomely. This way, this way!" + +Hepworth seated himself in the carriage where Mrs. Stacy squeezed +herself in one corner, and gathered up her skirts to make room for him, +and Stacy had his foot on the step, when a new poster, just placed at +the door of the opera house, struck his attention, and he stepped back +to examine it. + +"'First appearance of a young American, a protege of Olympia.' Just read +that poster, Mr. Hepworth, and tell me what you think of it," he said, +lifting himself into the carriage. "Mrs. Stacy, my dear, just look that +way, and tell me if you can guess who it is that will make a first +appearance Monday night? You know that young lady, and so does Mr. +Hepworth. Now, make a guess." + +"How can you?" said Mrs. Stacy. "You know, Matthew, dear, I never was +good at conundrums and such like." + +Matthew puffed himself out with a deep, long breath, and clasping two +huge hands encased in flame-colored gloves on his knee, leaned toward +Hepworth. + +"You try, now." + +Hepworth shook his head, and Stacy burst out with his mystery. + +"It's the identical child that was brought up at the inquest in +Forty-third street--Daniel Yates' little daughter." + +"No!" exclaimed Mrs. Stacy. "That little creature?" + +"It ain't nobody else--you may bet high on that, Mrs. Stacy." + +Hepworth kept perfectly still, but his heart fairly stopped beating. + +"But how did you find out, Matthew, dear?" + +"Oh! we aldermen find out everything. The girl was brought up in the +country, near Sing-Sing, in a cedar-post cottage that the executor +wanted to raise some money on. I went up to see it, and had a good look +at the girl. Yes, my dear, she was, to say, very handsome, but proud. +Daniel Yates had brought her up like a queen, and I give you my word she +looked it; but there was no mistake about it. The executor had just +gobbled up everything Yates left, and there was no one to look after +him, so that the girl was just nowhere financially. I found out that the +cottage could not be sold or mortgaged, nor let either, according to +law, though the executor tried it on hard, and came again and again +about it, especially after she left it. So I found out everything about +the girl. That primer donner took a fancy to her, and adopted her right +out of hand because of her voice, and to-morrow night you can both of +you see her, for I mean to have a box up among the British arrestocracy +that night, and I invite you both free gratis for nothing." + +"Are you sure of this?" questioned Hepworth, who had not spoken till +now. + +"Just as sure as I am that Alderman Stacy sits before you. But if you +don't believe it, ask the girl yourself. I mean to call on her, and Mrs. +Stacy will do likewise. You can go along. That is, we will call, if she +comes out first chop on Monday night." + +"Mr. Stacy," said the superb matron in the back seat, drawing herself up +with wonderful dignity, "I don't mean to put on airs nor nothing because +I'm your lady and richer than some folks, or Mr. Hepworth wouldn't be an +honored guest in this here carriage; but I must set my foot square +aginst actresses and primmer donners--in short, theatre-clers in +general." + +"Just you hear that," said Stacy, looking at Hepworth. "Isn't she coming +it down strong, and lifting of her head high?" + +"It isn't that, Mr. Stacy, but because I am a wife and a--a woman--that +I feel called upon to stand between them creturs and the sect. Pay them +your money, Mr. Stacy--pay them any amount of money from the front--but +nothing beyond that, Mr. Stacy!" + +"Oh, humbug," said Mr. Stacy; "that is putting it too strong, +Harriet--as if I couldn't pay money or not, just as I please." + +"It isn't humbug, Mr. Stacy, but a question of benignant morality, which +it is every woman's duty to take up and hurl back, till she totters on +the brink, martyr-like, between heaven and earth! Don't you think so, +Mr. Hepworth?" + +"Did you ever hear anything up to that?" exclaimed Stacy, swelling with +pompous satisfaction. "Harriet is the sort of woman that a man of +substance can depend on, morrerly, financierly, and--and--. Not that I'm +going to give in, you know; but it's satisfaction to know that your +money has lifted such a person into her proper spear." + +"That's very kind of you, and I feel it, Stacy, dear; but when you speak +of lifting me up with _your_ money, who was it that owned the first five +hundred dollars you, or me, Mr. Stacy?" + +"Harriet!" + +"It's no use thundering out my baptismal name against me, Mr. Stacy, for +that's a thing I won't bear at no price! Truth is truth, Mr. Hepworth, +and rich as that man is, rolling over and over in gold, like a porpose +in salt water, it was my five hundred dollars that did it! Let him say +if I didn't own that much?" + +"But didn't I marry you, and then didn't you own me? Would you set down +good looks, financial ability, and moral character A number one, at five +hundred dollars, and you--" + +What was coming next Hepworth was destined never to learn, for Mrs. +Stacy, overcome by a fit of conjugal remorse, leaned forward and placed +one substantial hand in the flame-colored glove of her husband. + +"Matthew, forgive me! I didn't mean it. That mention of the primmer +donner and her protager upset me; but I am your wife yet, Stacy, +dear--your true and lawful wife--just as ready to travel with you into +every tropical climate of Europe as I ever was." + +Stacy would not clasp his flame-colored fingers around that hand, but +let it drop with ignominious looseness, while he drew a handkerchief +from his pocket and buried his face in it. + +"Harriet! Harriet! you have hurt my feelings, mortified my--my manhood +before an old friend!" + +It was in the night, the carriage was close, the lamps dim, and Hepworth +only knew that there a heap of drapery launched itself into the front +seat, that a voice came from the midst, saying: + +"Oh, Matthew! Matthew!" + +Then the white handkerchief dropped like a flag at half mast, and the +reconciliation was complete. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE OPERATIC SUPPER. + + +"Indeed, Mr. Closs, I insist!" + +"But, my dear child, I have no particular desire to go." + +"That is because you think that I care about it. Why should I? In fact, +it is unbearable that you should have the idea." + +Hepworth Closs had in all loyalty told Lady Clara of the invitation he +had received from Olympia, and, instead of resenting it as he expected, +she met his vague desire more than half-way--one of the wisest things +any woman can do, for half the sins in the world are committed because +they are forbidden; not that this young girl knew of the wisdom. With +her, it was half pride, half bravado; she was indignant that Hepworth +should think of going--more indignant that he should have refused the +invitation at once, without telling her of it. + +The result was, she insisted on his accepting it, though her heart was +burning with jealousy all the time. + +Closs, as I have said somewhere, had learned many things in his travels; +but in Japan and the frontier countries of America girls like Clara had +not often come under his observation, and he was far too deeply in love +for a cool examination of her character or actions. + +So her impulse of unbounded generosity deceived him utterly, and having +some shrinking curiosity regarding Daniel Yates' daughter, he resolved +to accept Olympia's invitation. + +Of course, Clara found a dozen absurd reasons for quarreling with him +that day, not one of which seemed to relate to Olympia; yet that +beautiful woman was the root of them all, if Hepworth could have +understood it. + +But he only comprehended that every room in that sumptuous dwelling was +dull as a wilderness on that particular Sabbath day. Rachael kept her +room; Clara would not make herself agreeable; and he felt it a relief +when night came and took him to the little bijou of a mansion where +Olympia was waiting the advent of her guests. + +Hepworth had seen this woman in New York, and knew something of the +fantastic elegance with which she could surround herself; but the house +he entered surpassed anything he had ever seen in that republican city. + +Nothing sad or even grave in art or nature was ever permitted to visit +the Queen of Song in her own home. Her servants were expected to be +smiling and cheerful. There was not a sombre corner in her dwelling. + +The very hall was a marvel of art; statuettes of snow-white marble, airy +and graceful as stone could be chiselled, seemed ready to escort the +guest into the unique drawing-room beyond. + +Delicate bric-a-brac occupied gilded brackets on the walls, or crowded +the statuettes upon the floor; a laughing faun held back the silken +curtain that concealed the entrance to that inner room where the goddess +herself presided; a soft mellow light fell upon these treasures, making +their beauty still more exquisite. + +A servant in silver and blue livery admitted Hepworth, and pointed to +the faun, who seemed inviting him forward with a fantastic gesture. + +The servant disappeared, his duties ended when the outer door was +opened. + +Those who visited Olympia were supposed to know their way to her +presence. Hepworth lingered a moment in the hall. Those beautiful marble +people seemed enticing him to stay, and, for the instant, he felt an +unaccountable reluctance to present himself before the actress; a +feeling of humiliation came upon him that he should be willing to visit +any woman whom the lady of his love could not meet on equal terms. What +right had he there? + +This question was almost upon his lips, when a silken rustle made him +hold his breath. It was a young girl, tall, stately, beautiful, coming +down the marble stairs. He was standing near the centre of the floor, +but drew back, step by step, as the girl descended, turning white and +cold, as if there had been some wrong in his admiration of an antique +group in bronze, which occupied a bracket on the wall close by him. + +The girl paused, looked toward him, and, after a little hesitation, +crossed the hall. + +"Permit me to show you the way," she said. "The servant should not have +left you so." + +Hepworth did not speak, but stood gazing upon her blankly. Her beauty +had struck him dumb. + +She made a little gesture with her hand and moved on. He followed, +without a word, by the marble faun, through the lifted curtains, and +into the presence of Olympia, who was walking up and down the Gobelin +carpet, with the light of a Venetian chandelier falling over her. + +She was becoming impatient for the arrival of her guests. Yet the room +seemed peopled fully; for, on every hand, mirrors that seemed framed in +a network of gold, threw back and duplicated the group that stood there, +the rich coloring of the draperies, two vases of Malachite and Sevres, +the gifts of emperors, and the carpet, where masses of blossoms seemed +starting into fresh bloom, wherever a footstep trod them down. + +"Mr. Hepworth!" cried Olympia; "my good American friend! This is a +happiness!" + +Hepworth bowed over the white hand she held out; but did not kiss it, as +she might have expected, being used to all sorts of homage. + +She looked at him in pleasant astonishment, dropped her hand with a +faint laugh, and turned to the young girl. + +"Caroline, you have never seen Mr. Hepworth, I think." + +"Closs, Hepworth Closs, dear lady; you forget." + +"Do I? Well, it is very likely, though, I am sure, we always called you +Hepworth; but that's nothing; in our Bohemian set we generally preferred +the given name, and sometimes only took half of that. Ah, ho! here come +our friends at last!" + +The curtain was flung back, revealing what seemed a crowd in the hall, +which soon came forward, with little ceremony, and some rather riotous +noise. + +Olympia was in her element now. Heart and soul she loved society, and +all these persons were picked people of her own choice--brilliant +persons in their various capacities, each bringing a store of wit or +some accomplishment to swell the general gaiety. Artists, dilettanti +noblemen, epicures, and persons who would have accompanied Orpheus in +all his explorations for the music he could give them. + +Of course, there was high mirth and some sparkling wit among a group +like this, in which several females mingled brilliantly, and sang like +sirens after Olympia had set them the example. These were professional, +of course, but wonderfully clever, and talked charmingly, as women who +are reckless of criticism usually do; but in all that was said, a +certain vein of doubtful license sometimes brought the color to +Caroline's cheek. She could not thoroughly understand the conversation +of these people. They seemed to have come out of another world to +astonish and bewilder her. She knew that some of the men present were +noblemen, and saw that their manners, and even the tones of their +voices, changed when they addressed her. + +From the secluded life she had led, this girl was incapable of making +quick comparisons. She only knew that none of these men possessed the +gentle tenderness or the proud bearing of the teacher, who had become to +her a beau-ideal of true manhood. Of all the men present she felt the +most sympathy with Hepworth Closs. He had been in America, had known the +places she loved so well, and could understand her loneliness in a scene +like that; but there was something even in this man that startled her a +little. + +His fine eyes were frequently lifted to her face with a look that +troubled her, a look that seemed to go beyond her and far away into the +past or future. What was he thinking of? Why were his answers about +America so dreamy and vague? Why did he look so sad while the voice of +Olympia was filling the whole house with such glorious bursts of music? + +Before she could answer any of these questions, Olympia arose from the +piano, and, with a light wave of her hand, said: + +"Come, Caroline, let them hear what is in your voice." + +How careless and natural it all seemed! What a tumult of smiles and +entreaties followed these few caressing words! + +They were words of iron to that proud, shrinking girl. She knew how much +of stern, selfish power lay under the peach-like softness of that voice. +Her color went and came; her lips parted in absolute terror. She +understood now why she had been permitted to join her mother's guests +for the first time. + +"Come, my darling!" + +Olympia's voice grew softer, sweeter; but there was an undertone in it +that Caroline dared not disobey. She arose, white and cold, her limbs +trembling, her eyes turned upon Olympia like those of a hunted doe +appealing for its life; but there was no relenting in that beautiful +face--nothing but smiles. + +Hepworth Closs saw how cruelly the proud girl suffered, and was by her +side in an instant. The firm clasp of his hand, as he led her to the +piano, gave her strength. She thanked him with a look, and those +frightened eyes implored him to stay by her, as if he were the only +friend she recognized in the room. + +It must be a terrible fright that can entirely overcome real genius. + +The first notes of Caroline's voice trembled out from her lips like the +cry of a young bird when it first tempts the air. The intense stillness +with which the little group listened, took away her breath. But all this +passed away; her voice gathered up its tones and swelled into a power of +music that Olympia, in her best days, had never reached. She forgot the +people around her--forgot everything but the glorious genius which +thrilled her whole being with ecstasies of harmony. The nightingale, +nested in clustering roses and bathed with moonlight, never poured forth +its song with a sweeter impulse. + +At first it was the desperation of genius, but that soon merged itself +into an exquisite power that held her little audience in amazement. + +Olympia grew restless. Had she, with her own hands, given her crown and +sceptre to another? How superbly beautiful the creature looked with that +glow of inspiration on her face! How her own devoted adorers crowded +around the piano, leaving her on the outskirts of the crowd quite alone! + +The woman's self-love and most active vanity were disturbed; but above +that rose another passion that had of late years grown strong within +her--avarice. She recognized the sure ring of gold in those notes, and +exulted over it. + +As Caroline turned from the piano flushed, and, as it were, inspired by +a new life, a little storm of bravos broke over her. Just then the +supper-room was thrown open; but even the exquisite picture it presented +failed to draw the crowd from its new idol. + +But Caroline was falling back to her normal state, and all this +tumultuous admiration terrified her. + +This annoyed Olympia, also. She made a signal to the servant who stood +waiting, and his announcement, in a loud voice, that supper was served, +broke up the crowd which held Caroline prisoner. + +Olympia led the way into the most superb little supper-room that even an +artist could imagine. It was, in fact, a temple, connected only by one +compartment with the house. + +A shallow dome, with ground glass, through which a tender light shone +like sunbeams through sifted snow, by a gilded network over ground +glass, which also reflected hidden lights like a chain of clouded stars. + +This gallery was connected with the floor by slender marble shafts, +around which passion flowers, white jessamines, creeping dwarf roses, +and other clinging plants wove their blossoms up to the lighted gallery, +whence they fell in delicate spray, forming arches of flowers all around +the room. + +The recesses thus garlanded in were lined with mirrors, in which the +crimson cushions of couch and chair, the splendid supper table, with all +its rich paraphernalia of frosted plate, sparkling glass, translucent +wines, and fruit in all its mellow gorgeousness of coloring were +reflected over and over again. + +When that gay crowd came into the room, led by Olympia, every recess +seemed to fill with its own merry company, and in each that handsome +prima donna presided like a goddess; while the tall figure of a proud, +beautiful girl sat near, looking strangely wild and anxious as a loud, +bacchanalian spirit broke into the scene, and turned it into a revel. +Amid the gurgle of wine and the mellow crush of fruit, some one called +out: + +"Fill up! fill up! A bumper to our new Queen of Song!" + +With a half-suppressed shout and a waving of glasses, the party sprang +up, drops of amber and ruby wine rained down to the table from a +reckless overflow of the uplifted goblets. + +Every recess gave back the picture with endless change of view; and then +the voice called out again: + +"To-morrow night we will show her how England can receive American +genius and American beauty. Lady, we drink to you." + +To-morrow night! Every vestige of color fled from that poor girl's face. +She attempted to rise, supported herself with one hand on the table a +moment, then in the midst of that riotous toast, sank back to her chair, +with her face turned imploringly on Hepworth Closs. + +When the revellers had drained their glasses and turned to look for a +reward in the face they had pronounced divine, it had disappeared. Amid +the confusion, Hepworth had led Caroline from the room. + +"It is too much for her," said Olympia, tossing half a dozen peaches on +the table in her search for the mellowest. "She is such a noble, +grateful creature, and has not yet learned how to receive homage." + +"While our Olympia almost disdains it. Fill up for our goddess, The +Olympia!" + +"Wait a minute!" + +It was the young noble next the actress who spoke. He had taken some +grape-leaves from a crystal vase near him, and was weaving the smallest +amber-hued and purple clusters with them in a garland, with which he +crowned the goddess before her libation was poured out. She accepted the +homage, laughing almost boisterously, and when the grape-wreath was +settled in her golden hair, stood up, a Bacchante that Rubens would have +worshipped; for it made no difference to her in what form adulation +came, so long as she monopolized it. + +That moment Caroline was lying upon her bed up-stairs, shaking in every +limb, and crying in bitterness of spirit. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +BEHIND THE SCENES. + + +Olympia had selected an auspicious time for the first appearance of her +protege, as she always persisted in calling Caroline. + +It was the fashion just then to recognize American genius with something +like enthusiasm, and the very suddenness with which this young girl had +been brought forward operated in her favor. + +A glowing account of her voice and beauty had reached the public just at +a time when no special excitement occupied it, and this served to draw a +crowd around the opera house long before the hour of opening. + +On the outskirts of this crowd, the carriage which contained Olympia and +her victim--for such the heroine of the evening really was--made its way +toward the stage door. Olympia leaned out of the window, and cried +exultingly: + +"Look, child, look! Hundreds of people waiting already!" + +Caroline cast one frightened glance at the crowd, and shrank back with a +faint moan. + +Just as the audience began to pour in through the opened doors the +carriage drove up to the stage entrance, and Olympia took a leap from +the steps and held the carriage door open with her own hand, while +Caroline descended more slowly. The light from a neighboring lamp fell +upon her face, and revealed the tears that stood upon her cheeks, and a +half rebellious look in the eyes, which Olympia saw, and met with angry +bitterness. + +"Crying again? Shooting spiteful looks at me, as if I were a monster, +instead of a tender, considerate, self-sacrificing mother, ready to +share everything with you, even my glory! Was ever such ingratitude?" + +Caroline did not answer, but walked into the narrow door, and stood upon +the dreary stage, panting for breath, like some superb animal from the +wild woods, hunted down, and without hopes of escape. + +"This way--come this way," said Olympia, taking hold of her arm. +"Perhaps you will remember that we are late. The audience was crowding +in like a torrent when we passed the door. Come!" + +Caroline allowed herself to be led along the stage, through yawning +vistas of scenery ready placed for use, and along dark passages, until +she came to Olympia's dressing-room, in which a blaze of light was +reflected by half-a-dozen mirrors, and fell like sunshine on a pile of +gorgeous vestments laid out for her use. + +Caroline shrank back with a faint, sick feeling. Oh, how everything had +changed since she was so fascinated by a scene like that! Her delicate, +proud nature revolted from the splendid confusion. From her very heart +she loathed the sumptuous garments with which Olympia had hoped to tempt +her. + +"Is there no hope?" she cried, desperately. "I would rather suffer +anything than undertake this part!" + +"Hope? Yes, there is everything to hope. The house is crowded already. +There never was so fine an opening. Come, make ready!" + +"Not if I have the power to resist." + +She spoke in a low but resolute voice, which frightened Olympia, who +stood gazing at the pale young face turned upon her with a frown of +terrible anger gathering on her forehead. + +"Caroline, you cannot resist. My word is given, the contract signed, my +honor pledged. Would you disgrace me forever?" + +"Your honor pledged, and I belong to you," said the girl. "I see, I +see--there is no escaping! It is my miserable destiny!" + +Caroline took off the cloak in which she was wrapped, flung down all her +magnificent hair, and seated herself before one of the mirrors. + +"Do with me as you please," she said, turning a weary glance upon the +mirror. "It may be my death, but you _will_ have it so." + +The next moment that unhappy girl found herself in the hands of a clever +French maid, who fairly revelled in her task, as she shook out that rich +mass of hair, and held it up for the light to shine through. But +Caroline took no heed. The toilet only reminded her of that most hideous +one when Marie Antoinette was prepared for the scaffold. For the moment +she almost wished it possible to change places with that unhappy woman. + +But the French waiting-maid went on with her work, while Olympia stood +by, directing her. + +Not till she felt a soft touch on her cheek did the girl rebel. Then she +started up, and, pushing the maid away, rubbed her cheek with a +handkerchief so resolutely that the maid clapped her hands, declaring +that it was enough--no roses could be more lovely. + +Then she fell to her task again, muttering to herself: + +"Oh, it will come in time! Youth is so satisfied with itself. But it all +ends in that." + +Here the maid nodded toward a tiny jar of rouge, as if to encourage it, +and went on with her task. + +"Now look at yourself!" said Olympia, tossing aside some garment that +had been flung over the swinging-glass. "What do you think of that?" + +Caroline looked, and saw a beautiful woman, with sweeping garments of +rose-colored silk, and a cloud of frost-like lace flung over her head +and trailing down her shoulders. Splendid jewels--whether real or false, +she did not care to ask--twinkled like stars through the lace, both on +her head and bosom. The pictures thus reflected were beautiful, but +stormy. + +Olympia saw that the rebellious spirit was but half subdued. + +"What can I do?" she said, in her perplexity, addressing the maid, who +lifted up both hands and shook her head as she answered: + +"Ah, madame! if a toilet like that fails, who can say?" + +"I will send for Brown. She will listen to him," said Olympia, driven to +desperation. "With that spirit, she will never get the rollicking air +for her first act." + +She went to the door, and found the teacher lingering near, restless and +anxious almost as herself. + +"Brown--I say, Brown--come in! She is dressed, but so obstinate! If she +were about to play Norma, it would be worth everything, but in this +part--! Do come in, dear Brown, and get her up to the proper feeling." + +Brown entered the room in absolute distress. He would gladly have kept +that young creature from the stage; but having no power to aid her in +avoiding it, was nervously anxious that she should make a success. + +Caroline turned to him at once, and came forward with her hands held +out. + +"Oh, Mr. Brown, help me! It is not too late. Let them say I am sick. +Indeed, indeed, it will be true! She can take the part, and leave me in +peace. Ask her, beg of her; say that I will go into her kitchen, be her +maid, go out as a teacher--anything on earth, if she will only spare me +this once! Ask her, Mr. Brown. Sometimes she will listen to you!" + +Brown held both her hands. They were cold as ice, and he felt that she +was trembling all over. + +"My dear, dear child! I have pleaded with her. I have done my best." + +"But again--again! Oh, Mr. Brown, do!" + +Brown drew Olympia on one side, and entreated her to give the unhappy +girl more time; but he knew well enough that he was asking almost an +impossibility--that the woman had no power to grant that which he +implored of her. In her arrogant power she had pledged that young +creature, body and soul, to the public. How could she draw back, when +the crowding rush of the audience might now be heard from the place +where they stood. + +Still the man pleaded with her, for he loved the girl better than +anything on earth, and, knowing something of the feelings which made the +stage so repulsive to her, would have died to save her from the pain of +that night's experience. + +Olympia was impatient, nervous, angry. What did the man think? Was she +to throw away the chances of a great success and a brilliant fortune, +because a romantic girl did not know her own mind? Was she to disgrace +herself before all London? + +Brown had no answer. The whole thing was unreasonable--he knew that well +enough; but his heart ached for the poor girl. So he had done his best, +and failed miserably. + +"Go back and cheer the foolish thing up," said Olympia. "You can do it. +She loves you better than any one in the world. Now, if you want to +oblige me, give her courage, soothe her. I never saw such a creature! +With the genius and voice of an angel, she has no ambition; but it will +come. Before the drinking song is over, she will forget herself. Go, +Brown, and give her courage." + +Brown went back to the dressing-room, feeling like an executioner. + +Caroline met him eagerly; but when she saw his face, her heart turned to +stone. + +"I see! I see!" she said. "I am doomed! But, remember, I was forced into +this. Of my own choice, I would have died first; but she is my mother, +and, in my ignorance, I promised her. Tell _him_ this, if you should +ever see him. I never shall. After what he said of parts like this, I +should perish with shame. Ha! what's that?" + +"They are calling you," faltered Brown. + +She caught a sharp breath and sprang away from him, like a deer when the +hounds are in full cry. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE FIRST PERFORMANCE. + + +The opera-house was full from floor to dome. A cheerful multitude +crowded the body of the house with smiling faces, and filled it with gay +colors, till it shone out gorgeously, like a thickly-planted +flower-garden. The boxes filled, more slowly; but, after half an hour of +soft, silken rustle and answering smiles, they, too, were crowded with +distinguished men and beautiful women of the British aristocracy, and +the whole arena was lighted up with the splendor of their garments and +the flaming brightness of their jewels. Then came a movement, and a low +murmur of discontent, which the grandest efforts of the orchestra could +not silence. The hour had arrived, but the curtain was still down. Was +there to be a disappointment, after all? + +In the midst of this growing confusion a party entered one of the most +prominent boxes that drew the general attention in that part of the +house. A lady in crimson velvet, with some gossamer lace about her arms +and bosom, and a cobweb of the same rich material floating from the +thick braids of her coal-black hair, came into the box, followed by a +gentleman so like her that people exclaimed at once: + +"It is her brother!" + +These two persons were accompanied by a bright young girl, in white +muslin, with a blue ribbon drawn through her hair like a snood, and a +string of large pearls on her neck. The girl was beautiful as a Hebe, +and bright as a star--so bright and so beautiful that a whole battery of +glasses was turned on the box the moment she entered it. Then a murmur +ran from lip to lip. + +"It is Lady Hope, that person who was once a governess, and the young +lady must be Hope's daughter by his first marriage--the future Lady +Carset, if the old countess ever dies, which she never will, if it is +only to spite that woman yonder, whom she hates. Beautiful!" + +"You are speaking of Lady Hope? Yes, very; but strange! Night and +morning are not farther apart than those two. Yet I am told they are +devoted to each other." + +"Not unlikely. See how the woman smiles when the Hebe speaks to her! +Wonderful fascination in that face. Just the person to carry away a man +like Hope." + +Here the conversation was broken off by an impatient outburst of the +audience. + +In obedience to it the curtain rolled up, and the first act of +"Traviata" commenced. + +The tumult stopped instantly, and every face was turned with expectation +on the stage, ready to greet "the lost one" with a generous welcome. + +She came in hurriedly, with her head erect, her hand clenching that +cloud of lace to her bosom, and her eyes bright as stars. A stag hunted +to desperation would have turned at bay with a look like that; and the +poor animal might have recoiled as she did, when that wild burst of +admiration stormed over her. For the outcry of the most vicious hounds +that ever ran could not have been more appalling to a victim than that +generous welcome was to her. + +She did not bow or smile, but retreated slowly back, step by step, until +a voice from behind the scene startled her. Then she bent her tall +figure a little forward, her head drooped to her bosom, and her hands +were clenched passionately under the laces. + +Again those who were nearest heard the voice, but did not understand it +as that poor girl did. In her panic the little acting that belonged to +the scene was utterly overlooked; but this proud indifference was +something new, and charmed the audience, which took her wounded pride +for superb disdain of a pampered beauty, and accepted it as a graceful +innovation; while she stood trembling from head to foot, conscious only +of a burning desire to break away from it all and hide herself forever. +She did once move swiftly toward the wing, but there stood Olympia, and +the first glimpse of that frowning face drove her back, panting for +breath. + +The audience, seeing her panic, encouraged her with applause less stormy +and more sustaining. + +She felt this kindness. The multitude were less her enemy than the +woman who stood in the shadows, hounding her on. Among all that sea of +faces she saw one--that of a young girl, leaning over the crimson +cushions of a box near the stage, so eager, so earnest, so bright with +generous sympathy, that youth answered back to youth; a smile broke over +her own face, and with it came her voice, fresh, pure, soaring like a +bird suddenly let loose on the air. + +The audience listened in breathless sympathy, which encouraged her. +There was no doubt now; fear could not long hold such genius in thrall; +her movements became free, her features brightened. She flung the lace +back from her head, and gave herself up to the joyous riot of that +drinking song. + +In the midst of this scene, when every one present, on and off the +stage, was lavishing homage upon her, she lifted her eyes to the young +girl who leaned forward, poising herself in the box, like a bird +preparing for flight, and clapped her little hand with the glee of a +delighted child. + +Once more their smiles met. Then a deathly faintness came over the +debutante, and without a word or motion she sank upon the stage, like a +statue of snow which the sun had touched. + +In the next box, leaning forward like that young girl--but oh! with what +a different expression--she had seen the Italian teacher, her lover. + +The drinking-song was hushed in its most exultant swell--the revellers +drew around the fainting girl and carried her from the stage, helpless +as an infant, white as the lace that clouded her. + +The audience watched them bear her away in silence; then it broke into +murmurs of regret and sympathy. + +"The effort had been too much for her. Of course, such genius was +accompanied with corresponding sensitiveness, but she would speedily +recover. It was only a little interruption." + +They were mistaken. The debutante did not return that night; but in her +place came Olympia, with a little tragedy in her face, and a touching +speech, which excited admiration for herself and unbounded sympathy for +her protege; after which, she entered into the character of Violette, +with a grace of action and a power of voice that carried the management +through what had threatened to be a serious dilemma. + +The truth is, this woman, Olympia, was a remarkably clever person, and +knew how to manage her subjects a great deal better than some monarchs +of England have done. But she was in a raging passion that night, and +the excitement lent her force, which she exhausted in the part, while +her child lay moaning on the dressing-room sofa. + +In the midst of the first confusion, that young girl in the box had +started up, and laid her hand on Hepworth Closs's arm. + +"Go back to where they have taken her. You know the way. Tell my maid, +Margaret, to come to me at once. No, no; take me with you. I may be of +use. Poor girl! poor girl! They have almost killed her." + +"But it is impossible," said Closs, looking toward Lady Hope, who was +leaning against the side of the box, with her face turned away. "She +would not permit it." + +"She does not object. We need not be seen. No one will recognize us. +Come! come!" + +She took Hepworth's arm, and almost forced him from the box. + +"Which way? Come! come! I will go." + +Hepworth had been too often behind the scenes not to know how to gain +admittance there on this occasion. He knew how resolute that young +creature was, when a generous or daring idea possessed her, and, after +waiting a moment for Lady Hope to speak, led Lady Clara away. + +Clara was bewildered and almost terrified by the black darkness of the +passage, which was lighted only by fitful gleams from the stage; but +excitement kept up her courage, and she entered Olympia's dressing-room +with the air of a person born to the tragic purple. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE TWO FOSTER-CHILDREN MEET. + + +Caroline was lying upon a heap of rich garments piled on the sofa. She +was trembling still, and every few moments a burst of bitter sobs broke +from her. Three women were standing by--her own maid, Eliza, upon whose +sympathetic face tears were trembling; Margaret, her sister; and, most +conspicuous of all, Olympia's French maid, who bent over the poor girl, +with a bottle of perfume in each hand, with which she insisted on +assuaging the unhappy girl's anguish. + +Lady Clara comprehended the scene at a glance, went up to the sofa, took +the French maid by the shoulders, and wheeled her away so swiftly that +the bottles jingled; then she fell upon her knees by the sofa, and flung +one arm over Caroline. + +"Don't mind them; don't let them bother you. Just tell me what has come +over you, and I'll set it right, or know the reason why." + +The voice, so sweet, so round and cheering, aroused Caroline. + +She rose up on her elbow, and seeing the bright, honest face which had +bent toward her so kindly from the box, reached out her arms, and wound +them over Clara's neck. + +"That's right; that's sisterly. I wish you were my sister; but what's +the use of wishing? There! kiss me again, for I mean to be a mother to +you--I do, indeed! Now tell me, what was it that struck you down so? It +was frightful; it took away my breath. Tell me all about it. My maid +here and yours were sisters, and I shouldn't wonder if we knew each +other in America. But that is so long ago, it wouldn't signify, but for +the maids, who love us so, that it makes a sort of tie. Don't you think +so?" + +"Oh, if it could! if it could! I have no relative but one, and she will +not pity me!" cried Caroline, clinging to Lady Clara. "She will make me +go back to that hateful part! It was bad enough before, but now I should +die of shame!" + +"Why? Why now more than at first?" inquired Clara. + +"I will tell you. I know who you are, and how good every one thinks you. +I hate the stage!" + +"How strange! I cannot understand it. You don't know how I envied you +when all those people started up, waving their handkerchiefs and +shouting--to see them so sorry and disappointed when you did not come +back. I could hardly keep myself from leaping over the box, and asking +the crowd to let me try!" + +Caroline looked into that animated face with wonder. The tears stood +still on her cheeks, a faint smile crept into her eyes. Then she shook +her head. + +"Ah! I understand. There was a time when I thought like you, but that +was before--before--" + +"Before what? Margaret and the rest of you, just go outside. The room +isn't large enough for so many. There, we are alone now. Just tell me +all about it. You can trust me." + +"I know it. Well, Lady Clara--you see I know your name--" + +"Exactly. But just call me Clara--nothing more. I really don't care for +being a lady--at any rate, not much. That one thing is going to give me +any amount of trouble yet, you'll see. Well, now, having settled the +lady, tell me why and when you began to hate the stage so. I think it is +a glorious life. Just put me where you stand, without a sovereign to +help myself with, and I'd give up the ladyship to you in a minute." + +"But that is because you own your life." + +"Own my life? Of course I do. That is just what every soul must own." + +"Not if--if she cares for some one more than her life." + +"Oh-e! oh-e! That is the secret! And he don't like it? The heathen! I +wish he had seen you just now!" + +"He did. He was standing in the box close by you. I saw his face, for +the first time in months. He was leaning forward; his eyes met mine. +They were full of reproach--contempt, perhaps. I could not tell, for the +house swam round, the lights seemed leaping toward me. Then I felt as if +the noise were putting them out, for everything grew dark." + +"And you fainted dead away, poor dear! I know how to pity you. Not that +I have had trouble yet; but it is sure to come, and then, of course, you +will be sorry for me." + +"I shall, indeed." + +"Just as I am sorry for you now. But who is the man?" + +"I hardly think I know. He gave me an Italian name, but I feel sure it +was not his." + +"That accounts for his antipathy to the stage. If he had really been an +Italian, your singing would have entranced him. It was heavenly; but an +Englishman--. Well, well, we must see!" + +That moment the door swung open, and Olympia came in, radiant with +jewels and fierce with anger. She saw Lady Clara, and stopped upon the +threshold in haughty astonishment. Caroline shrank from the stormy +expression of her face, but faltered out: + +"Madame, it is Lady Clara, the daughter of Lord Hope." + +Instantly the frown lost itself in a bland smile. Olympia was equal to +her part at all times. She did not often see a lady of rank in her +dressing-room, and the honor drove away the indignant wrath intended for +Caroline. + +"Ah!" she said, "this poor child--it was so unfortunate! But she will +recover. In a day or two she will get back her courage. What a voice she +has, my lady! Did you hear? So fresh, so powerful, up to the very time +when she broke down. What could have occasioned it?" + +"It is indeed a misfortune," said Clara, with some dignity; "because I +am sure she will never do for the stage. Her voice is superb, but so +uncertain! When we compare it with yours, madame, it is to regret that +she ever ventured so far." + +Olympia seated herself. She had a few moments to spare before the +call-boy would summon her back to the stage. + +"There you mistake, my lady. When I was her age no one ever dreamed that +I would succeed as a singer; but you see what resolution and study can +do." + +"But you _had_ study; your guardians gave plenty of time. Let her have +that time; let her friends have an opportunity to think what is best for +her." + +"Her friends? I did not know that she had any in England." + +"Oh, yes! I am one; Lady Hope is another. Then there is Mr. Closs." + +"Oh!" said Olympia. "It is to that gentleman we owe the honor of this +visit?" + +"Yes," answered Clara. "He escorted me here. Being Lady Hope's brother, +it was proper, you understand." + +Olympia was looking in Clara's face. The girl pleased her. The bright +mobility of her features, the graceful gestures with which she +emphasized her expressions, charmed the experienced actress. + +"Ah, if my daughter had your abandon!" she exclaimed, with enthusiasm. + +"Or if I had her sweet dignity. But fortune is sometimes very perverse. +Now I should glory in the applause which makes her faint away." + +"Ah! she is sensitive as a child, proud as a duchess; but, where we have +plenty of genius, these things only serve to brighten it. I shall take +Caroline into my own training. When you come to hear her sing again, it +will be a different affair." + +"Oh, madam, do not ask it!" cried Caroline, in a panic. "I never, never +can go on to that stage again!" + +"We shall see," answered Olympia, blandly. "Here comes the call-boy; I +must say adieu, with many thanks for this visit." + +"But I have a request to make. You will give her time?" + +"Oh! yes, my lady. She shall have sufficient time." + +Olympia went out smiling; but Caroline understood the craft that lay +under her soft words. + +"You see that I have accomplished something," said Clara, delighted with +her success; "we have gained time." + +"No, no! She will have her way." + +"What! that soft, handsome creature?" + +"Has a will of iron!" + +"And so have I!" exclaimed the young girl, "and my will is that she +shall not force you into a life you do not like; but I wonder at it. +Upon my word, if it were not for one thing, I should like to change +places with you." + +Caroline shook her head. + +"You have no idea what the life is!" + +"Oh! yes, I have; and it must be charming. No dignity to keep up, no +retinue of servants to pass every time you come and go; but all sorts of +homage, plenty of work, while everything you have brings in a swift +recompense. Talent, beauty, grace discounted every night. Oh! it must be +charming." + +"I thought so once," answered Caroline, with a heavy sigh. + +"Well, never trouble yourself to think about it again. If that lovely +woman has an iron will, you must get up one of steel; but here comes +Margaret. I suppose Mr. Closs is getting tired of staying out there in +the dark. Besides, Lady Hope will be frightened. Adieu, my friend; I +will manage to see you again." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +LADY CLARA QUARRELS WITH HER STEPMOTHER. + + +Lady Hope had fainted, but with such deathly stillness that neither +Hepworth Closs nor Clara had been aware of it. She remained, after they +left the box, drooping sideways from her cushioned seat, with the cold +pallor of her face hid in the crimson shadows, and kept from falling by +the sides of the box, against which she leaned heavily. + +No one observed this, for the whole audience was intensely occupied by +what was passing on the stage; and the pang of self-consciousness +returned to Rachael Closs in the utter solitude of a great crowd. She +opened her eyes wearily, as if the effort were a pain. Then a wild light +broke through their darkness. She cast a quick glance upon the stage and +over the crowd. Then turning to look for her companions, she found that +they were gone. A sense of relief came to the woman from a certainty +that she was alone. She leaned back against the side of the box in utter +depression. Her lips moved, her hands were tightly clasped--she seemed +in absolute terror. + +What had Rachael Closs heard or seen to agitate her thus? That no one +could tell. The cause of those faint shudders that shook her from time +to time was known only to herself and her God. + +When Hepworth and Lady Clara came back, Lady Hope rose, and gathering +her ermine cloak close to her throat, said that she was tired of the +confusion, and would go home, unless they very much wished to stay and +see Olympia. + +They consented to go at once. The pallor of that beautiful face, as it +turned so imploringly upon them, was appeal enough. + +On their way home Lady Clara told her stepmother of her visit behind the +scenes. + +Rachael listened, and neither rebuked her for going nor asked questions; +but when Clara broke forth, in her impetuous way, exclaiming, "Oh, mamma +Rachael, you will help us! You will get this poor girl out of her +mother's power! You will let me ask her down to Oakhurst!" Rachael +almost sprang to her feet in the force of her sudden passion. + +"What! I--I, Lady Hope of Oakhust, invite that girl to be your +companion, my guest! Clara, are you mad? or am I?" + +The girl was struck dumb with amazement. Never in her existence had she +been so addressed before--for, with her, Rachael had been always kind +and delicately tender. Why had she broken forth now, when she asked the +first serious favor of her life? + +"Mamma! mamma Rachael!" she cried. "What is the matter? What have I done +that you are so cross with me?" + +"Nothing," said Rachael, sighing heavily, "only you ask an unreasonable +thing, and one your father would never forgive me for granting." + +"But she is so lovely! papa would like her, I know. She is so unhappy, +too! I could feel her shudder when the stage was mentioned. Oh, mamma +Rachael, we might save her from that!" + +"I cannot! Do not ask me; I cannot!" + +"But I promised that you would be her friend." + +"Make no promises for me, Clara, for I will redeem none. Drive this girl +from your thoughts. To-morrow morning we go back to Oakhurst." + +"To-morrow morning! And I promised to see her again." + +"It is impossible. Let this subject drop. In my wish to give you +pleasure, I have risked the anger of Lord Hope. He would never forgive +me if I permitted this entanglement." + +Lady Clara turned to Hepworth Closs. + +"Plead for me--plead for that poor girl!" she cried, with the +unreasoning persistence of a child; but, to her astonishment, Hepworth +answered even more resolutely than his sister. + +"I cannot, Clara. There should be nothing in common between the daughter +of Olympia and Lord Hope's only child." + +"Oh, how cruel! What is the use of having rank and power if one is not +to use it for the good of others?" + +"We will not argue the matter, dear child." + +"But I will argue it, and if I cannot convince, I will hate you, +Hepworth Closs, just as long as I live." + +"Not quite so bad as that, I trust," answered Hepworth, sadly. "To own +the truth, Clara, I fear your mother will have enough to do in +reconciling Lord Hope to the position another person has assumed in his +household. Do not let us add new difficulties to her position." + +Clara began to cry. + +"I'm sure I never thought of troubling her or offending my father. It is +so natural for them to be good and kind, why should I doubt them now, +when the grandest, sweetest, most beautiful girl in the whole world +wants help--just the help they can give, too? Well, well, when papa +comes home, I will lay the whole case before him." + +"Not for the world!" cried Rachael, suddenly. "I tell you, cast this +subject from your mind. I will not have my lord annoyed by it. For once, +Clara, I must and will be obeyed." + +Clara sank back in her seat, aghast with surprise. + +"Oh, mamma Rachael, you are getting to be awfully cruel." + +"Cruel? No! In this I am acting kindly. It is you who are cruel in +pressing a distasteful and impossible thing upon me." + +"I don't understand it; I can't believe it. You are always so free, so +generous, to those who need help. It is just because this poor girl is +my friend. Oh! I only wish old Lady Carset would just die, and leave me +everything! I would let the world see a specimen of independence--I +would! Don't speak to me, don't attempt to touch my hand, Mr. Closs! You +haven't a spark of human nature in you. I have a good mind to leave you +all, and go on the stage myself." + +Again Lady Hope broke into a storm of impatience so unlike her usual +self-restraint, that Clara was really terrified. + +"Hush, girl! Not another word of this. I will not endure it." + +This severe reprimand took away Clara's breath for an instant; then she +burst into a passion of sobs and tears, huddling herself up into a +corner of the carriage, and utterly refused all consolation from +Hepworth, who was generously disturbed by her grief. + +Lady Hope did nothing, but sat in silence, lost in thought, or perhaps +striving to subdue the tumult of feelings that had so suddenly broke +forth from her usual firm control. + +Thus they drove home in distrust and excitement. A few low murmurs from +Hepworth, bursts of grief from Lady Clara, and dead silence on the part +of Rachael Closs, attended the first disagreement that had ever set the +stepmother and daughter in opposition. + +When they reached home, Clara, her face all bathed in tears, and her +bosom heaving with sobs, ran up to her room, without the usual kiss or +"Good-night." + +She was bitterly offended, and expressed the feeling in her own childish +fashion. + +Rachael sat down in the hall, and watched the girl as she glided up the +broad staircase, perhaps hoping that she would look back, or, it may be, +regretting the course she had taken, for her face was unutterably sad, +and her attitude one of great despondency. + +At last, when Clara was out of sight, she turned a wistful look on her +brother. + +"She will hate me now." + +Her voice was more plaintive than the words. The confidence of that +young girl was all the world to her; for, independent of everything +else, it was the one human link that bound her to the man she loved with +such passionate idolatry. Her kindness to his child was the silver cord +which even his strong will could not sunder, even if he should wish it. + +Hepworth saw her anguish, and pitied it. + +"Let her go," he said, stooping down and kissing his sister on the +forehead, which, with her neck and arms, was cold as marble. "She is +disappointed, vexed, and really indignant with us both; but a good +night's sleep will set her heart right again. I wish we had never +chanced to come here." + +"Oh, Heavens! so do I." + +"Rachael," said Hepworth, "what is it troubles you so?" + +"What? Is it not enough that the child I have made a part of my own life +should quarrel with me and with you, because of me, for a stranger?" + +"No; because her own generous nature assures us that the evil will die +of itself before morning. This is not enough to account for the fact +that you quiver as if with cold, and the very touch of your forehead +chills me." + +"Do I?" questioned Rachael. "I did not know it. My cloak has fallen +off--that is all." + +"Mamma Rachael!" + +They both started, for leaning over the banisters was the sweet, tearful +face of Lady Clara. + +"My own darling!" cried Rachael, lifting her arms. + +Down the staircase sprang that generous young creature, her feet +scarcely touching the polished oak, her hair all unbound and rolling in +waves down her back. Struck with sweet compunctions, she had broken from +the hands of her maid, and left her with the blue ribbon fluttering in +her hand, while she ran back to make peace with the woman who was almost +dearer to her than a mother. + +She fell upon her knees by Rachael, and shook the hair from her face, +which was glowing with sweet penitence. + +"Kiss me, mamma Rachael, not on this saucy mouth of mine, but here upon +my forehead. I cannot sleep till you have kissed me good night." + +Rachael laid one hand on that bright young head, but it was quivering +like a shot bird. She bent the face back a little, and pored over the +features with yearning scrutiny, as if she longed to engrave every line +on her heart. + +Something in those black eyes disturbed the girl afresh. She reached up +her arms, and cried out: + +"Don't be angry with me, mamma Rachael, but kiss me good night, and ask +God to make me a better girl." + +Instead of kissing her, Rachael Closs fell upon her neck and broke into +a passion of tears such as Clara had never seen her shed before. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE OLD PRISONER. + + +In America again. Yes, fate has swept most of the characters of our +story across the ocean; but one remains behind to whom the kind heart +must turn with more solemn interest than the young, the beautiful, or +the lordly can inspire. + +No changes had fallen upon that bleak, gloomy prison, whose very shadow, +as it lay across the dusty road, streamed out like a pall. Human crime +brings human misery, and that, crowded together and stifled under the +heel of the law, is a terrible, most terrible thing. + +In the midst of this desolation, that old woman had lived and suffered +fourteen years, without a complaint, without once asking for the +freedom, which would have been so sweet to her, even of her God. She had +sinned deeply--how far, she and the Almighty, who knows all things, +alone could tell; but she had borne her punishment with much humility; +in her quiet way, had made her presence in that dreary place a blessing +to those more wretched than herself. + +During that long, weary time many a poor prisoner had felt the comfort +of her presence near her sick couch and her grave. Kind looks had +cheered other desponding souls when words of compassion were forbidden +to her lips. + +One day this woman sat at her task sewing on some heavy prison garments. +A skein of coarse thread hung about her neck, and a steel thimble was +upon her long, slender finger, where it had worn a ring about the nail +with incessant use. + +She did not look up when the matron entered the room, but worked on, +with steady purpose, not caring to see that strange gentleman who came +in with the matron, and stood looking kindly upon her. + +"Mrs. Yates." + +The old woman lifted her head with a suddenness that almost shook the +iron spectacles from her face. Her eyes encountered those of the +gentleman, and she stood up meekly, like a school-girl aroused from her +task, and remained, with her eyes bent on the floor, waiting for the man +to pass on. He did not move, however, but stood gazing upon her +snow-white hair, her thin old face, and the gentle stoop that had, at +last, bent her shoulders a little, with infinite compassion in his face. + +"Mrs. Yates, why do you stand so motionless? How is it that your eyes +turn so steadily to the floor?" + +The old woman lifted her eyes slowly to that calm, thin face. She did +not know it, had never seen it before in her life; but it was so seldom +any one spoke to her, that a soft glow of comfort stole to her heart as +she looked, and two great tears rolled from under her spectacles. Then +she remembered that he had asked something. + +"In prison, here, we get a down look," she said, with pathetic +simplicity. + +"But you will look in my face now." + +She did gaze at him earnestly; but shook her head and dropped her eyes, +for the force of habit was still upon her. + +"I do not know you," she murmured. + +"Did you then expect some friend?" asked the gentleman. + +"I have no friends," was the sad reply. + +"Does no one come to see you?" + +"Years ago my son used to come and his wife, too; but they are both +dead." + +"Poor woman!" + +She looked up again with a glance of earnest surprise. She was so unused +to pity that the compassionate voice brought a dry sob to her throat. + +"Are you content here? Tell me." + +"Yes, I am content." + +Her voice was low, but inexpressibly mournful. + +"I know the crime for which you were committed," said the gentleman, +"and have read the case over. Tell me, were you guilty?" + +The old woman lifted her eyes slowly, and replied: + +"Yes, I was a guilty woman." + +"But were you, before God, guilty of murder?" + +She met his eyes steadily. He saw a quiver of pain sweep over her +features, and the thin lips began to stir. + +"He is dead, my innocent, my honest son. Nothing can harm him now. I +have not suffered in vain. Before God I was not guilty of murder, but +terribly guilty in taking this crime on myself: but it was to save him, +and I cannot repent, I cannot repent, and in that lies double guilt!" + +The stranger searched her features keenly as she spoke. Perhaps he was +prepared for this answer; but the light that came over his face was full +of compassion. + +"Have you done with me?" questioned the old woman, in the meek, sad +voice that had become habitual to her. "Perhaps you will not believe me; +but God knows!" + +The man turned from her and stepped into the matron's room. + +The old woman sat down upon the bench from which she had arisen, took +the coarse needle from the bosom of her dress, where she had fastened it +when spoken to, and threaded it again; but her hand shook a little, and +the thread baffled her confused vision. Then the strange gentleman came +back again, smiling, and with moisture in his eyes. + +"My good woman," he said, "put up your work. You did not know it, but I +am the Governor of New York, and your pardon has just gone to the +warden." + +The needle dropped from one quivering old hand--a thread fell from its +companion. + +"Pardon for me!" + +Her lips were white, and the words trembled from them one by one. She +did not comprehend that this man had given her back to the world. + +"It is true," said the matron, weeping the glad, sweet tears of a +benevolent heart, "His Excellency has pardoned you. This very hour you +are free to leave the prison." + +"God help me! Oh! God help me!" cried the poor old woman, looking around +at her rude work and seating herself among it. "Where can I go?" + +The Governor took some money from his pocket and laid it in her lap. +Then he went hastily from the room. + +The matron sat down upon the bench, and clasped the withered hand in +hers. + +"Have you no friend?" + +"None." + +"No duties left undone?" + +The old woman drew herself up. Duties last longer than friends. Yes, she +had duties, and God had taken the shackles from her limbs that she might +perform them. Freedom was before her and an object. She arose gently and +looked around a little wildly. + +"I will go now." + +The matron went out and returned with a bundle of clothes and a black +bonnet upon which was some rusty crape; a huge, old-fashioned thing that +framed in her silver-white hair like a pent-house. The very shape and +fashion of this bonnet was pathetic--it spoke of so long ago. The black +dress and soft shawl with which she had come to the prison were a little +moth-eaten, but not much, for they had been carefully hoarded; but the +poor old woman looked with a sigh on her prison-dress as it fell to the +floor, and wept bitterly before she went out, as if that gloomy mass of +stones had been a pleasant home to her. + +Slowly, and with a downcast look, the old woman went out of the prison, +up through the rugged quarries, where a gang of men were at work, +dragging their weary limbs from stone to stone, with the listless, +haggard effort of forced labor. Some of these men looked up, as she +passed them, and watched her with bitter envy. + +"There goes a pardon," they said to each other; "and that old woman with +one foot in the grave, while we are young and strong! Freedom would be +everything to us; but what good will it do to her?" + +So the poor old prisoner passed on, sadly bewildered and afraid, like a +homeless child, but thanking God for a mercy she could not yet realize. + +There was one place to which she must go. It might be empty and +desolate, but there her son had died, and she had seen the roof of his +dwelling from the graveyard when they let her come out from prison to +see him buried. + +She knew the road, for her path led to the grave first, and after that +she could find the way, for every step, so far, had been marked by a +pang, to which her heart was answering back now. + +At sunset, that day, some workmen, passing the village burying-place, +saw an old woman sitting by a grave that had been almost forgotten in +the neighborhood. + +She was looking dreary and forlorn in the damp enclosure, for clouds +were drifting low in the sky, and a cold rain was beginning to fall; but +they did not know that this poor woman had a home-feeling by that grave, +even with the rain falling, which belonged to no other place on earth. + +A little later, when the gray darkness was creeping on, this same tall +figure might have been discovered moving through the rough cedar pillars +of the Yates cottage. There was no light in the house, for no human soul +lived beneath its roof; but a door was so lightly fastened that she got +it open with some effort, and entered what seemed to her like the +kitchen; for the last tenant had left some kindling-wood in the +fireplace, and two or three worn-out cooking utensils stood near the +hearth, where they were beginning to rust. + +When she left the prison, the matron had, with many kind words, thrust a +parcel into the old woman's hand. Knowing her helplessness, she had +provided food for a meal or two, and to this had added some matches and +candles. + +In the gray light which came through one of the windows, she untied this +parcel and found the candles. It seemed to the forlorn creature as if a +merciful God had sent them directly to her, and she fell upon her +knees, thanking Him. The light which she struck gave her the first gleam +of hope that her freedom had yet brought. She was at liberty to build a +fire on that dark hearth, and to sit there just as long as she pleased, +enjoying its warmth. The rain that began to rattle down on the low roof +made her shelter more pleasant. She began to realize that even in such +desolation liberty was sweet. + +She built a fire with the dry wood, and its blaze soon filled the +kitchen with a golden glow. Her garments were wet, and a soft steam +arose from them as she sat, enveloping her in a gray cloud. The +loneliness might have been terrible to another person, but she had been +so long accustomed to the darkness and gloom of a prison cell, that this +illuminated space seemed broad as the universe to her. + +After her clothes were dry, the old woman lighted her candle and began +to examine the house. The parlor was almost empty, and a gust of wind +took her candle as she opened the door, flaring back the flame into her +face. The wind came from a broken pane of glass in the oriel window, +through which a branch of ivy, and the long tendril of a Virginia +creeper had penetrated, and woven themselves in a garland along the +wall. A wren had followed the creeping greenness and built her nest in +the cornice, from which she flew frightened, when a light entered the +room. + +The old woman went out disappointed. The thing she sought was not there; +perhaps it had been utterly destroyed. The man who had promised to keep +it sacred, lay sleeping up yonder in the graveyard. How could she expect +strangers to take up his trust? But if the object she sought could not +be found, what was the use of liberty to her. The one aim of her life +would be extinguished. She took up the candle and mounted a flight of +narrow stairs which led to the chambers. + +They were all empty except one small room, where she found an iron +bedstead, on which some old quilts and refuse blankets were heaped. +Behind this bed, pressed into a corner, was an old chair, covered with +dust. + +When she saw this, the light shook in her hand. She sat down upon the +bedstead, and reaching the candle out, examined the old chair, through +its veil of cobwebs. It was the same. How well she remembered that night +when her own hands had put on that green cover. + +The chair was broken. One of its castors dropped to the floor as Mrs. +Yates drew it from the corner, and the carved wood-work came off in her +hand; the cushion was stained and torn in places, but this dilapidation +she knew had not reached her secret. + +She took the chair in her arms and carried it down to the kitchen. Some +of the brass nails dropped loose on the stairs, but she took no heed of +them. All she wanted was some instrument with which she could turn the +ricketty thing into a complete wreck. In the drawer of a broken kitchen +table she found an old knife, with the blade half ground away. This she +whetted to an edge on the hearth, and directly the little brass nails +flew right and left, a mass of twisted fringe lay on the hearth, when +the old woman stood in a cloud of dust, holding the torn rep in her +hand. It dropped in a heap with the fringe, then the inner lining was +torn away, handsful of hair were pulled out from among the springs, and +that casket with a package of papers rustled and shook in the old +woman's hands. + +Mrs. Yates trembled from head to foot. It was many long years since she +had touched heavy work like that, and it shocked her whole frame. + +The dull monotony of sewing upon prison garments had undermined all her +great natural strength. She sat there panting for breath, and white to +the lips. The excitement had been too much for this poor prison woman. + +She sat like a dazed creature, looking down into the casket which lay +open in her lap, with ten thousand rainbow fires leaping out of it, as +the blaze in the chimney quivered and danced and blazed over the +diamonds. That morning the old woman had crept out of prison in her +moth-eaten garments, and a little charity money in her bosom. Now a +fortune blazed up from her lap. + +There was money, too, a purse heavy with sovereigns, dropped there from +the gold contained in that malachite box, from which all her awful +sorrows had sprung. She gathered up these things in the skirt of her +dress and sat brooding over them a long time, while the fire rose and +crackled, and shed warm floods of light all around her, and the rain +poured down in torrents. She was completely worn out at last, and +thought itself became a burden; then her head fell back upon the ruined +cushions of the chair, which held her in a half-sitting position, as the +heaviest sleep that ever came to mortal eyes fell upon her. + +Still the rain poured down continually upon the roof and overran the +gutters in torrents. Up from the darkness of a hollow near by, the rush +and roar of a stream, swollen into a torrent, came through the beating +storm like a heavy bass voice pouring its low thunders through a strain +of music. The great elm tree at the end of the house tossed its +streaming branches, and beat them upon the roof, till a host of warriors +seemed breaking their way through, while the old vines were seized by +the wind and ripped from the sides of the house, as the storm seizes +upon the cords of a vessel, and tears them up into a net work of tangled +floss. + +The old woman who had left her stone cell in the prison for the first +time in fourteen years, heard nothing of this, but lay half upon the +floor half on the broken chair, with the broad blaze of the fire +flashing over her white hair, and kindling up the diamonds in her lap to +a bed of living coals. She was perfectly safe with those treasures, even +in that lonely house, for in the pouring rain no human being was likely +to go about from his own free will. But one poor fellow, whose child was +desperately sick, did pass the house, and saw the blaze of a fire +breaking through a window, where the shutters were dashing to and fro on +their hinges, and found breath to say, as he sped on in search of a +doctor: + +"So the cedar cottage has got another tenant at last. I wonder who it +is?" + +When the man went by to his work, the next morning, he saw the shutters +swaying to and fro yet, and wondering at it, went into the enclosure, in +hopes of meeting some of the new inmates; but everything was still, the +doors were fastened, and through the kitchen window he saw nothing but a +heap of ashes on the hearth, and an old chair, torn to pieces, standing +before it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE OLD COUNTESS. + + +When the old countess of Carset threw out her flag from the battlements +of Houghton castle, it could be seen from all the country around, for +the grim old pile was built upon the uplands, and the gray towers rose +up from the groves of the park like the peaks of a mountain. + +For many a long year that broad flag had streamed like a meteor over the +intense greenness of oaks and chestnuts; for, when the head of the house +was at home, the crimson pennant was always to be seen floating against +the sky, and over that sea of billowy foliage. The old lady of Houghton +had not been absent from the castle in many years, for she was a +childless woman, and so aged, that a home among her own people was most +befitting her infirmities and her pride. + +One day, as the sun was going down behind those massive castle towers, +filling the sky so richly with gold and crimson, that the red flag was +lost among its fiery billows, an old woman stood on the highway, with a +hand uplifted to shade her eyes, as she searched for the old flag. + +There was dust upon her leathern shoes and on the black folds of her +alpaca dress, for she had walked from the railway station, and the roads +were dry. + +"Ah, how the trees have grown!" she said, mournfully, dropping her hand. +"I never, never thought to be so near Houghton and not see the flag. Is +my lady dead?" + +The old woman was so distressed by the thought, that she sat down on a +bank by the wayside, and over her came that dry, hard foreboding, which +forbids tears to old eyes, but holds the worn heart like a vise. Thus, +with her eyes fixed on the dusty road, she sat till all those bright +clouds melted into the coming night; then she looked up and saw the +great red flag streaming out against a sea of purplish gray, as it had +done when she was a girl, seventy years ago. + +"My lady is alive. She is there. Oh! my God! make me thankful!" she +exclaimed, standing up in the road. "Through all, I shall see her +again." + +So she moved on, carrying a leathern travelling bag, worn and rusty, in +her feeble hand. Along the highway, up to the gates of that noble park, +she travelled with the slow, toilsome step of old age; but when she came +to the gates they were closed, and her voice was so feeble that it +failed to reach the lodge, from which she could see lights gleaming +through the twinkling ivy leaves. + +In patient disappointment the old woman turned from the gate, and walked +on half a mile farther, for she knew of a small public house where a +night's lodging could be obtained. She reached this low stone building +after dark, and entered it quietly, like a gray ghost. + +It was a strange guest to enter that tap-room, with her dusty garments +and her old satchel. The villagers, who were taking their beer +comfortably, lifted their eyes in astonishment at her sudden appearance, +and they rounded with wonder, as she passed through the room and entered +the kitchen naturally, as if she had belonged to the premises all her +life. + +No one in the house remembered the old woman. A curly-headed girl named +Susan, had flitted like a bird about that kitchen the last time she had +entered it, and now, when a man's voice called out "Susan!" she started +and looked around in a dazed way, expecting the bright eyed girl would +come dancing through the door. But instead appeared an elderly woman, +with quantities of coarse black hair, smoothed under her cap. A linen +apron, large and ample, protected her stuff dress, and a steel +chatelaine, to which were suspended scissors, a needle case and tiny +money box rattled at her side. + +"Well, what is to do now, Stephen?" said the landlady, brushing some +crumbs from her apron, for she had been cutting bread. + +"Not much, only look sharp. Here is an old body just come off the tramp. +Ah, there she sits. See to her while I mind the bar, for she seems a +little above the common, and is quiet." + +The landlord sank his voice as he made the communication, and, after a +glance at the old woman, went back to his guests, while the matron +addressed Mrs. Yates. + +"Ye will be wanting something, no doubt. Will it be tea or a cup of ale +posset?" + +The old heart in that bosom stirred with a tender recollection of long +ago, as this almost forgotten dish was mentioned, a dish so purely +English, that she had never once heard it mentioned in her American +life. + +"I will thank you for a posset," she said, taking off her bonnet and +smoothing her milk-white hair with both hands. "It is long since I have +tasted one." + +"Yes," answered the landlady, "there is more refreshment in a cup of +warm posset, than in quarts of tea from China. Wait a bit and you shall +have one of my own making; the maids never will learn how to curdle the +milk properly, but I am a rare hand at it, as was my mother before me." + +"Aye, a good housewife was your mother," said the old woman, as tender +recollections stirred in her bosom, "for now I see that it is little +Susan." + +"Little Susan, and you know of her? That was what they used to call me +when I was a lass, so high." + +"But now, what is the name you go by?" + +"What name should a woman go by but that of her own husband? You have +just seen the master. The neighbors call him Stephen Burke." + +"What, the son of James Burke, gamekeeper at the castle?" + +"Why, did you know him, too?" + +"Aye, that did I. A brave young fellow he was, and every one at the +castle up yonder--" + +The old woman checked herself. She had not intended to make herself +known, but old recollections had thronged upon her so warmly, that it +seemed impossible to keep silent. + +"You speak of the castle as if you knew about it," said the landlady, +eyeing her askance. + +"And no wonder," answered the old woman; "people have told me about it, +and I was in the neighborhood years ago, when you were a slip of a +lass." + +It was strange, but this old woman, since her entrance to that room, had +fallen back upon phrases and words familiar to her lips once, but which +had not made any part of her speech for years. There was a home sound in +them that warmed her heart. + +"Did ye ever know any of them up yonder?" asked the landlady, as she +placed a broad porringer before the fire, and poured some milk into it. + +"Yes. I have seen the countess, but it was long ago." + +"May-be it was when the young lady was at home. Oh! them were blithe +times, when young Lord Hope came a courting, and we could see them +driving like turtle doves through the park and down the village; or, +walking along by the hedges and gathering hyacinths and violets. It was +a sorry time, though, when he took her away for good and all." + +"Is the young lady living near this?" inquired Mrs. Yates, with an +effort. + +"Near this, my good woman! Why, she has been dead these many years, and +Lord Hope had been married to his second wife ten years, when my first +lass was born; but he lives at Oakhurst, and never comes here now. No +one, in these parts, has seen his second lady, for the countess was +sadly put out with the marriage, and all her household was forbidden to +mention Lord Hope's name before her. She never got over the death of our +own young lady in foreign parts, off in America among the red Indians, +who tomahawk people, and no one asks why. This was where Lord Hope took +his wife and child. Can any one wonder that our countess could not +forgive him, especially when he came back home with a new wife, and +stood out that his daughter should never come to Houghton, till our old +lady up yonder was ready to be gracious to the new woman." + +"So the child was never at the castle?" inquired the old woman. + +"No one hereabouts has ever seen her, though we are told that she is a +beautiful young lady, sweet and pleasant, but with a will of her own. +The old countess sent for her once, for she must be heiress of Houghton, +you know; but she sent back word that nothing could entice her into a +house where her stepmother was forbidden to come, and this so offended +our countess, that she has taken no notice of her since." + +While she was talking, the landlady poured a measure of frothing ale +into the porringer, and became all at once silent. The delicate art of +curding the milk into whey took up all her attention. Thus the old lady +was allowed to drop into a fit of thought, from which she was aroused, +with a start, when the hostess poured the warm posset into a china bowl +and began stirring it with a heavy silver spoon, as she called out: + +"Come to the table, grandame, and sup the posset while it is hot. You'll +not get its fellow till I turn my hand to another for ye. Come, come!" + +Mrs. Yates drew her chair to the table, and took up the silver spoon, +eagerly. Poor woman! She had travelled all day without tasting food, and +the posset took her from a very painful train of thought. + +The hostess sat down at one end of the table, smiling blandly over the +keen appetite of her guest. With her arms folded on the white cloth, and +her ruddy face bending forward, she went on with her talk. But this +time she turned from the castle, and began to ask questions, for the +presence of this singular old woman in her house had fully aroused her +curiosity. + +But the traveller was on her guard now, and escaped these blunt +questions with quiet adroitness. When they became oppressive, she arose +from the table and asked permission to seek her bed, as the day's travel +had left her tired beyond anything. + +The hostess took a candle from the table and led the way up stairs, +somewhat baffled, but full of kindly feeling. There was something about +the manner and speech of this old woman that set all her warm-hearted +interest afloat. Who was she? From what part of England had she +travelled with that rusty little bag and those thick-soled shoes? That +quiet manner and gentle voice might have belonged to any lady of the +land. + +In the midst of these conjectures the quiet old woman reached out her +hand for the candle, and with a soft "good-night," closed the +chamber-door. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE OLD COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT. + + +The next morning Mrs. Yates was early at the park-gate. She found no +trouble in passing through now, and was soon in the avenue, making slow +progress toward the castle, under the shade of those vast oaks and +chestnuts. The way was long, and the avenue swept upward with what, to +the old woman, was a toilsome ascent. The bag, which she carried in her +hand, was of some weight, too, and the cramped inaction of so many years +had rendered walking a slow and painful process. + +At last she stood in full view of that grand old building--a castle of +the olden times--kept, so far as possible to elegance or comfort, in its +ponderous mediæval grandeur. But Madam Art had softened all its ruder +features. Plate-glass was sunk into those thick walls; circular rooms in +those twin towers, commanded a splendid view of the valley, over which +the castle was built. The broad stone terrace connecting the towers, and +fronting the main building was connected with a velvet lawn by a forest +of hot-house plants, that clung around the stone parapet in a sumptuous +garland of vines and flowers, that shed a soft and delicious fragrance +over everything in and around the building. + +Across this lawn and over the stone terrace the old woman toiled toward +the main entrance. She was beginning to tremble now with something +beside weariness. Her satchel bore down the feeble hand that carried it, +till it dragged along the stones with a low, rasping sound, as she +climbed the terrace-steps. She lifted the ponderous bronze knocker, and +let it fall from her shaking hand with a crash that startled herself, +and brought a man, all glittering in silver gray and scarlet, to the +door, where he stood, with his insolent lips ajar, waiting to know what +miracle had brought that forlorn creature to the grand entrance of +Houghton Castle. + +"I wish to speak with the countess." + +That sweet old voice could not counteract the effect of her dress and +worn satchel. The parted lips of the man in scarlet fell together, and +drooped scornfully down at the corners. + +"There is a proper entrance for servants and village-people," said this +high functionary, with his powdered head thrown back. + +"I know," answered the woman, quietly; "but I wish to see my lady, and +do not care to seek her from the servants' hall. Go to her and say that +Hannah Yates, an old servant of the family, is below, waiting to see +her." + +The man hesitated. Then the old woman stepped softly into the hall, +passing him so suddenly that he drew back aghast. + +"If you will not go, I must find the way for myself," she said, still in +a voice so gentle that he could take little offence at it. + +Her composure rather disturbed the man, who gave his powdered head a +toss, and mounted the broad oaken staircase, with an indignant swell of +the chest. Through a long passage, carpeted with the thickness of forest +turf, he went, giving forth no sound till he opened a door in one of the +lower chambers, and, sweeping a curtain of crimson silk back with his +arm, announced the name that old woman had given him at the door. + +Something lying under the rich colors of a great India shawl moved +quickly; the shawl dropped to the floor, and a little old woman sat up +on the couch where she had been resting. + +"Yates--Hannah Yates? Did you say Yates, Henry?" + +"That was the name, my lady." + +"An old woman like me?" + +"Old enough, my lady; but Heaven forbid I should say like your ladyship. +I could not force myself to do it." + +"Bring her here, Henry." + +The door closed, and the old countess drew herself gradually upright. + +She was a pale, little woman, with hair as soft and white as the +delicate lace that fell like a spider's web over it. The child-like +hands, which lay in relief among the folds of her black-satin dress, +were withered in their whiteness, like the leaves of a frost-bitten +lily. They were quivering, too; and now that she was alone, you might +have seen that delicate head begin to vibrate with a slow, perpetual +motion, which had been stopped a moment by the surprise which had fallen +upon her. She sat with her eyes on the curtain, which shut the door from +view. The trembling of her head extended to her whole body, and her +small feet pattered freely on the carpet, like those of a child in the +impotence of sickness. + +As she looked the red curtain was lifted, and into the luxurious +splendor of that room came a tall, old woman, who was trembling like +herself, and stood in her presence, apparently afraid to look up. + +The old countess arose from her couch, trampling the India shawl under +her feet, and moved with feeble slowness toward her strange visitor. + +"Hannah Yates!" + +At these words the down prison-look that had fallen upon Hannah was +lifted from her, and those large gray eyes were bent on the little +patrician with a look of intense mournfulness. + +"My mistress!" + +"Hannah Yates, I never expected to see you again on this earth, and now +you come before me like a ghost." + +"Ah, my mistress," answered the old servant, with pathetic humility. "I +am a ghost of the woman who once loved and served you." + +"And I? Look upon me, Yates. How have God and time dealt with your +mistress? Has my head been respected more than yours?" + +They stood for a moment looking solemnly at each other--that tall, +stately woman, born a peasant, and the delicate, proud, sensitive +peeress, whose blue blood rolled through a series of dead greatness back +to the Conqueror. The contrast was touching. Both had begun to stoop at +the shoulders, both had suffered, and they were as far apart in station +as social power could place them; but a host of memories linked them +together, and the common sympathies of humanity thrilled in the hearts +of both with such pain and pleasure that, unconsciously, the little +withered hand of the countess clasped that of her old servant. + +"Come in, Yates, and sit down. You are trembling, poor old soul! The +world must have gone hard with you when the touch of my hand makes you +shiver so. Sit down. We are both old women now, and may rest ourselves +together." + +So the woman, whose last home had been a convict's cell, and the lady +whose head had always been sheltered beneath the roofs of a palace, sat +down and looked, with sad timidity, at each other. Still the feeling of +caste was strong in the servant. She had drawn an ottoman up to the +couch, and placed herself on that; but not until she had taken the shawl +from the carpet, and placed it around her mistress, did she thus sit +down, as it were, at her feet. + +"Where did you come from, Hannah Yates?" + +"From America. I came from the ship three days ago." + +At the word America the old countess shrank back, and held out her +hands, as if to avoid a blow. After a little she spoke again, but it was +now with a voice sharp with pain. + +"Yates, did you in America ever know anything of my child?" + +The anguish in that voice startled Hannah Yates, and her old face +whitened. How much did the mistress know? If little, perfect candor +might kill her. She had not come there to wound an old woman with the +horrors that had darkened her life; so she answered, cautiously: + +"Yes, I saw Lady Hope more than once after she came to America." + +"Thank God!" exclaimed the countess. "I may now learn how and when she +died." + +"I was not with her when she died," answered the servant, in a low +voice. + +"But you saw her before?" + +"Yes, I saw her often." + +"And the child?" + +"Yes; the child was with me a good deal." + +"Yates, was my child happy in that strange land?" + +"How can I answer that, my lady?" + +"Did you see Hope there?" + +"Once, only once, and that for a moment." + +"And you can tell me no particulars. You have no information to give me +with regard to the woman who is Lord Hope's wife?" + +"Of her I know but little. Remember, my lady, I am but a servant." + +"You were my child's nurse. I never looked on you as a common servant, +but rather as a faithful friend. So did my poor child. When I learned +she was in the same country with you and her foster-brother, my heart +was somewhat at rest. But her letters were so studied, so +unsatisfactory; yet there was nothing in them of sadness or complaint. +Only this, Yates, she never mentioned her husband, not once! I should +hardly have known that he was with her but for the letter in which he +told me that I was a childless old woman." + +Mrs. Yates drew a long, heavy sigh. She understood now that the secret +of that awful tragedy in New York had been kept from her old mistress, +and resolved that it never should reach her--never while her will could +keep back the horrible truth. + +"My lady," she said, with an effort, "there is one thing which +our--which my young mistress bade me bring to you if--if she should not +live to place them in your own hands herself. It is this which brought +me across the ocean." + +As she spoke, Mrs. Yates took up the leathern satchel, which lay against +her feet, and opened its rusty clasp with her trembling hands. She drew +forth a casket from the scant garments it contained, and, still kneeling +on the floor, opened it. A blaze of diamonds broke up from the box. The +old countess uttered a feeble cry, and clasped two quivering hands over +her eyes. + +"She was troubled about bringing them out of England, and sent them to +her foster-mother with this letter." + +"Is there a letter? Yates, give it to me!" + +Mrs. Yates reached forth the letter, which had begun to turn yellow with +age. + +The countess took it, and attempted to open her glasses; but those +little hands trembled so fearfully that she could not loosen the gold +which clasped them in. + +"Read it for me. I cannot! I cannot!" + +Two great tears trembled out of the pain in that aged heart, and fell +upon her cheeks like frost upon the white leaves of a withered rose. + +Hannah Yates read the letter--a sweet, touching epistle, full of +mournful affection, which that murdered lady had written only a few days +before her death, when some presentiment of coming evil was no doubt +upon her. The diamonds were her mother's, she wrote, and had only +crossed the ocean with her because of the haste with which the voyage to +America had been arranged. Fearing for their safety, she was about to +intrust them to her foster-mother, who had promised to bring them back +to England with her own hands, if any evil should fall upon her, or if +her sojourn in America was protracted. + +"The jewels which belong to the Carset estate, and the child, which will +inherit them, I entrust to my dear foster-mother, when I am gone, and I +sometimes think that we may never meet again, my mother. This good woman +will bring the diamonds, which I will not have endangered, and will tell +you about the child, dearer to me than my own life, nay, than my own +soul! Tell Lord Hope, if he should seek to take her, that it was the +dying wish of his wife that her child should pass at once into the +protection of her own most beloved mother, when Hannah Yates brings her +to England. I think he will not deny this to a woman who has loved him +better, oh! how much better! than herself--who would die, if she could, +rather than be in the way of his happiness. Give him this letter. I +think he will not deny the last request I may ever make of him. I will +not say farewell, my mother, because the gloom that is upon me in this +strange land may be only the homesickness of a heart separated from +those it loves. But, if this is given to you by my foster-mother, know +that a cloud of gloom has settled down upon me forever." + +This much fell upon the ears of the countess as she held her breath and +listened. + +When Hannah Yates folded the letter, she felt that a gleam of angry fire +broke into the eyes bent upon her. + +"Yates," said the countess, sharply, "read the date of that letter." + +The old servant read the date. + +"Fourteen years and more! Why was that letter kept from me so long?" + +"I could not bring it." + +"I know you were not young even then, Yates; but your son, my own +protege! Surely, when my poor child gave you this charge, she gave money +also? Why was the child kept from me and sent to that man?" + +"Yes, there was money; but my son could not come. We had no power to +bring her." + +"Then Hope took her from you by force?" questioned the countess. "Where +is your son, Yates? He was wrong to permit it!" + +"With my young lady." + +"Dead! Then you, also, are childless?" + +Hannah Yates remembered how the news of her bereavement had reached her +in that stone cell which was cold as a grave, and shuddered while the +lady in her palace questioned her. Then the old prison-look fell upon +her, and she sat motionless, with her eyes upon the floor, saying +nothing. How could she explain to that proud lady the bondage in which +she had been held? + +"Ah! if you had come earlier," said the countess, "the child of my child +might have been here! That man would not have dared to keep her! She +would not have been taught to return my advances with insolence by his +evil wife." + +"I _could_ not come before," repeated the old woman, humbly. + +"And now it may be too late." + +"God forbid!" said the old woman. "No! no! He will show me how to +complete my task. It is for that I have been kept alive." + +"Yates, you are brave and faithful. I was wrong to question you so. +Forgive me, old servant." + +Mrs. Yates took the child-like hand held out to her and pressed it to +her lips. + +"I have tried, dear mistress." + +"Go, now, old friend, and let me have time to think. Only this is +certain, we do not part again." + +"Mistress, that cannot be. I have yet a task to perform. It may be many, +many miles to travel. When that is done, I will come back and spend the +few days left to me here. Oh, it seems like home--it seems like Heaven +to sit within the sound of your voice once more! But I must depart at +once." + +"Where, old friend?" + +"I do not know yet; but God will direct me." + +"As I trust that He will direct me," answered the countess, lifting her +eyes in momentary prayer. "Yates, you will never know what fearful +suspicions have haunted me--how hard and bitter they have made me. Oh, +had this letter come earlier!" + +"I could not! I could not!" + +"I know that, knowing you." + +Hannah Yates lifted her grateful eyes for a moment, and dropped them +again. + +"Now that I am free from the weight of these," she said, lifting the +casket in her hands, "the toil of my errand will be less." + +The countess looked wistfully into the box, and shook her head. + +"I have been unjust. I have accused that woman falsely. Until this +moment, Yates, I have not hesitated to proclaim my belief that the woman +they call Lady Hope had possessed herself of these diamonds as she had +won my daughter's husband. This is a wrong which wounds me to the soul. +It must be atoned for." + +Hannah Yates moved toward the door, but heavily, and with the reluctance +of a woman whose strength had been overtasked. The old countess sat +gazing upon the jewels. How trivial and worthless they seemed to her +now! Yet the retention of these very diamonds had been a great cause of +offence against Lord Hope's second wife. How unjust, how cruel she had +been in this! Was it possible that, in other things, she had been +equally mistaken? She took up her daughter's letter and read it over. +The first shock of its reception had passed away, and nothing but the +quivering of the head remained of the fearful agitation that had shook +her little form like a reed. + +Hannah Yates stood near the curtain, regarding her with a look of +yearning sympathy. How much she had suffered--how terribly she had +struggled to save that delicate creature from deeper sorrow--no human +being but herself would ever know; but the thought filled her heart with +infinite tenderness. She stepped back to the couch, took the hand which +lay in the lap of her old mistress, and kissed it. + +The old lady lifted her eyes from the letter. They were full of +tears--those painful, cold tears which come in such scant drops to the +aged. + +"Your hands are cold; you look tired. Ring for some wine and biscuit. +That poor, white face is a reproach to your mistress, Yates." + +"Yes, I will take some wine and bread before I go--it will make me +strong; but not here! not here!" + +Again the old countess turned to that letter, motioning with her hand +that Yates should stay; but the old woman did not see that gentle motion +of the hand--her eyes, also, were full of tears. + +When the Countess of Carset had thrice perused her daughter's letter, +she laid it down, and resting her hand tenderly upon it, fell into +thought. + +She was a proud but just woman, on whose haughty power old age had +fallen like dew, softening all that was imperious, and shading down +strong personal pride into thoughtful mercy. + +But for some injustice that she had to repent of, this simple, +affectionate letter, coming as it were from the grave, would have +aroused nothing but tender grief. It contained no complaint of the man +she had married--did not even mention the governess, who now filled her +place; and the possibility that she had terribly wronged these two +persons dawned steadily upon her. + +She looked up at last, and spoke to Hannah Yates; but there was no +answer. The old woman was on her road to the railroad station, burdened +only with a secret she dared not reveal, and the gold which had been +saved with the diamonds. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE EARL'S RETURN. + + +Days passed, and Caroline heard nothing of the new friend she had made; +but one day Eliza brought her a letter which had come, inclosed in one +from Margaret, who had left town with her mistress so suddenly that she +found no time to say farewell. + +This was the letter which broke down so many hopes for the unhappy girl: + + "MY DEAR, DEAR FRIEND-- + + "For that you always will be, so long as I have a pulse in my + heart or a purpose in my brain! It does not require an eternity + for two young girls like us to become firm friends; but it will + take more than that to destroy the faith and love we feel for + each other. I know that you will believe every word that I say, + though I may be compelled to seem cruel and faithless. I cannot + come to see you. They tell me it might offend my father. I + cannot ask you to his house, because it _is_ his, and I have no + authority in it. But the time will come when I shall have a + house of my own, and then no guest shall be so honored. Why do + I love you so? Is it that I remember something? Or has any + person told me that you and I have slept in each other's arms, + and breathed upon the same pillow, with an old woman bending + over us--a noble-faced old woman, with gray hair, and a queenly + way of carrying the head? Have you any remembrance of a woman + like that? Do you remember a hot, red fire, streams of water + gushing over it, a ladder, a crowd, and great pipes coiling like + a tangle of huge snakes along a street full of people? I do--and + this no one has ever told me. + + "I want to ask all these things in person. You are from America. + I was there once, and after that fire I remember the ocean and a + great black ship, which sent banners of smoke over us day after + day. + + "Then Oakhurst. I was not four years old then, but my life began + in America, so far as I know of it. + + "I cannot help you now; but if you hate the stage so much, be + firm, and madame cannot force you upon it. Besides, I am + determined to redeem my pledge; so, if it can be done in no + other way, I will just have an early time set for my marriage + with Mr. Closs, and then you shall come to us if any one + attempts to oppress you. + + "Pray do not suppose that any one here dislikes you. On the + contrary, Lady Hope admits that you are charming. The trouble is + that here, in England, there is so much prejudice against the + stage. I cannot advise you, having broken down so miserably in + my promises; but I shall not be helpless forever, and when I + have power you shall share it. + + "If she insists, if the worst comes to the worst, run away, and + come down here--I mean into the neighborhood. I have plenty of + pocket-money, and drive my ponies just where I please. Margaret + will help us. + + "I am sure you will forgive me that I cannot do all I promised. + It does not grieve you more than it humiliates me. To think that + I should offer so much and perform nothing! But it is not my + fault, nor is it the fault of any one here. + + "Believe in me, trust me, and love me, for I will deserve it + all. + + "Yours affectionately, + "CLARA." + +Lady Clara wrote this letter on the very night of her return to +Oakhurst. That much she insisted on doing. Less, she said, would be +cruel treachery. + +Neither Lady Hope nor her brother were disposed to interfere, and so the +little missive went, carrying both hope and pain with it. + +It was some days before Hepworth Closs was able to make his entire peace +with the young lady. She could not find it in her heart to oppose her +stepmother, whose sad, heavy eyes touched her sympathy; but it was +pleasant to tyrannize over a man so much older than herself, whom love +had made her slave. + +With him quarreling was delicious, and she was in no haste to cut her +enjoyment short. But even the pleasure of tormenting one's lover has its +reaction; so one day, as the sun went down, pouring a flood of crimson +into the bosom of that old cedar of Lebanon, Clara relented a little, +and allowed Hepworth to kiss her hand. It was impossible to hold out +longer, with all the leaves quivering in that soft air, and the little +birds hiding away among them, chirping to each other, and setting a +sweet example to the lovers. + +Of course an ardent man, very much in love, is not likely to rest +content with the touch of his lady-love's hand after he has been kept +in quarantine four or five days. Hepworth was ardent, and desperately in +love; so he took advantage of her soft relenting, and drew her close to +his side, laid her head against his heart, and, with his cheek touching +the thick waves of her hair, began to talk of the future, when they +would be all in all to each other. + +Clara shut her eyes, and allowed her head to rest so close to her +lover's heart that it rose and fell with its strong beating. She loved +the music of that full, warm pulse, and a smile parted her lips as she +listened. + +Thus they rested awhile in silence, she, carried into a dreamy elysium +by the swell of those full heart-beats; he, calmed by the stir of the +cedar-leaves, looking into her face, and wondering, in the humility of +true affection, how that bright young creature had ever been won to love +him. He bent his head down softly, and kissed the blue veins on her +temple. + +"Are you sure, very, very sure, that you love me, Clara?" + +She reached up one arm, wound it about his neck, laid her cheek against +his, and whispered: + +"Don't you think so?" + +"Lady Clara! Mr. Hepworth Closs!" + +It was a man's voice, stern and clear as the clash of bells. Both the +lover and the girl sprang to their feet. + +"Father!" + +"Lord Hope!" + +For a moment the two men stood face to face. They had changed since +their last parting; still that was but dimly seen in the light of a +young moon, which was rising over the trees as the rich crimson faded +away. + +Hepworth saw that all the wild passion of those times had died out of +that face, leaving it calm and hard; but other change was concealed by +the silvery quiver of light that fell upon it through the leaves. + +Hepworth was the first to speak. + +"My lord, you have received my letter, I trust?" + +"Yes--and came at once to answer it." + +"By your tone, by your manner, I should fear--" + +"While this young lady is by, we will not speak of your fears," said the +earl, with a slow motion of the hand. "Clara, you will find your--Lady +Hope. She will, perhaps, be glad to hear that I have returned." + +"Not while you meet me and--and Hepworth in this fashion, papa. I don't +like it. One would think you intended to make trouble." + +"Foolish child! Go as I tell you." + +"Not while you look at me like that. Do you know, papa, that you have +forgotten to kiss me, or even shake hands; and that is a thing I never +saw you guilty of before." + +Clara drew close to the haughty man, and turning her mouth into a +half-open apple-blossom, held it up to be kissed. + +The earl put her aside gently, but with firmness. + +"Go to Lady Hope, as I bade you," he said. "This is no hour for +trifling." + +Clara stood motionless. All the color had left her face, even to the +lips. + +"Papa, are you in earnest?" + +"In earnest? Yes." + +"And you mean to refuse this gentleman?" + +"Undoubtedly I mean to refuse that gentleman." + +There was an emphasis of fine irony laid on the last word, which +Hepworth felt with a sting of indignation; but he controlled himself, in +respect to Clara's presence, and stood aloof, pale and stern as the man +before him. + +"I will go," said Clara; "but, before I leave you, let me say one +thing: I love this gentleman. But for that, he never would have spoken +to me or written to you. It was not his fault, or of his seeking. He had +not been here a day before I loved him without knowing it. Now, all the +world may know it for aught I care, for I never will marry any other +man!" + +Lord Hope did not reply to her, but turned to Hepworth. + +"You have done honorable work, and in a short time!" he said. "I was not +aware that Lady Hope would entertain her relatives in my absence, and +with this result." + +Hepworth did not answer then, but turning to Lady Clara, reached out his +hand. + +"Let me lead you to the house," he said. "After that I can meet Lord +Hope on more equal terms." + +Clara took his arm; but her father interposed. + +"I will take charge of the lady," he said, with haughty coldness, +drawing her arm within his, and leading her to the terrace, where he +left her and returned to the cedar. + +"Now, sir, let us conclude this matter at once. You ask the hand of my +daughter in marriage. I refuse it. You are here under my roof an +unexpected and unbidden guest. From this hour you cease to be welcome." + +"My lord, had I never known you in the past, never served you in an +unlawful desire, you would not have dared to address me in this fashion. +If you and I meet to bandy insults, it is because the past has left no +mutual respect between us; but I have this advantage over you; the sins +which have drawn on me even your contempt have been long since repented +of, while yours, compared to which mine fade into innocence, seem but to +have hardened into pride." + +Lord Hope smiled. + +"Of what crime does Mr. Hepworth Closs charge me?" + +"I make no special charge, Lord Hope; but there is an old woman in +America suffering the penalty of a crime which she never +committed--which you know she never committed." + +"The law decided otherwise, if I remember rightly," answered the earl, +in a quiet, calm voice. "But even if it did not, does that relate to the +question in hand?" + +"No, no, and I am to blame in mentioning it--Heaven knows I wish to +think the best! I admit, my lord, your prejudices against me would have +been just when we knew each other so well; but I was very young then and +can fairly claim to have worked out an honorable redemption from the +faults of my youth. Believe me, I have won more than a respectable +position among men; have wealth from my own exertions enough to satisfy +even your wishes. True, I have not the rank to match yours; but there +was a time when you thought it no disgrace to mate with my family." + +Lord Hope was moved out of his proud calm now. He lifted his hand with a +suddenness that was threatening, and cried out: + +"Peace, sir! I have heard enough of this!" + +"But I must remind you again that Lady Hope is my only sister, and in +these insults you degrade her." + +"Degrade her, when she is my wife!" + +These words were drawn out with proud emphasis that stung Hepworth like +a wasp. + +"My lord," he said, "I will bear much from you, because I once loved +you, but more from the fact that you are my sister's husband and _her_ +father; but I warn you not even by a tone to cast reproach or slur upon +your wife. She became such against my wishes and in spite of my protest. +That lady has all the elements of greatness within herself." + +"What right had you to wish or protest?" + +"The self-same right that you have to drive me from your daughter. You +did not heed my wishes, why expect me to prove more delicate?" + +"Because I can enforce what I wish, and you could not." + +"How?" + +"By asking Mr. Hepworth Closs to leave Oakhurst at once, and by +providing against all chance of his coming here again." + +Closs turned very white, and his hand clenched and unclenched itself +with passionate force. + +"My lord, this is a cruel insult, which I have not deserved!" + +All at once the earl turned, with some show of feeling, and looked +Hepworth steadily in the face. + +"Hepworth Closs, listen to me. If I seem cruel and unmanly, it is +because I wish to be kind. The hand which sweeps a moth from its +circling around a candle, must seem very cruel to the poor insect. I +tell you, fairly, Hepworth Closs, it is not so much pride of birth or +personal dislike that prompts me to deny my daughter to you. But she is +heiress in entail to the Carset title and Houghton Castle, a noble +title, without support, unless the old countess makes her heiress, by +will, of her personal estates. By marrying your sister, I mortally +offended this old lady. Rachael has been, from first to last, the +special object of her dislike. Lady Clara has added to this by refusing +to visit Houghton unless her stepmother is received there also. This +quarrel may throw one of the richest inheritances in England out of my +family, and all from my unfortunate marriage." + +"Your unfortunate marriage!" exclaimed Closs, hotly. + +"How could it be otherwise?" answered Lord Hope, sadly. + +There was something in Hope's voice that touched Hepworth Closs with +feelings akin to those he had felt for the proud young man years ago. + +"This was the language I used to my sister the night before she became +your wife," he said. + +"Oh, my God! if she had but listened--if she had but listened!" + +"Lord Hope! do I understand? Has your marriage with Rachael Closs come +to this?" + +"Hepworth, we will not discuss this subject. It is one which belongs +exclusively to Lady Hope and myself." + +"But she is my sister!" + +"Between a husband and wife no relative has claims." + +"Lord Hope, I was once your friend." + +"I have not forgotten it. Unfortunately for us both, you were. I do not +say this ungratefully. On the contrary, I am about to appeal to that old +friendship once more. You ask for my daughter. To give her to a brother +of Rachael Closs would be the bitterest insult I could offer the old +lady at Houghton. It would close our last hopes of a reconciliation. The +estates, in doubt now, would be eternally lost. I cannot afford this. +Oakhurst is strictly entailed; I am heavily in debt, so heavily, that we +are compelled to practise the most harassing economy. From me Clara will +inherit nothing; from her grandmother worse than nothing if she dies +offended with us. I am told that she is relenting--that she has been +heard to speak kindly of Clara. Can you ask me to insult her over again, +knowing all the wrong I have done her, all the ruin it would bring on my +child?" + +"What can I do?" exclaimed Closs, who felt the reason of this appeal. +"How can I act generously to you--fairly to her?" + +"Go away. She is young, volatile, capricious, but generous as the day. +Be open with her; tell her why you leave Oakhurst and how impossible it +is to return." + +"But there is one wild hope for me--the possibility of gaining this old +lady's consent." + +Lord Hope smiled in pity of the forlorn idea. + +"You may as well ask the stars of heaven to fall." + +"But it may chance that I can plead my cause with her." + +"Then your best argument will be that I have driven you ignominiously +from Oakhurst," said Lord Hope, with fine irony in his smile. "She will +forgive much to any man I am known to dislike." + +"My lord, I love your daughter so entirely, that it is impossible for me +to give up all hope. Leave me this one gleam, or, failing in that, give +me such chances as time may bring." + +Again Lord Hope answered with that keen smile. + +"I withhold nothing from you but my consent." + +"But, if Lady Carset gives hers?" + +"Then I can safely promise mine." + +Again the smile came, and pierced Hepworth like an arrow. + +"Now I will intrude here no longer," he said, taking his hat from the +ground where it had been lying. + +"It is better so, inhospitable as you may think me for saying it. Lady +Hope will be grieved, I know." + +"I am her only relative," said Closs, with deep feeling. + +"I know it; but we are all making sacrifices. I am, certainly, in +wishing you farewell." + +Hope reached out his hand. It was clear he wished Closs to go without +further leave-taking. Closs understood the motion. + +"I will not pain my sister with a farewell. Explain this as you please, +or say that I will write--unless that is prohibited. As for the young +lady, I shall never seek her again under your roof; but the time may +come when I shall assert the right which every man has to choose for +himself, and win the lady of his love, if he can. Meantime, Lady Clara +is free as air. Tell her so." + +With these words Hepworth Closs turned resolutely from the house in +which he had tasted pure happiness for the first time in his life, and +went away. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE WIFE AND THE DAUGHTER. + + +Lady Hope was in her own room when Clara came in, pale and breathless, +with news of her father's return. A cry broke from the woman, so +thrilling in its exquisite joy, that it won Clara even from a +remembrance of the harshness with which her lover had been received. In +the birth of her own love, she found intense sympathy for the intense +passion that seemed to consume her stepmother like a living fire. + +"Oh! mamma Rachael, do you love him so much, and is this love nothing +but a torment?" she said, kneeling down at the woman's feet, and trying +to draw that wild face down to hers. "He is so cruel, so cruel, I almost +hate him." + +Lady Hope pushed the girl from her. + +"What? Hate him?" + +"Then why don't he love you more?" + +"He does love me; how dare you question it?" + +The words were harsh, but Rachael's voice faltered in uttering them, and +the gloom of a hidden doubt broke into those great black eyes. Clara +saw the look, and her heart ached with sympathy. + +"Then why does he stay from us so long?" + +"Ah, why!" answered Rachael, and the two plaintive words sank deep into +that young heart. + +"And why does he treat Hepworth, your own brother, so cruelly?" + +"Has he done that? Oh, no, no!" + +"Yes, mamma Rachael. We both love him _so_ much; but he is very hard +with us just now. I thought he would love Hepworth for your sake." + +"Ah! I thought so too. It was my last dream." + +"And my first," said Clara, with girlish tears in her eyes. "He was very +angry--they were both angry. I think he meant to insult Hepworth and +drive him away, knowing how proud he is, and he will do it. Oh, mamma +Rachael, I am so miserable!" + +"Miserable!" cried Rachael, looking gloomily into that fair young face. +"Poor child! you have no idea what misery is. God forbid that you ever +should!" + +"Is not this misery? Papa against me, Hepworth looking so proud and +stormy. You. Oh! mamma, I feel for you so much. Indeed, you look more +unhappy than I am; but it is hard." + +"Hush, dear! That is your father's voice." + +"Yes, how low and cutting. I cannot stand it. He is coming this way. I +will go to my room." + +For the first time in her life, Lady Clara shrank from meeting her +father. + +"Do not leave me yet," said Rachael, passing swiftly toward the window. +"They are together still. I cannot see their faces, but they both stand +up sternly in the moonlight. What can they be saying?" + +"Something harsh, I know. Lord Hope, when he came up so still and +stern, did not seem like my father. His face looked like marble. He +would not kiss me, and--and put me aside, when I offered, as if I had +done something terribly wrong, in just getting naturally in love with +the most splendid fellow that ever lived. I should think he might +remember when he fell so desperately in love with you himself, and have +some mercy on a poor little girl." Here Clara seemed to catch a restless +infection from Rachael, and joined her in a quick, unequal walk up and +down the room, pausing now and then to dash the tears from her eyes, or +gaze in wonder at Lady Hope's face, which bore an expression she had +never seen in all its gloominess till then. + +All at once Rachael paused in her walk, and taking Clara in her arms, +looked at her with such earnest tenderness, that the girl hushed her +sobs to listen. + +"My darling, do you love him so much?" + +"Better than my father; better than you. Oh! forgive me, but it is +so--better than my own life. I think it is worship, not love, dearest +mamma." + +"Great heavens! what trouble I have brought upon us all! Oh why, why did +he come here!" cried Rachael, beginning to pace the floor again, +clasping her hands and tearing them apart, as if angry with herself. +"They were such friends once, and loved each other like brothers. How +could I think it would turn out like this? I so needed him--this one +brother; had such hope in his influence, but it is all over." + +"What is all over? You will not permit it? You will not let him be sent +away?" + +"How can I help it? What power or influence is left to me?" answered +Rachael, desperately. + +"Oh, mamma Rachael, will you fail me? You!" + +"Hush! he is coming. I hear his step on the terrace." + +How that dusky face lighted up. That woman trembled all over under the +sound of that man's tread. He was coming to her, there in the room, in +which they had once been so happy; coming to her, perhaps in anger. That +was nothing. Anger itself would be Heaven, compared to the cold +politeness that had sometimes almost frozen her to death. She turned to +Clara. + +"Go, my child. I will see your father alone." + +Clara went to her room. Through the window which looked out upon the +lawn, she saw Hepworth Closs come out from the shadow of the cedar, and +walk swiftly toward the avenue. By the proud lift of his head, and those +quick steps, that seemed to spurn the earth he trod upon, she knew that +he had parted from her father in anger, and threw up the window. + +"Hepworth! Hepworth! Stop! Stop! and tell me where you are going!" + +He did not hear her, the storm in his heart was too violent. He had been +driven forth from his sister's roof with a cool politeness that was +insulting. The commonest courtesies of life had been denied to him, by +the man who had once been his friend. He scarcely thought of Clara, +then, a sense of burning indignation swept everything else from his +mind. + +Clara leaned from the window, trembling with sudden apprehension. Was he +really going? Had her father treated him with indignity? Was he giving +her up without a struggle or a word of farewell? + +While she asked herself these questions, Closs disappeared among the +trees in the park, and was swallowed up in the black shadows. + +"He shall not go!" cried the girl, in wild excitement. "He shall not be +driven away by papa, or any one else! Where is my jacket? What has that +girl done with my hat? Ah! here, and here!" + +She huddled the shawl around her, tossed the little sailor's hat to her +head, and, opening the chamber door so swiftly that it made no noise, +darted down stairs, and, avoiding the principal entrance, reached the +lawn by leaping from one of the drawing-room windows, where she paused a +moment to draw breath. But no time was to be lost. At the rate Hepworth +was walking, he must now be well on his way to the lodge. The avenue +swept away from the house in a grand curve. She knew of a path through +the trees which would lead her straight to old Badger's lodge. It was +shadowy and lonesome, but what did she care for that? No deer ever +bounded down that path more lightly than Clara went. She did not stop to +think of propriety, or of her own object. Her heart told her that +Hepworth had been driven from the house, perhaps thinking that she would +sanction the outrage; for it was an outrage, even if her own father had +done it. He should not go away, believing it possible for her to prove +so base. + +On she went, eager, breathless, with the streamers floating out from her +hat, and her white sacque flying open, fairly racing through the +moonlight, like a frightened fairy. + +As she came in sight of the lodge, the clang of an iron gate falling +into position, brought a cry of dismay from her lips. He had reached the +highway. Dared she follow him there? + +Clara came out into the avenue, panting for breath. She could hear his +quick steps upon the road. How terribly fast he was walking toward the +village. Yes, he was surely going that way. + +Old Badger stood in the lodge door, shaded by a trailing drapery of ivy, +and saw the young lady standing there in the moonlight, wringing her +hands and absolutely crying. In his astonishment he addressed Jules +confidentially, as she lay on the stepping stone at his feet. + +"It is the young lady as sure as you live, old girl, and she's a +following that handsome fellow as just left a golden sovereign in my +hand, Jules. Something has happened up yonder, Jules. The master has +come back and found out what you and I knew all the time. If that +handsome brother of my lady hasn't got a ticket-of-leave, I lose my +guess; but what are we to do with the young lady, old girl? That is what +is a puzzling me just now." + +Jules arose, stretched herself, and threw out one paw as she settled +down again, when Badger broke out in a glow of admiration. + +"Right, Jules. In a matter where the sects are concerned, you are true +as a clock. I'll show myself; I'll help her." + +Jules gave a faint yelp, which brought Clara to the door. + +"Oh, Badger, you here! Go and call him back. Here is some money; run +like a deer; tell him I want to speak with him--must speak with him. +It's about Lady Hope; but no matter. Why don't you start, Badger? It's +half an hour since I first told you." + +But Badger did not start. He stood a little way from the door, examining +the money she had given him, by the moonlight, and muttering to himself; +when the impatient girl broke out again. + +"A shilling! Was it only a shilling I gave you? How provoking! I thought +it was gold. Well, start! start! and I'll make it a sovereign--two, +three--only bring him back!" + +Old Badger went off with a rush now. Ordering Jules to stay with the +young mistress and mind the gate, he made swift progress down the road. + +"I say, sir! I say! Halloo! I say!" + +Hepworth checked his rapid walk, and looked back. Badger came up with a +run, feeling that some extra exertion was necessary, when so much gold +lay in the question. + +"There is a person--well, a lady--a young lady--who wishes to have you +turn back, sir. She is waiting at the lodge, sir; and I promised to +bring you back, dead or alive, sir--dead or alive!" + +Hepworth felt his heart give a great leap. Was it possible that Clara +could have followed him? or was it Lady Hope? + +"A lady!" he said, "and at the lodge?" + +"A young lady--such as isn't commonly seen following young gents by +moonlight; but come, sir, she is waiting." + +Hepworth turned at once, and retraced his steps. Clara saw him +approaching the gate, and swinging it back, ran to meet him, with tears +still quivering on her anxious face. + +She passed Badger, who was resolved to earn his money at least by +discretion, and moved in great haste toward the lodge, never once +looking back, as in honor bound, he told Jules in his next confidential +conversation. + +"Oh, Hepworth, how cruel! how wicked! Tell me truly, were you going +without a word?" + +Clara had clasped both hands over her lover's arm, and was slowly +leading him back, with her face uplifted in sweet reproachfulness to +his, and drawing deep, long sighs of thanksgiving that she had him +there, chained by her linked hands. + +"I do not know. How can I tell? Your father has dismissed me from his +house." + +"He has? I thought as much; and thinking so, came after you--but only to +say that I love you dearly--ten times more since this has happened--and +nothing on earth shall ever make me marry any other person." + +Hepworth looked down into that generous face, and his own took a softer +expression in the moonlight. + +"Your father is against us," he said. "I think it must be open defiance, +or separation--at any rate, for a time." + +Clara's face clouded. She loved her father, and was a little afraid of +him as well; but that was nothing to the passionate attachment she felt +for Hepworth Closs. She would have defied the whole world rather than +give him up; but open disobedience was a terrible thing to her. All at +once she brightened. + +"Some day, you know, I shall be my own mistress. We can wait. I am so +young. When I am Countess of Carset, come and claim me. No one can stand +between us then." + +She spoke firmly, and with the dignity of deep feeling, standing upright +and looking bravely into his face, as if she were a peeress already, and +was ready to pledge all the honor of a long race of ancestors for the +faith that was in her. + +"Ah, if you were only the bright, handsome girl you seem, with no +dignity to keep up, no belongings but your own sweet self, how grateful +I should be! From this night, Clara, we would never part." + +"Oh, if it were! If I hadn't anything to expect! But, no! My old +grandmother will be sure to leave me everything she has, just out of +spite, when all I want on earth is my liberty, and the love that belongs +to me. How I should like to--" + +"To what, Clara?" + +"Nothing--only I was thinking how jolly it would be just to tie on my +hat, button my jacket, and go off with you to America, where people +can't die and leave you titles and things; but it is of no use thinking +of such a thing. It would break mamma Rachael's heart; and she needs me +so much." + +Hepworth caught his breath. The thought had been in his mind. But for +his sister, I think he would have proposed it. + +"Do not tempt me, darling. We cannot abandon her." + +"Oh, no," answered Clara, pouting a little, "I didn't mean anything of +the kind. Of course, we have got to part now; I know that." + +She clung to his arm more closely, and made him walk slower. Both their +faces grew pale and sad in the moonlight. She could not speak because of +the sobs that came swelling into her throat. He was silent from a bitter +sense of bereavement. After those few weeks of entire happiness, was he +to be driven into the cold world again, leaving the angel of his +paradise behind? + +They were drawing near the gate now. Hepworth would not pass into the +boundaries of a man who had wounded him so grievously, so he paused by +the park-wall, snatched her to his bosom, kissed her lips, her eyes, her +hair, blessing her with his soul, promising to find her again, to be +faithful, begging her to love him and no one else, until he broke away +from her and fled down the highway, dashing the tears from his eyes as +he went. + +She called after him. She ran a few paces with her arms extended, +entreating him to come back; but he would not hear. All his brave +manhood had been taxed to its utmost. He knew well enough that to go +back was to take the girl with him, and he was not selfish enough for +that. + +So poor Lady Clara watched him, till he passed quite away into the +shadows, with her back against the wall, and her hands hanging down +loose, as they had fallen after her last cry. Then she crept slowly back +through the gate, which Badger had left open, and away into the depths +of the park, crying as if her heart would break. + +Badger saw her through the diamond-shaped panes of the lodge-window, and +muttered: + +"Poor thing, she has forgot the gold; but never mind, it will come." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +HUSBAND AND WIFE. + + +Lady Hope stood in the middle of the room, breathless. The supreme joy +of her husband's presence drove every other feeling from her heart. She +forgot her brother, her step-child, everything, in the one thought that +he was near her. But, was it certain that he would come? How many +months, nay, years, had passed since he had entered that room, once so +dear to him that no other apartment in that spacious mansion seemed +pleasant? She had allowed nothing to be changed since those days. Year +by year those silken hangings and crimson cushions had lost their +brightness and grown threadbare; but he had pressed those cushions and +been shaded by the curtains, and that gave them a brightness and glory +to her which no stuffs of India or cloth of gold could replace. + +She knew that he was offended, and doubted. But would he come? His step +grew slow; he paused. Would he retreat at last, and leave her there, in +an agony of disappointment? + +No--after a moment's hesitation, the steps advanced. The very certainty +of his approach suffocated her. She had not deemed herself so weak. All +the strength left her frame. + +She sank down upon a couch near the window. The moonlight fell over her +like a veil of silver tissue, and through it she looked like the Rachael +Closs of New York. + +Lord Hope tore away the silvery veil with his presence, for the shadow +of his tall person fell across it, throwing the woman back into +darkness. + +But the light which he took from her slanted across his face, and +softened it back to youth. Rachael reached forth her arms. + +"Oh, Norton! have you come back again?" + +Her voice vibrated between passion and pathos. Her trembling limbs +rustled the silken garments around her. + +He stood looking at her, not sternly, but with grave sadness. It was +nearly two months since they had met, but he did not advance, or even +reach out his hand. Then she cried out, in a burst of bitter anguish: + +"Oh, Norton, will you not speak to me?" + +"Yes, Rachael," he said, very gently. "I came to speak with you." + +Lord Hope advanced through the window. No lights were burning, for in +her sadness Rachael had thought the moonbeams enough. + +She moved upon the couch, looking in his face with pathetic entreaty. + +He sat down after a moment's hesitation, and took her hand in his. + +Awhile before that hand had been cold as ice, but now a glow of feverish +joy warmed it, and her slender fingers clung around his with nervous +force. She was afraid to loosen her clasp, lest he should leave her +again. + +"Ah, Norton! you have been away so long, so long!" + +"Has that made you more unhappy, Rachael?" + +"More unhappy? God help me! have I any happiness beyond your presence?" + +"I sometimes think that we two might be less--" + +Lord Hope paused. The hand in his seemed turning to marble. + +"In mercy, do not say that, Norton! Surely you cannot return love like +mine with hate so cruel!" + +"We will not talk of hate, Rachael. It is an unseemly word." + +"But you are angry with me?" + +"No, the time has gone by when I can be angry with you, Rachael." + +"Oh! have some mercy upon me, Norton, and tell me how I have lost your +love--for you did love me." + +"God only knows how well!" answered the man, with a throe of bitter +passion breaking up the calm he had maintained. + +"Tell me, then--tell me again! It is so long since I have had a happy +thought! I will not be put off so! Now that you are here, in this room, +with my hand in yours, I will not let you go! Tell me, Norton--oh, tell +me why it is that you have changed so completely? This question haunts +me. I dream of it in the night; I think of it all day long. Answer me. +Though the truth cleave my heart, I would rather hear it! Why have you +ceased to love me? Why is it that you can leave me so?" + +"Rachael, I will answer you so far as this: I have not ceased to love +you." + +The woman uttered a cry, and fell down upon her knees at her husband's +feet, in a storm of wild and happy tears. He raised her up, bent forward +as if to kiss her, but drew back with a heavy sigh. She felt him recoil, +and the shudder which chilled him reached her also. + +"You love me, and yet shrink from my touch! Ah, me! what has dug this +gulf between us?" + +"It is the work of our own hands," he said, with strong emotion. "It is +your curse and mine that we must love each other, Rachael--love each +other, and yet be apart." + +"Apart! Oh! will there be no end--no season--" + +"Yes, Rachael, when we can both repent that we ever did love each other. +Then, perhaps, a merciful God may forgive us the great sin which has +been our happiness and our torment." + +"But you love me? You _do_ love me?" + +"A thousand times better than my own miserable life!" + +"And you speak of torment! Who shall ever dare say that word again to +Rachael Closs? When they do, I will answer, 'He loves me! he loves me!'" + +The woman sprang up, exulting. Her hands were clasped, her face was +radiant. It seemed impossible that unhappiness should ever visit her +again. + +"Poor woman! Poor, unhappy woman!" + +Hope took her hand in his, and drew her down to his side. She was +shaking like a leaf in the wind. For the moment, her joy seemed +complete. + +"I cannot believe it! Say again, 'Rachael, I love you.'" + +"Have I not said that it is your curse and mine?" + +"Oh, Norton! how cruel, with that sweet word sinking into my heart, +after pining and waiting for it so long! Do not withhold it from me, or +think of it as a curse." + +"Hush, Rachael! You are only exulting over Dead Sea fruit. It is all +ashes, ashes. Words that, up to this time, I had forbidden to my lips, +have been said, because of a terrible danger that threatens us. Rachael, +did you know of the letter Hepworth sent me?" + +Rachael was a brave woman, even in her faults, and would not deny +anything. + +"Yes, he wrote the letter here," she said. + +"And you sanctioned his pursuit of my daughter?" + +"Yes, Norton. I loved him; he was my only relative. That he might live +near me was the last forlorn hope of my life. Before you condemn me, +remember how few people exist in this world for me to love. I have no +friends. I was so cold, so dreary! There was nothing left to me but your +child and this one brother. How could I part with either of them? That +was to be utterly alone!" + +Lord Hope checked this pathetic plea. It shook his resolution, and that +with a vigor she could not understand. He looked her steadily in the +face. + +"Rachael Closs, could you have given up my child to that man?" + +Rachael fixed her wild eyes on the face turned upon her so sternly. + +"Why, why?" + +"Had you no thought of the ruin it would bring upon her?" + +"Ruin? Did you say ruin?" + +"Could you see that innocent girl's hand in his without thrills of +painful recollection?" + +"Why, he loves her; she loves him." + +"So much the more painful." + +"What do you mean?" + +Her lips were white now, and the teeth gleamed and chattered between +them. + +"Have you no dread that he will bring that one event perpetually before +us?" + +Rachael shook her head. + +"Does nothing tell you that he was mixed up in that tragedy?" + +"What should tell me of that? It was the crime of a miserable old +woman." + +"Still you understand nothing of that which is a continual pain to me." + +A burst of hysterical laughter answered him. The nerves of that woman +were undoubtedly giving way. + +"You are mocking me. It is only fiends who torment their victims. You +are my husband, and should know better!" + +"Rachael Closs, control yourself!" + +"I am not Rachael Closs!" cried the woman, fiercely. "You would not have +treated her so. It is Lady Hope you are putting to torture. Oh, Norton! +what have I done to you? What have I done to you that you should mock me +so?" + +"I wish to save my child--to save myself." + +"Well, is that all? She shall never speak to Hepworth again. Yes, what +is my brother, or anybody in the world, compared to one smile from my +husband?" + +"And you will help me to reconcile Clara to that which must be?" + +"I will do anything, everything that you wish, only do not leave me +again." + +"But I must sometimes go out." + +"And I cannot go with you. Rachael Closs is not good enough for your +high-born friends. Lady Carset has put her ban on your wife, and the +nobility of England accept it. But for this I might have been the +companion of your visits, the helpmate of your greatness--for I have the +power. I could have done so much, so much in this great world of yours, +but that old woman would not let me. It is cruel! it is cruel! You +would have loved me now as you did at first, but for her." + +Lord Hope took Rachael's hand in his. + +"Ah, Rachael!" he said, "if you could but understand the love which can +neither be cherished nor cast away, which pervades a whole life, only to +disturb it! Between you and me must ever come the shadow of a woman we +cannot talk of, but who stands eternally between us two. Even in the +first days of our passionate delirium I felt this viperous truth +creeping under the roses with which we madly hoped to smother it. The +thought grew and grew, like a parasite upon the heart. It clung to mine, +bound it down, made it powerless. Oh, would to God the memory of that +one night could be lifted from my soul! The presence of your brother +here has brought it back upon me with terrible force. But, thank God, he +is gone!" + +"Gone! What, my brother? Am I never to see him again?" + +"Not unless you wish to drive your husband from his own house. I will +not be reminded, by any one connected with that night, that it was the +mad passion of our love which drove that most unhappy woman from her +home, her country, and, at last, into her grave!" + +Rachael sat with her glittering eyes fastened on his face. She longed to +ask a question; but it seemed to freeze upon her lips. But, at last, she +spoke: + +"Do you repent that love, then?" + +"No! no! Would to God I had the power to repent! but I cannot, Rachael, +with you by me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE STORMY NIGHT AND SUNSHINY MORNING. + + +Lady Clara found her way into the house unnoticed, and stole back to her +own room, weary and heart-sick from the excitement she had passed +through. + +For more than an hour she sat by her window looking out upon the +moonlight which flooded the lawn, and the dense black shadows of the +trees beyond. + +The stillness gradually hushed her sobs into a sad calm, and, without +other light than that which came from the moon, she crept into her bed, +and lay there, as if buried in a snow-drift, cold and shivering from +exhausting emotions and exposure to the night air. + +She could not sleep, but lay thinking of the man who had been driven +from the house that night, wondering where he was, and when, upon the +earth, she would meet him. + +All at once she started up and uttered a faint cry. Some one had passed +swiftly through her door, and was approaching the bed. She saw the face, +as it crossed the window, and sank to the pillow again. + +"Mamma Rachael, is it you?" she gasped. + +Lady Hope sat down on the edge of the bed. She seemed deathly cold; but +there was a far-off look in her eyes, as the moonlight fell upon them, +which seemed unnatural to the girl. + +Clara put back the bed-clothes and reached out her arms; for Lady Hope +was in her night-dress, and her feet were uncovered. + +"Come into bed, mamma Rachael; you shiver so." + +Lady Hope took no heed, but arose slowly from the bed, and, going to a +dressing-table, poured some water from a ewer that stood there, and +began to wash her hands. + +Clara could see her in the moonlight, and sat up in the bed, afraid and +wondering. + +"Mamma, mamma Rachael," she faltered, terrified by the sound of her +voice, "why are you staying out in the cold like that?" + +Lady Hope shook the drops from her fingers, and leaving the table, began +to pace the floor. At last Clara sprang from the bed and took hold of +her. + +Every nerve in the woman's body seemed to quiver under that touch; she +uttered a shrill cry, and clung to the girl to save herself from +falling. + +"Come to the bed with me, mamma. Your hand is cold; it touches mine like +snow. That is right; put your arms around me. Poor, poor mamma! how your +heart struggles! There, there; the chill is going off. We will get each +other warm; for we love each other, you and I, mamma Rachael; nothing on +this earth can change that!" + +Rachael allowed herself to be taken to the bed; but she trembled +violently. + +"You are troubled about Hepworth; but I have promised--I do promise. +Papa, nor all the world to help him, could change me. Besides, there is +another thing; we both love him; that would make us cling together, if +nothing else," said Clara. + +"Ah, there it is--there it is! Hepworth is gone, and neither you nor I +must ever see him again!" answered Rachael. + +"But we will! He loves us. I will marry him some day, if I live." + +"Oh, no, no! That can never be! Never! never!" + +Rachael was fearfully agitated. Clara tore her form from those clinging +arms. + +"What! you?--you turned against us--you!" she exclaimed, pushing Rachael +back from her pillow, and sitting up in the moonlight. "Has my father +driven us all crazy?" + +"Hush, child, hush! I have been thinking of that. It seems to me that I +am mad already. Be kind; oh, be kind! Do not urge me on. To-night I have +had such thoughts!" + +The girl was frightened; for Rachael was bending over, and the fire of +her great black eyes seemed hot as it was terrible. + +"Great Heavens!" she cried, "what has my father done to you?" + +Rachael had exhausted herself. She lay down, panting for breath; her +lips were apart; the edges of her teeth were visible; she did not +answer. + +Clara forgot her own cause of offence, and laid her hand over those +wide-open, burning eyes. + +"Poor mamma Rachael! now try and sleep. I never saw you so nervous +before. Did you know it? you were walking in your sleep." + +The cool touch of that hand soothed the woman. Clara felt the eyelids +close under her palm; but a heavy pulse was beating in the temples, +which resisted all her gentle mesmerism for a long time; but, after a +while, the worn frame seemed to rest, and Clara sank down in weary +sleepiness by her side. + +When she awoke again Lady Hope was gone. It was the dark hour of the +morning; the moon had disappeared from the heavens; the shadows, in +diffusing themselves, spread out into general darkness. + +"Ah, I have had a weary dream," she murmured; "I have heard of such +things, but never had anything dark upon my sleep before. How real it +was! My father home, Hepworth gone, my mother in this bed, trembling, +moaning, and, worst of all, against me and him. Ah, it was a terrible +dream!" + +She turned upon her pillow, full of sleepy thankfulness, and the next +instant had deluded herself into a tranquil sleep. + +A rapid fall of hoofs upon the avenue shook the stillness. Nearer and +nearer they came; then a clang of the great bronze knocker at the +principal entrance awoke her thoroughly. + +The girl listened; her dream was fast taking shape, and she knew that it +was a reality. Had this untimely arrival anything to do with it? A knock +at her chamber-door, and her father's voice answered the question. + +She was to get up, and prepare for a journey at once; her maid was +packing already. + +What was it? What had happened? Lord Hope forgot that he had not told +her. The old Countess of Carset had sent for her. She must prepare to +start at once for Houghton. + +Clara sprang up, ready to offer battle to the old countess a second time +in behalf of her stepmother. + +While she was being dressed, Lord Hope stood in the corridor without, +reading the delicate, upright characters in which the old countess +clothed her thoughts. + + "MY LORD:--Circumstances have happened of late which convince me + that I have been hasty and unjust to your wife, and have taken + offense too readily from the independence exhibited by your + child, my grand-daughter. It is my desire to atone for this, as + the men and women of our house have ever atoned for injustice. + The infirmities of old age, and more than ordinary ill-health + forbid me to visit Oakhurst, which might, perhaps, be properly + expected of one who admits herself to have been in the wrong; + but, perhaps you and Lady Hope will permit Lady Clara to come to + me here a few weeks, in which time, I trust, she will learn to + know and love her grandmother. + + "Presuming upon your generosity, I have sent my steward and my + own maid, that she may have proper protection on her journey. + After my grand-daughter has been at Houghton long enough to feel + that it is to be her home in the future, I shall expect the + pleasure of a visit from you and Lady Hope. + + "LOUISA, Countess of Carset." + +Never, since the day in which he brought the first Lady Hope home, a +bride, had such intense satisfaction filled the earl's heart as this +letter brought him. + +Involved, as he was, with pecuniary difficulties, harassed about his +daughter, humiliated by the silent rejection by which the nobility in +the neighborhood had repudiated his wife for so many years, this +concession so nobly made by the old countess, was an opening of good +fortune which promised a solution of all these difficulties. It had, in +truth, lifted a heavy burden from his life. + +With the letter in his hand Lord Hope went to his wife's dressing-room, +where he found her, hollow-eyed, and so nervous that a faint cry broke +from her as he entered the room. + +She felt the loss of her brother terribly, notwithstanding what seemed +to be a ready concession to the harsh treatment he received, and her +sleep, as we know, had been restless and broken in the night. + +She was cold and shivering, though the weather was warm, and had +wrapped a shawl, full of richly-tinted colors, over her morning-dress, +and sat cowering under it like some newly-caught animal. + +Lord Hope felt that his inhospitable expulsion of her brother, and the +cruel conversation that had followed it, was the cause of this nervous +depression, and his heart smote him. With the letter open in his hand he +went up to her chair, and bending over it, kissed Rachael on the +forehead. + +A smile broke over those gloomy features; the heavy eyes lighted up; she +lifted her face to his. + +"Oh, you do love me--you do love me!" + +"My poor Rachael! how can you permit words that sprang out of the gloomy +memories which Hepworth brought to trouble you so? Come, smile again, +for I have good news for you--for us all." + +"Good news! Is Hepworth coming back?" + +"Forget Hepworth just now, and read that." + +Lady Hope took the letter and read it through. When she gave it back, +her face was radiant. + +"At last--at last!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Norton, this will lift me to my +proper place by your side. Now, now I will make you proud of me! These +patricians shall learn that all great gifts do not spring from +birth--that genius has a nobility which can match that given by kings." + +Rachael started up in her excitement, flung the shawl away, and stood a +priestess where she had just cowered like a wounded animal. + +"Now we shall be all the world to each other, and walk through this +proud life of yours, fairly mated. Great Heavens! after a night like the +last, who could have expected such a morning? But Clara, you will let +her go?" + +"She is preparing to go now." + +"My girl--my bright, beautiful girl! She has always been the angel in my +path. But for her, this might never have come. But we cannot give her +up--not entirely. You will not consent to that?" + +"If we do, it will be only for a time, Rachael. The countess is very +old." + +"Yes, it will not be for long, and we can trust Clara. I will go to her +now. She will need my help, and every minute she stays under this roof +is a grain of gold which I must not lose. Oh! Norton, this is glorious +news that you have brought me! What can have wrought this change in the +old countess? I am going to Clara now." + +As Lady Hope opened the door, Clara stood upon the threshold, ready for +her journey. She knew that this letter was the first that her father had +received from Lady Carset for years, and was curious to know its +meaning. She could not remember when Lady Carset's name had been spoken +in that house without bitterness, and was astonished to hear the +cheerful animation with which it was spoken now. + +"Am I really to go, papa? Do you wish it? Is mamma Rachael willing? Let +me read the letter, please." + +Lord Hope gave her the letter, and replied as she was reading it: + +"Yes, my child, it is but right. The old lady is your nearest female +relative." + +Here Clara reached out her hand to Lady Hope, but kept her eyes on the +letter, reading and listening at the same time. + +"And you think it best, mamma?" inquired Clara, folding the letter. +"What a delicate, stately hand the old lady writes! You don't object?" + +"Object, Clara! No, no. I long to part with you, for the first time in +my life." + +"In some things," said Lord Hope, "the old lady has been cruelly dealt +by. Say this from me, Clara. The concessions must not rest all on one +side." + +"Of course, papa; I will tell her, if you desire it. But why did she not +ask you and mamma at once? It is awful lonesome going to that grim old +castle by myself." + +"It is only for a few weeks," answered Rachael, hastily. "But, dear +child, you must not let this old lady stand between you and us. She may +have more to give, but no one on earth can ever love you like us." + +"Don't I know it? Is that the carriage? Dear me, how things are rushed +forward this morning! Am I all right, mamma Rachael? Kiss me once more. +What! tears in your eyes? I won't go a step if you don't stop crying! +What do I care for Lady Carset, a cross old thing, and old as the +hills!" + +"Clara, I hear the carriage." + +"So do I, papa; but what's the use of hurrying?" + +"I wish your grandmother to know that I hold no enmity by my promptness +in sending you." + +"Oh, is that it? Well, good-bye, mamma Rachael. One more +kiss--again--again! Now, good-bye in earnest." + +Lady Hope left the room to hide her tears. Clara followed her father to +the carriage. + +"Poor, poor mamma! How pale and ill she was last night! Oh, papa, do +kiss her good-bye for me just once again, when you go back." + +Lord Hope turned a smiling look upon the girl, and she added, half in +excuse: + +"It breaks my heart to leave her so." + +Lord Hope did not answer, but folded a cloak around his daughter, helped +her into the carriage, and took a seat himself. + +Margaret was already seated by the coachman. + +"I understand well enough that I am not to travel with my young lady on +her journey," she said; "but, so far as her way lies toward London, I am +going. My sister wants me there, and I do just as lief be in a tomb as +stay at Oakhurst when Lady Clara is away. So, as she is willing, I shall +just leave her at the junction, and go up to London. That I can do in +spite of the crabbed old thing at Houghton, who wants her at first all +to herself." + +This was said in confidence to the coachman, who muttered something +under his breath about feeling uncommonly lonesome when Mistress +Margaret was away from Oakhurst. + +Directly after this the carriage drew up at the station, where a +grim-looking woman of fifty stood ready to receive the young lady from +the hands of her father. + +It was not often that Lord Hope was known to exhibit any violent +emotion; but Clara felt that he gave way a little when she threw her +arms around his neck in parting--and Badger, after he opened the gate to +let his master pass through, observed to Jules that something out of the +common must be going on up yonder, for all night people had been going +in and out like ghosts, and the master seemed like another man. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +AFTER THE FAILURE. + + +When Caroline reached home, after that involuntary retreat from the +theatre, she went to her own room with Eliza, and falling upon the bed, +lay perfectly still, so exhausted and crushed, that she scarcely +breathed. She had disgraced herself, and she had seen _him_. + +Alas, alas! he had witnessed her defeat, her bitter humiliation! + +Why had she not told him before, that her mother was an actress, a +singer, of whose reputation he had heard; that her own destiny must be +guided by this woman, and could hardly have a higher aim than she had +already reached. He would think that she had deceived him, and she had, +but with no premeditation. She had honestly intended to tell him +everything, but the suddenness of their departure from Italy had +rendered all explanation impossible. What could she do but hide herself +forever from him and the whole world? She forgot the bursts of applause +that had followed the first effort of her voice, and sank everything +together in one sweep of bitter shame. + +"My darling! my poor darling!" + +It was Brown who had crept into her room, crest-fallen and drooping, +like a man stunned by some heavy blow. Caroline started up. + +"Oh! my friend! You are sorry for me, yet I have disappointed you so; my +heart aches! my heart aches! but what can I do?" + +"Never mind," answered the tender-hearted man. "It was the fright, stage +fright--a terrible thing; but it seldom comes twice. Why, that woman, +your mother I mean, broke down over and over again, but the parts were +so small, no one observed it enough to clap or hiss, while you sang like +an angel, up to the very minute you fainted. I never saw anything like +it." + +Caroline sank back to her pillow, moaning. She was still in her +theatrical costume, and its glitter sickened her. + +"Don't take on so," persisted the kind musician. "It was not a failure. +No one will consider it so. On the contrary, it can be made to tell, +and your next appearance will be an ovation." + +Caroline started to her elbow again. + +"My next appearance! and you say that! You! you! Oh! Mr. Brown, I did +not think you would turn against me!" + +"Turn against you, my child?" Tears trembled in the man's voice, and the +words quivered on his lips as he added: "My poor darling. Do you not +know that old Brown would die for you?" + +"Then keep me from the stage; snatch me from a life that I loathe. I +tell you, all this is against my nature. I have no genius to carry me +forward, no ambition, no hope. Oh! that is gone, quite." + +"But it is an honorable profession," faltered Brown, in his distress. +"Think how many noble geniuses have found immortality on the stage." + +"I know it, I know it well; but they were led that way, heart and soul, +while I have no wish for fame or anything that it could bring. What does +a woman want with immortality--above all, a poor young girl like me, +whose very heart trembles in her bosom, when a crowd of strange eyes are +turned upon her, as they were on me to-night?" + +"But you will soon get over that." + +"No. I never shall. This one night has broken up my life, and well nigh +killed me. Let what may come, I will starve rather than tread that stage +again." + +"Hush! dear, hush! This passion will make you worse." + +"But I mean it, Eliza, and I say it here and now, when you and Mr. +Brown, the only friends I have on earth, are standing by. Think for me, +Eliza, and you also, my kind, kind guardian!" + +"Ah, if I had the power," said Brown, answering Eliza's appealing look +with a mournful shake of the head; "but the madame will never give her +up." + +"She must," said Caroline, kindling with desperate opposition: "I am not +her slave. God does not give up the soul and conscience of a child to +her mother." + +"Especially one who never did a thing for her child, but left her for +others to bring up," broke in Eliza, uttering a bitter truth, in her +angry pity for the girl. "Mr. Brown, all that I have got to say is this: +you and I must stand by this young cretur, let her do what she will. She +is more our child than hers. I stand by that. If she don't want to put +on this splendiferous dress again, why it shall not come within a rod of +her. If her heart is set against singing on the stage, we are not the +people to see her dragged there against her will. You stand by me, I'll +stand by you, and we'll roll ourselves like a rock in that woman's way, +if she attempts to force our child into the theatre again." + +"But how can we oppose her? She has the power. We have not, at this +moment, five pounds among us." + +Eliza's face fell as if it had been suddenly unlocked. + +"No more we have, and in a strange country, too," she said, dolefully. + +Here Caroline joined in. + +"But I can teach. If I please all those people, surely I can teach." + +"Sure enough!" said Eliza, brightening a little. "What do you say to +that, Mr. Brown?" + +"We must take time. Perhaps there will be no cause for trouble. When it +comes in earnest, you shall not fight alone, Eliza. So comfort yourself, +my child. The old man would rather beg for bread on the highway than see +you forced to anything that is so distasteful. Now try and sleep." + +Brown bent down and smoothed the girl's hair with his hand. Then he +turned from her with tears in his eyes, and crept out of the room. + +Caroline followed him with wistful eyes until the door closed. Then she +turned to Eliza. + +"Oh! Eliza, do this one thing for me, if you can. Let, let no one come +in to-night. I can endure no more." + +"They'll have to knock me down and trample on me if they do, that is +all," answered the hand-maiden. "My gracious! How I wish we were in our +own little house again up in Sing-Sing." + +"Oh! if we were!" sighed the girl. "Why did we ever leave it?" + +"Because we were a couple of born fools, that's why!" answered the maid. +"Born fools! and I the biggest, the oldest, the most outrageous fool of +all! Wasn't we independent? Couldn't you have took scholars, and I +washing by the dozen? Hadn't we the sweetest little garden in that whole +town? such cabbages, such onions, and lettuce headed like cabbage, and +tender as--as flowers! Whenever I get sick over these French dishes, I +think of that garden, and the cow, and the shoat that knew me when I +came to the pen with corn in my apron, and gave a little grunt, as if +I'd been his sister. Then my heart turns back to the old home, like a +sunflower, and I say to myself, You perposterous old maid, you! what did +you let that poor young thing come from under that honest roof for? You +was old enough to know better, if she wasn't; but you had an idea of +seeing the world, of dressing up and being a lady's maid, of hearing +whole crowds of young men stamp and clap and whistle over that innocent +young cretur. You didn't think that she might faint dead away, and--and +be brought home heart-broken. Home, indeed! as if this box of gilding +could be a home to any American woman! It's perposterous!" + +Here Eliza broke off with a half-uttered word on her lips, for her +speech had brought the old home back so vividly to the heart-sick girl +that she was sobbing upon her pillow like a child. + +A little bustle down stairs, a knock at the door, and, as Eliza ran +forward, Olympia pushed it open and came in. + +She saw Caroline prostrate on the bed, with that delicate robe wrapped +around and crushed under her, and the lace shawl falling from the pillow +to the carpet, like a trail of frost. + +The sight urged her into one of those quick passions that sometimes +threw her whole household into consternation. + +"Heavens! what extravagance!" she cried. "Does the creature know that +lace like that is worth its weight in diamonds? A silk robe, too, which +could not be purchased out of Paris, tumbled up in a wad, and one mass +of wrinkles! I see! I see! the revenues of a duke would not meet such +extravagance! Get up! Get up, I say! and if you must make a goose of +yourself, do it at less cost!" + +"Hush, madam! she's sick! She's broken-hearted!" retorted Eliza, turning +fiercely red and planting herself before the shrinking girl. + +"Well, she must break her heart in something less costly than a French +dress worth thirty pounds, and point lace that cannot be got at any +price! Just get up, my young lady, and do your crying in less expensive +costume! The proper dress for tragedy is white muslin, but just now a +night-gown will do." + +Caroline arose without a word, and began to undress herself. She no +longer shrank or trembled, for the indignant blood rushed to the +surface, and pride gave her strength. Eliza took the robe as she cast it +off, and folded it with an emphatic sweep of her hand. + +"A pretty mess you have made of it," said Olympia, tossing the lace +aside with her foot, and tearing it on the buckle of her shoe, "with +your perverse obstinacy--broken up the most splendid debut I ever saw on +any stage, and making yourself and your failure the town's talk! if the +critics had not been my friends, the whole thing would have been utter +ruination; and here you are, with cheeks like flame, looking as haughty +as a duchess." + +"I am not haughty or perverse," said Caroline, wiping the hot tears from +her eyes, "but weary and ill." + +"Ill! with that color?" sneered Olympia. + +"It is fever," Eliza broke in. "Ten minutes ago she was white as the +pillow. You are making her worse and worse, I can tell you that." + +"And I can tell you that impudent tongue will lose you a good place +within the next ten minutes, if it is not bridled and well curbed. I +stand no nonsense from servants. Understand that!" + +Caroline cast an imploring glance on her maid, who dashed both hands +down upon the dress she was folding, and ground her teeth in silent +rage, as Olympia finished the threat with a little snap of her slender +fingers. + +"What was the matter with you? I have had no chance to ask, with your +countesses and duchesses swarming about, as if you had some +acquaintances that your own mother could not reach! What came over you? +I will know!" + +"I was faint and frightened," said Caroline, in a low voice. "The whole +thing broke me down." + +"But there was something else. I will know it!" + +Caroline was silent. + +"Will you speak, miss?" + +"I have nothing more to say. You could see how ill I was." + +"But not the cause; it is that I wish to understand." + +Caroline sat down on the side of her bed and remained silent, with her +eyes on the floor. She had no answer to give. + +"Will you tell the truth, or must I search it out? I was watching you; I +saw your eyes and the man whose glance struck you down." + +Caroline gave a start, and covered her face with both hands. + +"What have you in common with young Lord Hilton?" + +The hands dropped from that burning face, and two great, dilating eyes, +in which the tears stood, were turned on the angry woman. + +"Young Lord Hilton! I do not know him." + +The words came faintly from the girl's lips--she was bewildered. + +"Why did he drop his glass and bend over the box with that look in his +face, then? Why did you start and trample back on your train? Why did +you give him that piteous glance just as your eyes closed? The audience +might not have seen it, but I did, I did." + +"I--I do not understand," faltered the girl. + +"Do not understand, miss!" + +"How should I, not knowing the person you speak of?" + +"Don't lie to me, girl! I am an old bird, and have had my own flights +too often not to understand a look when I see it. You have met that man +before--I don't know where or how, but you have." + +"You speak of a person I never saw or heard of," answered the girl, +trembling with inward doubt; "how can I tell you anything about him?" + +Olympia almost believed her, and, for once, her acute penetration was +baffled; but a doubt remained, and she turned to Eliza. + +"If you know anything about this, tell me now; it will be better for her +and for you." + +"I haven't anything to tell, Mrs. Olympia; not a thing!" + +"Was any one admitted to the house near Florence?" + +"Yes, ma'am, there was." + +"Well, a young gentleman?" + +"Yes; one young un, and another, older." + +"Who were they?" + +"The man who taught her how to speak Italian and the music fellow." + +"Only those two?" + +"Not another soul came or went while we stayed in that house." + +"And she conversed with no one on the way?" + +"Not a soul." + +Olympia turned to go out. She was not convinced; having no truth in +herself she found no power of faith in others; but, for the time, the +blunt honesty of the servant and proud sincerity of the girl silenced +her, and she went out, muttering: + +"I shall get at the bottom of it yet." + +Then Caroline turned to Eliza: + +"Can it be? I saw no other." + +"I haven't a doubt of it," said Eliza. "I always mistrusted him for an +Englishman." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +LORD HILTON TAKES SUPPER WITH OLYMPIA. + + +She had fallen ill. The prima donna of a single hour was lying in +Olympia's bijou of a house, struggling with a nervous fever. The whole +town had been made aware of the mournful fact; for the manager had +spread the news broadcast through the journals, thus displacing +disappointment with such overwhelming sympathy as the distress of beauty +and genius is sure to excite. For more than a week, now, the prevailing +topic had been this young girl; first the promise of a brilliant debut, +then the momentary triumph and sudden breakdown; now came the news of +her illness, true, in so much that she was seriously ill, but +exaggerated into a romance which gave her out as dying with a shock of a +too sensitive nature. + +Olympia sang gloriously to crowded houses. In the romance woven around +this young girl her parentage had been hinted at, and the practiced +woman of the stage had managed to turn the public rumor into popularity +for herself. + +She had taken up the opera where Caroline had sunk down, and carried it +triumphantly forward, filling the world with admiration of herself and +sympathy for the girl. + +On the morning when Caroline's illness was made public, some young men +were seated in the window of a club-house, and one of them threw down +the Times with an impatient movement. + +"So we are not to have this new singer again to-morrow night or the +next," he said. "Here is Olympia's name in the bills, while the other is +ill with something on the brain or nerves." + +"All a sham, to enhance the public interest, I dare say," answered +another, taking up the journal. "There is nothing these musical people +will not do for popularity. But it really was not needed here; the girl +has beauty enough to carry her forward, even without her glorious voice. +For my part, I am all in a fever to see her again." + +A young man sat in this circle, apparently occupied by the panorama +drifting through the streets. As the conversation went on, the color +came and went in his face, and his eyes began to burn; but he said +nothing, while the others went on: + +"Who is the girl? what is her real name? Some say she is an American; +others, that she is Olympia's own daughter, to whom all names are alike; +but, then, where was the woman Olympia born? Now and then a word drops +from the pretty lips which is purely American; but then she has been all +over the world, and has gathered something from all nations, so that one +can never make a true guess about her." + +"Does this girl look like her?" inquired one of the young men, who had +not been at the opera last night. + +"No, not exactly," was the answer. "She is taller, more queenly, in +fact; quite a different style. This new girl is superb." + +"While Olympia is simply bewildering, changeable as the sky, erratic as +a comet. We all understand Olympia." + +The young man, who had kept silent till now, joined in the conversation, +but his voice was constrained, and a little husky. + +"Who is this woman, Olympia?" + +The other young men laughed at the question. + +"Who is Olympia? Why, the most bewitching, unprincipled, delightful bit +of wickedness that has been thrown on the world for years. Don't tell us +that you are to learn anything of Olympia at this time." + +"I have heard of her, and seen her too, but only as a singer. What I ask +is about her life, her principles, her character as a woman." + +"And you ask that of us, my dear fellow? What nonsense! Have we not said +that she is an actress?" + +"Well, what then? An actress may be well-principled, honest, honorable, +and modest, too, as any woman living. I asked if this woman, Olympia, +the patroness, mother, or what you will, of this new singer, is one of +these?" + +"Don't ask any of us to endorse or condemn Olympia. We know that she +gives the most delicious little suppers in the world, sings like a +siren, smiles like an angel, and gets more and more fascinating as she +grows older, as fruit ripens with age. No one ever thinks of asking her +how old she is, or where she was born. It is enough that her beauty is +in its summer, her voice perfect, and that she, who perhaps reigned over +our fathers, holds us as her slaves. As for honor, dignity, principle, +and all that, my dear fellow, who ever expects such things in a woman +like our Olympia?" + +"Yet she has had the training of this new singer." + +"Training? Why it is said that the girl is really her own daughter." + +"I heard you say as much," answered the young man, drily. + +Then another voice broke in. + +"You seem so much interested in these people, Hilton,--why not go and +see for yourself? I will introduce you." + +"When?" + +"To-night. The Olympia has a little supper after the opera." + +"But I thought the young lady was ill." + +"Oh! that will make no difference. Olympia is a woman to enjoy herself, +if Death sat next door. She will be certain to have her little supper. +Will you go? Is it an engagement? If so, I will send her a note." + +"Yes, I will go." + +That night Olympia held high festival at her pretty house, which +overlooked one of the loveliest parks in London. Among her guests was +young Lord Hilton, the grandson of one of the proudest old earls in the +kingdom. + +Olympia was delighted at the presence of this man, who had never before +been lured into her circle. + +She had another reason for her satisfaction. The look which had +disturbed her still preyed on her mind. She had a keen desire to learn +how far it had relation to the young girl who lay ill up-stairs. In +order, if possible, to inform herself, she selected the young man to sit +next her at table, and artfully led the conversation to the night of +Caroline's failure. + +"You were present," she said, "that night. Was ever success more +perfect, or failure more complete? It drove me wild!" + +"I was present," said Hilton, very quietly, for he felt her eyes upon +him with that slow, sidelong glance that has so much cunning in it, and +this put him on his guard. + +"She was coming out so magnificently," said Olympia, still vigilant, but +with the white lids drooping over her eyes, "when, all of a sudden, her +voice broke, and she fell. It must have been something in the audience." + +"Perhaps," said the young man; "but what? I was looking at her all the +time, and saw nothing. In fact, the house was very still. I have seldom +seen a crowd so breathless." + +Olympia turned one long glance on that face, and saw it was immovable in +all the strong, but finely-cut features. Her suspicions grew weaker now, +and she gave her attention more generally to the guests, who were +becoming a little impatient of the exclusive attention paid to Lord +Hilton; but the craft of this woman was as deep as her feelings were +superficial. She could not quite throw off the idea that, in some way, +this very person had been the cause of her defeat, and that his visit to +her house that night would end in some effort to obtain an interview +with the young creature who lay so ill up-stairs. + +But she was mistaken. Hilton asked no questions, made no effort to draw +her out, but drifted into the general conversation pleasantly enough, +until the supper was near its close, and the wines had begun to do their +work. + +Then the entertainment swept into an orgie; tongues were loosened, eyes +brightened and swam in moisture. + +Snatches of bacchanalian songs broke from the laughing lips of Olympia. + +She had been in a little awe of her new guest; but now her real nature +broke out. Her wit sparkled like the champagne with which her red lips +were continually moist; her eyes shone under the droop of those long +white lids. She grew confidential with the young noble, and was easily +led by the cool, versatile man, into conversation that she would have +stubbornly avoided earlier in the evening. In one of her bold snatches +of song she rounded off with a rollicking impromptu, which carried all +the richness and force of her voice with it. This threw the whole +company into a tumult of applause, but Hilton sat quietly and looked on, +with a smile of supreme contempt quivering about his lips. + +"Ha," said Olympia, filling his glass with her own hands, "you neither +drink nor care for my singing. It is only the youth and beauty of my +daughter that can move Lord Hilton." + +Her daughter! The face of the young man turned white, and his lips +closed sharply. He looked at the woman by his side, the flushed cheeks, +the soft, slumbrous eyes, with absolute repulsion. He hated the very +thought that the young creature he had found, like a bird, in that sweet +Italian home, could belong in anything to a woman like that. Still, she +had, in her reckless inadvertency, called her daughter, and though the +very idea drove the blood to his heart, it was only by a cold pallor +that the shock this one word had given to him was visible. + +"Your daughter is very beautiful," he said, in a low voice. + +"Did I call Caroline my daughter? Oh, well, it is no matter--the truth +will out sometime, though I would rather wait till her success is +assured. When she becomes famous, I shall glory in claiming her; but let +me warn you, it is a secret as yet. You will understand. One does not +care to own a girl as tall as that while the gloss is on one's hair. +Nothing but the most wonderful success will induce me to acknowledge her +before the world." + +"But if she is your child--" + +"I have said that she is my child; but it is a secret, and I did not +mean to talk about it. Tell me, now, did you discover no likeness?" + +"I did not observe." + +"Still, they think her so beautiful." + +Lord Hilton made no answer. The conversation had become irksome to him; +but some person at the table took the last word from Olympia's lips and +repeated it aloud. + +"Beautiful! You must be speaking of our new prima donna. In my opinion +she is perfect; but you, Lord Hilton, have only seen her from the +stage--can form no idea of her loveliness, or of her voice either. There +was nothing, the other night, that could compare with her singing at our +little supper here. Besides, her beauty, to be appreciated, must be +seen close. There is not a fault in her face or form, I can assure you." + +Lord Hilton's face flushed angrily, then a slow whiteness crept over it +again, and he bent his head, unable to speak. The task he had imposed on +himself had become terribly painful. + +Olympia was not particularly pleased with this high praise of another, +though all her ambitious hopes lay in the success of the person on whom +these encomiums were lavished. She began to shake up the sparkles in her +wine by swaying the glass to and fro with her hand, and a sullen frown +crept over her face. + +"She is obstinate as a mule," she muttered; "tall and proud as +Lucifer--not at all like me. But they will rave about her beauty, just +as if she were more likely to live than to die." + +"What did you say?" cried Lord Hilton, sharply; "die! die! Is there any +danger? Is she so ill?" + +Olympia lifted her sleepy eyelids and flashed a suspicious glance at +him. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed; "are you there! I thought so." + +"You are not answering me," was the cold reply. + +"You asked if there existed any danger, and I answer, yes. Did you think +we were practicing stage effects in the journals? My poor Caroline is +ill--very ill." + +"And what made her ill?" + +"What made her break down, after such glorious promise? Why, after she +sang before my friends here, as fresh as a lark, and drove them all so +wild that I, Olympia, was almost overlooked? There never were such +expectations; but see how it ended--a total failure, and brain fever." + +"Did you say brain fever?" + +The young man scarcely spoke above a breath. + +"Yes, it is on the brain, or the nerves, I am not quite sure which; but +the doctors look terribly grave when I ask them about her, and speak as +if she would die." + +"Would to God she might die!" exclaimed the young man, trembling from +head to foot with a burst of agitation that would not be suppressed +longer. + +"What--What?" exclaimed Olympia, starting back in affright. The glass +fell from her hold, and a rivulet of amber-hued wine flashed along the +snow of the table-cloth while she sat gazing upon the young lord. + +"Excuse me; I was thinking of something else," he said, with a strong +effort of self-control. "May I presume on your favor, and steal away, +now? The rest will not miss me, I think." + +Olympia nodded her head hastily. The spilled wine was dripping on her +dress, so she started up, and Lord Hilton withdrew while she was shaking +the drops from its silken folds, and creating general confusion by her +laughing outcries. + +Lord Hilton looked back as he crossed the passage, and shuddered at the +picture of riotous luxury that supper-table presented. + +"And she was among them, in a scene like that," he said, as the door +closed after him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +ON THE WAY TO HOUGHTON CASTLE. + + +At the junction of the railroad where Margaret changed cars for London, +a young man, who had just arrived by the train, took the seat left +vacant, and arranged himself comfortably for a protracted journey. Lady +Clara watched him with some interest, and more than once caught a glance +from his fine eyes as they wandered from the pages of his novel and +dwelt upon her own bright face. Clara had been left to her own devices +while preparing for her journey, and the antique attendant who had been +sent to protect her was grievously scandalized by the jaunty little +sailor's hat and double-breasted jacket which she had selected for her +travelling costume. But the woman had been bred to almost abject +subservience, and had no idea of venturing upon spoken criticism or +advice. She was greatly troubled, however, about the impression this +singular costume might produce on her old mistress, and felt really +shocked when she saw the half-puzzled, half-amused expression of their +fellow-passenger's face, as his eyes first encountered the future +countess. + +By-and-by the old woman fell into deeper consternation, for she began to +remember that handsome face, in spite of the brown beard that curved +like a bow over the upper lip, and swept down toward his bosom in soft, +silken waves that a child would long to bury its little hands in. + +"It is Lord Hilton, the grandson of the old earl," she muttered, in +silent consternation; "and to see her like this, after all the mistress +has been planning, is terrible to think of." + +The young man had been so much occupied with the younger and prettier +face that any regard for that of the old servant was impossible; but +after a while his eyes fell on those hard outlines, and he gave a start +of recognition which made the old lady move restlessly in her seat. + +"Why, Mrs. Judson, is it possible that I find you so far from home!" he +exclaimed. "What can possibly have come over the old lady that she is +willing to part with you for a journey long or short?" + +"My lady is not so well as we were when you left this neighborhood for +foreign parts, my lord. Indeed, I am much afraid you will find her +greatly altered. She is now almost entirely confined to her room." + +"I am sorry to hear that. Lady Carset is, after all, an aged woman; but +it would be mournful to see her broken down. Let me think. She is quite +as old, if not older, than my grandfather, is she not?" + +"There is not a year between them, I have heard my father say," answered +Judson, with a prim consciousness of the delicate subject they had +trenched upon; "not that I know of myself." + +"Certainly not. But my grandfather--it is some weeks since I heard of +him." + +"The earl is quite well, my lord. He was at the castle only last week, +and spent a long morning with my lady." + +"Indeed!" muttered the young man. "That probably accounts for my summons +home." + +"She had been uncommonly anxious for a long time, and at last sent for +him to come and see her." + +"Very natural. They are old friends." + +"Then, my lord, she sent me on this journey--not that I came alone. The +steward is on the train. My lady would not permit her grand-daughter to +travel with but one attendant." + +"Her grand-daughter?" + +"I beg pardon, my lord, but this young lady is Lord Hope's daughter." + +Hilton lifted his hat and met Lady Clara's look of smiling surprise with +a courteous bend of the head, but her quick eye caught the sudden glow +that swept his face, and wondered at it. She wondered still more when a +grave expression followed the blush; and, instead of making himself +agreeable, he opened the novel that lay on the seat, and seemed to be +occupied by its pages, though she remarked, with an inward chuckle, that +he never turned a page. + +After a while the young man laid down his book, wearily, and Clara saw +his chest heave slowly as he breathed a long, deep, but unconscious +sigh. + +"He is in trouble, like me," was her quick thought. "Perhaps his +grandfather is a hard, cruel old man, and drives everything he loves out +of doors, without caring how he may feel about it, or perhaps--" + +Clara might have gone on conjecturing all sorts of possibilities; but +that moment the train stopped at a small town, and close by the station +she saw an old woman, with a pile of crimson-cheeked peaches and some +pears on a table beside her. An exclamation broke from her, and she +leaned eagerly forward just as the carriage-door was unlocked. + +"Oh, how splendid! such peaches! such pears!" she exclaimed, feeling in +the pocket of her sacque for some loose money, which she usually carried +there. "Oh! Margaret--" + +Here she turned to the woman next her, and blushed with vexation when +she remembered that Margaret was no longer there to take her commands. + +"Dear me! I forgot. No matter. Oh, mercy! what have I done?" + +She had done nothing but what was most likely to obtain her object, for +Lord Hilton had pushed open the door, leaped out, and in a minute or two +returned with his hands full of the peaches and pears she had craved so. +She was blushing scarlet when he came back and dropped the luscious +fruit into her lap, as if they had been acquainted fifty years. + +"Oh, you are too kind! I did not mean--I did not expect; but please eat +some yourself. Here is a splendid one. Mrs. Judson, take pears or +peaches, just as you like--delicious!" + +The mellow sound of this last word was uttered as her white teeth sank +into the crimson side of a peach, and for the next minute she said +nothing, but gave herself up to a child-like ecstasy of enjoyment, for +the road was dusty, and this luxurious way of quenching her thirst was +far too sweet for words. Besides, her companions were just as pleasantly +employed. She saw the young man wiping a drop of amber juice from his +beard, and wondered where the Abigail found her self-command as she +watched her slowly peeling one of the finest pears with a silver +fruit-knife which she took from her traveling satchel. + +"Splendid, aint they?" she said, at length, leaning forward and tossing +a peach-stone out of the window, while she searched the golden and +crimson heap with her disengaged hand for another peach, mellow and +juicy as the last. "I had no idea anything on earth could be so +delightful. We had breakfast so early, and I do believe I was almost +hungry. Oh, how pleasant it must be when one is really famished!" + +Here Clara cast another peach-stone through the window, and began to +trifle with a pear, just as Judson cut a dainty slice from the fruit +she had been preparing. Clara laughed, and reached a handful of fruit +over to the gentleman who had made her a gift of the whole. He received +it cheerfully--in fact, it was quite impossible for any man under thirty +to have spent a half hour in that young girl's society without feeling +the heart in his bosom grow softer and warmer. + +"What a lovely day it is!" she said, tossing off her hat, and leaning +forward, that the wind might blow on her face, which at the moment had +all the sweet blooming freshness of a child's. "I wonder if the country +is as green and fresh as this, where we are going?" + +"Ah, I can answer you. It is far more beautiful. Houghton Castle is +among the hills. The park is like a forest, and in the valley you can +see a river, winding in and out like gleams of quicksilver. A grand old +place is Houghton Castle, let me answer you, Lady Clara." + +Clara shook her head, and drew back in her seat. + +"I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that the dear old lady could just +take the title and the castle with her." + +She seemed very much in earnest, and pulled the sailor's hat down over +her eyes, to conceal the tears, that were filling them with moisture. + +Lord Hilton was surprised. He had certainly intended to interest the +young lady by a description of the noble place that would some day be +hers. + +"Ah, wait till you have seen Houghton. It is one of the finest old +strongholds in the kingdom. The only wonder is that Cromwell, that +magnificent old hypocrite, happened to spare it. When Lady Carset stands +upon her own battlements, she can scarcely see the extent of her lands. +A very wealthy lady is the old countess." + +Clara all at once began to wonder how it happened that the man was +giving her so much knowledge about her own near relative. How did he +know that her information did not equal his own? + +"You live near Houghton, I suppose?" she said. + +"Yes; when the flag is up, we can see it plainly enough from my +grandfather's place." + +Clara brightened out of her momentary depression. If she were compelled +to stay long at Houghton, it would be pleasant to meet this handsome and +pleasant young man. How kind he had been about the fruit. With what +genial sunshine his eyes dwelt upon her, as he sought to interest her +about the place to which she was going. Judson was not so well pleased. +She had some doubts of the propriety of permitting these young persons +to drop into such familiar conversation, with no more impressive +introduction than the chance courtesies of a railroad car. + +True, she had known the young man when he was quite a child, and liked +him, as well as her prim habits and narrow channel of thought would +permit; but nothing in her experience had taught her how to act in an +emergency like that. + +The young people had given her no opportunity for reflection, but +plunged into an acquaintance at once. The whole thing troubled her +greatly, but what could she do? + +There they sat, face to face, eating peaches together, talking of the +scenery, laughing now and then, again and again half quarreling, as if a +dozen years had ripened the acquaintance between them. It quite took +away her appetite for the fruit, and she clasped her little silver +knife, with a helpless sigh, and dropping both hands into her lap, +wondered what on earth she could do, and of course did nothing. + +The young people forgot all about the prim Abigail, and went on with +their conversation; but after awhile a shade of sadness crept over both +those young faces. Their hearts wandered off into serious reveries, and +for a time they became unconscious of each other's presence. + +Clara was thinking of that night, which now seemed far, far away, but +was, in fact, scarcely twenty-four hours back in her life--of the words +that were spoken, the promises given, and sealed with kisses, which +seemed burning on her lips even yet. + +Oh! where was he now, the man whom she loved so entirely, and whose +humiliation made her heart ache, and burn with sorrow and wrath every +time she thought of it? Would he hold to his faith with her, after such +scornful treatment from her father? Where would he go? Where was he now? +He had been a wanderer always, and had found himself sufficient to +himself. + +After he saw her the first idea of rest and a permanent home had opened +new vistas of hope to him. He had found the one thing that had hitherto +been denied to his existence--found it only to be driven from the light +that had dawned upon him, like a trespassing dog. + +Clara's heart swelled as she thought of all this, and all at once the +prim Abigail was astonished out of all propriety by a burst of sobs from +the corner in which Clara had retreated. + +The young man looked up and came out of his own melancholy thoughts, +just as Mrs. Judson had drawn forth her smelling-bottle and was pressing +it upon the girl, who averted her face and sobbed out, piteously: + +"Oh! let me alone--please let me alone!" + +Judson retreated backward to her place in the opposite corner, while the +young man motioned her to remain quiet, and let the pretty creature sob +out her grief unmolested. + +At last Clara had wept her sudden burst of sorrow away, and became +conscious of her own strange conduct. She pushed back her hat, drew the +soft gauze streamers across her eyes, and burst into a sobbing laugh, +exquisitely childlike, but which Judson could not in the least +understand. + +"I'm afraid I am getting homesick," she said. "I never was so far from +Oakhurst before, and, until this morning, you know, I had never seen +either of your faces, but all that need not make such an absurd baby of +me." + +Mrs. Judson unfolded a fine pocket handkerchief and held it toward the +girl, with the most anxious look possible to imagine. + +"Wipe your eyes, dear young lady, wipe your eyes. We are coming to +Houghton, and I would not have you seen with that face for the world." + +"Yes," said the young man, looking out, "yonder is Houghton Castle." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +THE OLD COUNTESS. + + +"I will see her now, Judson." The old lady of Houghton came out from her +dressing-room as she said this. + +She had a little cap of gossamer lace and silver ribbon on that shaking +head, and tied a girdle of silken cord around the floating folds of her +cashmere morning robe, which would better have concealed the attenuated +figure underneath, had it been permitted to float loose, as it had done. +But the dainty old lady still felt a stir of feminine pride in her +toilet, and though the exertion took away all her strength, she had made +these pretty additions to her dress, rather than meet her grandchild, +for the first time, in the disarray of an invalid. + +"I will see her now, Judson." + +She repeated this, panting for breath, as she sank down to the couch in +her favorite tower-chamber, and took the delicate handkerchief of lace +and cambric, on which Judson had just dropped some pungent perfume. + +Judson left the room; directly the red curtain parted again, and behind +the grim waiting-maid came a young girl, flushed with excitement and +rosy with perfect health, but so strangely dressed that the old countess +uttered a little exclamation of surprise, mingled perhaps with a little +displeasure. The jaunty hat with its blue streamers, the double-breasted +jacket, glittering with buttons, took away her breath. + +Lady Clara hesitated a moment, took off her hat hurriedly, like a +naughty boy, and came forward with an easy step, as if she had been in a +forest, and the high heels of her pretty boots trampling down wood moss, +instead of the tangle of flowers in that sumptuous carpet. + +The old lady sat gazing on her full half a minute. The girl flushed +crimson under the steady look of those brown eyes, turned around and +gave her hat a toss to Judson, who let it fall in her astonishment at +the audacious act, and came forward, half-indignant, half-crying. + +"Grandmother!" + +As that fresh, young voice fell upon her, the old countess reached forth +her hand. + +"My child!" + +The old voice was faint, but kind. Lovely as that young creature was, +she brought sadness and disappointment with her. The prejudice of years +is not easily swept away from the mind of an aged woman, whatever her +strength of character may be. This girl was the step-daughter of the +governess she had so long detested, and she seemed to bring the +atmosphere of a hated place with her. Perhaps she had expected a more +stately bearing in her daughter's child. + +A chair had been drawn up to the couch by the thoughtful Judson, and the +countess made a gentle motion that her grand-daughter should occupy it. + +Clara sat down, feeling nervous and very miserable; for those eyes +followed her with mournful curiosity, which the high-spirited girl +mistook for criticism. + +"I dare say that I am not so handsome or so good as my poor mother was, +but she loved me dearly, everybody says that, and for her sake you might +be glad I am here, grandmother, especially as you sent for me." + +As Clara said this, tears swelled from those blue eyes that had been +slowly filling, and dropped to her cheeks like rain upon damask roses. +This appeal, so childlike in its passion, lifted the old countess out of +her seeming apathy. She arose, laid her hands on that young head and +kissed the flushed forehead. + +The moment Clara felt the touch of those tender lips, she threw both +arms around the shadowy old woman, and broke forth. + +"Oh, grandmother, grandmother, don't stop to think about it, but let me +love you! I want to so much, for without that I shall be awfully +homesick." + +The old lady's heart beat as it had not done for years. Never, since her +only child went forth from those proud walls a bride, had any one dared +to claim her love, or speak to her as one free soul speaks to another. +In the haughty isolation of her rank, she had almost forgotten that +equality could ever be claimed of her. The very audacity of this cry for +affection stirred the old lady's pride like a trumpet. + +"There speaks the Carset blood," she said, appealing to the grim +hand-maiden who stood by; "always ready to give and bold to claim just +rights. My grandchild is of the true stock, you see. God bless her and +love her as I will!" + +"There, now, that is very kind of you, grandmamma, and you are just the +dearest, sweetest and queenliest lady that ever made a poor girl happy, +when she was, in fact, homesick as death. The truth is, mamma Rachael +spoils me so completely with her great love, and--but, oh! I forgot you +can't bear mamma Rachael. Dear me! I am always getting into scrapes. +Does that belong to the Carset blood, I wonder?" + +The waiting-maid stood petrified when the old countess broke into a +soft, pleasant laugh, at what she deemed the insolent familiarity of +this speech. "Did you hear that?" she exclaimed, wiping the moisture +from her eyes, and increasing the vibrations of her head. + +"Who but a Carset would dare ask such questions? Getting into scrapes, +child; why there never was a family so reckless or so independent. That +is, I speak of the males, remember! the ladies of the house--but you +will see in the picture gallery, and judge for yourself. No commonplace +women can be found among the Carset ladies. Some of them, my child, have +intermarried with Royalty itself. You are the last of the line, Lady +Clara." + +Clara turned pale. She thought of Hepworth Closs, and how far he was +removed from royalty; but with no thought of faithlessness in her heart. +She was very sure that the next Lord of Houghton would wear neither +crown or coronet--but, like a wise girl, she sat still and said nothing. + +The old countess was very feeble. Notwithstanding the excitement, which +left a tremulous pink on her withered cheeks, the strength began to fail +from her limbs. Gathering up her feet upon the couch, she closed her +eyes. + +When she opened them again, Lady Clara was bending toward her with a +look of tender anxiety that went to the old lady's heart. A soft smile +stole over her lips, and she held out her hand. + +"Go to your room, my child." + +Clara stooped down and kissed that delicate mouth with her own blooming +lips. + +"Sleep well, grandmother," she whispered; "I will come back again +by-and-by, after I have seen the other ladies in the picture-gallery." + +Clara picked up her hat, and was going out on tip-toe, when Judson laid +a long, lean hand on her arm, and addressed her in one of those shrill +whispers, which penetrate more surely than words. + +"Don't wear that thing into my lady's presence again," she said. "Did +you see her eyes, when they first fell upon it?" + +"What, my poor little hat? Has grandmamma really taken a dislike to +that? I am so sorry." + +The old countess opened her eyes, and rose on one elbow among her +cushions. + +"Let the child alone, Judson. The hat is well enough, and she looked +very pretty in it." + +"Nobby, isn't it, grandmamma?" said Clara, tossing the hat to her head, +and shaking down the blue streamers; "and I'm so fond of it." + +"Judson," said the old countess, "do not attempt to judge for your +mistress at this time of day. No one but a Carset could wear a thing +like that, without looking vulgar; but you saw what an air she gave it." + +Judson was astounded. She had absolutely trembled, when that round hat +came into the room, in defiance of the faint protest which she had +ventured to make. + +"I was afraid, my lady, that a dress like that might set you against the +young lady." + +"Set me against my own grandchild, and she so unmistakably a Carset! I +am surprised, Judson." + +"I am sure there was no idea in my mind of giving offense. She is a +pretty young lady enough." + +"Pretty! Are you speaking of that charming young creature, with the air +of a duchess and the heart of a child, only to say that she is pretty?" + +"Did I say pretty, my lady, when I think her so beautiful?" + +"All the more beautiful, Judson, for not being so tall as some of the +ladies of our house. She owes nothing to size. Perhaps you have +remarked, Judson, that those of the purest Carset blood have never been +large women." + +A sweet, complacent smile quivered around those old lips, as the +countess settled back among her cushions. She, a petite creature, had +Carset blood in her veins from both parents, and in her youth she had +been distinguished among the most beautiful women of England. She was +thinking of those days, when those withered eyelids closed again, and +they followed her softly into her sleep, which the grim maid watched +with the faithfulness of a slave. + +Meantime Clara went into the long picture gallery, and there among a +crowd of statues, and deeply-toned pictures by the old masters, made the +acquaintance of her stately ancestors, and of the ladies who had one and +all been peeresses in their own right--an access of rank, prized almost +like a heritage of royalty by the old lady in the tower-chamber. + +No one had gone with the young heiress into the gallery, for, with her +childish wilfulness, she had preferred to go alone, and single out the +Carset ladies by their resemblance to the old countess. + +All at once she stopped before the picture of a lady, whose face struck +her with a sudden sense of recognition. She looked at it earnestly--the +golden brown hair, the downcast eyes, the flowing white dress. Across +the mind of that wondering girl, came the shadow of another woman upon +a white bed, with hair and eyes like those; but wide open, and to her +lips came two words, "My Mother!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS. + + +It often happens that a proud, austere person, so grounded in opinions +and prejudices as to be considered above and beyond ordinary influences, +will all at once, give heart and reason up to passionate or capricious +fondness for some individual--often a very child--and yield everything +to persuasion when reason is utterly rejected. + +Indeed, few people like to be convinced; but the strongest mind ever +bestowed on man or woman finds something gratifying to self-love in the +persuasive enticements of affection. + +This singular moral phenomenon astonished the neighbors and household of +Lady Carset when she gave herself up, with the abandon of a child, to +the caressing young creature, who had, it seemed, appeared in her home +to win her back from the very brink of the grave, and make the sunset of +her long life brighter with love than the dawn had been. + +There was nothing in the young girl which did not seem beautiful to the +old relative. Her originality, which made the well-trained servants +stare, seemed the perfection of piquant grace to one whose fastidious +tastes had been an example to the whole neighborhood. In her estimation +Lady Clara could do nothing which was not in itself loveliest and best. +The old lady had been so long without an object of affection, that her +love of this girl became almost a monomania. + +"I have an atonement to make," she would say to herself in excuse for +this extraordinary and most pleasant subjugation; "for years and years I +have driven this young creature from me because of what, I am almost +convinced, were unfounded suspicions against her father and that woman. +It is but just that I should accept my grandchild with generous +confidence; and she deserves it--she deserves it." + +After reasoning in this fashion awhile the repentant old lady would rack +her brain for some new device by which this bright creature, who had +come like a sunbeam into her house, might be persuaded never to leave it +again. It was not altogether the selfishness of affection that actuated +this honorable woman. It was hard to believe that a Carset could have +acted unjustly, or even be mistaken; but, once convinced of that, her +very pride insisted on a generous atonement. Never in her life had she +been so humiliated as when the sight of those diamonds convinced her of +the cruel charge which she had maintained for years against a person +innocent of the offence imputed to her. She remembered, with +compunction, how much harm she had done this woman, whose greatest fault +now seemed to be that Lord Hope had married her. + +Her own example had sufficed to exclude Lady Hope from the society to +which her husband's rank entitled her, and her open expressions of +dislike had cast a ban upon the stepmother, which had, to an extent, +reacted on her own grandchild. + +These thoughts troubled the proud old peeress a long time before she +gave them expression; but, one day, Clara sat by her, looking a little +sad, for, now that the excitement of her first coming was over, she +began to think of Hepworth Closs--to wonder where he was, and yearn for +some news of him to a degree that clouded her whole bright being like a +feeling of homesickness. + +"Poor child!" thought the old lady, while her soft, brown eyes dwelt +upon that downcast face, as it bent over a piece of embroidery in which +a cactus-flower formed the chief central glory; "how weary and troubled +she looks! No wonder, poor thing! half her time is spent here with a +stupid old woman, shut up so long from the world that she is but dull +company for any one. I wonder if the thing which is upon my mind would +really make her happy?" + +"Clara." + +The girl started. She had been so lost in thought that those bright eyes +had been watching her some minutes, while she unconsciously pursued her +work, and indulged in a reverie which was shadowed upon her features. + +"Clara, you have not told me much about your stepmother." + +"But I think of her; I was thinking of her then. Indeed, indeed, +grandmamma, I always must love mamma Rachael, for she has been +everything that is good and kind to me--I only wish you could understand +how kind. If I know anything it is because she taught me." + +"Among other things, perhaps she taught you to hate that cruel old Lady +Carset," said the countess, a little suspiciously. + +"No, grandmamma, no. She never said anything to make me dislike you; but +I did--it was terribly wicked; but how could I help it, loving her so, +and knowing that it was you that stood in the way of all she most +desired in life? Remember, grandmamma, I had never seen you, and I loved +her dearly. It was hard to see her overlooked and put down by people who +were not fit to buckle her shoes, all because you would not like her." + +"And you will always love her better than the cruel old lady?" + +"Cruel! How can you? There never was a sweeter, kinder, or more lovely +old darling in the world than you are! but then she is good, too, and so +unhappy at times, it almost breaks my heart to look in her face." + +"And you think I have made her so?" + +"I think you might make her very happy, if you only would, grandmamma." + +"Would that make you happy, little one?" + +The old lady reached out her little, withered hand, and patted Clara's +fingers, as they paused in her work, while she spoke. The girl's face +brightened. She seized the little hand between her rosy palms, and +pressed it to her lips. + +"Oh, grandmamma! can you mean it?" + +"I always mean to be just, Clara." + +"Then you will be very, very kind to her?" + +"Does your father love this woman?" + +"Love her? Oh, yes! but this thing has come a little between them. She +has grown shy of going out, while he must be in the world; and all her +life seems to vanish when he is away. Sometimes it makes my heart ache +to think how much she loves him." + +"But he loves you?" + +"Almost as much as mamma Rachael does. He was never cross to me but +once." + +"And then?" + +Clara turned pale, and took up her needle. + +"I would rather not talk about that just now. You might be more angry +than my father was." + +"It would be very difficult for me to get angry with you, little one." + +"But you would, if I were to be very obstinate, and insist on having my +own way about--about something--that--that--" + +The old lady's face grew very serious. She understood, these signs, and +they troubled her; but she was feeble, and shrank from any knowledge +that would bring excitement with it. + +"Some day we will talk of all that," she said, with a little weary +closing of the eyes. + +Clara drew a deep breath. See had been on the verge of making a +confidante of the old lady, and felt a sense of relief when the subject +was thus evaded. + +The countess opened her eyes again. + +"Clara," she said, "bring my writing-table here. We will not trouble +ourselves to ring for Judson." + +Clara dropped her embroidery, and brought the sofa-table, with all its +exquisite appointments for writing. The old lady sat upright on her +couch, took the pen, and began to write on the creamy note-paper her +grandchild had placed before her. Clara watched that slender hand as it +glided across the paper, leaving delicate, upright letters perfect as an +engraving, as it moved. When the paper was covered, she folded the +missive with dainty precision, selected an envelope, on which her +coronet was entangled in a monogram, and was about to seal it with a +ring, which she took from her finger; but recollecting herself, she drew +the letter out, and handed it to Clara, with a smile that kindled her +whole face. + +Clara read the letter, threw her arms around the old lady, and covered +her faces with kisses. + +"Oh, grandmamma, you are too good! Do you--do you really mean it? Ah, +this is happiness!" + +"You shall help me make out the invitations. There was a time when +Houghton had no empty chambers. It will go hard, my dear, if we cannot +find entertainment for your father and the lady he has married. On that +day, Clara, I will present you to the world as my grandchild and +heiress." + +"Not yet! oh, not yet! Wait till you know more of me." + +"Hush! hush! This is not my only object. If I have wronged your +stepmother, or neglected your father, the whole country shall see that a +Carset knows how to make reparation. Lady Hope, too, shall be presented +to my friends as an honored guest. This entertainment will be my last, +but they shall find that the old countess knows how to receive her +guests." + +"Grandmother, you are an--an--. You are just the sweetest old lady that +ever drew breath! If you were to live a thousand years, I should love +you better and better every day! To see you and Lady Hope together will +be splendid! And they are to stay at Houghton a month. By that time you +will love each other dearly." + +Clara took up her work again, but the needle flashed like a thread of +lightning in her unsteady fingers. She could not work after this +glorious news. + +The old lady smiled blandly, and sank down among her cushions, +exhausted. + +"Go out and take a walk in the park," she said, observing that Clara was +fluttering over her embroidery like a bird in its cage. "It will do you +good, and I will try to sleep a little." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +DOWN BY THE BROOK AMONG THE FERNS. + + +Clara put on her hat and wandered off into the park, as happy as a bird. + +She had found the dearest old fairy godmother. She saw a glorious light +breaking in upon the life of her stepmother, and out of all this +generous conduct in the old countess sprang a vague hope that she might +yet be won to sanction her marriage with the man of her choice. + +She took no heed of the way, but wandered on, treading the earth like a +sylph, and breaking into little snatches of song whenever the birds in +the branches put her in mind of it. She was descending into a little, +ferny hollow, with a brook creeping along the bottom, along which a +narrow footpath ran, when the crackle of a broken branch, and the quick +tread of a foot, made her pause and look at the opposite bank, down +which a young man was coming, with more swiftness than he seemed to +desire, for he only saved himself from a plunge in the brook by leaping +over it, with a bound that brought him to Clara's side. It was Lord +Hilton. + +"Forgive me, if I came near running you down," he said, with laughter in +his eyes, and taking off his hat; "it was neck or nothing with me, after +I once got one downward plunge. I inquired for you at the castle, and +they told me that you had just gone out of sight in this direction, so I +followed and am here." + +Clara held out her hand, with the sweet, joyous laugh of a pleased +child. She was very happy, just then, and he saw it in her eyes. + +"But you have been long in coming," she said. "I told grandmamma about +our journey together, and she has been expecting you at Houghton every +day." + +"And you?" + +"Of course, I have been dreadfully disappointed. Are you aware that it +is more than a fortnight since you bought those peaches for me?" + +"But you will approve my reasons for keeping away, when I tell you what +they are." + +"Perhaps--I doubt it; but tell me." + +"You will not be angry?" + +"No." + +"Not if I tell you the plain truth like an honest man?" + +"I love the truth. Why should it offend me?" + +"Lady Clara, I have almost resolved to make a confidante of you." + +Clara brushed some fallen leaves from a rock, near which they were +standing, and sat down, motioning him to take the vacant place by her +side. + +"There--now let us begin." + +"Do you guess why I did not come before, Lady Clara?" + +"No--I have not the least idea. Perhaps you did not like me, or were +shocked with my hat; poor thing, it is getting awfully shabby." + +"Shall I tell you?" + +"Of course; why not?" + +"Because the old gentleman over yonder and my lady at Houghton, had set +their hearts upon it." + +"Set their hearts upon it. How?" + +"They have decreed that I shall fall in love with you, and you with me, +at first sight." + +Clara stared at him a moment, with her widening blue eyes, and then +broke into a laugh that set all the birds about her to singing in a +joyous chorus. + +"What, you and I?" + +"Exactly." + +"But you have more sense. You could not be induced to oblige them. I +feel quite sure." + +"But why, pray? Am I so very stupid?" + +"No; but you are so very kind, and would not do anything so cruel." + +Lord Hilton laughed; he could not help it. + +"But why would it be cruel?" + +"Because--because it would get me into trouble. Grandmamma is a lovely +old angel, and to oblige her I would fall in love with fifty men if it +were possible, especially after what she has done to-day: but it is not +possible." + +"And the old gentleman at the opposite side of the valley is good as +gold, and I should like to oblige him; and sometimes I feel as if it +could be done, so far as I am concerned, but for one thing." + +"And what is that?" + +"Lady Clara, if I had not been fatally in love already, I should by this +time have adored you." + +The color came and went in the girl's face. She tore a handful of ferns +from the rock, and dropped them into the water at her feet; then she +lifted her eyes to the young man's face, with the innocent confidence of +a child. Her voice was low and timid as she spoke again; but the ring of +modest truth was there. + +"Lord Hilton, I am very young; but in what you have said, I can see that +you and I ought to understand each other. You love another person--I, +too, am beloved." + +A shade of disappointment swept the young man's features. He had not +wished this fair girl to care for him, yet the thought that it was +impossible brought a little annoyance with it. + +"And yourself?" + +"I have permitted a man to say he loved me, and did not rebuke him; +because every word he spoke made my heart leap." + +"But will the old countess consent?" + +"I thought so--I hoped so, till you startled me with this idea about +yourself. Oh! be firm, be firm in hating me. Don't leave the whole +battle to a poor little girl." + +"Perhaps I shall not feel all your earnestness, for there is no hope in +the future for me, with or without consent. I can never turn back to the +past, though I am not villain enough to lay a heart which contains the +image of another at any woman's feet, without giving her a full +knowledge of that which has gone before. The love which I confess to +you, Lady Clara, was put resolutely behind me before we met." + +Quick as thought a suspicion flashed through the girl's brain. She +turned her eyes full upon the handsome head and face of the young man, +and examined his features keenly. His hat was off; he was bending +earnestly toward her. + +"Lord Hilton, you sat in a box in the opera next to us on the night when +that young American singer broke down. I remember your head now. You +were leaning from the box when she fainted; her eyes were turned upon +you as she fell. She is the woman you love." + +"Say whom I loved, and Heaven knows I did love her; but she fled from me +without a word, to expose herself upon that stage. I thought her the +daughter of a respectable man, at least; when I am told in every +club-house, she is the nameless child of that woman, Olympia. I would +not believe it, till the actress confirmed the story with her own lips; +then I learned that her home was with this woman, and that she, a +creature I had believed innocent as the wild blossoms, had used her +glorious voice for the entertainment of her mother's Sunday evening +parties." + +Lady Clara grew pale, and her eyes began to flash. + +"You are doing great wrong to a noble and good young lady," she said, in +a clear, ringing voice, from which all laughter had gone out. "You are +unjust, cruel--wickedly cruel--both to yourself and her. I have no +patience with you!" + +"Do you know Caroline, then? But that is impossible." + +"Impossible--what? That I should know the daughter of Olympia? But I do +know her. There was a time, I honestly believe, when we were children +together, cared for by the same nurse. This I can assure you, Lord +Hilton: she was not brought up by the actress; never saw her, in truth, +until she was over sixteen years old, when the woman, hearing of her +genius and beauty, claimed her as a chattel rather than a child." + +"Are you sure of this, Lady Clara?" inquired the young man, greatly +disturbed. + +"I know it. The poor young lady, brought up with such delicate care, +educated as if she were one day to become a peeress of the land, took a +terrible dislike to the stage, and, so long as she dared, protested +against the life that ambitious actress had marked out for her. That +night you saw her she was forced upon the stage after praying upon her +knees to be spared. Her acting, from the first, was desperation. She saw +you, and it became despair; and you could doubt her--you could leave +her. Lord Hilton, I hate you!" + +"I begin to hate myself," said the young man in a low voice; "but even +now, what can I do? What power have I to wrest her from the influence of +that woman?" + +"What power? The power of honest and generous love. Ask her to marry +you." + +Lord Hilton answered with a faint, bitter laugh. + +"Ask her to marry me, and, with that act, proclaim myself a beggar! I +tell you, Lady Clara, there is not upon this earth a creature so +dependent as a nobleman with nothing but expectations. Were I to follow +your advice the doors of my home would be closed against me. I should +have a title, by courtesy, to offer my wife, and nothing more. She +would, perhaps, be compelled to go on the stage to support me--a poor +substitute for these two vast estates which these old people hope to +unite in us." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +HOW LADY CLARA GOT HER OWN WAY. + + +Lady Clara turned on the young nobleman with glowing anger. + +"Lord Hilton," she said, "it is the land they are thinking of; but an +earthquake may swallow it before I will sell a corner of my heart at +their price. I am only a girl, Lord Hilton, and, perhaps, this ancestral +grandeur seems less to me on that account; but the noblest possession +that can be given to me is liberty--liberty of heart, limb and +conscience--liberty to love and hate--though I do not hate any one very +much--but to love that which is splendid and good without regard to +anything else. The grandest thing upon the face of the earth, Lord +Hilton, is to own oneself. If I were a man no one should own me but the +woman I loved." + +Was the girl inspired? You would have thought so from the sparkle that +came into her eyes, like sunshine striking the dew in a violet--from +the quick, generous curve of her lips, and the flush of color that +rushed over her face. + +Lord Hilton looked at her with such admiration as would, perhaps, have +made obedience to the wishes of his family an easier thing than he +dreamed of; but he knew something of the world, and had, more than once, +searched the female hearts that came in his way, for the gratification +of vanity alone. He read the one before him on the instant. + +"The man you speak of is without these advantages," he said. "I +understand--they are a wall between you and him." + +"No. This morning my grandmother told me that I was to be her heiress; +but I entreated her to take time. Before she decides, I wish her to +judge of this man as he is, without prejudice or favor. Then she shall +know all, and if she is willing to endow us with her wealth, there never +was so grateful a girl as I shall be; but, if not, I will fall upon my +knees, kiss her dear old hand, thank her for what she has done, and go +away to America, where a man's talents and energies can work out +something that will answer very well for a patent of nobility." + +"And you will carry this out? give up the title?" + +"The title! Ah, that may be of value in America," answered Clara, with a +laugh full of good-natured scorn; "those things, they tell me, are at a +premium out yonder." + +"Brave girl! You shame me by this generous energy." + +"Shame you? not at all; only I happen to know that there is something +worth living for besides the things we hold so precious. A man, brave +enough to work out his own career, has taught me that real greatness is +not always hereditary. Ah! if you could only think so, too, Lord +Hilton, you would understand that there is nothing on earth so sweet as +the love for which we make sacrifices." + +"What a strange girl you are, Lady Clara! Up to this time you have +seemed to me only a very pretty and very capricious child--a charming +child, truly, but--" + +"There it is again," cried the girl falling back into her natural +manner; "everybody will insist on treating me like a child. Oh! how I +wish I was a little taller, like--like Caroline!" + +Lord Hilton started, and a flood of recollections came back upon +him--that soft Italian sky, a flight of vine-draped terraces, and, on +the steps, that tall, beautiful girl watching for him. In this picture +he forgot Olympia and everything that had repulsed him. + +"I shall never think of you as a child again, but as her friend--her +earnest, kind, noble friend!" + +"And so I am. Oh! if I were a man, and loved her--" + +"Well, what would you do in my place, supposing yourself a man, Lady +Clara?" + +"This is what I would do: The old gentleman over yonder has a generous +heart, I dare say. I would first make my peace with that noble girl. It +would not be easy, I can tell you, for she is proud as an empress; but +she would be forgiving in the end, and for that I should adore her. Then +I would take her by the hand, lead her up to that kind old nobleman over +yonder--for I dare say, he is like my blessed grandmother, proud as +Lucifer and kind as an angel--and I would just tell him the truth, lay +the whole case before him, and either take his blessing on two bowed +heads, or throw down my title, gather up all that honorably belonged to +me, and carry my youth, my knowledge, and my energies into a country +where no man would question whether my wife had Olympia's blood in her +veins or not. This is what I would do, Lord Hilton." + +"Lady Clara, I thank you." + +Lord Hilton reached out his hand, smiling, but there was moisture in his +eyes. + +"And you will do it?" + +"First, Lady Clara, I must have her forgiveness for doubting her--for +being a coward. Where is she now? Can you tell me?" + +"Ill, very ill, battling breathlessly with that woman, who still +persists on her reappearance. You can save her from it. Will you?" + +"No wonder you ask the question, Lady Clara, I have not deserved great +confidence. But one thing; these are strange confessions that we have +made to each other; let them rest inviolate between us. We shall be +friends. Let the world think us more, if it likes." + +"With all my heart. And now, good-by. I am going back to the castle." + +When Clara reached the castle she found a letter waiting for her. It was +from Margaret, who was still in London, at Olympia's house. + +Clara read this letter with a very thoughtful face, and went at once to +Lady Carset's room, with the letter in her pocket and painful anxiety in +her heart. + +Lady Carset had come out of her sleep, wonderfully refreshed and +cheerful. + +The effort which she had so generously made to make atonement for what +she considered the one mistake of her life, gave to her own heart a +feeling of exquisite rest. The company of her grandchild also had let a +whole burst of sunshine into that princely old castle, and its mistress +seemed to have grown young in its warmth and brightness. She had been +thinking of the girl ever since the sleep left her eyelids, and now, +when she came in, with her sweet face clouded, the idea that had been +floating in her brain took form. + +"You seem troubled, Clara," she said. "Did the great, wandering old park +frighten you with its loneliness? Sit down, darling, and we will talk of +something I have just been thinking of." + +Clara sat down on the foot of the couch, and taking the small feet of +her grandmother into her lap, began to smooth and caress them with her +hand. + +"I am an old, old woman, my darling, and not over strong, so it is +impossible for me to make a companion to you." + +"Oh, but I love you so much!" + +"I know, dear; but would you not like a companion of your own age--some +nice young lady, who could go with you into the park, share the pretty +phaeton, and help drive the ponies I have ordered for you, when I am +taking my rest here?" + +"Oh, grandmamma, who told you what was in my mind? how could you have +guessed it? Can I--may I? Grandmamma, I know the very person!" + +"She must be well-educated and well-bred." + +"She is a lady about my age, but handsomer." + +"I will not believe that, Clara," said the old lady, smiling. + +"But she is--taller, more queenly. You will like her so much! Besides, +she is in such trouble. I will tell you all about it, grandmamma." + +Then Lady Clara told Caroline's story; how she had been brought up by a +good man, believing herself his child, until he and his good wife died, +and, just as she grew into womanhood was claimed by the actress Olympia, +who was determined to force her upon the stage, from which she shrank +with a loathing that had made her ill. Lady Clara did not mention the +name of Daniel Yates, because it had made no impression upon her, if, +indeed, she had heard it; but she succeeded in interesting the old +countess, and it was decided that Caroline and the servant who had clung +to her so faithfully should be sent for. + +When Lady Clara left her grandmother's room, the face that had been so +clouded was radiant, for, after having all her anxieties swept away, as +it seemed by a miracle, she had ventured upon a positive request, which +made her breath come short as she made it. + +With some adroitness, and a talent that would have made her fortune on +the stage, she brought the subject round to Lady Hope, and from her to +the fact that she had an only brother, who had travelled in foreign +parts for years, but had just come back to England, and had been at +Oakhurst. + +The old lady listened with gentle attention, but did not divine Clara's +wishes by intuition as she had before. + +"He is mamma Rachael's only relative, and she loves him dearly," said +Clara. "I think she would always like to have him with her." + +Even this gentle hint did not arouse the old lady, who was falling back +into a pleasant lethargy, so common to aged persons. + +"You would like him yourself, grandmamma," continued Clara, getting +anxious; "he has seen so much, and talks so well; besides, he knows +everything about horses, and taught me so many things about managing +them." + +"Indeed!" said Lady Carset, arousing herself, for she had been a +splendid horsewoman in her time. "It would be a great comfort if we had +some one besides the groom to advise with about the ponies. Then, we +must have a couple of saddle horses for you and the American young lady. +Would this young gentleman--Is he young, Clara?" + +"Not very," answered Clara, blushing quietly, and drooping her head to +hide the fact, as the old lady took up her sentence again. + +"I suppose not. So, as your stepmother might be pleased, what objection +would there be to inviting this gentleman to the castle? When Lady Hope +comes, I would like to have as many of her friends here as possible. +Houghton will seem more like home to her. As for you, Clara, it will +always be your home, so we must try and make it pleasant. Write the +letter for me, child, and invite the gentleman here." + +It was this conversation that sent Lady Clara out of her grandmother's +room with that radiant face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER. + + +"Take your choice, young lady, take your choice! Either consent to have +your name on the bills for Monday night, or leave my house, bag and +baggage, one and all of you! Either obey me or go! I wash my hands of +the whole affair." + +Here Olympia rubbed one soft white hand over the other, and shook them +apart, as if she were already washing off the annoyance that proud girl +had given her. + +Caroline was deathly pale. She had grown thin and languid with the +illness that still hung about her. Around her enlarged eyes lay faint, +purplish shadows, that deepened their sad expression; but, with all her +weakness, a look of settled resolution lay on her face. + +"Be it so, then!" she said, with pathetic sadness. "If my own mother--" + +"Mother? Hush that! I don't believe a word of it! Brown may talk, and +swear that he never lost sight of you, but he needn't tell me! My +daughter! why don't you glory in the stage, then? Why don't you go down +on your knees and thank me for that voice? Don't dare to call me mother +till you can learn how to obey me!" + +"I cannot obey you in this. If you drive me out to perish in the street +I will not!" + +"Then into the street you go! Let Brown try his hand at earning a living +for you. It is more his duty than mine." + +Caroline turned a wild, wistful look on the woman as she said this; then +she moved a step toward her, and the tones of her voice, as they came +through her white lips, were mournful and stormy, like wind over snow. + +"What do you mean, madam? What is it that you insinuate?" + +"Only this," answered Olympia, with a malicious laugh. "As you are +resolved--as you never will be anything to me again, and are determined +to throw away all your advantages, I think the truth will bring down +your pride a little, and so mean to give it just for once. I really do +suppose that you are my daughter--else, where did you get the voice you +are giving to the wind? But, if you are, that man Brown is your father, +for he was my husband once." + +Caroline stood looking at the woman, white and still, her large eyes +widening, all her features in a tumult. Then she fell upon her knees, +covered her face with both hands, and cried out: + +"Oh, my God! is this good man my father? Are these the thrills of joy +that a child knows for its parent?" + +A man who had opened the door of Olympia's boudoir was arrested on the +threshold by these words. + +Olympia saw him and sank to a chair, laughing maliciously. + +"Ask him," she said, pointing to the man; "ask him. Don't look so +astonished, Brown. I have told her all about it, and you see how white +it has made her. She does not seem to relish you for a father much more +than she does the stage!" + +Caroline dashed the tears from her eyes, and arose, with a smile +breaking through the scattered moisture. + +"Not like him! He has always been kind, good, generous. I did not need +this to make me love him. Father, _my_ father! how many times I have +called you so, but this is real! Oh, God be thanked that you are my +father!" + +"Ask him how he intends to support you," broke in Olympia, washing her +hands over again in dumb show, and drawing in her breath till it hissed +through her white teeth, as if a snake had crept up from her bad heart. + +"I _will_ support her! God helping me, I will! Don't feel down-hearted, +my poor child. You shall not be ashamed of me. For your sake I will do +anything. I can go into an orchestra." + +"What! I ashamed of you, my father? Why, it gives us to each other. I +have something in this wide world to love!" + +Brown's eyes filled with tears. He was trembling violently. + +"Father, my dear father!" murmured Caroline, drawing close to him, with +a feeling that he was all the friend she had in the world, "do not look +so troubled. This gives me such joy that I cannot bear to see tears in +your eyes, my father." + +Brown did not speak; he had no power of voice, but stood, with her hands +in his, looking into her face in pathetic silence. + +Olympia arose. + +"It is a pretty scene, and well acted," she said; "but I am tired of +being sole audience. When you have settled upon anything, I shall have +the pleasure of bidding you farewell. I must go to rehearsal now. When I +come back, it will be convenient to have the house to myself. I give a +little supper this evening, and I remember you do not exactly approve of +my little suppers, and, for the world, would not shock the young lady! +Good morning, Caroline. Good morning, Brown. You see our pretty +experiment has failed, and we have got to part again. I think this time +will be forever!" + +Olympia swept out of the room and entered her carriage, looking like a +baffled fury. + +Then those two were left together, and for half an hour they sat, +looking at each other with sad, wistful eyes, talking of the past in +snatches, till slowly and sadly their minds turned to the future, and +that looked blank enough to them. What could they do? Olympia had never +been generous to her daughter or the agent. They had neither money nor +valuables. How were they to live, even for a week? + +"I can, perhaps, obtain a situation in some orchestra." + +Poor Brown spoke under his breath, for he knew well enough that Olympia +would never permit him to earn his bread in that way, so long as her +influence in the theatres could prevent it; but it was the only hopeful +idea he could think of, and so he suggested it with desponding +hesitation. But, to the young girl, there was encouragement even in +this. + +"And I can take pupils. You remember the young lady that came to me that +night in the dressing-room--Lord Hope's daughter?" + +"Remember her!" exclaimed Brown, brightening all over, "I should think +so! When she turned her face upon me and said, 'Don't be so anxious, +sir. She is better now,' I longed to fall down on my knees and worship +her!" + +Tears came into Caroline's eyes. Her nature was noble and full of +gratitude. She could endure wrong and cruelty without weeping, but +generous and kind actions melted her heart. + +"Ah, how good she was; we can trust her, my father." + +How falteringly, and with what pathos she used this grand old word now! +Before, she had done it in affectionate play, but now, a solemn feeling +of tenderness thrilled the syllables, as "father" dropped from her lips, +and made the heart swell in his bosom with a tremulous response. + +"She will speak to Lady Hope, and they will recommend pupils to us. Oh, +if we could only go back to Italy!" + +As this exclamation was on her lips, the servant in blue and silver came +through the door with a salver in his hand, on which lay a letter. The +seal and monogram had struck his eye, and he brought the missive in with +an excess of ceremony that would have been laughable at another time. He +brought the letter to Caroline. She tore it open, and an eager, almost +wild look of thankfulness swept over her face as she read it. + +"Oh, father, father! See what the good God has done for us!" + +The servant, who lingered in the room, was so astonished at hearing that +sacred name used with thanksgiving or reverence in Olympia's house, that +he dropped the silver tray and stood open-mouthed regarding the young +lady. + +"Read it! read it! Oh, this will be Heaven to us. Remark, please, you +are to come with me and Eliza. Let us start by the very next train." + +It was Lady Clara's letter, which, of course, contained an invitation +from the old countess. Clara had added a little hospitality of her own, +and suggested that Brown should come to Houghton for awhile, and give +her music lessons--she was getting so out of practice. As usual, the +girl had her way, and that letter was the result. But Brown's face grew +thoughtful as he read. + +"What is the matter?" inquired Caroline, anxiously. + +"But how are we to get there?" + +All the anxiety that made Brown's heart heavy under this good news, +broke out in these words. Caroline's face clouded, and her voice +faltered. + +"Let me call Eliza and Margaret; perhaps they can point out something." + +She rang the bell, and directly both the maids were informed of the +dilemma they were in. + +What was to be done? It was impossible to remain a day longer in +Olympia's house. The thought was intolerable. Margaret and Eliza stood +looking at each other in blank helplessness. What was to be done? All at +once Margaret gave her head a fling and brightened all over. + +"Never mind," she said, with one of her old coquettish gestures. "I may, +I may--who knows?" + +Without further explanation the girl went up-stairs, got out her most +becoming hat and feather--for she had never been restricted, like an +English servant, in such matters--wrapped a scarlet shawl over her +flounced dress, and, after practising a little before the mirror, came +down with a glittering parasol in her hand. + +"Eliza, just come here and see if my pannier is looped properly," she +said, giving that article a shake as she looked in at the door. + +Eliza came out of the room, grim as ever, and gave the pannier a +discontented jerk or two. + +"Now what are you up to?" she inquired, curtly, for she was sometimes a +little scandalized at her younger sister's coquettish airs. + +"Never you mind, only tell me one thing, honest. Look at me. Ain't I +about as good looking as I ever was? If I am, tell them to wait till I +come back." + +"Don't ask me!" was the curt answer. "Of course they'll wait, because +they can't help it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +MAGGIE CASEY MEETS HER OLD LOVER. + + +Margaret Casey called a cab, and ordering it to drive to Morley's, +Trafalgar Square, betook herself to rearranging her toilet. She +re-clasped a pair of heavy gold bracelets around her wrists--at any rate +there was enough of gold in them to make a dashing display--and settled +a splendid shawl pin to her own infinite content, then she shook out the +folds of her dress, and settled down to serious meditation. + +Certainly she did not appear much older than when her good looks had +been a temptation to Matthew Stacy, which came very near depriving +Harriet, the cook, of her pompous husband. Excitement had brought back +the youthful color to her face, and a spirit of benevolent mischief +kindled all the old coquettish fire in her eyes. Indeed, take her +altogether, the air of refinement, which she had obtained as a lady's +maid, and a certain style that she had, might well have made Mrs. +Matthew Stacy look about her when Margaret came out in force, such as +marked the dashing lady who descended from that cab, just lifting her +dress enough to reveal glimpses of a high-heeled boot, and an ankle +that Matthew Stacy recognized in an instant, for nothing so trim and +dainty had ever helped make a footprint in his matrimonial path, you may +be sure. He was standing on the steps at Morley's, with a white vest on +and his heavy chain glittering over it like a golden rivulet. + +"What! No! yes! On my soul I believe it _is_ Miss Maggie!" cried the +ex-alderman, stepping forward and reaching out his hand. "Miss Casey, I +am in ecstasies of--of--in short, I am glad to see you." + +Maggie bent till her pannier took the high Grecian curve as she opened +her parasol, then she gave him the tip end of her gloved fingers, and +said, with the sweetest lisp possible: + +"How do you do, Mr. Stacy? It is ages and ages since I have had the +honor of meeting you. How is Mrs. Stacy and the--and the--" + +"Thank you a thousand times, Miss Casey; but--but--in short, Mrs. Stacy +is the only person about whom you need inquire. There was +another--forgive the outburst of a father's feelings--but a little grave +in Greenwood, that long, tells the mournful story." + +Here Alderman Stacy measured off a half yard or so of space with his fat +hands, but found the effort too much for him, and drew forth his pocket +handkerchief. + +"Forgive me, but may you never know the feelings of a father who--who--" + +"How distressing!" said Margaret, waving her head to and fro, until her +eyes settled on a window of the hotel. + +"But do control yourself. I think that is Harriet--I beg pardon--Mrs. +Stacy, at the window, and your grief may remind her of her loss." + +"Mrs. Stacy! Mrs. Stacy!" faltered Matthew. "Miss Maggie, would you have +any objection to stepping a little this way? It is so unpleasant for a +young lady of your refinement to stand directly in front of a hotel +filled with gentlemen. Beauty like yours is sure to bring them to the +windows in swarms, as one may observe, and I--I have enough of the old +feeling left to be jealous, miserably jealous when any man dares to look +upon you." + +"But I come to call on your wife, Mr. Stacy." + +"She is not at home, I do assure you. She has been shopping since--since +day before yesterday." + +Margaret's eyes twinkled. + +"Then, perhaps, I had better go up, and wait for her?" + +Margaret was bright, but even here her old lover proved equal to the +occasion. + +"My dear Maggie--excuse me, Miss Casey--I do assure you my lady has +taken the parlor-key with her. She will be so disappointed at not seeing +you!" + +"It is unfortunate," said Maggie, playing with her parasol; "because I +was in hopes of having a few words with you, and that would be improper, +I fear, without her." + +"My dear Miss Maggie, not at all--not at all. You have no idea of the +quantities of women that prefer to see me alone. Indeed, sometimes I +think Mrs. Stacy is a little in the way. Just walk quietly along, +miss--not before the windows. Excuse my infirmity, but there are some +feelings that one never can throw off. Hold that elegant parasol before +that lovely face, and I will be with you in a twinkling. The park is not +far off. One moment, while I run up for my cane." + +Margaret allowed herself to be persuaded, for the last thing in her mind +had been to see Mrs. Stacy. Like those other ladies Matthew had boasted +of, she very much preferred to see him alone, and would have been +greatly annoyed had Harriet, in fact, appeared at the window. + +So, making a merit of her own wishes, she slanted her parasol toward the +house and sauntered down the street, while Matthew ran up-stairs, +panting for breath, and, entering his parlor, looked anxiously toward +the window. + +"Matthew, dear, is that you?" + +Matthew's foreboding heart revived. That mumbling term of endearment, +coming, as it were, through a mouthful of cotton wool, reassured him. He +stepped to the sleeping-room door, and found Mrs. Stacy, with her head +buried in the pillows and her feet thumping restlessly on the quilt. + +"What is the matter, my love?" + +"Oh, Stacy, dear, such a sudden take-down! My old neuralgia. Matthew! +Matthew! don't leave me! I feel as if I was just a goin'!" + +"Oh, nonsense, dear. All you want is plenty of quiet. A good, long sleep +would bring you around in no time. Just snuggle down in the pillows, and +take yourself off to sleep till I come back." + +"Are you going? and me like this? Oh, Matthew!" + +"You can't feel it more than I do, Harriet, dear; but I must go down to +the bankers with this bill of exchange. Ten thousand dollars isn't to be +carried round in a man's pocket safely. Besides, there is a special +messenger just come up from the bank; so I must go, you see. But it +breaks my heart to leave you so--indeed it does!" + +"Oh, if it's about money, I do not mind. That is a thing which must be +attended to. But Stacy, dear, don't let them keep you long; but go at +onst, and right back." + +"The moment those rich old fellows will let me off--the very moment, +dear!" cried the model husband, waving his hand airily toward the bed, +and taking up both hat and cane; "so try and sleep." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +JUST FIFTY POUNDS. + + +Mrs. Stacy, thus reminded of her own needs, began to moan softly among +her pillows, and called out to the walls and windows that she wished, if +that pain was going to keep on so, that she never had been born. If it +wasn't that she had the very best husband that ever drew breath, she +would just give up, and want to die; but for his sake she would try and +worry through. + +Stacy was far out of reach both of the moans and this conjugal tribute +to his goodness, for he had hastened to join that bank messenger who, +somehow, took the form of his old sweetheart, and shaded him now and +then with a coquettish bend of her parasol. + +"Found your cane," observed Maggie, glancing at the ponderous +gold-headed affair in the hand of her old lover. + +"Oh, yes; no trouble; had just stood it up in a corner of the parlor." + +Maggie laughed a little under the cover of her parasol, but kept a +discreet silence about the locked door until she was snugly seated in +the park, with Stacy crowded close to her side. + +"Ah," he said, heaving a sigh that lifted the white vest like a +snow-bank, "this is something like happiness! If you could only know +what your haughtiness has driven me to--but it is no use trying to make +you understand! Look at me, Miss Maggie! _Am_ I the same man that adored +you so? Don't answer. I am, I am, for--Harriet, forgive me, I love you +yet--I love you yet!" + +"But you left me, Mr. Stacy." + +"Rather say the furies driv me. I wasn't myself. It was another fellow +that woman married: the true man staid with you, and here he is, just +the same as ever, if you would only believe it--but you won't, you +won't!" + +"How can I believe it, Mr. Stacy, after abandoning me so?" + +"But not till you driv me to it--not till you had slapped my face with +that precious little hand." + +"Mr. Stacy, I--I'm glad you care for me a little, because I want a great +favor of you." + +Stacy sat upright in the iron seat, and pulled down his white vest with +a couple of jerks. + +"A favor, did you say?" + +"Yes, a great favor." + +"And what may its nature be, Miss Maggie?" + +"Mr. Stacy, you are a rich man." + +Stacy was troubled. To deny his wealth was a terrible sacrifice of +vanity--to admit it might be exposing himself to depredation. + +"Well, yes," he said at last, "I am rich. No one in New York would doubt +that; but over here one has such trouble in getting funds, you +understand. It was only this morning Mrs. Stacy wanted money for a +little shopping, as she called it; but I couldn't give it to her--upon +my soul I couldn't." + +"Then, it would be of no use to ask you for a loan of twenty-five +pounds, as I thought of doing." + +"A loan of twenty-five pounds, my dear Maggie! Five hundred pounds would +not be too much, if I were only in New York; but here in London, where +Alderman Stacy is not known, I could not raise even the miserable sum +you want--I could not, indeed." + +Maggie's eyes began to flash, for she understood the meanness of this +man, and despised it; but she thought of that anxious group in Olympia's +parlor, and resolved to have the money. + +"Still, considering everything, I think you will try to oblige me." + +"Don't ask me. It wounds my manhood to refuse; but let us talk of +something else--those dear old times--" + +"No," said Margaret, unlocking one of her bracelets, and closing it with +a vicious snap. "If you cannot let me have it, I will go to your wife." + +"My wife? You go to my wife! Why, she hates you like pison!" + +"And I am not very fond of her; but I want this money, and she will have +to give it me." + +Stacy pulled down his vest again, and broke into a mellow laugh. + +"Well, I _should_ like to see you try it on! What would you say to her, +Maggie?" + +"I would say: Mrs. Matthew Stacy, you and I were fellow-servants +together in New York, where the lady was murdered; and for some days, +you and I, and the person you have married, were left in charge of all +the valuable property that house had in it. One of those nights I went +away, leaving everything in its place. When I came back again the +wardrobes had been plundered, the bureaus broken open, the wine-cellar +pillaged." + +Matthew Stacy had been growing crimson while Maggie spoke. He put up a +hand to his throat, as if something were choking him, and tore open a +button or two of his vest; then he gasped out: + +"Miss Maggie, Miss Maggie, do you mean to insinuate that I or my wife +Harriet--" + +"I don't mean to insinuate anything, because what I say I know. You and +your wife took these things. I knew it at the time; I can prove it now." + +"Prove it fourteen years after?" + +"Some things do not wear out--jewelry and India shawls, for instance. I +was at the Opera not long since. My sister, who used to come and visit +me so often, is a little in that line, and I used to show her all the +shawls and splendid dresses our mistress used to have. Well, that night +at the Opera we both saw your wife, sitting by you, with the best shawl +the madam had, on her own shoulders. We knew it at a glimpse. There +isn't another just like it to be found in England or America. That +shawl, Matthew Stacy, is worth thousands of dollars, and your wife, +Harriet Long, the cook, was wearing it." + +"Margaret! Margaret Casey, you had better take care." + +"I have taken care. This woman had a gold-mounted opera-glass in her +hand that we both can swear to. Besides that, she had a little watch at +her side, set thick with diamonds. That watch she took to a jeweller to +be mended. It is in his hands yet. When I leave this seat, it will be my +first business to make sure that she never gets the watch again." + +"But it is fourteen years--time enough for anything to be outlawed." + +"I have asked about that. Crimes are not like debts--they cannot be +outlawed, Mr. Stacy." + +"And you could find it in your heart to hunt down an old sweetheart like +that, providing all you say is true? I wouldn't a believed it of you, +Maggie." + +"It seems to me that sweetheart just now refused to lend me twenty-five +pounds." + +"Refused! No, he did not refuse." + +Matthew caught his breath, and changed his wheedling tone all at once. A +new idea had struck him. + +"But, supposing what you say is true, there isn't any one in England to +prosecute--" + +"Yes, there is the lady's agent. He sat by you when we first saw the +shawl. Mr. Hepworth Closs." + +Matthew Stacy sprang to his feet, perfectly aghast. + +"And you have told him?" + +"Not yet; but I mean to!" + +"You mean to--" + +"Yes, I do!" + +"That is it--that is it--the self-same cretur that left the print of her +fingers on my cheek, and of herself on my heart. It is her who wishes to +cast me to the earth, and have me stamped on by the law. Oh, Maggie +Casey, Maggie Casey, I wouldn't have believed it of you!" + +"And I wouldn't have believed you capable of refusing me fifty pounds!" + +"Fifty pounds! It was twenty-five, Miss Margaret." + +"Yes; but I've changed my mind. One does not want to be refused a +miserable sum like that. I've doubled it." + +"But I did not refuse; I only wanted to put the subject off till we had +talked of old times--I didn't refuse you by any manner of means. You +hadn't told me anything about yourself--how you came here, and what you +were doing, or anything that an old lover's heart was panting to know." + +"Well, I will tell you now. I have been, ever since that time, in the +family of a nobleman, as a sort of half servant, half companion to his +daughter." + +"You don't say so! Then what on earth can you want of twenty-five +pounds?" + +"Fifty." + +"Well, fifty it is, then. Between us, that was all I hesitated about; +twenty-five pounds was such a pitiful sum for you to ask of me. You +didn't understand this noble feeling, and almost threatened me; but not +quite, and I'm glad of it, for Matthew Stacy is the last man on earth to +give up to a threat. I hope you will believe that, Miss Margaret." + +"Fifty pounds!" said Margaret, lifting a tuft of grass by the roots with +the point of her parasol. + +"Did I dispute its being fifty? Certainly not. Now just say how you will +take it--in gold or Bank of England notes?" + +"Notes will do." + +"I'm glad you said that, because I happen to have the notes about me," +answered the alderman, drawing out a plethoric note-case, and counting +the money with terrible reluctance. "Here we are; just the sum. Now tell +me, were you really in earnest about its being fifty?" + +"Just fifty," answered Margaret, counting the money on her lap; "just +fifty." + +Matthew heaved a grievous sigh, and stood up. + +"Now I suppose that little affair is settled forever?" he said, working +both hands about the head of his cane, while he eyed the girl askance. + +"I said fifty pounds, and fifty pounds it is," answered Margaret. "Now +let us be going." + +"But you mean to act fair?" + +"I mean to act fair, and return your money." + +"Oh, I don't mean that, I don't want that! It was the other affair; you +could not do anything so cruel." + +Margaret turned short round and faced the stout man, who was trembling, +abjectly, from head to foot. + +"Mr. Stacy, I have kept silent fifteen years and rather over. If I have +not spoken before, you may be certain I never shall. I wanted this money +very much, indeed, and shall repay it with less thankfulness because of +the mean way in which I forced it from you. Your wife may wear her shawl +and watch to the end, for any harm I mean her. Good morning, Mr. Stacy." + +Stacy stood just as she left him, thrusting his cane into the turf. + +"And she wouldn't have done it after all. What a confounded fool I have +made of myself! Two hundred and fifty dollars, and gold up to one-forty +at home, which makes another clean hundred. What a mercy it is she +didn't ask a thousand, though! She took the starch out of me, through +and through. I should have handed over anything she asked." + +As Stacy was walking from the park, now and then giving a punch to the +turf with his cane, in discontented abstraction, he nearly ran against a +man who had just passed the gate, and, looking up angrily, saw Hepworth +Closs. The poor craven turned white as he saw that face; but Hepworth +was in haste, and took no heed of his agitation. + +"You are just the man I most wanted," he said. + +"What--what--me? Is it me you wanted?" stammered Stacy, smitten with +abject terror. + +"Yes; you are an American, and will understand the value of American +bonds." + +"American bonds! Surely, Mr. Closs, you will at least give me a chance +of bail? I tell you it is all false! That creature isn't to be believed +under oath." + +"I have no idea what you mean," said Closs, a good deal puzzled; "but +you evidently do not understand me. I am about to leave England, and +have a monied trust to settle before I go. There is a reason why it is +inexpedient for me to act in person. I wish to pay the money, but give +no explanation. Will you act as my agent in this?" + +"Is--is it--that estate you are just settling up?" asked Stacy, below +his breath, for he felt as if the earth were about to swallow him. "Is +it that?" + +"I can give you no explanation. This money came into my hands years ago. +I invested it carefully--doubled it over and over again; but now I wish +to give up my trust. I have it here in American bonds, fifty thousand +dollars." + +"Fifty thousand!" + +"Just that. I wish you to take this to the young lady, to whom it +rightfully belongs, and place it in her own hands, with the simple +statement that it is hers. Will you oblige me in this?" + +"First tell me who the young lady is." + +"Lady Clara, the daughter of Lord Hope, of Oakhurst." + +"The daughter of a lord! My dear sir, I shall be too happy!" + +"But there is a condition. I do not wish the lady to guess where this +money comes from. You must be understood as the agent, who has invested +and increased it from a small property left in New York by a relative. +This will work you no harm, but, on the contrary, win for you favor and +gratitude from as noble a lady as ever lived." + +"Will it get an invitation to Oakhurst for myself and Mrs. Stacy? That +is a thing I should like to mention incidentally, to the Board of +Aldermen when they give me a public reception in the Governor's Room. +Will it bring about something of that kind?" + +"That I cannot tell. The young lady is not now at Oakhurst, but with her +grandmother, at Houghton Castle. It is there you will find her." + +"Houghton Castle! Why, that's the place I saw mentioned in the Court +Journal. There is to be tremendous doings at Houghton Castle before +long; a grand entertainment, to which all the grandees, far and near, +are invited. What if this fifty thousand dollars should get me and Mrs. +S. an invite? That would be a crusher." + +"It is possible," said Closs, controlling the fierce beating of his +heart. "Come to my hotel in the morning, early. I am anxious to get this +trust off my mind." + +Stacy promised, and the two men parted, the one elated, the other +doubtful, harassed, and painfully disappointed; but the very next day +after Matthew Stacy left London for Houghton, Hepworth Closs received a +letter, which put all ideas of a voyage to America out of his mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +OLYMPIA'S DEFEAT. + + +Olympia stood, panic-stricken, in her fantastic little boudoir, when she +reached home and found a note from Caroline, bidding her farewell, and +stating that, not being able to comply with her wishes, she had accepted +the other alternative, and left her house forever, in company with her +father and the old servant, who had been so faithful to her. The note +breathed of sadness and sorrow at the manner of her leaving, and, if +firm, was entirely respectful; but it said nothing of her plans, nor +told where she was going. + +Now, Olympia thought that she had provided against the possibility of a +choice between her cruel commands, by depriving both Caroline and her +father of all means by which they could leave her. She had gone out, +certain of the girl's forced submission, and came back to find her gone. +She crushed the note in her hand, flung it down and stamped upon it +furiously; for it seemed as if half a million of gold had melted down +into the bit of paper, which she could only trample under her feet in +impotent wrath. + +"The viper! the ingrate! the thing made of iron! Oh, if it were her! if +it were her! I would trample her through the floor! Where did she get +the money? He had nothing--she had nothing. I thought I had chained them +to me by their poverty; then I came home, so exhilarated by this great +offer from the manager--and she is gone! So beautiful! and such a voice! +Gone! gone! Oh, what a loss!" + +Here Olympia, who had never known what self-control was, flung herself +on a low, silken couch, heaped with cushions, like a divan, and began to +pound them with her little fists, and spurn them with the soiled white +satin slippers, in which she had been to rehearsal. This burst of +hysterical fury would have brought down the house had she plunged into +such naturalness on the stage. But she started up, and after snatching a +mosaic card-receiver from her footman, and dashing it against a marble +statuette of Venus coming from the bath, thus demolishing what little +drapery the poor thing was trying to make the most of, came partially to +herself and demanded what the fellow wanted. + +The footman, shivering under his blue and silver, pointed to a card +which lay on the carpet. + +"Why don't you pick it up?" cried Olympia, stamping her satin slipper +into a cluster of roses, that seemed to disappear from the carpet. + +The man took up the card and handed it to her, with a reverence so +humble that she longed to trample him down with the mock roses, and get +him out of her sight; but, as he towered above her a foot or two, the +process seemed difficult, so she ordered him out of the room, and looked +at the card. + +"Lord Hilton! Dear me!" + +Olympia made a dash through the silken curtains, ran into the hall, just +as Lord Hilton was leaving the door-step, and called him back. + +He followed her into the boudoir, telling her the reason of his visit as +he went. + +This inflamed her anew, and she turned upon him savagely, but with some +attempt at self-restraint. + +"You wished to see Caroline? the ingrate! the viper! the raven with a +nightingale's voice! You wish to see her? Why? This is singular. I +thought she was a stranger to you. No! Then, where did you meet?" + +"I have seen the young lady frequently in Italy. Will you please to have +her informed that I am here?" + +"Informed--I! Well, my lord, this is droll! No such person is in my +house. I could no longer tolerate her. She is gone." + +"What! Your daughter?" + +"My daughter! Did I ever say that? Ah, I remember--it was after one of +our little suppers, when one gets liberal! But this ingrate was no +daughter of mine, but my protege--something to fasten the heart on, as +one loves a Skye terrier. Her father was a poor man--very poor, almost +degraded, you understand--so, in my unfortunate munificence, I lifted +her out of her poverty, gave her some of my own genius, and took her to +my bosom, as Cleopatra took the asp; and she stung me, just in the same +way, villainous ingrate! This girl has treated me shamefully. I had made +_such_ an engagement for her--such concessions--carriage for herself, +dressing-maid always in attendance, a boudoir for her retirement, +private box, everything that a princess might ask; bills almost made +out, and when I come home, she is gone. Read that note, my lord; it lies +there at your feet. Read it, and tell me if you ever heard of such base +ingratitude." + +Lord Hilton took up the crumpled and trodden paper. His eyes eagerly ran +over its contents, and brightened as they read; while Olympia prowled +around her boudoir, like a newly-caged leopardess. + +"Read! read!" she said, "and then say if anything so ungrateful ever +lived. No, no, my lord, she is no child of mine. I wash my hands of +her--I wash my hands of her!" + +Here Olympia laved her white hands in the air, and went through a +process of dry washing in the heat of her promenade up and down the +room. + +"And have you no idea where the young lady has gone?" + +"An idea! How should I have ideas? You have read her letter. Well, that +is all." + +Lord Hilton folded the note, and softly closed his hand over it. + +"Then I will no longer trouble you, madam," he said, holding back the +curtain, while he bowed himself through the entrance. + +Olympia watched the crimson curtains close over him, standing, with some +effort at self-control, in the middle of the room. Then she broke into a +fresh paroxysm, shattered a few more ornaments by way of appeasing her +appetite for destruction, and plunged down among her cushions in a fit +of shrieking hysterics that brought the whole household around her. + +A knock at the door--another visitor--brought Olympia out of her fit, +and turned her general rage into spite. + +"Show them in--show everybody in! If they want to see how I bear it, let +the whole world come!" she cried, spreading her hands abroad. + +The man who went to the door obeyed her, and brought in an old woman, +whose anxious, tired face might have won sympathy from a stone. She +entered that glittering room without excitement or any appearance of +curiosity, and when Olympia, in coarse and spiteful irony, bade her sit +down in one of the easy-chairs, she took it quietly. + +"There is a young lady staying with you, madam, that I wish to see. I +think she is known by the name of Brown." + +"Brown? Brown? There is no such person here. How dare you come troubling +me about her, the ingrate, the asp, the--the--" + +"It may be that the young lady may still be called Yates. She bore that +name once." + +"Yates? Brown? Brown? Yates? I know nothing about them. Don't go on in +that fashion, questioning; for I won't hear it! Who are you that dares +come here with such names? I do not keep a lodging-house. I am Olympia!" + +"But there was a young lady here--the one I wish to see," said the old +woman, with calm persistence. + +"Well, and if there was?" + +"I have very urgent reasons for wishing to find her." + +"Well, perhaps you will, who knows? Needles have been found in haymows, +but I wasn't the person to pick them up, and it strikes me that you +won't be more fortunate." + +"But I must see this lady!" + +"If you can find her, certainly; but she is not here, and never is +likely to be again--the wretch--the viper!" + +"When did she leave here, madam?" + +"When--when? What is that to you? Am I come to the pass that I cannot +turn a viper into the street without being questioned by every old tramp +that prowls about? I tell you the creature you call Brown--" + +"Caroline Brown," said the old lady, gently. + +"Well, the creature you call Caroline Brown, then, has gone from my +house forever. I neither know nor care what has become of her." + +The old woman arose, and walked close to Olympia. + +"You have forgotten me, Olive Brown. It is a long time since you brought +that helpless little child to me." + +Olympia turned white, and, turning, fiercely ordered the servants from +the room. + +"Who are you? What are you?" she faltered. "What tempted you to call me +by that name, and they standing by?" + +"I am named Yates. Years ago you brought a child for me to care for." + +"Oh, it is the child again! I tell you, on my honor, she has left my +house, I do not know where she has gone." + +"Are you certain, madam?" + +"Certain! Yes--yes. She left my house only this morning." + +"Then I will go in search of her. Will this never end?" sighed Hannah +Yates. + +"Stop! stop!" cried Olympia. "Promise to say nothing of that name. +Promise!" + +"I am only wanting to find the young lady--not to harm any one." + +"But it would harm me if you told that. Brown! Brown! Think of Brown for +a stage name! Can't you understand that it would be death to me? Half my +popularity lies in the fact that no one can tell who or what I am. Now, +do be silent, that is a good old soul, if it is only for _her_ sake; for +you know, in spite of the way she has served me, everything I have or +make will go to my child in the end. I am ready to make it worth your +while to be quiet." + +Here Olympia took out a portemonnaie and unclasped it. The old woman put +the glittering thing aside with her hand. + +"I do not take money," she said. "All I want is to find her. If she is +gone, I must search farther." + +Then, with a meek bend of the head, Mrs. Yates left the room and the +house. + + * * * * * + +Lord Hilton went out of that house, relieved by the denial of Olympia +that Caroline was her daughter, but in other respects cruelly +disappointed. The greatest and most generous wish of his life was to +find the young girl, and atone for the cowardice which had made him +avoid her for a time. He had resolved that the fact that she was +Olympia's child should not prevent him acting this manly part; but when +that degradation was lifted from her by the woman's own words, his heart +was set free from an intolerable weight, and went back to its old love +with a happy rebound. He remained in London some days, spending the time +in vain efforts to learn something of the beautiful fugitive, and then +started back to the neighborhood of Houghton Castle, bitterly +disappointed. + +For some distance, after he entered the railroad carriage, Lord Hilton +was alone; but at the junction, where he had formerly met Lady Clara and +her maid, a gentleman and lady entered the carriage, and sat down +opposite him. There was something singular about the lady; her large, +black eyes illumined the whole face with a glow of proud triumph that +seemed to have uplifted her whole being. It was this brilliant seeming +of happiness which at first baffled Lord Hilton; for after the lady had +been seated awhile, she probably began to feel the restraints of a +stranger's presence, for a fit of thoughtful lassitude crept over her, +and her eyelids began to droop. + +He remembered the face, now. One night he had seen it at the opera, +leaning against the crimson lining of the box, paler by far than now; +but the beautiful outlines were the same, though that face had been +still and passive, while this was irradiated even in its rest. + +Turning his face from the lady, Lord Hilton encountered a face that he +knew in the tall and distinguished-looking man who accompanied her. + +"Lord Hope, this is a pleasure," he said, holding out his hand. "The +last I heard of you was in Scotland." + +"Yes, we found the shooting good, and staid longer than usual; but I +fancied you were down at the old place." + +"And so I was, but these railways send a man from one end of the +universe to another so rapidly that one does not know where to date +from. I have been up to London for a day or two, and am on my way back +again." + +Here Lady Hope lifted her slumberous eyelids, and was introduced. + +The sweet, alluring smile that we have seen on the face of Rachael Closs +had come back to it now. + +"I should almost have known Lord Hilton," she said, "from Lady Clara's +description. She was indeed fortunate in chancing upon you for a +travelling companion." + +"I have that great kindness to thank you for, Hilton," said Lord Hope. +"Clara's letters were full of your adventures on the road and at +Houghton. I did not know that you had left the neighborhood, though." + +"I think myself more than fortunate," said Hilton, addressing Lady Hope, +"in having the honor of introducing two such ladies to the castle, for I +take it you are going to Houghton." + +"Oh, yes, of course; it was impossible to refuse Lady Carset. We shall +be at the castle some time, I am glad to say." + +How her magnificent eyes flashed. The very bend of her head was regal, +as she thus announced a triumph she had been toiling for ever since she +had become Lord Hope's wife. + +The scorn of that old woman at Houghton, had been the bane of her +existence. Like an interdict of the Pope in olden times, it had kept her +apart from the people of her own rank, as an excommunication would have +done in past ages. But all this was removed. As it would seem by a +miracle, the bitter prejudices of that old lady had given way, and +through the broad doors of Houghton Castle, she was invited to take her +place among the peeresses of the land. + +This had brought back the fire and bloom into Lady Hope's life, and when +Lord Hilton leaned out, as he had done with Lady Clara, and exclaimed, +"There is Houghton," a glorious smile broke over her features. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +THE FAMILY MEETING AT HOUGHTON. + + +The train which took Caroline and her party down to Houghton, reached +their destination just as the sun was setting over the glorious old +trees of the park, and trembling in golden brightness in the ivy that +clung to those twin towers. + +Scarcely had they left the train, when a basket-carriage came dashing up +to the platform, and a young lady sprang out, tossing her reins to a +dainty little tiger, who sat behind, erect and decorous, knowing himself +to be an object of general attention. + +"So you are really here. I am so glad to find you! All right, this +way--jump in; don't be afraid, the ponies are gentle as gentle can be. +Here we are, never mind the others. There is a carriage on the way for +them; but, of course, I got here first; always do. Give me the reins, +Joe--now for it." + +The little carriage wheeled around, and Lady Clara looked back, nodding +to Brown, as her ponies took the road in full speed. + +"Nice old fellow, isn't he? I am so glad to get him here, for I am going +back on my music terribly." + +"Did you know he is my father?" said Caroline, in a gentle voice. + +"No!" + +"He is, indeed. I never learned it till yesterday; but it does not seem +strange, for no father was ever more gentle or kind than he has been +since the first day I knew him." + +"And Olympia--she is your mother, no doubt?" + +"Yes; she is my mother." + +"All right, we needn't talk of her! it isn't of the least consequence. +You must not speak so sadly. I dare say she is a good enough person; but +you don't know how to manage her. For my part, I rather like her; but +the old gentleman is just lovely! I am glad he _is_ your father; because +he can take care of us so properly, and grandmamma will like it, I know. +I have got you a chamber next to mine. Our dressing-rooms open into each +other, and they are both near grandmamma's apartments. Dear old lady, +she is just the kindest, sweetest, loveliest mite of a woman you ever +saw; like a darling old fairy. Won't you love her?" + +They drove along now for some distance in silence; but as they mounted +to the uplands, where Houghton stood, Caroline began to take a lively +interest in the scenery, which was both grand and beautiful in that +region. Away toward the horizon, at the upper end of the valley, was +some large building, whose gray walls and oriel windows were just now +burning in the golden fires of a magnificent sunset. + +"What place is that?" said Clara, repeating the question her companion +had asked, "Oh, that is Keath Hall, and may some day belong to Lord +Hilton, a friend of ours." + +Caroline felt her breath taken away, she had no power to speak, while +Lady Clara sat smiling pleasantly to herself. The poor girl felt like +springing out of the carriage, and fleeing to the uttermost parts of the +earth, rather than be in the neighborhood with a man who had scorned her +so. + +"Lord Hilton is not there now," said Clara, with the innocent quietness +of a kitten; "something has taken him to London or Italy, I believe; but +he is very pleasant, and I like him well enough to be sorry about his +going." + +Caroline breathed again; but her face was very sorrowful and her heart +heavy, during the rest of the drive. + +The size and splendor of that vast building almost terrified the girl, +who had been brought up in that little cedar cottage. She gave no +indication of this in her manner, but walked by the side of her friend +through that spacious hall, with its bronze statues, suits of armor and +bossed shields, as if no meaner roof had ever sheltered her. + +"Come," said Clara, as the young traveller took off her tiny hat, and +began to smooth the hair back from her temples. "I am so impatient to +have grandmamma see you. That will do--that will do. Come, now." + +The two girls went out together, Clara leading the way, and directly +stood in the dim light of Lady Carset's chamber. + +"Grandmamma, I have brought my friend to pay her respects," said Clara; +"only to pay her respects, for, of course, she is famished; but I felt +how glad you would be, and brought her directly up here." + +The old countess arose from her chair, and came forward holding out her +hand. She did, indeed, seem like a fairy godmother, with that soft lace +quivering over her snow-white hair, and those great diamonds blazing on +her tiny hands. + +"I am glad to see you, Miss--Miss--" + +"Miss Brown, grandmamma." + +"Oh, indeed! well, I am very glad to welcome you, Miss Brown. They tell +me you have a fine voice. I should like to hear it some day, when you +are not tired." + +"If my voice will give you pleasure, lady, I shall, for the first time +in my life, be grateful for it," said Caroline, so impressed by this +sweet old lady's kindness, that she longed to throw both arms about her. + +"What, what? I did not hear distinctly. Oh, it is the voice they tell me +of, which thrills the heart with its sweetness; was not that what you +said of it, Clara? No wonder people like it. I do." + +The old lady still held Caroline's hand--her delicate fingers clung to +it, with the loving tenacity of a child. She looked up to the beautiful +face with eager, wistful curiosity; but the light always came dimly into +that chamber, and its rich draperies of lace and brocade threw their +shadows over Caroline; besides, those old eyes were dim with age, or she +might have been troubled that such dangerous beauty should come into her +house in the form of a dependant. As it was, she allowed the two girls +to depart, without dreaming that a more beautiful woman than her +grandchild had almost been put upon a level with her. + +Two or three days after this, Lord and Lady Hope arrived at the castle, +and the old countess, for the first time, saw the woman who wore the +coronet which had once belonged to her child. It was beautiful to see +that proud lady--for now you could decide that she had been very +proud--preparing herself to receive this woman, whom she had hated and +wronged so grievously. She stood up in her tower-room when Rachael +entered it, her black satin dress trailing far out upon the floor, the +yellow old lace fastened over her bosom with a cluster of diamonds, and +a handkerchief of delicate lace in her hand. + +There was a little more motion of the head than usual, and that was all +the evidence she gave of extraordinary emotion. + +Lady Hope came to the door, leaning on the arm of her husband; but, on +the threshold, she abandoned his support, and came forward by his side, +apparently calm and self-possessed; but a proud fire shone in those +black eyes, which would not be quenched. + +"I have sent for you, Lady Hope, because I thought that the most open +and honorable way of acknowledging the wrong I have done you, and of +asking your forgiveness." + +The old countess folded her arms over her bosom, and bent, in her proud +humility, before that beautiful woman whom she could never, never love. + +Rachael Closs forced back the triumph that swelled haughtily in her +bosom, for the old lady's acknowledgment fired her heart like burning +incense; but she bowed her head, as if she had committed the fault, and +turning to her husband, appealed to him: + +"I cannot--I have no language in which to say how this kindness +overwhelms me. Pray tell her from this hour I forget that she has not +always thought so kindly of me as I have deserved." + +Lord Hope was greatly agitated. The keen eyes of that old lady, as they +turned upon his face, troubled him. His very lips were white as he +attempted to open them, not to utter the elegant speech suggested by his +wife, for his heart seemed to break forth in a single sentence: + +"Countess, have the justice to blame me if any wrong has been done to +you or yours. As for this lady, no more devoted mother ever lived than +she has been to your daughter's child!" + +A burst of sobs arose from the other side of the room, and Lady Clara +came forward, her face wet with tears, her mouth quivering. + +"Indeed, indeed she has! Oh, grandmamma, do _love_ her, because she has +been so good to me and everybody else!" + +Lady Carset reached forth her hand gently, and with delicate cordiality; +but there was no yearning of the heart there, such as had marked her +reception of that young girl. + +Lady Hope cared very little for this. She had attained the great aim of +her life in this recognition; anything like warmth of affection would +have been as irksome to her as it was impossible to the old countess. +She took the little hand, pressed her lips upon it, and retreated from +the room, keeping her face toward the old lady, as if she were retiring +from the presence of a queen. + +The old countess stood up bravely, and bent her delicate person with the +exquisite grace of a lady of the olden time, as her guests disappeared. +The moment they were gone she turned to seek her couch; but her limbs +lost their strength, her feet became entangled in the satin train, and +she would have fallen to the carpet but for Lady Clara, who sprang +forward and held her up. + +"Dear me, how you tremble! Oh, grandmamma, don't! I never saw you cry +before. It breaks my heart!" + +The poor old lady was trembling in all her limbs, and crying like a +child. It had been a hard cross for her feebleness to take up when she +admitted that man and woman to her presence. It seemed as if her own +dead child had stood between them, and with shadowy arms striven to push +them apart. + +"I have done no more than my duty," she said, with a piteous smile. "It +was hard, very hard. Still a Carset must not allow any wrong to go +unatoned for, and about those diamonds I did wrong her." + +Clara did not speak. She was frightened by the agitation into which this +scene had thrown the old lady, and only besought her to rest; but +strong, nervous excitement is not so easily pacified. The countess +conquered her tears, but the couch shook under her nervous trembling. +Then Clara ran to her own apartments, and came back to an adjoining room +with Caroline, whose voice had a power of soothing which even excitement +could not resist. + +"Begin to sing--something low and sweet," she whispered. "I will leave +the door ajar." + +Then Clara stole back to her grandmother, and directly a soft strain of +music stole into the room, almost unnoticed at first, like the perfume +of flowers, but growing into harmonies so full and swelling, that the +whole atmosphere seemed flooded with it. + +The old countess listened; the faint breath paused upon her lips, her +eyelids began to quiver, and her little withered hands stole up to her +bosom and rested there in a tremulous clasp. + +"It is a heavenly voice. My child is not angry with me. Oh! how sweetly +she tells me so! how sweet--how sweet!" + +And so she fell asleep after awhile--all the trembling gone, all the +pain swept from those delicate features. Then Caroline came in and sat +down by Lady Clara, smiling over the gentle work she had done. The old +lady opened her eyes once, and, reaching out her hand to Caroline, who +sat nearest, murmured: + +"You are not offended with me, child?" + +"She takes you for me," whispered Clara, "and is dreaming, I think. Let +us be very still." + +So the two girls sat together, and guarded the gentle slumber into which +the old countess had fallen, with loving solicitude. She seemed to feel +their loving presence even in sleep, for a heavenly smile stole over her +face, and occasionally she whispered as if answering some pleasant voice +that came stealing through her dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +DOWN AMONG THE FERNS AGAIN. + + +Lady Carset had extended numerous invitations to her old friends, and it +was understood that Lady Hope would represent the head of the house and +do the honors. This compliment was partly in atonement for the wrong +that had been done Rachael Closs, and partly from the infirmities of +extreme old age, which rendered it even dangerous for the old countess +to entertain her guests in person. + +For the first time in her life, Lady Hope was in her true element. The +weight of an intolerable restraint had been lifted from her. She was +mistress of one of the most splendid establishments in all England, not +even for a time, for would it not descend unbroken to a step-daughter +who worshipped her? Was not the will which settled this already made, +and she as good as mistress there during her whole life? She had thought +Oakhurst a noble possession, but it dwindled into insignificance when +compared with the splendor of Houghton Castle. Very seldom in the world +had the ambition of an aspiring woman been so suddenly and completely +gratified. It had been all like a dream to her, but now she felt the +reality, with an exultation of spirit that took ten years from her +person, and a weird burden from her heart. This great happiness sprang +out of two grand passions--love and ambition. + +The first was gratified in this--Lord Hope was a changed man--a shadow +had been swept from his path--hidden shame had changed to unchecked +pride. The woman he had married, because of an overpowering love, was +now in a position to fascinate society with her beauty, and win its +homage with her genius. They had come out from the shadow and were in +the broad sunshine. + +All his old fondness returned; she could tell it by the elasticity of +his step, by the proud uplifting of his head, by the very tones of his +voice. + +She had thirsted for greatness, and it was hers. She had pined for the +old love, and it had come back to her. No wonder the carriage of this +woman was lofty, and her voice full of music. No wonder that the rich +coloring of her youth returned, and her eyes took back their velvety +softness. + +At this period Rachael Closs was at the pinnacle of her hopes. She could +scarcely understand that this lofty position had not always belonged to +her. To dispense almost regal hospitality came to her as the most +natural thing on earth, and as each day brought some noble guest to the +castle, she received them with more finished grace and a deeper +consciousness of power. + +Of course, at this time, Lady Clara was most frequently with her +stepmother, for the old countess would have it so, and Caroline took her +place very frequently in the tower room, where she felt herself to be +more than welcome. Indeed, the old lady seemed almost as fond of her as +she was of the bright, generous heiress. Caroline would not consent to +mingle with the gay crowd which kept up a brilliant carnival all day +long in the park, in the vast drawing-room, everywhere, except in that +one old tower where the countess spent her quiet life. At the grand +festival she had resolved to come forth and do the honors of her own +castle, but until then she contented herself by receiving her guests, +and then pleasantly turning them over to the splendid woman who filled +her place with such consummate ability. + +This arrangement threw Caroline almost constantly into the seclusion of +the tower apartments, and it so chanced that she had not once met Lady +Hope, who was, in fact, unconscious of her presence in the castle. + +Clara remembered, with some trepidation, the rebuke which had been given +her, regarding her liking for this girl, and, not caring to provoke a +repetition, did not mention the fact of her residence at Houghton. Thus +it chanced that neither Lord Hope or his wife knew of the independent +step their daughter had taken. + +Lady Clara had evidently something on her mind one day, for she gave up +a ride to the hunt, a thing she had set her heart upon, and came after +Caroline to take a long walk in the park with her. Caroline went gladly, +for her heart was aching under its broken hopes, and as the excitement +connected with her new home died out, a sense of bereavement and +desolation came back. She was, indeed, very wretched, and Lady Clara saw +it. Perhaps this was the reason she took her protege out for that +pleasant walk in the park. + +When the two girls reached that hollow through which the brook ran, and +where the ferns grew, Clara became suddenly conscious that Caroline must +be tired. + +Perhaps she was. Caroline, in her listlessness, did not care to ask +herself about it, but sat down on a fragment of rock, as Clara directed +her, and fell to watching the brook with her sad eyes, as it crept +through the ferns and gurgled over the pebbles at her feet. + +Meantime Clara had wandered quietly up the hollow, and disappeared in +search of something which grew a little way off, she said. So Caroline +was not to move till she came back, unless she wished to be lost +utterly. + +Caroline liked the solitude, and the cool ripple of the brook soothed +her. She was rather sorry when a footstep on the forest turf heralded +the return of her friend; but she looked up with a welcoming smile, and +saw Lord Hilton, her Italian teacher--the man who had told her more than +once that he loved her better than his own life! + +She did not cry out, or rise from her hard seat, but sat still, looking +at him in mournful quietness. What was he, what could he ever be, to +her? A nobleman of the realm, and the Olympia's daughter! + +He came down the bank and seated himself by her side. + +"Caroline, have you no welcome to give me?" + +She looked at him with a gleam of excitement in the sadness of her eyes. + +"You know who I am, and I, alas! know that you are Lord Hilton," she +said, with a touch of pathetic pride. "How can I welcome you?" + +"Have you, then, ceased to love me, Caroline?" + +Her pale face flushed, her eyes kindled. + +"Is this a question to ask me?" + +"Yes--because I have never ceased to love you, and never shall." + +"Not when you are certain that I am the daughter of--of--an actress?" + +"Not if you were the daughter of fifty actresses, Caroline! I have been +searching for you, in London, everywhere. More than once I inquired at +Olympia's door." + +"You!" + +"Indeed I did; but she would give me no information." + +"She could not. I left no word." + +"And now that I have found you, Caroline?" + +"My name is Brown, Lord Hilton. I am, in truth, the daughter of that +good man whom you supposed my father." + +"And of Olympia?" + +"Yes, they were married and--and divorced before she became celebrated +and took the name of Olympia." + +Caroline said all this with a feeling of self-torture that took all the +color from her face. The love of Lord Hilton seemed an impossibility to +her, and she gave him the hard truth, under which her heart was +writhing, without a reservation of pride or delicacy. + +"It is of very little consequence whose daughter you are," said the +young man, tenderly, "so long as I love you, and am, with God's +blessing, resolved to make you my wife." + +"Resolved to make me your wife!" + +The words came one by one from her lips, in measured sadness. She knew +the thing to be impossible, and uttered the words as if she had buried +some beloved object, and was mourning over it. + +"I repeat it, Caroline. There is no change in my love--no change in my +determination. All that I felt for you in our sweet Italian life lives +with me yet." + +Caroline turned her eyes full upon him. An expression of pain broke +through their mournfulness. + +"It was impossible!" + +That was all she said; but he knew how much agony the words had cost by +the whiteness of her lips. + +"But why," he pleaded, "if we love each other, for you love me yet?" + +"Yes, I love you!" + +Hilton threw his arms around her, and kissed her cold face in a +transport of thankfulness. + +"Then, why not? We were betrothed in Italy, when I believed you Mr. +Brown's daughter, as I do now." + +"But I did not know that you were an English nobleman, and heir to a +large estate." + +"Is that a crime, Caroline? Besides, you need not trouble yourself about +the estate. When I ask you in marriage, that is given up." + +She turned to him suddenly, and held out her hands. + +"Are you, indeed, ready to give up so much for me?" + +"I am ready to give up everything but my honor," was his reply. + +"I am only a poor girl, with no honor to hold but my own; but you shall +not find me less generous than you are." + +He kissed her hands in passionate gratitude. + +"Ah, darling, I knew--I knew that it must end so." + +She forced her hands from his clasp. + +"You misunderstand me. I love you better than myself! better than my +life! Do believe it! And for that reason we part, now and forever! I +could not live through another hour like this!" + +"Caroline!" + +"I know it is hard; my own heart is pleading against it. But there is +something which forbids me to listen." + +"Caroline, I will not permit this! It is unnatural, cruel!" + +"I know it! I know it! Still it is our destiny. Nothing that has been +said, or can be said, will change the fact of your birth and mine. Do +not, I implore you, press this matter farther. It is hard to fight +against my own heart and you. Spare me and let me go!" + +Caroline arose and absolutely fled from the man she loved. He did not +attempt to detain her, but walked away slowly, half offended--but more +resolved on making her his wife than ever. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +OUT AMONG THE TREES. + + +Not far from the glen, loitering up and down a secluded forest-path, +Caroline met Lady Clara, and, by her side, the young man whom she had +met that night at Olympia's supper party. This took her by surprise, and +she turned into another path, where a sheltered garden seat invited her +to rest. + +Lady Clara had not seen her companion, and was too much occupied for any +thought regarding her. She was talking earnestly to Hepworth Closs, who +had refused Lady Carset's invitation to take up his quarters at the +castle, but was staying at the public house down in the village, until +after the festival, at which Clara still refused to be introduced as +sole heiress of the broad domain on which they stood. + +"Let us be patient," she said. "I cannot distress this kind old lady +while she is so disturbed and so feeble. Let things take their course +till she is strong enough to endure this additional agitation. She was +greatly pleased with you that morning when you called. By degrees she +will learn to like you; and when she finds that Lord Hilton has no idea +of joining the estates by a marriage with her heiress--a thing which I +know she has at heart, but she has, as yet, only given me warning by +most delicate insinuations--your proposal will not disturb her so much." + +Hepworth Closs had learned the great lessons of patience, and loved the +young girl by his side too sincerely for any protest against what was, +in fact, a necessary delay; so he answered her kindly; + +"So long as we are not entirely separated, Clara, I can bear anything, +even your father's hostility, which, after all, is but natural." + +"But that, too, will be swept away by grandmamma's consent; and I am +sure she loves me so much that, with patience, that may be obtained. +Besides, there is your sister, eager for your interests and pining for +your society." + +"Poor Rachael! How does she bear the honors heaped upon her up yonder." + +"Like an empress. Indeed, I never saw her really happy before. My father +has all at once taken to adoring her. No wonder! Happiness has made her +so grandly beautiful, so dashingly brilliant in all she says and does. +The new duke, who has just come down, is so taken with her that he +scarcely leaves her side." + +"I am glad of that," exclaimed Closs. "If ever a woman was born to +control society, it is Rachael. Does she know I am here?" + +"I have not told her yet. It will be time enough when all this tumult +about the heirship has abated. And perhaps it will be best to let papa +find it out in some natural way, when he will, I hope, be anxious to +recognize you as Lady Carset's guest, and make atonement for his +harshness at Oakhurst." + +"What a wise little diplomat you have become, Clara!" + +"Yes, I think so. It is just beginning to dawn on me that rash action is +the worst kind of selfishness; how, just by a little kindness and a +great deal of love, I, a harem-scarem girl, who never stopped to think +in my life before, have reconciled an old family feud of fifteen years +standing, brought Lady Hope triumphantly to Houghton, and swept ever so +many cares out of my father's way, besides all the little pleasantness +that my coming has given to the old countess. I wouldn't boast in this +way to any one else, Hepworth; but these things make me proud and +happy, so I tell them to you, as I whisper it to myself. When I first +came here, it was with the resolution of appealing to grandmamma against +Lord Hope's opposition to us, and, if she went against me, to throw up +everything, and set them all at defiance. But one must have a hard +nature to attempt such harsh measures with that sweet old lady. It would +break my heart to leave her--wound my conscience to give her a moment's +pain. As for her title and her wealth, I tell you, honestly, they are +encumbrances I do not want. A thousand times, rather, would I have her +consent, with that of my father, and freedom to go with you where we +pleased. I want no greatness or power for myself, unless it comes +through the man I love; but for you, Hepworth, I am ambitious, and would +rather a thousand times go to America, and share the honors which your +own genius would be sure to win, as plain Mrs. Closs, than stay here as +mistress of Houghton, a countess in my own right, and you only +recognized as the husband of Lady Carset." + +The hot color came and went in her lover's face as Clara spoke out the +thoughts that haunted her about the future--his own thoughts expressed +through her girlish lips. He turned suddenly, took her hands, and kissed +them both with passionate warmth. + +"Oh, if they would but give you up with nothing but this glorious +freedom, I should not have another wish on earth; but they are about to +bury you so deep beneath their wealth and titles that I may not be able +to find my love when I ask for her." + +Clara smiled. + +"You shall never ask for me that I will not come. There is not in all +England wealth or honors enough to buy me out of your reach. Only let us +wait patiently a little while longer." + +"Sweet child! generous woman! Jacob never served more faithfully for his +love than I am willing to wait for mine. Only this, we must not be kept +apart." + +"We will not be kept apart. Our souls belong to each other. No person on +earth shall enthrall them." + +"Then I am content; all the more because I know what utter desolation +absence is. Ah, Clara, it seemed like an opening from Paradise when you +wrote me to come here! Heaven knows where I should have been now but for +that blessed note!" + +"But you are here, safe and well, for which the good God be thanked! +Everything has happened without disappointment to any one, unless it may +be Caroline's mother, the handsome Olympia. She is furious, Lord Hilton +tells me. I am a little sorry for that poor woman. Of course, she wasn't +just as she should be to Caroline, but I can't help liking her, after +all. There that dear girl sits, like patience on a monument, waiting for +me. I wonder what has become of Lord Hilton?" + +Here Lady Clara and her lover separated; she joined her friend, whose +garments were visible through the green of the leaves, and he walked +toward the village, very happy, notwithstanding the uncertainty of his +affairs. + +As Hepworth entered his room at the inn, he was accosted with boisterous +familiarity by Mr. Stacy, the New York alderman, who expressed the +broadest astonishment at his presence there, and was anxious to know if +it would break up his own mission to the castle. + +Hepworth reassured him on this point, and gave some additional +directions, which the alderman accepted with nods and chuckles of +self-sufficiency, that were a little repulsive to the younger and more +refined man. + +"I understand Matthew Stacy is to be 'A Number One' in the whole +business--sole agent of her mother's trust; by-the-way, who was her +mother?" + +There was a shrewd twinkle in Stacy's eye as he asked this, which +Hepworth comprehended and met at once. + +"Her mother was the first Lady Hope, the only daughter of Lady Carset, +up there at the castle. She died in America while travelling there with +her husband, about fifteen years ago." + +All this was plain and simple. The alderman drew a deep breath, and the +shrewd twinkle went out of his eyes. + +"To tell the truth," he said, "I was thinking of that poor murdered +lady, Mrs. Hurst. You know there was a little girl at the inquest that +would have been about the age of this young lady; for I took a peep into +the peerages, after you opened this matter, and I thought possibly that +Mrs. Hurst and Lady Hope might be--you understand?" + +"What! Identical! Did you mean that?" + +"Well, no, not exactly identical--she was respectable enough--but the +same person." + +"But you forgot, Mr. Stacy, telling me that the young lady who appeared +as a singer in the opera that night was that very child." + +"By Jingo! you are right! I did that same. Of course--of course. What +was I thinking of? How she did sing, too; ten thousand mocking birds in +her throat, all piping away at once. What was I thinking of? Now, Mr. +Closs, while I'm gone--for I mean to strike while the iron is hot--just +have the goodness to look in on Mrs. S., she will feel it a compliment, +being a trifle homesick and lonesome down here. But tell her to keep a +stiff upper lip; there isn't many ladies, not even your barronessers and +duchessers, that shall outshine her at the grand party up yonder." + +"The grand party!" repeated Hepworth, in amazement. "Are you invited +there?" + +"Not just yet, but of course I mean to be. One good turn deserves +another, Mr. Hepworth--I beg pardon--Mr. Closs, and if I take this pile +up to Castle Houghton, it is no more than fair that the young lady gives +me an invite for myself and Mrs. S. Turn about is fair play, all the +world over, Mr. Closs, and I don't mean to lose my chances. Some men +would ask money for all this, but I am ready to put up with an invite. +Mrs. S. has set her heart on it. Ask her to let you see that red velvet +dress that she got made on purpose, and the panier. Don't, by any means, +forget to ask her to show you the panier; it's tremendous, I tell you." + +Mr. Stacy stood for a moment longer, shaking the links of his gold chain +up and down in one hand, as if he had something else to say, but not +remembering what it was, he disappeared, and was soon driving, in the +best carriage he could obtain, toward Houghton Castle. + +Lady Clara was in her own room scolding, persuading, and comforting +Caroline, when a card was brought to her, and she read, with +astonishment, the name of "Matthew Stacy, Esq., Ex-Alderman, New York." + +"Who is this person?" she inquired. + +"Haven't the least hidea, my lady; he asked for yer leddyship, and +would, on no account, see any one else, yer leddyship." + +"Where is he now?" + +"In the small drawing-room, yer leddyship." + +Clara went down, excited by the painful curiosity which always disturbed +her when she met any person from America. What could he want? + +Alderman Stacy arose as she entered the room where he was sitting, and +made three profound bows in the different stages of her advance from the +door, then he sat down in a light chair. The delicate India carving +began to creak under his weight, and he sprang to his feet again, +looking over his shoulder at the combination of azure silk and lace-like +ebony in awkward consternation. Then he took another chair, all cushions +and softness, in which he sank down luxuriously, and began to fidget +with his chain. + +"You are from New York, Mr. Stacy--I think it was on your card?" said +Clara, commencing the conversation. + +"Yes, exactly, my--my lady--Empire State; besides that I have a little +business with you--pleasant business, I may undertake to say; money, my +dear young lady. Money always is pleasant. What ancient poet is it that +says, 'money makes the mare go?' which means, I take it, that it drives +men and women--I mean gentlemen and ladies--just alike. So I call it +pleasant news, when I tell your ladyship that I have got a pile of it +for you--American bonds, payable in gold." + +"Money for me--for me?" + +"No wonder you are surprised. The amount was an astonisher for me when I +came to reckon it up. At first it was a mere nothing, only a few +thousand, but gold, in my hands, grows, grows, grows, and now, my dear +young lady, that little heap left by your lamented mother--you +understand--" + +"Left by my mother, and for me?" + +"Yes, your lamented mother, the first Lady Hope, a lovely woman, but +delicate, very delicate; carried off by consumption at last. Well, just +before her death she sent for me--we were great friends, you know. Being +alderman, in fact, president of the board, I had an opportunity to offer +her some municipal civilities, such as the use of the Governor's room to +receive her friends in, and the freedom of the city. I assure you she +had the broadest liberty to ride where she pleased, especially in the +Central Park. Then we took her to the institutions, and she had a lovely +dinner on Blackwell's Island, for I was hand in glove with the +commissioners. I don't tell these things to boast of 'em only to explain +how she came to trust me as her executioner--I beg pardon--her executor, +and send for me just as her spirit was taking flight." + +"Oh! please tell me of that--of her--I do not care about the money," +cried Clara, interrupting this pompous tissue of falsehoods, with tears +in her eyes. "You saw her, you talked with her?" + +"Often and often." + +"Oh, tell me!" + +"Not just now, young lady. Business is business, and we must not get +things mixed. Some other time, after your great party, for instance, I +shall be too happy, for Mrs. Stacy and I shall stay in the village, till +after that august occasion; but now I come on business, nothing short, +and I am in a hurry to get these ten thousand pounds American +gold-bearing bonds off my stomach--I beg pardon--conscience. Here, my +lady, is the pile of bonds. Every one will bring the tin when its +wanted, no mistake about that." + +Here Mr. Stacy laid a package of bonds in Lady Clara's lap, and stood +with a beaming face, regarding her puzzled look, as she examined them. + +"And these are worth ten thousand pounds?" she said. + +"Exactly." + +"And left to me without reservation or condition, by my mother?" + +"Exactly. 'My dear friend,' said she, 'you will find somewhere about +three thousand pounds in the bank. That money I leave in your hands, for +I have faith in you, Stacy. That money is sure to grow, and when my +daughter, Clara, gets to be about eighteen or so, pay it and the +increase over to her in my name; tell her to keep it for her own +independent use; to say nothing to Lord Hope or his wife--I mean if he +should marry again--but to use it just as she pleases, without regard to +her grandmother or any one else.' These were the directions your mother +left with the money, and I hope you will make sure to abide by them, my +lady." + +"I will remember every word you have said," answered Clara, whose face +was beginning to brighten under a new idea, and the bonds were becoming +very precious to her. "But is there nothing I can do in return for this +kindness?" + +"I expected this. That was just what she said, 'My friend,' says she, +'there will be no such thing as paying you in specie for the service you +will do my child; but she will be a lady of rank, Mr. Stacy, and as such +will know how to return your kindness, and entertain you with the best. +Though dukes and princes should be her guests, she will have pride and +glory in introducing her mother's faithful friend to them all. Yes, him +and that splendid woman, who is your wife, the friend of my bosom,' says +she; 'and if you ever go to England, be sure to take your wife along, +then you'll have a chance to learn what British hospitality is in the +walls of Houghton Castle, my own birthplace.'" + +"My mother has promised nothing in my power to perform which shall not +be done," said Clara, a good deal puzzled by all that she heard, and +quite at a loss to judge of the social status of her visitor. But the +great fact remained--her mother had trusted him; he had brought her a +large sum of money, which nothing but the most honorable integrity would +have prevented him keeping for his own benefit. The man who could so +faithfully render back an important trust, must be worthy even of her +grandmother's hospitality. + +The moment Mr. Stacy had bowed and stumbled himself from the room, Clara +ran to Lady Carset, and obtained an invitation for M. Stacy, Esq., and +lady, to the entertainment which was now close at hand. With that +invitation, went a large package directed to Hepworth Closs, in which a +letter was enclosed, requesting him to take such legal steps in her +behalf as would secure the amount contained in the American bonds to Mr. +Brown, the father of her dear friend, Caroline. "I know that she would +refuse the independence for herself and her father, if I were to press +it upon her; indeed, she has already done so, when I only hinted at the +matter; but when it is secured irrevocably to her father, she must +submit to being made comfortable in spite of herself. The money is mine +to use exactly as I please, and this is my pleasure. Pray help me to +carry it out. There is no need of consulting that dear old man, Brown, +whose welfare I seek quite as earnestly as I do that of his daughter; +for he is just the sweetest and dearest character I ever knew, and I +would give the world to see his blessed old face, when he first +discovers that he is a rich man. Tell me all about it. Be very careful +and delicate in your management of this business, and say nothing until +you have put it out of your power or mine to revoke what will make me +the happier in the giving than they can be in receiving. When we meet I +will tell you how this money came to be mine; but before then, I trust +it will be in the possession of another. What do I want of American +bonds? I think it would offend my dear old fairy-grandmother if I took +them, and I know you will approve what I am doing." + +Closs read the letter with a smile of pleasure; but when he took up the +bonds again, his face clouded. + +"Can I never wash my hands of that poor lady's money," he said. "Do what +I can, it will come back to me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +THE BALL AT HOUGHTON. + + +The night arrived at last in which Lady Carset was to do the honors of +her own castle, and receive the highest and brightest of the land in +person. A range of boudoirs and saloons, connected with the state +drawing-room, were thrown together, and united in one splendid vista by +silken draperies and hot-house plants, which formed noble wreaths and +arches over each entrance, filling room after room with brightness and +fragrance. + +The conservatories had been stripped that night, that their treasures of +rare exotics might brighten the splendor of those rooms, and soften the +ancestral grandeur of the vast entrance hall. They wound in massive +wreaths around the carved balustrades of that broad oaken +staircase--were duplicated over and over again in the height and breadth +of those noble mirrors. They formed a blooming border around the oaken +floors, black with age and bright with polish, of the dancing-rooms. The +gilded orchestras were interlaced with them, and, in every group of +plants or clustering wreath, jets of gas twinkled out like stars, +casting tremulous shadows from the leaves, and lending a richer color to +the blossoms. + +When the first carriage load of guests came sweeping across the stone +terrace, Lady Carset left her dressing-room, and, leaning on the arm of +Lord Hope, took her place in the central drawing-room, with gentle +dignity, and stood, with the gaslight quivering around her, touching up +the richness of her purple garments with golden ripples of light, and +striking out rainbows from the great Carset diamonds, which held, and +gathered up the woven moonlight of her lace shawl on those dainty, +sloping shoulders and delicate bust, which had not known such ornaments +for years. A ripple of these noble jewels ran through the soft waves of +her hair, and held the tuft of Marchant feathers and lappets of gossamer +lace back from her left temple, whence they floated off gently into the +snow of her hair, scarcely whiter than it was. A lovelier representative +of the grandest aristocracy on earth, or a more dainty lady of the olden +times, had never, since its foundation, done the honors of Houghton +Castle. But the sweet old lady was already forced to exert all her +strength, that nothing should fall short of the old hospitality on this +the last fête she ever expected to give. + +Lady Clara had followed her, half dancing, half floating down that broad +staircase, jerking blossoms from the plants as she went, and forming +them into a tiny bouquet for her grandmother. Her dress was just one +cloud of silvery whiteness. A little cluster of moss rose buds on the +left shoulder, and another in her belt, were all the ornaments she wore. +She had insisted, with almost passionate vehemence, that no mention of +her heirship should be made that night, and the old lady consented with +reluctance, but appeased her own impatience by a grand festival to all +her tenants and retainers in the park, where nothing had been omitted +which, in feudal times, was considered proper when the heirship of +Houghton was proclaimed. Still, in words, the old lady had kept +honorable silence, and no one, even from the grandeur of the +entertainment, had a right to more than guess that the general heirship +was settled on Lord Hope's daughter. + +In fact, this entertainment was ostensibly given to Lord and Lady Hope, +and the old countess had taken up the sparkling weight of all those +Carset jewels, that all the world might know that they had come back +honorably into her own possession. It was a splendid and most delicate +way of acknowledging herself in the wrong. + +Before the guests had commenced to arrive in any numbers, Lady Hope came +floating into the state drawing-room, with a noble cactus flower +sweeping backwards from the left side of her head, and resting upon the +massive braids of her hair, which curved upwards like a helmet, from her +neck almost to the forehead. Chains of large rubies encircled her neck +and arms, harmonizing with the cactus blossom, but forming a bold +contrast to the amber silk of her dress, which swept far back upon the +polished floor, and took the light as birds of Paradise fling off +sunshine from their plumage. A beautiful and right queenly personage was +Rachael Closs that night, as she moved across the floor and took her +place by the little countess, who looked up and smiled gently when she +saw that Lord Hope's wife appeared in the old family rubies, which she +had presented to her that morning. + +One bright glance at Clara, another of sparkling triumph at Lord Hope, +and Rachael gave herself up to the brilliant duties that lay before her. +This night was to be the crowning success of her life. + +The guests swept through the great entrance, and into the drawing-room +now, in crowds and groups. Music sounded from half a dozen gilded +orchestras, and the oaken floors of that old castle began to tremble +under the feet of many dancers, as they kept time to the music, and sent +out a soft undertone of conversation. + +Lord Hope opened the ball with the élite of the élite. Lord Hilton led +Lady Clara into the same set, at which the old countess nodded her head +and smiled. She observed that the young nobleman bent his head, and +looking in the bright face of her grandchild, was talking earnestly to +her, at which the dear old lady smiled again, and put up her fan, that +no one might observe how pleased she was. + +This was what Hilton was saying: + +"And she would not come down, fearing to meet me? This is hard, Lady +Clara!" + +"No," answered the girl, reaching out her hand for a ladies' chain, and +breaking from it in haste. "It is not altogether that; she says that it +is impossible to be of us--that her birth forbids it, and any attempt at +equality could only end in humiliation. I cannot persuade her out of +this idea: entreat as I would, she refused utterly to come down. Then I +got grandmamma to urge it, and she did it beautifully, but it was no +use; and there the poor darling sits all alone, hearing the music and +our voices, as prisoners in their cells listen to bird songs through +windows in the walls. It is cruel! Why can't people be born all alike, +and go up and down according to their own merits, I wonder?" + +"That is an American idea. You must have picked it up there in your +infancy, Lady Clara." + +"I should not wonder. Some day I mean to go back there and see what +social equality is like." + +"Oh, you will find no place on earth where your title will be of so much +value, Lady Clara," said Hilton, laughing. + +"Well, that is because the Americans respect history, and associate us +with the great deeds of mutual ancestors. It is the romance of tradition +that interests them; for they are great readers, these Americans, and +know more of us, as a people, than we do of ourselves. We represent the +warriors and the statesmen which they have clothed in the poetry of +great deeds. If the nobility of this day disappoints them it is our own +fault. When they learn that our greatness consists only in titles, we +shall have little homage merely for them." + +"What a strange little creature you are!" + +"Yes, rather. It is our turn now." + +After a little there was another long pause in the dance. Then Hilton +went back to the subject nearest to his heart. + +"You could not possibly persuade her to come down--not here, but into +some of the less public rooms?" he said. + +"Impossible. She would not think of it." + +"Cruel!" + +"Yes, I think so; but then, I would do exactly the same thing." + +"What makes you start so, Clara?" + +"Don't you see? There is Mr. Closs going up to grandmamma, and papa +standing close by her. Why, Lord Hope is speaking to him! How good! how +kind! They are both smiling; now, now, do look on mamma Rachael's +face--she sees them, and happiness makes her splendid! He is coming this +way. Understand now, I shall dance with him just as often as I can, and +you are to help me if I get into any trouble. Thank Heaven, this set is +over!" + +"You are complimentary," laughed Lord Hilton. + +"So I am; but you don't mind it. Here he is. Let me introduce you before +he takes me off. Lord Hilton, Mr. Closs." + +The next moment Clara was whirling through the room, with Hepworth +Closs' arm around her waist, and her hand on his shoulder. She kept her +word, and spent half her evening with him, managing to escape +observation as much as possible, and thus secured a few hours of supreme +happiness. + +Lord Hope had received his brother-in-law with gentlemanly ease. How +could he help it, not being master at Houghton? + +Besides, he was disposed to cast off all responsibility with regard to +his daughter's choice of a husband, and leave everything to the judgment +and pride of the old countess, who happened to like Closs, and was not +aware how much of that evening he spent with her grandchild. + +Rachael was in ecstasies. She loved her brother dearly, and his apparent +reconciliation with her husband lifted the last cloud from her heart. It +seemed to her that night as if she had nothing to wish for. + +The old countess stood to her post bravely, until after the supper-rooms +had been thrown open and the gay crowds had passed in and out again; but +when the dancing had recommenced and the conversation around her grew +brilliant and a little confusing, she turned suddenly pale, and would +have fallen, but that Lady Clara, who stood near, sprang forward and +threw both arms around her. + +"She is better; she can walk now. I will go with her," cried the excited +young creature. "Papa, you shall help her up-stairs, then I will take +care of her," she added, seeing how helpless the old lady was. + +Lord Hope almost carried the old lady up-stairs. Then Clara called aloud +for Caroline Brown, who came out from her chamber, and, between them, +they led the old countess into the tower-room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +THE OLD WOMAN WANDERS BACK AGAIN. + + +Old Mrs. Yates had left the railroad station two miles back, and was +walking wearily along the high road toward the village, which lay, as it +were, at the feet of Houghton Castle, like a spaniel crouching at the +foot of its mistress. At the station and all along the road she had +observed an unusual commotion. Carriages in an unprecedented number were +waiting for special trains, which came in more than once that day for +Houghton Castle. + +All the vehicles in the neighborhood were in motion, dashing to and from +the village inns, the castle, and a neighboring town, where +accommodations for a great access of people could be obtained. + +Hannah Yates was more than once nearly run over and driven back to the +banks of the highway by those flying vehicles, where she stood +half-terrified, half-curious, looking after them in wistful +astonishment. + +What could this tumultuous movement mean? Was it a wedding--but of whom? +A funeral--the old countess? + +No, no! Destiny could not be so cruel. Besides, there was no such eager +driving or smiling faces when the head of that castle was taken from its +broad portals to the family vault. It must be some festival, and she was +yet in time. + +At an abrupt curve of the road the old woman came suddenly upon a full +view of the castle. It was all ablaze with lights, and rose up from the +embosoming trees like some enchanted palace upon which a tempest of +stars had rained down in all their heavenly brightness. The broad +façade which connected the tower was flooded with noonday light, and she +could discover groups of people moving to and fro on the stone terrace +in front, rendered so small by the distance that they seemed unreal and +fairy-like. Down to the verge of the park and upward, curving through +the woods, she could trace the chestnut avenue by wreaths of colored +lanterns that blazed from tree to tree like mammoth jewels chaining them +together. Now and then a carriage broke to view, sweeping along the +macadamized avenue, clearly revealed by the light that fell around it. + +Never in her life had the old woman seen such splendid commotion about +that stately building, yet she could remember many a festive scene in +its old walls, when crowned princes had been entertained there with a +degree of splendor scarcely exceeded in their own palaces. + +As the old woman stood gazing upon this scene, a countryman, passing +along the highway, paused near her to get a sight of the castle. + +"What is going on up yonder?" inquired the woman, drawing toward him and +speaking in his own broad dialect. + +"What is't at yon castle? An' who mon you be that donna know that the +oud lady up at Houghton is giving a grand blow-out to her gran'child, +Lord Hope's daughter, an' to Lady Hope, as people thought she would +never abide in her sight?" + +"And is Lord and Lady Hope at the castle?" + +"Aye, an' the young lady, too--her that the oud countess is o'er fond +of; but the young 'un is a right comely lass, an' the oud 'un might go +furder and fare worse." + +Mrs. Yates gathered the woolen shawl she had travelled in about her, and +went hastily down the bank on which she had been standing, so excited +that all the weakness of age seemed to have been suddenly swept from +her. + +She had intended to sleep in the village that night; now she bent her +steps resolutely toward the castle. + +As she came out of the chestnut avenue, keeping upon the turf and among +the shadows, all of the glory of that illumination broke upon her. + +The broad terrace, flooded with light--a fountain, directly in front, +shooting up a column of liquid crystal thirty feet or more, where it +branched off, like a tree of quivering ice swayed gracefully in the +wind, and broke up in a storm of drops that rained downward, flashing +and glittering through that golden atmosphere to their source again. + +Above this rose those grand old towers, garlanded with colored lamps +that wound in and out of the clinging ivy in great wreaths and chains of +tinted fire, which harmonized with the quivering foliage, and flooded +the fountain, the terrace, and all the neighboring trees with a soft +atmosphere of golden green. + +Here and there the gray old stonework of the towers broke through, +revealing glimpses of the giant strength which lay hidden underneath; +and over the right hand tower, from a flag-staff turned around and +around with star-like lights, the broad, red banner, with which the +Carsets had for centuries defied their enemies and welcomed their +friends, floated slowly out upon the night wind. + +Hannah Yates saw all this, and knew, by the music which thrilled the air +around her, that the revel, whatever it was, had commenced; for a sound +of pleasant voices and sweet laughter came through the open windows, and +from the depths of the park--where an ox had been roasted whole that +day, and wine and beer had flowed freely as the waters of the +fountain--came subdued sounds of a waning festival, which had been +given to the tenantry and villagers. The gaiety of the castle was +answered back from the park, and harmonized by that of the working +people who tilled all the broad lands around it. + +When the old woman heard these answering sounds she felt that an heiress +to all this greatness was acknowledged that night, for when lords +gathered in the castle, and tenants in the park, it was usually to +acknowledge the rights of a coming heir, and she could not believe that +all this had been done in honor of Lady Hope. + +Hannah Yates lost all the unnatural strength that had brought her among +this splendor. She knew that it was scarcely possible that she could +speak with Lady Carset that night, if she could, indeed, gain admittance +to the castle; but she went around to a back entrance, and so made her +way, unseen, to the tower-chamber, which opened into Lady Carset's +dressing-room. There she sat down and waited, hour after hour, until at +last the door opened, and the old countess came in, walking feebly +between two young girls, one of whom she had never seen before, but the +other made the sinking heart leap in her bosom. + +When the old countess entered, the lights in her room were shaded, but +they struck those masses of jewels in the snowy whiteness of her hair +and upon her bosom with a brilliancy that revealed the gray pallor of +that aged face with painful distinctness. + +Hannah Yates arose from the shaded place in which she was sitting, and +came forward to support her old mistress. + +The countess looked up, and a faint smile flickered across her face. + +"Ah! Yates, is it you?" + +Mrs. Yates made no answer, but took that frail form in her arms and +carried it to the couch. + +"Take them off! take them off! They are heavy, ah, so heavy!" + +The old lady put a waving hand to her head, indicating that it was the +diamonds that troubled her. + +Mrs. Yates, who had performed this office many a time before, unclasped +the jewels and laid them on a sofa-table close by, then she removed the +burning stones from that oppressed bosom, and unclasped them from the +slender arms, while her mistress lay struggling for breath, with her +eyes fixed on that kind old face with a look of touching helplessness. + +"Give me water," she whispered. + +Caroline ran for a goblet of water, and held it to those white lips. The +countess drank a swallow and then called out: + +"Wine! wine!" + +Wine was brought, and she drank a little. + +"Go, my child," she whispered, seeing how anxious and pale Clara +appeared, in spite of the cloudy softness of her dress. "Go to your room +and get some rest. Ah, me! how all this wearies, wearies!" + +The two girls hesitated. There was something in that sweet old face that +kept them spellbound. The old lady saw it, and reaching forth her hand, +drew them, one after the other, down to her lips, and kissed them. + +"Good-night, good-night!" + +How softly those gentle words fell from her lips. With what yearning +fondness her eyes followed those young creatures as they went +reluctantly from the room, looking back in wistful sorrow, as they left +her in the care of Yates. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +LADY HOPE IN THE CASTLE. + + +Lady Clara had been dancing, talking and receiving such homage as would +have satisfied the ambition of a princess. She had managed to snatch +time to exchange many a sweet word and bright look with her lover, and +would have been happy in delicious weariness, but for the sudden +indisposition which had fallen upon her grandmother. As it was she could +hardly realize anything, but gave way to intense weariness, and almost +fell asleep as Margaret was undressing her. + +But Caroline had been alone all the evening, within hearing of the +laughter, the music, and feeling the very tread of the dancers in every +nerve. She was young, ardent, and naturally felt a craving wish for the +amusement she had resolutely denied herself; now, less than ever, could +she feel a desire for sleep. Instead of seeking her room she wandered +off to a wing of the castle, in which the picture gallery stretched its +silent range of dead shadows, and tried to throw off the unaccountable +excitement that possessed her, by walking up and down the long gallery. + +The late moon was shining through the windows, and a crowd of dimly +outlined figures, in armor or sweeping garments, looked down upon her +from the walls. + +Why this strange spirit of unrest had sent her to that gallery she could +not have told, but it was there still, urging her on and on, she could +not tell where, but walked swiftly up and down, up and down, as if +striving to weary herself in a desire for the slumber that seemed to +have fallen upon every human being in the castle. + +As she was walking thus wildly, a footstep, not her own, disturbed her. +She stopped to listen--made sure that it was some one advancing, and +drew slowly back toward the wall, hoping to shelter herself among the +low-hanging pictures. + +The moonlight, from a neighboring window, lay full upon her as she +retreated across the room, with her face turned down the gallery, and +her breath hushed in fear. She saw, coming toward her, now in shadow, +now in broader light, a lady, in garments of rustling silk, sweeping far +back on the oaken floor, and gleaming duskily, amber-hued in the +imperfect light of a small silver lamp which she carried in her hand--a +beautiful lady, with rubies on her neck and in her hair. The lamplight, +for a moment, concentrated on a face whose weariness was overborne by +slumbering triumph, which poised her head like that of a newly crowned +empress. + +Caroline stood for the moment fascinated, then made a swift retreat, for +she saw those great, black eyes turned full upon her, and fled in a +panic. + +A shriek--the crash of a falling lamp, and a mass of dusky drapery +huddled together on the floor, brought the girl out of her covert. +Something must have happened--the lady had hurt herself--perhaps could +not arise from want of help. She went down the gallery, passing first +one window then another, taking the moonlight from each, when the fallen +lady uttered another cry, sprang to her feet and fled down the gallery, +leaving her lamp overturned, with the wick still burning. + +Caroline took up the lamp, and placing it on a bracket, left the +gallery, vexed with herself for the fright she had occasioned this +strange lady by wandering about so heedlessly in the dark. Still she +could not sleep, but went to her own room and sat waiting there for the +morning to dawn. + +Perhaps an hour after Caroline left the picture gallery, a figure +clothed in white from head to foot, came through an end door, walking +firmly through the darkness, and touching the floor with the noiseless +tread of her naked feet. She walked straight to the silver lamp and took +it from the bracket. Now her face was revealed. It was Lady Hope. + +She held the lamp before her, and moved on very slowly, looking ahead +through the darkness with those wide open, staring eyes. + +After that, when all the fires of that vivid illumination had burned out +in the park, and were quenched in the castle, a bright star seemed +wandering up and down the vast building; now at one window, then at +another, lighting it up with fitful gleams, then leaving it in darkness, +and appearing again in some far off casement. + +Once or twice the form of a woman in white cast its cloudy outline +across the plate glass of an unshuttered window; but no person was in +the park to observe her, and she wandered on with a lamp in her firm +hand, which brightened over the pallid outlines of her face, and kindled +up her night drapery like sunshine over drifted snow. Up and down along +the corridors, and through the long drawing-room, the figure swept, +carrying her lamp, and moving noiselessly over the floor with her white, +naked feet. + +Upon that unconscious face a look of deep pain had stamped itself in +place of haughty triumph, and the wide open black eyes had a far-off +look, as if their glance could penetrate the walls and the very sky +beyond. + +On and on the woman wandered, till she came to a closed door in one of +the corridors. Here she paused, laid her right hand on the silver knob, +and turned it so noiselessly that, when the door opened, it seemed like +the action of a ghost. + +The room was darkened from even the faint light of the stars by sweeping +draperies of silk, which glowed out redly as the lamp light fell upon it +in flashes, as if suddenly drenched with wine. + +A high ebony bedstead stood in the centre of this noble room, canopied +half way over, and draped like the windows, so that a red gleam fell +upon the whiteness of the counterpane as the light of that lamp fell +upon it. + +A man lay profoundly sleeping on this bed--a handsome, middle-aged man, +whose thick brown beard showed soft gleams of silver in it, and whose +hair, though waving and bright, was growing thin on the top of his head. + +The man appeared to sleep heavily, and a smile lay on his lips; but a +look of habitual care had written itself on his forehead, and his mouth +was surrounded by stern, hard lines, that seemed graven there with +steel. + +The woman stood by this sleeping man, gazing on him with the far-off +look of a ghost. She turned at last, and set the light down on a +console, where it fell less distinctly on the pillow where that head was +lying. Then she crept back and sat down on the side of the bed, so close +to the unconscious sleeper that her shadow fell across him. Slowly, as +if she had been touching a serpent, her hand crept stealthily toward +that which lay in the supine carelessness of sleep on the white +counterpane. She touched it at last, but started back. A blood-red stain +from the curtain fell across it as her bending form let the light stream +through the silk. + +The woman drew back and passed her left hand quickly over that which had +touched the sleeping man. Again and again she rubbed one hand over the +other, muttering to herself. + +Then a look of passionate distress came to that dark face, and, going to +a marble table, on which a silver bowl and pitcher stood, she poured +some water into the bowl, and plunged the hand with which she had +touched that sleeping man into it. The splash of the water aroused him, +and its icy coldness shocked the woman out of her unnatural sleep. She +turned around wildly, with the water dripping from her hands--turned to +find herself in her husband's chamber, with his astonished eyes fixed +upon her as he sat up in bed. + +"Rachael!" + +She did not answer him, but stood gazing around the room in wild +bewilderment. How came she standing there? By what spirit of love or +hate had she been sent to that silver basin? + +"Rachael, is anything wrong? Are you ill?" + +The woman began to shiver. Perhaps the ice cold water had chilled her. + +She looked down upon her hands as if the red shadow haunted her yet, but +all she saw were drops of pure water rolling down her slender fingers, +and falling one by one to the floor. + +"I do not know!" she answered, in cold bewilderment. "Something drove me +out from the bed, and sent me wandering, wandering, wandering! But how I +came here, alas! Norton, I cannot tell you." + +Rachael shivered all over as she spoke, and, as if drawn that way by +some unseen force, came close to Lord Hope's bed, and sat down upon it. + +"Oh, I am so cold--so dreary cold!" + +An eider down quilt lay across the foot of the bed. Lord Hope reached +forward and folded it around her, very gently, murmuring: + +"My poor wife! poor Rachael! You have been dreaming." + +"No; it was not all dreaming, Norton. I did see--no matter what; but it +was something that terrified me out of all the joy and glory of this +night. I must have been fearfully worn out to sleep after that; but the +lamp, which I left behind me, is burning there, and my hands were in the +cold water, trying to wash themselves, when you awoke me. I must have +been in that fearful picture gallery again." + +"You have courage to go there at all, Rachael!" + +"I got there without knowing it. The rooms have been so changed I lost +my way, and took the wrong corridor, and there I saw--" + +"_Her_ picture." + +"Was it that? Oh! was it only that?" + +"It is there--her picture--life size; and so like that I would not look +on it for the world." + +"But what carried me there, Norton? On this night, too, when I have been +honored, as your wife should be for the first time! when her mother has +taken me by the hand and lifted the cloud from my name! Ah, Norton! +Norton! it was glory to me when I saw your eyes kindle, and answer back +to mine, as the noblest of the land crowded round to do me homage. Then +I knew that the old love was perfect yet. Oh, Destiny is cruel, that it +will not let me have one perfect day!" + +"After all, it was but a picture. Why allow it to distress you so?" + +Lord Hope took her hands in his. She did not shrink from his touch now, +as she had in her abnormal sleep; but he felt her palms growing warm, +and saw the light coming back to her eyes, where it had seemed frozen at +first. + +"And you love me? I was sure of it to-night. That was my chiefest glory. +Lacking that, what would the homage of all the world be to Rachael +Closs? I was thinking this, when _that_ seemed to start up before me, +and whispering to myself, 'He loves me! he loves me! he loves me!' like +a young girl; for I have seemed very young to-night. Why not? A glorious +life lies before us. You will now step more fearlessly forward, and take +your place among the great men of the earth,--while I--I will be +anything; charm stones, work miracles, to win popularity and lay it at +your feet. + +"Say that you love me once more, Norton, and then I will creep back to +my pillow, the proudest and happiest woman on earth--for, after all, it +was only a picture!" + +Rachael Closs had hardly done speaking when a cry of distress rang +through the neighboring corridor, the door of Lord Hope's chamber was +flung open, and a pallid face looked in. + +"Come--come at once! My lady is dying!" + +Round to other rooms came that cry of terror, arousing those two +girls--the one from her sleep, the other from her mournful vigil--and +drawing the family together, in pale groups, into the tower-chamber. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER. + + +The old countess was not dying, but dead. Hannah Yates, who had watched +her faithfully, did not know when the last faint breath left her lips; +but she became conscious of a solemn stillness which settled upon the +room, and bending forward, saw that soft gray shadows had crept over +that gentle face, up to the hair of silky snow, and down to the slender +throat, till it was lost in the purple splendor of that festive robe. + +There she lay, tranquil as a sleeping child, with a calm, holy smile +breaking through the shadows, and her little hands meekly folded over +the gossamer lace on her bosom. + +Upon a marble table close by lay the jewels she had worn--a glittering +and neglected heap of fire, which gave out more light than the shaded +lamps that threw their beams brightly on them, and shed tender moonlight +on that lovely old face. + +The family were slowly gathering in that death-chamber, where Clara and +Caroline were clinging together in bitter grief, and old Mrs. Yates was +kneeling with her face buried in the purple of her mistress' robe. + +Lord Hope came in at last, followed by Lady Hope, who, even in that +solemn place, could not suppress her pride as her eyes fell on Lady +Clara, whom she recognized as the heiress of all that gentle lady had +left. But Lady Clara saw nothing of this. The poor girl was weeping out +her passionate sorrow in the arms of her friend, who bent over her with +such tender sympathy that her face was almost concealed. + +As Lord Hope advanced toward the death-couch, old Mrs. Yates arose and +stood before him. When he had last seen her she was an old woman, but in +the prime of her strength; now her shoulders stooped, her hair was +entirely white, and she faltered in her walk. He reached out his hand to +her. She did not appear to observe it, but said to him, in a quiet +voice: + +"My lord, I am glad to find you here. God has so ordered it that I was +too late for her. She could not hear what I had to say, but you must +listen in her stead." + +"At the proper time, Hannah; but we must not talk of worldly things in +this presence." + +Lord Hope bent his head reverently toward the pale form upon the couch, +and the old woman also bowed down her face meekly, as she had learned to +bow her head in prison; but she answered, with gentle firmness: + +"No--that which I have to say must be told now, and in her dead +presence. Since God has forbidden me to bring doubt and sorrow on her +last moments I thank Him for it, but you must listen." + +"Not now--not now," answered Hope, quickly. He was disturbed by the +sight of this old woman, whom he had believed to be buried for life in +an American prison; but he had learned the great art of self-control, +and gave no indication of the shock her presence in that room gave him. + +His first impulse was to get Lady Hope out of the apartment. She had +never seen Mrs. Yates, but he was fearful that some mention of her name +might renew the nervous agitation from which she had but just recovered. + +"Come with me, Rachael," he said, in a low voice. "I will take you to +our room, for this is a painful sight. Then I will return, alone, to +hear what this person has to say." + +Lady Hope was willing to leave a scene which filled her with gloom. + +Whispering to Clara that she would come back and watch with her when the +old woman was gone, she twisted a corner of the black lace shawl, which +covered her head, around her throat, and went away, glad to escape that +strange old woman, against whom she had taken one of those sudden +antipathies which were common to her. + +"Dear me! I look almost as deathly as she does, with all these shadows +on my face," said Lady Hope, as she stood before the mirror in her +dressing-room, and unwound the black lace from her head. + +She was correct. What with fatigue, and the black shadows flung by her +shawl, the best friends of this proud woman would have recognized her +with difficulty. + +She turned for her husband's answer, but found that he had left her at +the door. All rest was broken up for her now; in fact, it was almost +morning; so she began to pace the room to and fro, thinking, with +exultation, of the honors and wealth that had poured in upon her family +by that gentle old lady's death. + +Meantime Lord Hope had gone back to the death-chamber, where Mrs. Yates +and the two young ladies were waiting. + +The old woman arose from her knees when he came in. + +"That which I have to say, Lord Hope, relates to you, first of all, now +that my dear old mistress is gone. When the first Lady Hope came to +America, her little girl, then between two and three years of age, was +placed in my son's family, and under my charge, as her mother had been +when a child. She had reasons, which you will understand, for wishing +the child to pass as the daughter of my son; so we gave her his name, +and she was known everywhere as my grandchild. + +"We had another little girl, about the same age, the daughter of Mrs. +Brown, an actress; fair, like your child, and very pretty. This child, +Caroline Brown, was almost given to us; for, after the first year, we +never saw her mother, or received anything from her. One night I +received a note asking me to come down to one of the theatres, and meet +a person who had business with me. There was no name to the note; but I +supposed it must be from Mrs. Brown, and went. But no person was there +to meet me, and I went home disappointed. That night Lady Hope died." + +Lord Hope, who had been anxious and restless, drew a deep breath; for he +understood, by the slow caution of the old woman's speech, that she +meant to reveal nothing which his anxious and listening daughter might +not hear. + +"My lady left a letter behind her, with some money, and the Carset +diamonds, which she charged me to deliver, with my own hands, here at +the castle. + +"She had fears about her daughter--anxieties, which I need not +explain--and besought me to keep the little girl; to educate her, and +conceal her identity until she was eighteen years old, when I, or my +son, should take her back to England, and allow her to choose her own +way of life. + +"I had talked this matter over with my lady, and gave her a solemn +promise to protect her child, and the honor of her name, with my life, +if that were needed. The very night of her death Lady Hope gave all the +papers necessary to the recognition of her child to my son. He brought +them home, and, while the children were asleep, we two pledged ourselves +to protect your child from everything that her mother feared, and to +secure for her all that she hoped. + +"My lord, we kept our oaths. He died, broken-hearted, under the terrible +burden which we took on ourselves that night. I lived, carrying it with +me, till my shoulders are bowed, and my hair white with old age. + +"The next day, while _she_ lay dead, a fire broke out in the house where +we lived. Our rooms were high up; the flames and smoke mounted so +suddenly that it was impossible for us to escape by the stairs. The two +little girls had crept into a corner of the room, and sat crying there, +with the fire and smoke rolling toward them. I had secured the box, in +which were Lady Hope's jewels and papers, and swung it over my +shoulders, then snatched up your child." + +Here the two girls, who stood, pale and trembling, by the window, +uttered a simultaneous cry. + +"I remember! I remember!" they said, each to the other, then clung +together and listened. + +The old woman scarcely heeded this interruption. + +Lord Hope looked toward the window, so bewildered that he could neither +see nor hear anything distinctly. + +Mrs. Yates went on: + +"I called on Daniel's wife to bring the other child. Firemen and +citizens were climbing the ladders and leaping in at the windows. One +man sprang into the room and out again, while I waited for my turn. He +had something in his arms huddled up like a bundle--pushed me aside and +took my place on the ladder. Then Daniel's wife came to me, wringing her +hands and crying. She could not find the child. + +"But I had the one most precious to me in my arms. The flames drove me +forward, and I let myself down on the ladder. Your child was safe. I +know now that the man who pushed me from the window saved little +Caroline Brown and brought her to you. She has since been known as your +daughter. I saw her in your arms on board the steamer. Last night she +was recognized as grand-daughter of Lady Carset." + +"But the other--my own child?" + +"I had no means of telling you the truth at the time, and, after that, +would not do it. The child, I knew, would be a safeguard to little +Clara. You would not inquire for her while supposing her in your own +possession. But we took one precaution--that of giving her the name of +Caroline, which was sure to prevent inquiry. After that she was known +as Caroline Yates, and, until my son's death, thought herself his child. +I never lived with them after that, but saw her from time to time, +though she never noticed me or knew of the interest I took in her; but, +year by year, I saw her grow up, until my son died. Then I lost all +knowledge of her. + +"One day I was free to look for this dear child, and went to the cottage +where my son's will had secured her a home. It was empty. She had gone +away with some singing woman and a person named Brown, who had been her +music-teacher. + +"The woman had claimed to be her mother, and was known on the stage as +Olympia." + +"Go on! go on!" exclaimed Lord Hope; "I am listening." + +The two girls in the window were listening also. As they understood this +story more and more clearly, their arms tightened around each other and +a look of unutterable affection beamed upon their faces; but that of the +girl known as Lady Clara glowed with a look of generous self-abnegation, +while her companion was troubled, and almost sad. + +"Go on! go on!" + +"I left America at once on learning this, bringing Lady Hope's papers +and Lady Carset's jewels with me. Olympia was in England, and, no doubt, +your daughter was with her. First I came here, and gave up the trust +that had become a heavy, heavy burden. Then I went in search of my young +lady. The time had come when she might claim her title and her rights, +without violating her mother's directions. After much search, I found +Olympia's house, and inquired for the person known as her daughter. She +told me herself, and with bitter anger, that she had no daughter. I +knew the woman, and attempted to make her comprehend that I wished to +find the young lady for her own good; but this flung her into a passion +of rage, and she ordered me from the house. Then followed an attempt to +bribe me. Still I kept up the search, and at last traced the girl they +called Caroline Brown to this neighborhood." + +"To this neighborhood!" exclaimed Lord Hope. "Where? where?" + +"My lord, up to this time you have only the word of an old woman, who +has suffered under great reproach for all this. I know that the identity +of a nobleman's child and the transfer of a great inheritance cannot be +so proven. But here is the letter, which Lady Hope gave to me, and +another that she wrote to you on the day of her death. Poor, poor lady! +She was very sad that morning, and would undertake the letter at once. +God seemed to warn her of what would happen in the next twenty-four +hours." + +Lord Hope took the papers which the old woman handed to him, and there, +in the presence of the dead, gathered a confirmation of all Mrs. Yates +had told him. + +The paper had grown yellow since it was blotted with the tears of a +woman he had once loved. No wonder it shook his hand as he read. + +"And this girl, my daughter, where is she?" he cried, with a passionate +outburst of grief. + +The girl known as Lady Clara came out from the shadows of the window +curtains, and made an effort to draw Caroline with her; but she shrank +back and stood alone, trembling violently. + +"Papa!" + +"Oh, my poor, poor child! How will you bear this?" cried Lord Hope. + +"Trust me, dear, dear papa--for I will call you so. Nothing can break +my heart, if you and mamma Rachael will love me yet; for the rest, I am +glad, so glad, that I am no longer a lady, and am left without a guinea. +This is to be really free!" + +"Ah, poor child, how can we ever part with you?" + +"Your own daughter will not begrudge me a little love; and, after all, I +do belong to mamma Rachael more than she ever can. That is something. +Besides, it is from me that you must take your daughter, for I brought +her here. Ask her if I did not." + +The young girl was smiling, but tears stood in her eyes, and her lips +quivered as she spoke. + +"Come with me, father, and I will give you to her. It is hard, but I +will." + +She led Lord Hope across the room, drew back the curtain, and let in the +soft gray light of that early dawn upon the trembling young creature who +stood there. + +Lord Hope shook in all his limbs when he saw that face. The eyes full of +tears seemed to reproach him as _hers_ had on that fatal night. + +He reached out his arms, with a convulsive heaving of the chest, and +faltered out: + +"Forgive me! forgive me! for I have bitterly repented." + +He did not kiss her--he dared not even touch her forehead in that solemn +presence; but he laid one hand on her head, rested his own upon it, +asking that forgiveness of God which her heart gave, but could only +express by pathetic silence. + +Then the old woman came up to the window, and stood there, waiting. + +When Lord Hope fell back against the window-frame, strengthless from +excess of feeling, she laid a hand upon the girl's shoulder, and, +turning her face gently to the light, gazed upon it with tender +scrutiny. Then she said, talking to herself: + +"It is her face! It is her face!" + +"And you are Daniel Yates' mother. How I shall love you! Oh, how I loved +him!" + +Then the old woman's face began to quiver, and her large gray eyes +filled with the slow tears old age gives out with such pain. + +"Yes, child, you must love me a little for your mother's sake." + +"And for the sake of that good man, your son, who was a father to me. +How often he has told me that, if there was anything grand or good in +him, it came from the best mother that ever lived! 'Some day,' he once +said, 'God may be merciful and let you know her. Then remember that she +has nothing left but you.' I do remember it, and no child ever loved a +grandmother better than I will love you." + +The old woman lifted up her head from the gentle embrace thus offered +her, and turned to her dead mistress. + +A smile, soft as that hovering about that cold mouth, came to her lips +and eyes. + +"God is very good to me. Are the angels telling you of it, my old +mistress, that you smile so?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +THE NEMESIS. + + +The last tender words were still lingering on the lips of Mrs. Yates, +when the door opened and Lady Hope stood upon the threshold. + +She had become restless beyond self-control in her own room, and came +back to the death-chamber, wondering what detained her husband there so +long. She had thrown the lace shawl from her head entirely; but it fell +around her shoulders, shading her bare white arms and beautiful neck, +which the amber-hued dress would otherwise have left uncovered. Framed +in the doorway she made an imperial picture. + +"My lord," she said, advancing to her husband, "what detains you here so +long?" + +Old Mrs. Yates stepped forward with a scared, wild look; a gleam of +anger or fear, bright as fire, and fierce as a martyr's faith, shot into +her eyes and broadened there. She came close to Lady Hope, facing her, +and laid one hand heavily on her arm. + +The haughty woman drew back, and would have shaken the hand from her +arm, but it clung there with a grip of steel. + +"Lord Hope, is this woman your wife?" + +"His wife! Yes, old woman, I am his wife," cried Rachael, pale with +indignation; "but who authorized you to ask?" + +The old woman did not heed her scornfulness, but turned her eyes upon +Lord Hope, whose face was already white with vague terror. + +"Is she your wife--the woman who was called Rachael Closs?" + +"It is Lady Hope, my wife. Why do you ask?" + +"_Because it was this woman who murdered your first wife, Lady Carset's +daughter!_" + +More than the stillness of death settled upon that room. The two girls +hushed their sobs, and clung closer together in awful silence. The man +and the woman, on whom these words had fallen like a rock hurled from +some great high stood living and human, but struck into marble by a +single blow. The man could not move; the woman did not seem to breathe. +Hannah Yates went on, her voice low, but ringing out clear and +distinctly like a funeral knell: + +"On the twenty-first of June, now more than fifteen years ago, I saw +you, Lord Hope, come out of a house in Forty-third Street, in New York. + +"You know the house, and can never forget who lived in it. That day I +had carried your child to see its mother, and left word at home for my +son, Daniel Yates, to go after her; for I had business with a woman at +one of the theatres, and was not sure of coming back in time. The woman +I expected to see was not there; but it took me a long time to walk +back, and it was about ten o'clock when I reached the house in +Forty-third Street. Thinking it possible that Daniel might not have come +home from his work till late, I was crossing the street to go in and +inquire about the child, when the front door opened, and you came down +the steps, with a fierce, angry air, such as I had seen many a time on +this side the water. I knew that your presence in that house could have +no peaceful meaning, and went over. I had a latch-key, and did not need +to ring. + +"The hall was dark--everything was still below; but a sound of weeping +and moans of distress came from my lady's chamber. I went up and found +her in the dark, lying across her bed, trembling dreadfully. She +shrieked when I bent over her, and it was not till I got a light that +she would be satisfied that it was only me. Then she sat up, and, in a +rapid way, told me that you had been there after the child, and would +have it but that the little creature had crept away and could not be +found anywhere in the house. She must have got into the street, and you +would find her, or she might be lost. She begged me to go at once and +look for the child, and wanted to go with me; but I would not let her +do that. I took her arms from my neck--for, in her joy at seeing the old +woman, she had flung them there--made her lie down on the bed, and went +away, promising to come back if I did not find the child; but, if I did, +it was to be carried to my own house, as she was afraid to trust it near +her. With this understanding I left her to search for the little girl. + +"She may have crept down to the basement door and be hiding under the +steps, I thought. Of course, the little thing would be afraid to go out +into the streets. So the first thing I did was to run down into the +area. In my haste I had left the door ajar, and bethought myself to go +back and shut it, but while I was searching the area a woman ran up the +steps and, pushing the door open, went into the house. + +"At first I thought it was one of the servants, for they all appeared to +be out, but she had on a striped India shawl, such as ladies wore in +travelling, and a straw bonnet, from which the veil had blown back. +These were not things worn by servants; besides, her air and walk +convinced me that this woman was of another class. As she entered the +door I saw her face for a single moment, but long enough to show me that +I had never seen it before. + +"The child was not in the area. I rang the basement bell, meaning to +question the servants, but no one answered it. Then I hesitated where to +go next, and as I stood in the shadow of the steps thinking the matter +over, this same woman came through the door, shut it without noise, and +ran down to the pavement. I saw her face clearly then, for the street +lamp was bright. It was that of the woman by your side, Lord Hope." + +Rachael Closs turned a pallid face upon her husband. + +"Will you permit this woman to go on? Is this hideous lie a thing for +my husband to encourage by his silence? Who is this audacious woman?" + +Lord Hope attempted to speak, but his white lips seemed frozen together. + +"I am Hannah Yates, the nurse of that murdered lady; the woman who has +given fourteen years of her life, rather than have scandal fall on the +husband her foster-child loved, or the awful truth reach her dear old +mistress, who died, thank God, without knowing it." + +"And you listen, my lord, to this woman, a confessed murderer, and, no +doubt, an escaped convict?" + +"He _must_ listen, and he must believe! How did I know that he was in my +lady's house that night, and the moment of his leaving it? How did I +know the very words he used in attempting to force the child from her? +No human being but himself and the poor lady, whose lips were cold +within an hour, knew of anything that passed between the husband and +wife the last time they ever met on earth." + +"But you might have overheard--no doubt were listening--if my lord was +indeed in that place at all. This is no evidence, even if a woman, +convicted by her own confession of a crime she now seeks to cast upon +another, could bear witness." + +Rachael Closs spoke out clearly now, and her eyes, shining with the +ferocity of a wild animal at bay, turned full upon the old woman who +accused her. + +The old woman put a hand into her bosom and drew out a small poniard. +Rachael Closs gave a sharp gasp, and snatched at the poniard, but the +old woman held it firmly. + +"Lord Hope, this has been in your hands a hundred times. When did you +part with it? To what person did you give it? Your crest is on the +handle; her blood rusts the blade." + +Lord Hope lifted both hands to conceal the horror that was on his face, +to shut out the weapon from his sight. + +"Oh! my God! my God! spare me more of this!" + +The proud noble was shaking from head to foot. The veins swelled purple +on his forehead. The sight of that slender weapon swept away his last +doubt. Lady Hope shrank back from his side, but watched him keenly in +her agony of guilt and dread. Her proud figure withered down, her +features were locked and hard, but out of their pallor her great eyes +shone with terrible brilliancy. Her husband's hands dropped at last, and +he turned a look of such despairing anguish upon her that a cry broke +from her lips. + +"You--you condemn me?" + +Lord Hope turned from her, shuddering. + +"You know! you know!" + +He remembered giving her this poniard on the very day of her crime. He +had been in the habit of carrying it with him when travelling, and +though sharp as a viper's tongue, it, with the daintily enamelled +sheath, was a pretty table ornament, and she had begged it of him for a +paper cutter. He had seen the sheath since, but never the poniard, and +now the sight of it was a blow through the heart. + +"I picked it up by her bed that morning, after the murder. There is a +person in the castle who saw me take it from the place where it had +fallen. If any one here doubts me, let them ask a person called Margaret +Casey--let them ask her." + +That moment the door of the room opened, and Hepworth Closs stood on the +threshold. He had been informed of Lady Carset's illness, just as he was +leaving the castle, and came back only to hear that she was gone. The +scene upon which he looked was something worse than a death-chamber. + +"Ask him if he did not see this poniard in her room while she lay +unburied in the house." + +Rachael turned her eyes upon her brother--those great, pleading eyes, +which were fast taking an expression of pathetic agony, like those of a +hunted doe. + +"And you--and you!" she said, with a cry of pain that thrilled the heart +of her wretched husband. "Has all the world turned against me? Old +woman, what have I ever done to you that you should hunt me down so?" + +Hepworth Closs came forward and threw an arm around his sister's waist. + +"What is it, Rachael? Who is hunting you down?" he said, tenderly. "No +one shall hurt you while I am near." + +She turned, threw her arms around his neck, and covered his face with +passionate kisses. Then she turned to Lord Hope, held out her pale hands +imploringly; and cried out in pathetic anguish: + +"Oh, do not believe it! Do not believe it!" + +But Lord Hope stepped back, and turned away his face. She knew that this +motion was her doom. + +"Let me look at the poniard," she said, with unnatural gentleness. "I +have a right to examine the proofs brought against me." + +Hannah Yates gave her the dagger. She looked at it earnestly a moment, +laid one hand upon her heart, as if its beating stifled her, then lifted +the other and struck. + +"Now, my husband, will you kiss me? I have given them blood for blood, +life for life!" + +She fell in a heap at her husband's feet, and while death glazed over +her eyes, reached up her arms to him. + +He fell upon his knees, forgetting everything but the one dreadful fact +that she was his wife, and dying. His face drooped to hers, for the lips +were moving, and her eyes turned upon him with pathetic anxiety. + +"It was love for you that led me to it--only that--Oh, believe--beli--" + +"I do! I do!" he cried out, in fearful anguish. "God forgive me, and +have mercy on you!" + +She struggled, lifted up her arms, drew his lips close to hers, and over +them floated the last icy breath that Rachael Closs ever drew. + +Then the young girl, who had loved this woman better than anything on +earth, sank to the floor, and took that pale head in her lap, moaning +over it piteously. + +"My poor mamma! my darling mother! Speak to me! Open your eyes! It is +Clara--your own, own child! Her eyelids close--her lips are falling +apart! Oh! my God, is she dead?" + +She looked piteously in the face of Hepworth Closs, who had knelt by her +side, and asked this question over and over again: + +"Is she dead? Oh, tell me, is she dead?" + +Hepworth Closs bent down, and touched his lips to the cold forehead of +his sister; then he lifted Clara from the floor, and half led her, half +carried her, from the room. + +Then Lord Hope stood up and turned, with a shudder, to the old woman, +who had been to him and his a fearful Nemesis. + +"Hannah Yates," he said, "you have suffered much, concealed much, and, +from your own confession, are not without sin." + +"True, true," murmured the old woman. "I have sinned grievously." + +"Therefore, you should have shown more mercy to this unhappy woman. But +the suffering and the wrong was done to shield this girl from what you +thought an evil influence, and save from reproach two noble houses, to +which she belongs--for her face tells me that your story is true. Spare +the memory of this most unfortunate, if sinful woman. Spare the high +name and noble pride of the old countess, who beseeches you--her very +face seems to change as I speak--for silence and forgetfulness. That +which you have done in love, continue in mercy. Let this miserable +scene, with all that led to it, rest in sacred silence among us. The +persons who have suffered most are now before a tribunal where no +evidence of yours is wanted. Look on your old mistress," he continued, +pointing toward the death couch, "and let her sweet face plead with you. +Had she lived--" + +"Had she lived," said the old woman, "I should not have spoken. Death +itself would not have wrung from me one word of what her daughter +suffered. But the woman who murdered her came suddenly before me. It was +a power beyond my poor will that made me speak; but hereafter no word of +this shall ever pass my lips. No evil story of suffering or bloodshed +shall ever go forth about a lady of Houghton while I can prevent it." + +Lord Hope bent his head, and made an effort to thank her, but he could +not speak. + +"Leave me now," said the old woman. "Let no servants come near these +apartments, save two that can be trusted here with me. Some one send +Margaret Casey and Eliza, her sister, here. Now leave me, Lord Hope, and +you, Lady Carset. You can trust the old woman alone with these two." + +Before noon, that day, it was known in all the country around that the +old countess, Lady Carset, lay in funeral state in the royal +guest-chamber at Houghton Castle, for the long red flag was floating +half-way down its staff, and a hatchment hung in mournful gorgeousness +over the principal entrance between those two massive towers. + +But farther than the flag could be seen, and swift as the wind that +stirred it, went the strange story that the beautiful Lady Hope had been +seized with a violent hemorrhage of the lungs while standing by the +death couch of the old countess, and had died before help could be +obtained. + +After this, another wild rumor took wing. The young lady who had been +some weeks at the castle was only an adopted daughter of Lord Hope, and, +consequently could not become heiress of Houghton under the will or by +entail. The daughter and heiress was at the castle, stricken down with +grief at the double loss that had fallen upon her since her arrival from +abroad, where she had been educated. With a feeling of delicacy that did +her honor she had declined to appear as the acknowledged heiress at the +festival given to Lady Hope, feeling that it might interfere with her +grandmother's independent action with regard to the vast property at her +disposal, if she allowed herself to be proclaimed thus early as the +chosen heiress, which she now undoubtedly was. The will had been read, +and, with the exception of a considerable legacy to Caroline Brown, the +adopted daughter, and provisions for the servants, young Lady Carset +came in for everything. + +Alderman Stacy took this story back to America, and described his +reception at Houghton Castle with such glowing colors--when the +assembled board were at supper one night, in a pleasant, social +way--that one of the fathers proposed forthwith to draw up a resolution +of thanks to young Lady Carset for the hospitality extended to their +illustrious compeer, and forward it, with "the liberty of the city, +under the great seal of New York." At the next meeting of the board this +resolution was carried unanimously--in fact, with acclamation. + +Months went by, twelve or more, and then the trees around that grand old +stronghold blazed out with lights again. Two fountains shot their liquid +brightness over the stone terrace, at which the people from far and near +came to drink. One sent up crystal, and rained down diamonds, as it had +done that night when the old countess died. The other, being of wine, +shot up a column of luminous red into the air, and came down in a storm +of rubies. + +The people, who caught the red drops on their lips, and dipped the +sparkling liquid up with silver ladles, knew that a double wedding was +going on in the castle, and clamored loudly for a sight of their lady +and her bridegroom. + +After a little, the windows along the façade of the building were thrown +back, and a gay throng poured itself into a broad balcony, that +projected a little over the stone terrace, where the wine was flowing, +and the eager people crowding forward for the first look. + +Foremost came Lord Hilton, leading Clara--Lady Carset--by the hand. Then +Hepworth Closs stepped forth, and on his arm a bright, sparkling little +figure, in a cloud of gauzy silk, and crowned with white roses, who +smiled and kissed her hand to the crowd, while her little feet kept +time, and almost danced, to the music, which broke from terrace and +covert as the bridal party appeared. + +Standing a little back, near one of the windows, stood two gentlemen, +one very old and stricken in years, who leaned heavily on his cane, and +looked smilingly down upon the multitude swaying in front of the castle; +and well he might, for two of the finest estates in England had been +joined that day, and from horizon to horizon stretched the united lands +which the children of his grandson would inherit. + +The other gentleman, standing there with the sad, worn face was Lord +Hope, who leaned heavily against the window-frame, and looked afar off +over the heads of the multitude wearily, wearily, as if the days of +marrying and giving in marriage were all a blank to him. When the young +bride, who had given up her name, title and fortune willingly to +another, came up to him at the window, she laid her hand tenderly on his +arm, whispering: + +"Farewell, father, farewell! I am not the less your child because of the +blue blood, for she cannot love you better than I do. Will you not shake +hands with my husband, father?" + +Lord Hope lifted his heavy eyes to Hepworth Closs, saw the features of +another, whom no one ever mentioned now, in that face, flung both arms +about the bridegroom, shaking from head to foot with tearless sobs. + +A little while after a carriage drove from Houghton to the station, and +in two days a steamer sailed with Hepworth Closs and his wife, with that +kind and faithful man, her father, for New York. + +Just as they were about to sail, an old woman came quietly into the +second-class cabin, paid her passage, and rested there, never coming on +deck till the steamer landed. Then she gathered up her effects in a +carpet-bag and went ashore. + +That night a fire blazed on the hearth at Cedar Cottage, and the +dilapidated furniture in the various rooms was arranged in the kitchen. + +About six months after, this old woman was found dead upon an iron +bedstead up-stairs, and the neighbors held a consultation about burying +her at the expense of the town; but, on searching the rooms, plenty of +English gold was found to have kept her comfortable for years. Then some +one remembered that a convict, discharged from the prison not many years +ago, was said to be the mother of Daniel Yates, a good man and excellent +citizen, and they decided to bury the poor old convict by his side. + +There is a very prosperous firm in New York, which has stood the shock +of gold corners, and railway crashes, with the firm resistance of heavy +capital and business integrity. It is the firm of Closs & Brown. + +The younger member is an active, shrewd, generous man, full of +resources, and capable of wonderful combinations. + +The other superintends the in-door business, and makes himself very +useful, in a quiet sort of way, in keeping things straight--no +unimportant position in a business house, let me assure you. + +As for Caroline--Mrs. Hepworth Closs--you may see her, any fine day, +dashing faster than the law allows, along the avenues of Central Park, +holding a pair of white ponies well in hand, while she chats and laughs +with her husband, glorying in him, and exulting in the freedom which she +gained in losing a grand title and estate. + + +THE END. + + + + + MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS' WORKS. + + Each Work is complete in one volume, 12mo. + + THE OLD COUNTESS; OR, THE TWO PROPOSALS. + LORD HOPE'S CHOICE. + THE REIGNING BELLE. + A NOBLE WOMAN. + MARRIED IN HASTE. + WIVES AND WIDOWS; OR, THE BROKEN LIFE. + THE REJECTED WIFE. + THE GOLD BRICK. + THE CURSE OF GOLD. + THE HEIRESS. + FASHION AND FAMINE. + PALACES AND PRISONS. + THE OLD HOMESTEAD. + SILENT STRUGGLES. + MARY DERWENT. + THE WIFE'S SECRET. + THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS. + RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY. + MABEL'S MISTAKE. + DOUBLY FALSE. + + Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth; or $1.50 in Paper Cover. + + Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any or all + of the above books will be sent to any one, to any place, postage + pre-paid, on receipt of their price by the Publishers, + + T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, + 306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Old Countess; or, The Two Proposals, by +Ann S. 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Stephens + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +hr { margin: 5em auto 3em auto; + height: 0px; + border-width: 1px 0 0 0; + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + width: 30em; + clear: both; +} +hr.hr2 {width: 15em; margin: 3em auto 3em auto;} + +hr.hr3 {width: 15em; margin: 5em auto 1em auto;} + +hr.hr4 {width: 15em; margin: 2em auto 5em auto;} + +hr.hr5 {border: none;} + +table {text-align: center; + margin: 2em auto 2em auto; + border-collapse: collapse; + border-spacing: 0; +} + +em {font-style: italic;} + +td {vertical-align: top;} +td.tdl {text-align: left; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 2em; + text-indent: -2em; padding-bottom: 1em; padding-right: 1em;} +td.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.pagenum {/* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /*visibility: hidden;*/ + position: absolute; + left: 1em; + font-size: 10px; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + font-style: normal; + letter-spacing: normal; + text-indent: 0em; + text-align: right; + color: #999999; + background-color: #ffffff; + text-align: right; + text-decoration: overline underline; + width: 2em; +} /* page numbers */ + + +.blockquot {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} +.right1 {text-align: right; padding-right: 1em;} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} +.noi {text-indent: 0em;} +.indent {padding-left: 6em;} + +.title {font-size: 2.8em;} +.or {font-size: .9em;} +.sub {font-size: 1.8em;} +.author {font-size: 2.2em;} +.books {font-size: .5em;} +.top {margin-top: 5em;} + + +.block {margin: auto; width: 26em;} +.advert1 .advert2 {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} +.advert1 span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.advert1 span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.advert1 span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.advert1 span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.advert1 span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 15em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Old Countess; or, The Two Proposals, by +Ann S. Stephens + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Old Countess; or, The Two Proposals + +Author: Ann S. Stephens + +Release Date: August 30, 2009 [EBook #29862] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD COUNTESS *** + + + + +Produced by Roberta Staehlin and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p class="center top"><span class="title">THE OLD COUNTESS;</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="or">OR,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">THE TWO PROPOSALS.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="or">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="author">MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="books">AUTHOR OF "LORD HOPE'S CHOICE," "THE REIGNING BELLE," "MARRIED IN HASTE,"<br /> +"MABEL'S MISTAKE," "DOUBLY FALSE," "WIVES AND WIDOWS," "MARY DERWENT,"<br /> +"THE REJECTED WIFE," "THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS," "THE OLD HOMESTEAD,"<br /> +"FASHION AND FAMINE," "THE HEIRESS," "RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY,"<br /> +"THE CURSE OF GOLD," "SILENT STRUGGLES," "THE WIFE'S SECRET,"<br /> +"PALACES AND PRISONS," "THE GOLD BRICK," "A NOBLE WOMAN."</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="hr3" /> +<h4>A SEQUEL TO "LORD HOPE'S CHOICE."</h4> +<hr class="hr4" /> + +<h4>PHILADELPHIA:<br /> +T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS;<br /> +<small>306 CHESTNUT STREET.</small><br /></h4> + + +<h5>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by<br /> +T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,<br /> +In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.<br /></h5> + + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl" colspan="2">Chapter</td> +<td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">I.—</td> +<td class="tdl">LOVE LIGHTS IN TWO HEARTS.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#I">23</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">II.—</td> +<td class="tdl">CLARA APPEALS TO HER STEPMOTHER.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#II">30</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">III.—</td> +<td class="tdl">LOVERS' QUARREL.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#III">40</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">IV.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE ITALIAN TEACHER.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#IV">48</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">V.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER IN OPPOSITION.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#V">57</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">VI.—</td> +<td class="tdl">SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES GET INTO A CONJUGAL +DIFFICULTY.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#VI">68</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">VII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE OPERATIC SUPPER.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#VII">77</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">VIII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">BEHIND THE SCENES.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#VIII">86</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">IX.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE FIRST PERFORMANCE.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#IX">91</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">X.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE TWO FOSTER-CHILDREN MEET.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#X">96</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XI.—</td> +<td class="tdl">LADY CLARA QUARRELS WITH HER STEPMOTHER.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XI">101</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE OLD PRISONER.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XII">107</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XIII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE OLD COUNTESS.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XIII">116</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XIV.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE OLD COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XIV">122</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XV.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE EARL'S RETURN.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XV">133</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XVI.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE WIFE AND THE DAUGHTER.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XVI">143</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XVII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">HUSBAND AND WIFE.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XVII">152</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XVIII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE STORMY NIGHT AND SUNSHINY MORNING.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XVIII">159</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XIX.—</td> +<td class="tdl">AFTER THE FAILURE.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XIX">167</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XX.—</td> +<td class="tdl">LORD HILTON TAKES SUPPER WITH OLYMPIA.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XX">176</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXI.—</td> +<td class="tdl">ON THE WAY TO HOUGHTON CASTLE.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXI">184</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE OLD COUNTESS.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXII">191</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXIII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXIII">197</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXIV.—</td> +<td class="tdl">DOWN BY THE BROOK AMONG THE FERNS.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXIV">203</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXV.—</td> +<td class="tdl">HOW LADY CLARA GOT HER OWN WAY.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXV">208</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXVI.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXVI">214</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXVII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">MAGGIE CASEY MEETS HER OLD LOVER.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXVII">220</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXVIII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">JUST FIFTY POUNDS.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXVIII">224</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXIX.—</td> +<td class="tdl">OLYMPIA'S DEFEAT.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXIX">232</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXX.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE FAMILY MEETING AT HOUGHTON.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXX">240</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXXI.—</td> +<td class="tdl">DOWN AMONG THE FERNS AGAIN.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXXI">247</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXXII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">OUT AMONG THE TREES.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXXII">253</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXXIII.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE BALL AT HOUGHTON.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXXIII">263</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXXIV.—</td> +<td class="tdl">THE OLD WOMAN WANDERS BACK AGAIN.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXXIV">269</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXXV.—</td> +<td class="tdl">LADY HOPE IN THE CASTLE.</td> +<td class="tdr"> <a href="#XXXV">274</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXXVI.—</td> +<td class="tdl">DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXXVI">280</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XXXVII. —</td> +<td class="tdl">THE NEMESIS.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXXVII">289</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span> +<big>THE OLD COUNTESS;</big><br /> +<br /> +<small>OR,</small><br /> +<br /> +THE TWO PROPOSALS.</h2> + + + +<hr class="hr4" /> + +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /> +<br /> +<small>LOVE-LIGHTS IN TWO HEARTS.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">During</span> fourteen years Hepworth Closs had been a wanderer +over the earth.</p> + +<p>When he was carried out from the court-room after Mrs. +Yates' confession of a crime which he had shrinkingly +believed committed by another, he had fainted from the +suddenness with which a terrible load had been lifted from +his soul.</p> + +<p>In that old woman's guilt he had no share. It swept +the blackness from the marriage he had protested against +as hideously wicked. The wrong he had done was divested +of the awful responsibilities which had seemed more than +he could bear. The revelation had made him, comparatively, +an innocent and free man. But a shock had been +given to his whole being which unfitted him for the common +uses of society.</p> + +<p>After all that had passed through his mind he could not +bear to think of joining his sister or husband. The keen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> +feelings of a nature, not in its full development wicked or +dishonorable, had been startled into life, when he saw into +what a gulf he had almost plunged. He saw the sin and +the wrong he had done in its true light, and not only repented +of it, but abhorred it from the very depths of his soul. +He longed to make atonement, and would have given ten +years from his life for a chance by which he could have +sacrificed himself to any one that poor murdered lady had +loved.</p> + +<p>These feelings rose up like a barrier between him and his +sister. Her influence over his youth had been so powerful +that his own better nature never might have asserted itself +but for the tragedy which followed his first plunge into +deception and wrong-doing. He loved this beautiful young +woman yet, as few brothers of any age or class ever did; +but the shock of that tragedy was on him, and his impulse +was to flee from her and the man for whose sake all this +trouble had come.</p> + +<p>Hepworth Closs was not the first youth whose life has +opened with evil thoughts and evil deeds, from which his +manhood shrank appalled.</p> + +<p>The unformed intellect and quick passions of youth have +wrecked many a noble soul, by the sin of an hour or a day, +beyond the redemption of a toiling and regretful after-life. +The man who does redeem himself must have a powerful +nature, which will force its strength to be recognized, and +make its regeneration felt. But to the sins of youth much +should be forgiven, which, in the mature man, justice might +utterly condemn.</p> + +<p>Hepworth Closs arose from that fainting fit humbled and +grateful. That moment his resolve was taken. He would +not share the benefits which might come to him through +his sister's marriage, nor in anything partake of a reward +for the evil he had, in mercy, been saved from. The world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span> +was before him. He would work his way into prosperity, +if possible; if not, bear his fate like a man who had deserved +suffering, and could endure it.</p> + +<p>One act of restitution was in his power. The property +of the unfortunate person, whom he knew as Lady Hope, +had fallen into his possession, for the house had been purchased +in his name, and, in like manner, her deposits had +been made. He had never intended to claim this money as +his own, and invested it now, holding himself as the trustee. +This done, he threw himself upon the world, quite alone.</p> + +<p>During fifteen years he had asserted the honorable manhood +that had sprung out of his erring youth. That fearful +tragedy had sickened him with deception, and with all +ambition which did not spring out of his own honest exertions. +He went forth, with all his energies on the alert, +and his intellect free from the suspicions that had for a time +enthralled it. He had craved riches, and hoped to obtain +them through Rachael's marriage. This had been a temptation. +He had ambition still, but it took a far more noble +direction. With wealth he would gather knowledge; with +both, mental force and moral power.</p> + +<p>He went. Men saw him in the gold mines of California, +in Australia, and among the traders of India and Japan. +Then he came back to New York, and was honorably +known upon the exchange. Then came a yearning wish to +see his sister, the only relative he had on earth; and we +find him at the gate of Oakhurst Park, just as Lady Clara +dashed through it, as bright a vision of joyous, happy girlhood +as ever crossed the path of any man.</p> + +<p>That moment I think that Hepworth Closs fell in love +with the girl. If so, it was absolutely his first love. The +boyish and most unprincipled passion he had felt for that +murdered lady had no similitude with the feelings that possessed +him now. It was a wicked, insane desire, springing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> +out of his perverted youth—a feeling that he would have +shuddered to have recognized as love, in these, his better +days.</p> + +<p>Yes, it is certain Closs loved the girl at first sight, but +was unconscious of it, as the nest is when a dove settles +down to its brooding.</p> + +<p>As for the girl, she had seen but few men in her life calculated +to disturb the repose of a creature so gifted and +rich in imagination. At first Hepworth had seemed rather +an old person to her, notwithstanding the gloss of his black +hair, and the smooth whiteness of his forehead. With a +trust in this, which gradually betrayed her, she accepted +him frankly as a relative, and in less than three weeks, +grew restless as a bird. She wondered what had made the +world all at once so gloriously beautiful, and why it was so +difficult for her to keep the tears out of her eyes when +the soft purple evening came down, and divided the day +which had been spent with him, from the night, when she +could only hope to see him in shadowy dreams.</p> + +<p>Rachael Closs saw all this, and it filled her with bitter +rejoicing. How would her powerful old enemy receive the +intelligence that a brother of hers had won the heart of the +future Lady Carset? that he would be lord of the proud +old castle, which must go with the title, and mingle the +blood she had so often denounced as base with that which +had turned against her, with such hot scorn, ever since she +entered England as Lord Hope's wife?</p> + +<p>The very thought of that haughty old peeress so humiliated +was wonderfully pleasant to the wounded pride of +Rachael Closs. But far beyond this was the yearning, +almost passionate fondness she felt for her brother and the +beautiful girl who had been to her at once a Nemesis and +an infatuation.</p> + +<p>This was what Lady Hope had hinted at when Hepworth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> +first came. The great wish of her heart had grown to be +the union of these two persons, next to one supreme object +of love, the dearest beings to her on earth. It seemed to +her that those long, weary intervals, which grew more and +more frequent, when Lord Hope left her alone in the desolate +splendor of that great house, would be more endurable +if she were certain that these two persons would always be +near her. She was not ambitious for her brother. That +feeling had died out years ago; but her love sprang to him, +like a freshly-kindled flame.</p> + +<p>With Lady Hope, as with Rachael Closs, there was no +moderation in her feelings, which were tenacious as they +were powerful and exacting. But Rachael, with all her +impetuosity, had strong contradictory qualities. She was +sagacious, and could rein in her passion of love or hate as +an Arab controls his desert steed. That which her soul +most desired she could wait for.</p> + +<p>One night, when the moonbeams lay like silver on the +stone terrace, and the shadow of the peacock fell from the +balustrade like a second bird, Lady Hope complained of +fatigue, and retreated into her own room, leaving Hepworth +and Clara sitting upon a flight of steps which led down to +a flower-garden, somewhat neglected of late years, which +lay beneath the stone terrace and brightened the grounds +nearest to the lady's apartments. Not far from these steps +was a noble old cedar of Lebanon, rooted deep, where the +drawbridge had been hundreds of years before. Beneath it +was a rustic seat, and in its branches innumerable birds +were sleeping.</p> + +<p>There never was, perhaps, a finer contrast of silver light +and black shadow in any landscape than surrounded these +two persons, as they sat together side by side, both thinking +of the same thing, and both reluctant to break the delicious +silence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span>At last Hepworth spoke—it was but a single word, which +made his companion start and hold her breath.</p> + +<p>"Clara!"</p> + +<p>She did not answer him; that one word frightened her. +She had half a mind to start up and hide herself in the +shadows, for he was looking in her face, and the moonlight +fell like a glory over his features, which she now saw were +grave even to sadness.</p> + +<p>"Clara, do you know that I must go away soon?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! no!"</p> + +<p>The girl had not expected this. The infinite tenderness +in his voice had led her completely astray, and she broke +forth in an eager protest.</p> + +<p>"I must, dear child."</p> + +<p>"Dear child!" repeated the girl, half crying. "Yes, yes, +you treat me like a child—as if I could help being young—as +if I could not feel and think and be miserable like other +people. It's hard, it's cruel, it's—it's—"</p> + +<p>Here Clara burst into a flood of tears, and leaping to her +feet, would have run into the room where Lady Hope was +sitting, but Closs caught her in his arms.</p> + +<p>"What are you crying for, Clara? Why do you wish to +run away? It is wrong to say this, but I must go, because +of loving you as no man ever loved a woman before."</p> + +<p>"A woman?" said Clara, and gleams of mischief peeped +out from behind her tears. "You called me a child just +now."</p> + +<p>"Woman or child, Clara, you are the dearest thing to me +on earth."</p> + +<p>Clara struggled in his arms, and tried to push him from +her.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't believe you. There!"</p> + +<p>"Don't believe me?"</p> + +<p>Hepworth released the girl, and allowed her to stand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> +alone. On any subject touching his honor he was peculiarly +sensitive.</p> + +<p>"Because—because men who love people don't run away +from them. It—it isn't reasonable."</p> + +<p>All the mischief in her eyes was drowned in fresh tears. +She thought that he was offended, and the estrangement of +a moment seems eternal to first love.</p> + +<p>"Honorable men do not permit themselves to speak of +love at all where they have reason to think it unwelcome," +was his grave reply.</p> + +<p>"Unwelcome? Oh, Mr. Closs!"</p> + +<p>Clara held out both her hands and came nearer to Hepworth, +like a child that wants to be forgiven. He drew her +close to his side, but spoke a little sadly.</p> + +<p>"You see how much I must love you, Clara, to forget all +that a guest in your father's house should remember."</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know; I can't understand what it is that +you have done wrong. I'm sure I'm ready to forgive +you."</p> + +<p>She might have said more, but he took the breath from +her lips, and held her so close to his heart that she could +feel its tumultuous beatings.</p> + +<p>"But I can never forgive myself, darling."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes you will!"</p> + +<p>The creature pursed up her lips and offered them for his +kiss—thus, as she thought, tempting him into self-forgiveness.</p> + +<p>"Is it that you really—really love me?" questioned +Hepworth, searching the honest eyes she lifted to his with +a glance half-passionate, half-sorrowful, which brought a +glow of blushes to her face.</p> + +<p>"Can you ask that now?" she questioned, drooping +her head. "Will a good girl take kisses from the man she +does not love?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span>"God bless you for saying it, darling! Oh, if it could be—if +it could be!"</p> + +<p>"If what could be, Mr. Closs?"</p> + +<p>"That you might be my wife, live with me forever, love +me forever."</p> + +<p>"Your wife?" answered Clara, pondering over the sweet +word in loving tenderness. "Your wife? Are you asking +me if I will be that?"</p> + +<p>"I dare not ask you, Clara. What would your father +say? What would he have a right to say?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know," answered Clara, ruefully, +for she could not honestly say that her father would consent.</p> + +<p>"You see, Clara, I have nothing to do but say farewell, +and go."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /> +<br /> +<small>CLARA APPEALS TO HER STEPMOTHER.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Hope</span> had retreated into her own room, for the +absence of her husband was beginning to prey upon her; +and she was all the more sad and lonely because she knew +in her heart that the two persons whom she saw together +in the moonlight were thinking, perhaps talking, of the +love which she must never know in its fullness again—which +she had never known as good and contented wives +experience it.</p> + +<p>Indeed, love is the one passion that can neither be +wrested from fate or bribed into life. It must spring up +from the heart, like a wild flower from seed God plants in +virgin forest soil, to bring contentment with its blossoming.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> +The sunshine which falls upon it must be pure and bright +from heaven. Plant it in an atmosphere of sin, and that +which might have been a holy passion becomes a torment, +bitter in proportion to its strength.</p> + +<p>Ah! how keenly Rachael Closs felt all this as she sat there +alone in her bower room, looking wistfully out upon those +two lovers, both so dear to her that her very soul yearned +with sympathy for the innocent love she had never +known, and never could know upon earth! Yet, dear as +these two persons were to her, she would have seen that +fair girl and the manly form beside her shrouded in their +coffins, if that could have brought back one short twelve-months +of the passionate insanity which had won Lord +Hope to cast aside all restraint and fiercely wrench apart +the most sacred ties in order to make her his wife. She +asked for impossibilities. Love born in tumult and founded +in selfishness must have its reactions, and between those two +the shadow of a wronged woman was forever falling; and, +struggle as they would, it grew colder and darker every +year. But upon these two persons time operated differently. +The wild impetuosity of his character had hardened +into reserve. His ambition was to stand high among men +of his own class—to be known as a statesman of power in +the realm.</p> + +<p>But, in all this Rachael knew that she was a drawback +and a heavy weight upon his aspirations. Was it that she +was less bright or beautiful? No, no. Her mirror contradicted +the <em>one</em> doubt, and the power which she felt in her +own genius rebuked the other.</p> + +<p>Once give her a foothold among the men and women who +had so persistently considered her as an intruder, and the +old vigor and pride of her life would come back with it: the +idolatry which had induced that infatuated man to overlook<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span> +these stumbling blocks to his pride and impediments to his +ambition would surely revive.</p> + +<p>"Let him see me at court; let him compare me with the +women whose cutting disdain wounds me to death, because +it disturbs him; let him place me where this intellect can +have free scope, and never on this earth was there a woman +who would work out a husband's greatness so thoroughly."</p> + +<p>In the first years of her marriage, Rachael would say +these things to herself, in the bitterness of her humiliation +and disappointment. Others, less beautiful and lacking her +talent, had been again and again introduced from lower +ranks into the nobility of England, accepted by its queen, +and honored by society. Why was she alone so persistently +excluded? The answer was always ready, full of bitterness. +The enmity of old Lady Carset had done it all. It +was her influence that had closed the queen's drawing-room +against Lord Hope's second wife. It was her charge +regarding the Carset diamonds that had made Rachael +shrink from wearing the family jewels, which justly belonged +to her as Lord Hope's property. It was this which +made her so reluctant to pass the boundaries of Oakhurst. +It was this that embittered her whole life, and rendered it +one long humiliation.</p> + +<p>These reflections served to concentrate the hopes and +affections of this woman so entirely around one object, that +her love for Hope, which had been an overwhelming passion, +grew into that idolatry no man, whose life was in the +world, could answer to, for isolation was necessary to a feeling +of such cruel intensity.</p> + +<p>As the hope of sharing his life and his honors gave way, +doubts, suspicions, and anxieties grew out of her inordinate +love, and the greatest sorrow to her on earth was the +absence of her husband. It was not alone that she missed +his company, which was, in fact, all the world to her; but,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> +as he went more and more into the world, a terrible dread +seized upon her. What if he found, among all the highly +born women who received him so graciously, some one who, +in the brightness of a happy life, might make him regret +the sacrifice he had made for her, the terrible scenes he had +gone through in order to obtain her? What if he might +yet come to wish her dead, as she sometimes almost wished +herself!</p> + +<p>In this way the love, which had flowed like a lava +stream through that woman's life, engendered its own curse, +and her mind was continually haunted by apprehensions +which had no foundation, in fact, for, to this day, Lord +Hope loved her with deeper passion than he had ever given +to that better woman; but with him the distractions of +statesmanship, and the allurements of social life, were a +resource from intense thought, while she had so little beside +himself.</p> + +<p>She had striven to bind him to her by kindness to his +child, until the bright girl became, as it were, a part of himself, +with whom it would be death to part.</p> + +<p>Is it strange, then, that this dream of uniting Clara to +her only brother should have been very sweet to the unhappy +woman?</p> + +<p>Lord Hope had been absent a whole month now, and +even with the excitement of her brother's presence, Rachael +had found those four weeks terribly long.</p> + +<p>What would she do if that fair girl were separated from +her entirely? Then solitude would be terrible indeed!</p> + +<p>But another anxiety came upon her by degrees. In +what way would her husband receive Hepworth Closs? +How would he accept the position the two persons out +yonder were drifting into? Would he consent to a union +which even her partiality admitted as unsuitable, or would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> +he, in his cold, calm way, plant his foot upon their hearts +and crush her fond desire out of existence?</p> + +<p>As Lady Hope pondered over these thoughts in silence +and semi-darkness, Clara came through the window, in +great excitement.</p> + +<p>"Oh! mamma Rachael! He is going away from us. +He told me so just now; but you will not let him. You +will never let him!"</p> + +<p>Lady Hope started out of her reverie.</p> + +<p>"Going away? Where? Who? I cannot understand, +Clara!"</p> + +<p>"Hepworth—Mr. Closs, I mean. Oh, mamma! he +threatens to leave us here all alone by ourselves—the most +cruel thing that ever was heard of. I thought how angry +you would be, and came at once. You can do anything +with him—he loves you so dearly. Let him threaten if he +likes, but you will not let him go. You will tell him how +foolish, how cruel it is to leave us, while papa is away. Oh! +mamma Rachael, you can do anything! Do this! Do +this!"</p> + +<p>"But why, darling—why do you care so much?"</p> + +<p>"Why! why!" Clara threw back her head till the +curls waved away from her shoulders, then a burning crimson +came over her, the shamed face drooped again, and she +answered: "I don't know—I don't know."</p> + +<p>Rachael bent her face till it almost touched that hot +cheek, and whispered:</p> + +<p>"Is it that you love him, my own Clara?"</p> + +<p>Again Clara lifted her face. A strange light came upon +it. Her lips were parted, her blue eyes opened wide.</p> + +<p>"Love him—love him? Oh! mamma Rachael, is this +love?"</p> + +<p>Rachael smiled, and kissed that earnest face, holding it +between both hands.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span>"I think it is, darling. Nay, I am sure that you love +him, and that he loves you."</p> + +<p>"Loves me? Then why does he go away? I should +think so but for that."</p> + +<p>"Because of that, I am afraid, Clara."</p> + +<p>"Loves me, and goes away because he loves me!" said +the girl, bewildered. "I don't understand it."</p> + +<p>"There may be many reasons, Clara."</p> + +<p>"I can't think of one. Indeed I can't. Papa never was +cruel."</p> + +<p>"He may not think it quite honorable to let—make you +love him, when your father knows nothing about it."</p> + +<p>"But papa would not mind."</p> + +<p>"Hepworth does not know that; nor do I. Your father +is a very proud man, Clara, and has a right to look high, +for his only child."</p> + +<p>"What then? Mr. Closs is handsomer, brighter, more—more +everything that is grand and royal, than any nobleman +I have ever seen. What can papa say against that?"</p> + +<p>"But he is a man of no family position—simply Hepworth +Closs, nothing more. We can scarcely call him an +Englishman."</p> + +<p>"What then, mamma? He is a gentleman. Who, in +all this neighborhood, can compare with him?"</p> + +<p>"No one! no one!" answered Rachael, with enthusiasm. +"There is but one man on all the earth so far above the +rest; but persons who look upon birth and wealth as everything, +may not see him with our eyes, my Clara. Then +there is another objection. Hepworth is over thirty."</p> + +<p>"Mamma Rachael, you know well enough that I never +did like boys," said Clara, with childish petulance.</p> + +<p>"And compared with the great landed noblemen of England, +he is poor."</p> + +<p>"Not so, mamma Rachael. He has made lots and lots<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span> +of money out in those countries where they dig gold from +the earth. He described it all to me, about washing dirt +in pans, and crushing rocks in great machines, and picking +up pure gold in nuggets—why, he found an awful big one +himself. I daresay he has got more real money than papa. +I do, indeed."</p> + +<p>Lady Hope sighed. Perhaps she thought so too; for +Oakhurst was closely entailed, and ready money was sometimes +scarce in that sumptuous dwelling.</p> + +<p>"And then how much shall I have? Let me ask that +of papa."</p> + +<p>"But you will inherit something with the Carset title in +spite of your grandmother."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. An enormous old castle with just land +enough to keep it in repair. That isn't much to boast of, +or make a man like Mr. Closs feel modest when he thinks +of me."</p> + +<p>"But the title. Is it nothing to be a peeress in your +own right?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather he were an earl, and I a peeress in his +right."</p> + +<p>"You are a strange girl, Clara."</p> + +<p>"But you love me if I am, mamma Rachael."</p> + +<p>"Love you, child! You will never know how much!"</p> + +<p>"And if it so happened that he did really like me, you +wouldn't go against it?"</p> + +<p>"But what would my will be opposed to that of your +father?"</p> + +<p>"Only this—you can do anything with papa. Don't I +remember when I was a little girl?"</p> + +<p>Rachael sighed heavily.</p> + +<p>"That was a long time ago, Clara, and childish wants +are easily satisfied."</p> + +<p>Clara threw both arms around her stepmother's neck +and kissed her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span>"Never mind if he is a little stubborn now and then; +you can manage him, yet, mamma. Only, don't let Mr. +Closs do that horrid thing. I never could ride alone with +the ponies after the last three weeks. You don't know how +instructive he is! Why, we have travelled all over the +world together, and now he wants to throw me overboard; +but you won't let him do that, mamma Rachael. What +need is there of any thought about what may come? We +are all going on beautifully, now, and, I dare say, papa is +enjoying himself shooting grouse. When he comes back +and sees how much Mr. Closs is like you, everything will +be right. Only, mamma Rachael, tell me one thing. Are +you sure that—that he isn't thinking me a child, and likes +me only for that? This very night he called me 'my +child,' and said he was going. That made me wretchedly +angry, so I came in here. Now tell me—"</p> + +<p>"Hush! hush! I hear his step on the terrace."</p> + +<p>The girl darted off like a swallow. For the whole universe +she could not have met Hepworth there in the presence +of a third person.</p> + +<p>As she left the room, Closs entered it.</p> + +<p>"Rachael," he said, standing before his sister, in the +square of moonlight cast like a block of silver through the +window, "I have been weak enough to love this girl whom +we both knew as an infant, when I was old enough to be a +worse man than I shall ever be again; and, still more reprehensible, +I have told her of it within the last half-hour; +a pleasant piece of business, which Lord Hope will be likely +to relish. Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know—I cannot tell. Hope loves his daughter, +and has never yet denied anything to her. He may +not like it at first; but—oh! Hepworth, I know almost as +little of my husband's feelings or ideas as you can."</p> + +<p>"But you will not think that I have done wrong?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span>"What, in loving Clara? What man on earth could +help it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I do love her, and I think she loves me."</p> + +<p>"I know she does."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sister; but she is such a child."</p> + +<p>"She is woman enough to be firm and faithful."</p> + +<p>"You approve it all, then?"</p> + +<p>Hepworth sat down by his sister and threw his arm +around her.</p> + +<p>"My poor Rachael! how I wish this, or anything else, +could make you really happy!"</p> + +<p>She did not answer; but he felt her form trembling +under his arm.</p> + +<p>"But I only see in it new troubles for you and dishonor +for myself. There is really but one way for me to act—I +must leave this place."</p> + +<p>"And Clara? After what you have said, that would, +indeed, be dishonorable."</p> + +<p>"She is so young; the pain would all go with me. In a +few months I shall probably have scarcely a place in her +memory."</p> + +<p>"You wrong the dearest and finest girl in the whole +world when you say that, Hepworth! To desert her now +would be profound cruelty."</p> + +<p>"Then in what way am I to act?"</p> + +<p>"Write to Lord Hope; tell him the truth—that you +have won the respect of men by your actions, and have, +with your own energies, acquired wealth enough to make +you a fair match in that respect for his daughter. Make +no allusion to the past; he is proud, and terribly sensitive +on that point, and might suspect you of making claims to +equality because of it."</p> + +<p>Hepworth smiled as he stood before her in the moonlight, +and she saw it. Wide travel and experience among men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> +had led him to think that, after all, the highest level of +humanity did not always range with hereditary titles; but +he only said, very calmly:</p> + +<p>"Lord Hope cannot accuse me justly of aspiring where +he is concerned."</p> + +<p>Rachael felt the hot crimson leap to her face. Did Hepworth +dare to equal himself with Lord Hope, the one great +idol of her own perverted life? She answered, angrily, forgetting +that the sinner was her only brother:</p> + +<p>"Lord Hope need have no fear that any man living will +so aspire."</p> + +<p>"Poor foolish girl!" said Hepworth, feeling the flash of +her black eyes, and touched with pity, rather than anger, +by her quick resentment. "Do not let us quarrel about +Hope. If he makes you happy, I have nothing to say +against him."</p> + +<p>"Happy! happy!"</p> + +<p>Rachael shrank back in her seat, uttering these two +words in a voice so full of pathetic sorrow, that it brought +the pain of coming tears into Hepworth's eyes. He was +glad to turn the subject.</p> + +<p>"Then you are not willing that I should go away?"</p> + +<p>"It would almost kill me to lose you again, Hepworth."</p> + +<p>The young man felt that she spoke the truth; the very +tones of her voice thrilled him with a tender conviction.</p> + +<p>"I will write to Hope," he said; "it must end in that +or absence. It shall not be my fault, Rachael, if I ever go +far away from you again."</p> + +<p>Lady Hope took her brother's hand between hers.</p> + +<p>"That is kind, and I really think the only wise thing to +be done," she said. "Hope knows that you were born a +gentleman."</p> + +<p>"And having married into the family himself, can hardly +say that it is not good enough for his daughter. This is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> +answer enough for all objections of that kind. In fact, +Rachael, I begin to think we can make out a tolerable +claim. Now that we have decided on the letter, I will +write it at once, here, if you will let me order more lights."</p> + +<p>Hepworth rang the bell as he spoke, and directly wax +candles were burning on the ebony desk at which Lady +Hope was accustomed to write.</p> + +<p>Having made up his mind, Closs was not the man to +hesitate in doing the thing he had resolved on. He spread +a sheet of paper before him, and began his letter at once. +Rachael watched him earnestly as his pen flew over the +paper.</p> + +<p>For the first time she realized, with a pang of apprehension, +the step she was so blindly encouraging. What if +Lord Hope took offense at the letter, or should condemn +her for the intimacy which had led to it? She was afraid +of her husband, and each movement of Hepworth's pen +struck her with dread. Had she, indeed, laid herself open +to the wrath of a man, who was so terrible in his anger, +that it made even her brave heart cower?</p> + +<p>"There, it is finished," said Hepworth, addressing his +letter, and flinging down the pen. "Now let us throw +aside care, and be happy as we can till the answer comes."</p> + +<p>Lady Hope sighed heavily, and, reaching forth her hand, +bade him good-night.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /> +<br /> +<small>LOVER'S QUARREL.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">They</span> were sitting together, under the great cedar tree, +declared lovers; perhaps not the less happy because some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> +little doubt rested over their future, so far as the young lady +was concerned.</p> + +<p>As for Hepworth Closs, he had made up his mind to +expect difficulties, and knew how to conquer them, if human +ingenuity could do it. He loved the bright young creature, +and had resolved within himself that no unreasonable +opposition on the part of his former friend should prevent +him marrying her, while there was a possibility of conciliating +his bride, or working upon the love which he had +always evinced for his child.</p> + +<p>Hepworth had learned, from conversation with both the +ladies, that the Lord Hope of the present day was a very +different person from the rash, headstrong, audacious young +man whom he had almost threatened with disgrace fourteen +years back.</p> + +<p>Then he was ready to cast wealth, rank, conscience, everything, +aside for the gratification of any wild passion that +beset him. Now he held the rank to which he was born +sacred above all things; was careful, if not covetous, of +wealth, because it added power to rank; and was known the +whole country round as one of the proudest noblemen and +most punctilious magistrates in the three kingdoms.</p> + +<p>This man's daughter he—Hepworth Closs—desired to +make his wife. Nay, in spite of fate, meant to make his +wife, unless she, in her own self, cast his love from her. +Having settled upon this, he cast off all care, and gave +himself up to the supreme happiness of loving and being +beloved.</p> + +<p>So, as the two sat under the cedar tree, that bland autumn +day, Clara thought, in her wilful little heart, that the man +looked too confident and happy. She had no idea of settling +down into a commonplace engagement, sanctioned or unsanctioned. +What business had he to look so supremely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> +contented? Did he not know that girls sometimes changed +their minds?</p> + +<p>In short, Lady Clara was in a wilful mood, and could be +provoking enough when the fit came on her. Just now she +was embroidering diligently. The golden stamens of a superb +cactus glowed out stitch by stitch, as her needle flew +in and out of its great purplish and crimson leaves.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you look up, Clara? I haven't seen your +eyes these ten minutes."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Well, I'm too busy. Pray hand me a thread +of that yellow silk."</p> + +<p>"Not if I can help it, ladybird. It's very tiresome sitting +here, only to watch your sharp little needle as it drops +color into that great flower. One never gets a sight of your +full face."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't like the profile?" said Clara, demurely, +and her needle flashed almost into Hepworth's +eyes as he bent over her. "That is just what I expected. +It isn't three days since you first pretended to care for +me."</p> + +<p>"Pretended! Clara?"</p> + +<p>"That was the word," answered Clara, holding her work +at arms' length, and examining it, with her head on one +side, like a bird eyeing the cherry he longs to peck at. +"Lovely, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I have been where you could gather armsful of them +from the wayside," answered Hepworth. "That is well +enough, of course, for silk and worsted; but you never can +get that mixture of crimson, purple and glittering steel, +that makes the flower so regal in the tropics; then the soft +tassel of pale gold, streaming out from the heart, and +thrown into relief by this exquisite combination of colors. +Ah, some day I will show you what a cactus really is, +Clara."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span>"Perhaps," said the provoking girl, searching her work-basket +for the silk she wanted. "Who knows?"</p> + +<p>A flash of color flew across Hepworth's forehead. The +handsome fellow never had given himself much to the +study of women, and even that pretty creature had the +power to annoy him, mature man as he was. She saw that +he was vexed, and rather liked it; for if the truth must be +told, a more natural coquette never lived than Lady +Clara.</p> + +<p>"Are you beginning to doubt, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Doubt? Oh! not at all. I don't honestly believe that +there ever was a more perfect flower than that. See how +the colors melt into each other; then the point of that long, +prickly leaf coming out behind. I tell you, Mr. Closs, it's +perfect."</p> + +<p>She was looking down at her work, and he could not +detect all the mischief that sparkled under her drooping +lashes.</p> + +<p>"Clara, what does this mean?"</p> + +<p>The girl looked up at him so innocently.</p> + +<p>"Mean? Why, it means a cactus-flower."</p> + +<p>Hepworth Closs had never been a patient man, and the +feelings which that wild girl had awakened in his heart were +all too earnest for such trifling. He rose to leave her. +Then she gave him a side glance, half comic, half repentant.</p> + +<p>"Are you going?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, I am so sorry, because I wanted to tell you +something."</p> + +<p>The girl spoke and acted like a penitent child. Hepworth +sat down again, but his face was clouded.</p> + +<p>"You can do anything with mamma Rachael, and I want +you to ask a great favor for me."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span>"Why not ask yourself? My sister denies you nothing."</p> + +<p>"But this is something peculiar, and she may think papa +would not like it. There is to be a new opera brought out +in London, and such a lovely girl is to make her first appearance +in it, handsome as the morning, and with a voice +like ten thousand nightingales. Now, I do so want to hear +her on the first night."</p> + +<p>"Well, that is easy."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—if mamma Rachael would only think so. But +papa is awful particular, and she may be afraid to take me. +But with you for an escort, there can't really be any harm; +so I want your help."</p> + +<p>"But how did you know about this? I have not seen it +in the journals."</p> + +<p>"No, it hasn't got abroad yet. I will tell you all about +it. When I was a very, very little girl, my poor mother +died in America, where she was travelling among the Indians, +I believe, with my father. Well, you see how hard it +was on papa to be left with a poor little girl among the savages. +I do not know just how it was; but when he married +mamma Rachael, ever so long after, of course she got +an American nurse in New York, who has been with me +ever since. I call her my maid now, and won't have any +other, French or not—for she's good as gold, and loves me +dearly. You will believe that when I tell you our head +gamekeeper wanted to marry her—she loved him, too, but +wouldn't leave me. Margaret left a sister behind in New +York that she was very fond of, and has been pining to see +for years. Just before you came she received a letter from +London, saying that her sister was there, travelling with +some lady connected with the stage, and asking Margaret +to come and visit her. Of course, Margaret went, +and has been all this time on a long visit to her relative,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> +who came to Europe with the great prima donna, Olympia. +It is her adopted daughter that is coming out."</p> + +<p>"Olympia. Yes, I saw her in America last year—a +wonderfully beautiful creature, in a certain way; but her +style of acting is not exactly what I should choose for you, +Lady Clara, though her voice is wonderful."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't her I care about, but the young lady. Margaret +says she is lovely as an angel, with a heavenly voice, +but that she is frightened to death at coming on the stage, +and begs and pleads with her mother not to insist on it; +but Olympia is determined. My heart quite aches for this +poor girl. She is about my age, Margaret says, and so +beautiful—not a bit like me. I dare say it's true, for I +would give the world to be an actress, and have the whole +world go mad over my singing. By-the-way, Mr. Closs, do +you know that I can sing? Mamma Rachael often says, +if I were not a lady, I might go on the stage and beat half +the prima donnas; besides, she says, I am a natural actress, +and that seems to displease her."</p> + +<p>"I think you are a natural actress," said Closs, with a +tinge of sarcasm, for this whole subject displeased him, he +scarcely could have told why.</p> + +<p>"Now you mean to be unkind," said Clara, rising, with +a warm flush in her cheeks; "I will not ask another favor +of you."</p> + +<p>Clara gathered up her embroidery, and prepared to leave +the sheltered seat in which this conversation had been held. +She certainly was not acting now, for Closs saw that her +eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>"Clara," he said, holding out both hands; "Clara, forgive +me."</p> + +<p>She hesitated a minute, then set down her basket, and +crept close to his side, wiping the tears with one hand,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> +while he clasped the other. Then she snatched her hand +away, and held it behind her.</p> + +<p>"No—I won't forgive you."</p> + +<p>"Not if I persuade Lady Hope to take you up to London +for this appearance?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, then, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"And go with you myself?"</p> + +<p>"That will be splendid."</p> + +<p>"That Olympia is a magnificent creature. I took supper +with her once in New York."</p> + +<p>"You, Mr. Closs! You took supper with her?"</p> + +<p>"She sang for us that night, divinely."</p> + +<p>"And you admire her so much?"</p> + +<p>"Very much."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Closs, I do not think I care to go. There is no +need of your asking Lady Hope—I decline the whole +thing."</p> + +<p>"Still, I think we will go, Clara, if it is only to show you +how much a woman can be worshipped, and yet despised. +Yes, yes, we will go and hear Olympia sing."</p> + +<p>But Clara was not to be so easily appeased. She +gathered up her worsted and embroidery, huddled them together +in her work-basket and went away, refusing to let +Closs carry her basket, or even walk by her side.</p> + +<p>While he stood watching the haughty little thing, a +voice from the other side of the cedar tree arrested him. +He turned, and saw a face that had once been familiar, but +which he could not at the moment recognize.</p> + +<p>The woman came forward with a startled look. She was +evidently past thirty, and had an air of independence, +which he had never seen in an English domestic.</p> + +<p>She came closer, their eyes met, and he knew that it was +Maggie Casey, the chambermaid who had led him up to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> +that death-chamber, the last time he visited it. She had +recognized him from the first.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hepworth," she said, in a low voice: "Mr. Hepworth!"</p> + +<p>Closs had almost been prepared for this, and did not +allow himself to be taken by surprise.</p> + +<p>"You have got half the name right at any rate," he +said, quietly; "Hepworth Closs, and you have it complete. +You never could have heard it in full, when you +lived in New York, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"Closs, Closs? No, I never heard that name given to +you; but it once belonged to Lady Hope, I remember."</p> + +<p>"And of course, naturally belongs to her brother, my good +girl," said Closs, with a quiet smile.</p> + +<p>"Her brother? Whose brother? Not the Lady that +was—"</p> + +<p>The girl broke off, and her voice died in a low whisper.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" broke in the man, with sudden impatience; +"that was a terrible thing, which you and I will be all the +happier in forgetting. The poor woman who did it is suffering +a hard penalty, if she is not in fact dead."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, yes; but how came her grandchild here? +How came you there?"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Hepworth, in a voice of command, that +startled the woman; "who gave you authority to ask such +questions? What can you know about the old woman's +grandchild?"</p> + +<p>"I know that the young lady who left you ten minutes +ago was the little girl they called her grandchild. I saw +the coroner holding the poor little thing up to look on the +dead lady. I think that lady was her mother."</p> + +<p>"And have told her so, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"No; I never did, and I never will. She called the old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> +woman, Yates, grandmother; but I know better than that, +for I know where her grandchild is this very minute."</p> + +<p>"You know her grandchild?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do, and a prettier creature never lived."</p> + +<p>"You know her, and will tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I will do nothing of the sort," answered Margaret, +for she had thrown off the jaunty abbreviation of her +name. "There is something about all this that puzzles me. +People that I never expected to see again keep crossing my +path like ghosts, and somehow most of them have something +to do with that time. Why can't the whole thing rest? +I'm sure that poor old woman, Yates, has had her punishment, +and I don't want to talk about what I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"You are wise," said Closs, whose face had lost all its +cheerfulness; "there is no good in even thinking of a dead +past, and, as you say, that poor old woman has her punishment. +I am glad you have said nothing of these things to +my sister, or Lady Clara."</p> + +<p>"Why should I?" said Margaret, with shrewd good +sense: "what good would it do? In fact, what do I know? +I only hope no such trouble will ever come to this house."</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid!" said Closs, fervently, and the two +parted.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE ITALIAN TEACHER.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Clara</span> was right. Olympia had brought her daughter +to London after a professional tour on the continent, not +as her daughter. Olympia would not force herself to admit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> +that the tall Juno-like girl, who outshone her in beauty, and +rebuked her flippant grace by a dignity at once calm and +regal, could, by any possibility, be her own offspring, at +least as yet. She had arranged it with Brown that no +public acknowledgment of Caroline's relationship should be +made, and that she should pass as an adopted child or protege, +at least until her success on the operatic stage was +confirmed.</p> + +<p>Brown had stipulated, on his part, that the girl should +receive her musical training in strict privacy, so far as that +was possible, and, in no case, should be moved from his personal +supervision, a condition that Olympia accepted with +delight, for, after a month or two, she began to feel the +presence of her cast-off husband something of a restraint, +and regarded the quick growth and blooming loveliness of +the young girl as almost a wrong to her own ripe beauty. +Still she would not loosen her hold as a parent on the girl's +life, but still hoped to reap a golden harvest from her talent, +and sun her own charms, as they waned, in the splendor +of her child's beauty.</p> + +<p>With these feelings, Olympia opened her campaign in +Europe, and swept a brilliant career from France to Italy, +and from thence to Austria and St. Petersburg, leaving +Caroline with her guardian and maid, in a village near Florence, +where she could perfect herself in Italian and music +at the same time.</p> + +<p>There Caroline's life really began. They were staying at +a pretty villa, terraced up from the banks of a bright little +stream, that emptied itself into the Arno, so isolated and +lonely, that it was perfect heaven to Brown, who was set +down at once as the young lady's father, and to Eliza, who +delighted in the chance of rest this arrangement promised.</p> + +<p>While in Florence, Brown had taken his charge to one of +the best teachers in Europe, who consented to break through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> +his usual rules and give her lessons in the pretty home she +had decided on. He would also charge himself with selecting +a teacher of the language, who should make her pronunciation +of the sweet Tuscan perfect as her voice, which +was, in fact, something wonderful.</p> + +<p>Some persons were in the musician's room when these +arrangements were made, and one of them, a young man, +drew slowly toward the piano, like a bird charmed against +its will, and listened with rapt attention while Caroline +took her first lesson. The girl looked up once or twice, as +her voice rang out with unusual power, and unconsciously +answered back the warm smile that enkindled his whole face. +A musician himself—she knew by the very expression of his +dark eyes.</p> + +<p>Brown saw it too, and was delighted with the effect of +her genius; which he, in his partial affection, deemed transcendent.</p> + +<p>"He is a professor, I dare say, or perhaps a great singer," +thought the kind old man; "but she charmed him at once."</p> + +<p>Brown was confirmed in this idea when the eminent +teacher he had consulted fell into a discussion with the man +in Italian, which Caroline did not hear, and Brown himself +could not understand, but which evidently turned upon +Caroline's performance. They were both delighted with it; +that was evident from the very ardor with which they spoke. +Brown was pleased with all this, but Caroline, perhaps, +remembered it with greater interest than he had felt, for the +young man's face haunted her long after she was settled in +the pretty villa, and had made herself at home among the +vines and flowers that turned those terraces into a jungle of +fruit and blossoms.</p> + +<p>Nothing could be more lovely than the home Brown had +chosen, and certainly no place could have been found more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> +completely isolated. The coming of her teachers even +became a matter of deep interest to Caroline.</p> + +<p>One morning, when her language-master was expected, +she went out early and stood upon the lower terrace, looking +down the little stream which led to the Arno, as I have +told you, impatient for his coming; impatient to know what +sort of a person he would prove, and if his society might +not break the monotonous stillness of that beautiful place. +It was early yet. She had no reason to believe that her +new teacher would be there for hours. She felt it very tiresome, +walking up and down those terraces and watching the +ripe olives drop one by one into the long grass from the +branches overhead. The restlessness of youth was upon +her, and she longed for some means of leaping over the next +three hours, when the new teacher would come, perhaps +with a disappointment.</p> + +<p>He might be some poor old soul, whose very presence +would prove an annoyance. No matter; a disappointment +or an annoyance was better than utter stagnation. She +wished the new man would come, she wished there was +something for her to work at till he did come.</p> + +<p>A flight of stone steps fell down to the water from the +lower terrace. Fastened to an iron staple sunk deep into +the granite, was a little boat swinging by a cable. Caroline's +heart gave a leap at the sight.</p> + +<p>She ran down the steps, untied the cable, and in a moment +was sweeping down the little stream, pulling her oars +like an Indian girl.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely flow of water, clear as crystal. The sky +was mirrored in it softly blue; the sun struck it with arrows +of silver, the flowering shrubs trailed down from its +banks, and rippled the waters like the lost plumage of a +peacock; fruit-laden vines broke away from the olive +branches, and dipped their purple clusters in the stream,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> +where they shone out richly—amethysts gleaming through +crystal. Everything was beautiful around her. Full of +youth and health she gloried in the exercise of rowing; +gloried in the sunshine and quivering shadows through +which her pretty boat ploughed its way, breaking up pictured +trees and clouds, and turning them to foam.</p> + +<p>The current was with her, the wind swept softly down +stream, bringing a scent of wall-flowers and jessamines with +it. The boat shot downward like the shuttle through a +web. The water deepened, the stream grew wider; she +could hear the broad, free rush of the Arno, a little way +off. Still she went on.</p> + +<p>It would be glorious, finding herself in the broad river +sweeping toward Florence, in her arrow-like boat. Of +course she could turn at any time, but not yet.</p> + +<p>Something stopped the boat. A wild vine, hidden in +the water, had seized upon it, and swept it half around, +then a current tossed it forward into a sweeping whirl of +waters. She was close by a vortex near the mouth of the +river, a ravenous little whirlpool that threatened to swallow +her up. The oars dropped from her hands; she seized +the sides of her boat and sat still, rigid as stone, white as +death. Then a great arrow, or what seemed to be one, shot +through the water close by her, ploughing it white with +foam. Then a man leaped into her boat, pitching a pair of +oars in before him, and holding the cable of another boat +in his hand.</p> + +<p>He neither spoke nor looked at her, but twisting the +cable around one ankle, and setting the other foot upon it +further up, seized his oars, and for a minute or two battled +like a tiger with the waters.</p> + +<p>The boat rocked, wheeled slowly away from the awful danger, +then plunged forward with a shock that brought a sharp +cry from Caroline's white lips.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span>"Do not be afraid. The danger is over."</p> + +<p>She turned her pallid face, and over it came a flash of +recognition. It was the man who had listened to her first +lesson in Florence. He recognized her, pale as she was, +and slackened his oars—they were out of danger now.</p> + +<p>"Am I so fortunate? My pupil! This is a great happiness."</p> + +<p>Caroline leaned forward and held out her trembling +hands. Words of gratitude were on her lips, but they +only trembled there, without utterance. He leaned over +the little hands, as they came quivering toward him, but +could not touch them, his own being sufficiently occupied +with the oars.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to fear now sweet lady," he said, in +Italian, which never sounded so sweet to her before. "The +danger is wholly past—but it <em>was</em> danger!"</p> + +<p>Caroline shuddered; she almost felt those curling waters +sweep over her. The sensation was terrible.</p> + +<p>"And you saved me?—you, whose face I have seen before +so often, so often. It seems like that of a friend."</p> + +<p>"Once—only once. I wish it had been a thousand times, +if that could lessen your fright."</p> + +<p>"Tell me how it was," said Caroline, beginning to recover +herself. "I cannot realize it."</p> + +<p>"Nor I, sweet lady, it was all so sudden. I saw a boat +whirling toward that treacherous vortex, the flash of a blue +mantle, the whiteness of an upturned face. What I did, +you know. I cannot tell how it was done; did not dream +who the person was. Now, I long to fall upon my knees +and thank God."</p> + +<p>Caroline clasped the hands which had fallen to her lap, +bent her head, and unspoken words of thanksgiving +trembled in her heart. The man looked upon her eagerly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> +That gentle glow of devotion gave her face the sweetness +of a madonna.</p> + +<p>He thought this, and almost dropped the oars, the longing +to fall down upon his knees by her side was so intense.</p> + +<p>She saw this, understood it, and smiled for the first +time.</p> + +<p>"I was asking God to forgive me for being grateful to +you before I thought of Him."</p> + +<p>"And I was asking Him to make me grateful enough for +having saved you. Surely that should bring his blessing on +us both."</p> + +<p>Caroline bent her head, and a sweet smile crept over her +lips. Then she bethought herself of the things of this +world, and grew troubled.</p> + +<p>"But I am taking you from your course. Forgive +me!"</p> + +<p>"From my course? Not so. It was for this purpose I +come. Perhaps you are not informed that I am to make +your Italian more perfect than it is, which is scarcely +needed."</p> + +<p>"You sir!—you?"</p> + +<p>She said no more, but her face lighted up, and he saw +her hands softly clasp themselves, as if she were thanking +God over again. Then his own head bent forward, and he +made a great effort with the oars, but it was only to hide +the smile that broke over it.</p> + +<p>So up the little river these two people went more and more +slowly, for the stillness and the beauty were pleasant beyond +anything, and both dreaded the moment when this delicious +happiness would end. But they reached the steps at last, +and there was Mr. Brown and Eliza, on the lower terrace, +in great trouble.</p> + +<p>They had missed her and the boat. Dreading they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> +scarcely knew what danger, both were anxious to follow +her, but they had no means. Thus an hour of keen +anxiety had passed, while they stood watching the river.</p> + +<p>"There is your father, looking anxious," said the young +man. "I hope he has not suffered much."</p> + +<p>Caroline did not answer him, but sprang to the steps +and ran up them, holding out her hands.</p> + +<p>"My child! my dear, dear child!" cried Brown, throwing +both arms around her.</p> + +<p>He often used endearing terms like this when much +affected, and she thought nothing of it, but kissed his face, +and kissed Eliza also, who scolded her terribly, as was her +habit when disturbed by a sudden fit of tenderness—a +state of feeling she was sure to resent.</p> + +<p>"Father Brown, this is my new teacher. The professor +sent him. He has just saved my life. I have tried to thank +him, but could not. You have more power."</p> + +<p>Brown and Eliza both came close to the young man; but +he shook his head, and tried to evade them. After her +tender thankfulness, their gratitude, generous and pure as +it was, seemed coarse to him.</p> + +<p>"We must begin the lesson," he said, laughing, and +drawing a book from his pocket. "This little accident, +which was nothing, has made us lose time."</p> + +<p>He said this in Italian, which, of course, silenced them; +and at this moment the man could say nothing which his +companion would not confirm.</p> + +<p>Caroline smiled, and went up the steps from terrace to +terrace, while he kept by her side. Her color had come +back more vividly than ever. The sunshine struck her +hair, and turned all its brown to gold. She was dressed +like a peasant of the better class, with some scarlet in her +blue bodice, and more bordering the bottom of her skirt. +Her neck was uncovered, for the blue mantle had fallen off<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> +and now lay in the bottom of the boat. It was a becoming +dress, but not for her—she was too queenly.</p> + +<p>They went into that old stone dwelling, forming one +group; but the moment the parlor was reached, Eliza went +off to her work, she said—but if any one had followed her, +it would have been to a chamber under the roof, where she +was upon her knees full twenty minutes, thanking God for +Caroline's escape from death.</p> + +<p>Then Brown went away, and seated himself in an arbor +on one of the terraces, where he was seen once or twice to +take out his handkerchief and wipe his eyes, as if the dust +troubled him.</p> + +<p>The man up yonder, brave as he was, had rather evaded +his gratitude; but he knew that God would listen.</p> + +<p>Then Caroline took one of the volumes her new teacher +had brought, and retreated to a latticed window, which had +a cushioned seat in it large enough for two, though I really +do not believe she thought of that. At any rate, he did not +accuse her of it, even in his thoughts, but went quietly to +the window and took a seat by her side, at which she +blushed a little, but did not move.</p> + +<p>Caroline was very well grounded in her Italian; so, instead +of grammars, these young people fell to reading the +native poets, and began with Tasso—a course of studies well +calculated to produce more results than one; but Brown +did not understand Italian, though he was a splendid musician, +and repeated it like a parrot. Besides, what did Eliza +know about Tasso, Petrarch, Dante, or any of those wild +fellows that disseminate love-poison by the line?</p> + +<p>When her teacher was ready to go, Brown asked his +name. I have no idea that Caroline had thought of it. +The young man seemed quite taken aback for a minute, +but answered, after that, something that would have +sounded like an English name rendered in Italian, had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> +thorough Italian scholar been present, which there was not.</p> + +<p>Well, for three months those young people sat twice a +week in the seat in the lattice-window, and read the poets +together. Need I say more about that?</p> + +<p>At the end of three months Olympia had an engagement +in London, and sent for Brown to join her there with +his charge.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER IN OPPOSITION.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Of</span> course there is no such thing as arousing all London +into a fit of enthusiasm, because millions of people are not +moved at the same moment by anything less than a revolution. +But the West End, just then, wanted an excitement, +and found it in the coming of Olympia. Her style was new, +her action a little too free, perhaps, for the high-bred dames +of the aristocracy; but they all went, and were amused, +shocked, fascinated, and went again, but only to keep the +young people, they said, from utter demoralization—the +creature really was irresistible.</p> + +<p>At any rate, Olympia was the fashion, and drew famously, +till a rival novelty proclaimed itself. Then she was horror-stricken +by seeing a few empty seats in the house. To +Olympia, an empty seat was desolation.</p> + +<p>That night Olympia went to her daughter's room the +moment she reached her hotel after a late performance. +The cloak which she had worn from the theatre still hung +about her shoulders. Her cheeks blazed with rouge, her +eyes were restless and anxious.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span>Caroline started up from her sweet sleep, disturbed and +almost terrified.</p> + +<p>"What is it, mamma?" she said, holding back the hair +from her lovely face with both hands. "Is any one ill—Mr. +Brown?"</p> + +<p>Olympia sat down on her daughter's bed, and drew the +cloak around her; not that she was cold, but to show that +her resolution was taken.</p> + +<p>"No one is ill, Caroline; as for Brown, I know nothing +about him. But I come to prepare you; for this week we +shall bring you out. In what opera have you practiced +most?"</p> + +<p>"Bring me out? Oh, mamma!"</p> + +<p>The girl fell back on her pillow, dismayed, and clasping +both hands, held them out imploringly.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I thought you had given it up."</p> + +<p>"Foolish child! I never give anything up. Ask +Brown."</p> + +<p>It was true; that woman never gave up her own will to +any one. The possibility of sacrifice or willing concession +could not enter her mind.</p> + +<p>"But I cannot, I cannot! Oh, mother! think how little +I have seen of crowds. To sing before one would <em>kill</em> me!"</p> + +<p>"Mother!" repeated Olympia, "how often must I tell +you that I hate the word!—an American vulgarism!"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, mamma; it was only because I was so +frightened at the idea of singing in public. But I know +that you did not mean it."</p> + +<p>The poor girl made a pitiful attempt at disbelief, and +tried to win acquiescence with a timid smile.</p> + +<p>"I not only mean it, but will have no more evasion or +protest. When we left New York, you were dying to get +on the stage."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was before I knew—before I dreamed—"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span>"Before you knew—before you dreamed what?"</p> + +<p>"That it made one so—so—"</p> + +<p>"Well, speak out!"</p> + +<p>"So unhappy. Indeed, indeed, I cannot say what I +mean; only, I would rather die than put rouge on my face, +and—oh, forgive me! I did not mean to make you look so +angry!"</p> + +<p>But Olympia was angry. The prima donna of a company +does not usually bear much opposition, even in trifles, +and here Olympia had great interests at stake.</p> + +<p>Through the young girl before her she intended to run a +second career, and thus crowd the enjoyment of two lives +into one.</p> + +<p>"This all comes of Brown," she said. "He would have +you kept quiet, and out of the world, pretending that society +would distract attention from your practice; but it was all +an artful plan to keep you to himself. I have not been so +busy as not to understand that, let me tell him."</p> + +<p>Caroline started up in bed, almost as much excited as the +actress.</p> + +<p>There was plenty of good honest character in the girl; +and, if she appeared timid, it was from delicacy, not weakness.</p> + +<p>"You wrong Mr. Brown. There is not a selfish feeling +in his heart. What he does, is always done for my good."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I suppose it is for your good when he drinks too +much!"</p> + +<p>There was a sneer on Olympia's lip, an evil spirit in her +eye, which destroyed all its beauty; but even this did not +make the girl shrink; she only put out both her hands, and +turned her head away.</p> + +<p>"Oh! how can you?" she cried. "I never saw him in +my life when he was not in all respects a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"But I have! I have!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span>"Ah, madam, it is cruel to say this. Mr. Brown was my +friend, my only friend, long before—before you came and +took me away from my poor little home. If you could +make me think ill of him, would it be kind?"</p> + +<p>"But he has been treacherous; he has taught you hatred +of the profession which you were so crazy for at one time."</p> + +<p>"No, no; it was not Mr. Brown. I saw for myself."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the dark side; never in its brightness or its +glory. But you shall, you shall."</p> + +<p>Caroline lay back upon her pillow and covered her face +with one hand. The sight of that beautiful woman, so hard +in her resolve, so completely ignoring all feelings but her +own, was hateful to her.</p> + +<p>"Please let me rest to-night," she pleaded.</p> + +<p>"To-night, yes. It is enough that you understand me +now; but, after this, I shall expect no opposition. If you +are so stupidly ignorant of the power which lies in your +own beauty and genius, I am not. So try and come to your +senses before morning. Good-night."</p> + +<p>The woman went out, with her head aloft, and her cloak +trailing behind her, for, in her excitement, she had flung it +away from one shoulder, that she might gesticulate with the +arm that was free.</p> + +<p>Caroline turned upon her pillow and cried bitterly till +morning.</p> + +<p>Olympia was right. The girl had been scrupulously kept +from all society that her freshness might be preserved, and +her education completed.</p> + +<p>She had been to the theatres, here and there, when some +new piece was presented, but it was rather as a study than +an amusement; and after a knowledge of the public idol in +private life had slowly swept away all the romance of their +first meeting, the innate coarseness of this beautiful, selfish +woman was not long in revealing itself to the pure-minded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> +girl, who soon began to grieve that she could not love and +still admire the mother she had at first almost worshipped. +Olympia, who had found it easy enough to dictate to managers, +and oppress subordinates, had far different material to +act upon when she broke in upon the midnight sleep of the +girl Daniel Yates had grounded in the nobility of true +womanhood.</p> + +<p>The next day, being Sunday, was Olympia's great day +of rest and amusement. She slept till long after mid-day, +ate an epicurean breakfast in a little dressing-room with +rose-tinted draperies, ran lazily over the pages of some +French novel, in the silken depths of a pretty Turkish +divan, heaped up with cushions, till long after dark; then +threw herself into the mysteries of a superb toilet, and came +into her exquisite little drawing-room like a princess—say +Marguerite of Navarre—ready to entertain the guests, invariably +invited on that evening, in a fashion that made her +quite as popular in this particular social strata as she was +behind the footlights.</p> + +<p>From these little suppers Caroline had been carefully +excluded up to this time; but the morning after she had +left the young girl in tears upon her pillow, Olympia broke +into her day of luxurious repose by sending for her agent, +with whom she had a rather stormy interview in the dressing-room, +from which Brown came out pale as death, but +with an uprightness of the person, and an expression in the +eyes that no one had ever seen there before.</p> + +<p>About an hour after he had departed, Olympia's French +maid was seen hurrying up stairs to the chamber which +Caroline occupied, and where she stood that moment, just +as she had sprung from her chair, with a wild and startled +look; for every knock she heard seemed to come from her +mother, whose appearance she dreaded terribly that morning. +But, instead of Olympia, the French maid came in,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> +with a creamy-white dress of India gauze thrown over her +arm, its whiteness broken up by the blue ripple of a broad +sash, with a purple tinge in it; and in her hands the +woman carried some half-open moss-roses, with a delicate +perfume absolutely breaking from their hearts, as if they +were the outgrowth of a generous soil—which they were +not, however difficult it might be to decide from a first or +second look; these French are so like nature in everything +but themselves.</p> + +<p>The French maid laid these things daintily on Caroline's +bed, where the roses glowed out, as if cast upon the crust +of a snow-bank. Then, looking upon the girl's magnificent +hair, which was simply turned back from her forehead and +done in braids behind, she said, with pretty, broken speech:</p> + +<p>"I will do it in crimp and puffs, if mademoiselle pleases. +With her face, it will be charming."</p> + +<p>Caroline drew a deep breath, and cast a half-frightened, +half-pleased glance at her maid, Eliza, who stood near by, +looking grimly at preparations she could not understand. +This was not half so dreadful as the presence she had expected, +and the dress was so lovely that she could not keep +her eyes from it.</p> + +<p>"What is it all about?" questioned staunch America, +with a look at France which was not altogether friendly.</p> + +<p>"It is," answered the French maid, spreading out her +little hands, "It is that madame will have mademoiselle +down to her little supper. The evening will be very charming +because of mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>Caroline glanced at the blush-roses, and her eyes began +to sparkle. Then she caught a glimpse of Eliza's face, and +turned her glance resolutely away, looking penitent. Eliza +knew something of madame's little suppers, but Caroline +did not. If bursts of laughter and a soft tangle of voices +sometimes came up to her room in the night, she had no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> +means of knowing that the noise was not from the servants' +hall, and Eliza would have died rather than enlighten her. +Besides, she had nothing absolutely wrong to tell, for some +of the first young noblemen in England came to Olympia's +little entertainments; and when Eliza heard their names +announced she had not a word to say, having lived long +enough to attain a reverence for titles.</p> + +<p>In fact, it is doubtful if she did not value her charge a +little more highly from the fact that she lived in a house +where noblemen came and went with such evident sociability.</p> + +<p>At first Eliza had darted fiery glances at the robe of India +gauze, thinking it a theatrical costume; but when she +learned that it was only a dress which would introduce her +darling into the best society, from which a selfish mother +had rigidly excluded her, she allowed her features to relax, +and absolutely smiled on the little French woman.</p> + +<p>Then the smile, which had been struggling all the time +about Caroline's mouth, broke over her whole face. She +could neither keep her hands from the dress or the moss-roses, +but touched them daintily, half doubtful, indeed, if +they were intended for her.</p> + +<p>"If mademoiselle will please," said the little French +woman, drawing a low chair before the dressing-table, and +taking an ivory brush, carved at the back like a Chinese +puzzle, in her hand.</p> + +<p>Caroline sat down, smiling in spite of herself. Eliza +stood a little on one side, resolved to be upon her guard.</p> + +<p>While she was looking, down came that abundant hair in +a torrent, tress upon tress, wave after wave, with tinges of +gold rippling through and through the brown. The little +French woman held up both hands, brush and all, in +astonishment, and burst out in a noisy cataract of French, +which delighted Eliza all the more because she could not +understand a word of it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span>But Caroline did understand, and this outburst of genuine +admiration pleased her so much that, in a moment, her +face was glowing like a whole thicket of roses, and she +hadn't the courage to lift her eyes, from fear that Eliza +would see how foolish she was to care about what the little +French woman said.</p> + +<p>Eliza saw all this, but it only made that grim smile +broader and deeper on her own face; and when the golden-brown +hair was frizzed and rolled, and dropped in two rich +curls on that white shoulder, she turned her face upon the +French woman and said, "Very nice!" in a way that +made the little woman put her head on one side, and nod it +half a dozen times, while she answered:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I tink so."</p> + +<p>India gauze was dropped like a cloud over Caroline's +head; the sash of purplish blue was girded around her +waist, and bunched up in superb bows behind; then the +cloudy stuff was gathered up in drapery from a silken +under-skirt, tinted like the sash, and fastened back with +clusters of the moss-roses.</p> + +<p>This completed the toilet. No jewels were there, not +even a string of pearls, though Olympia had ropes of them; +and Caroline rather sighed for their completeness when she +took a full-length view of herself in the mirror, as foolish +girls will, who never learn the value of simplicity and freshness +until both are lost.</p> + +<p>Then the little French woman went away to Olympia, +giving Caroline plenty of time for reflection. The first +thing the girl did was to look shyly at Eliza, who pursed up +her lips, and did her best to keep from smiling. Then she +took courage, and said:</p> + +<p>"Eliza."</p> + +<p>"I hear," answered the grim hand-maiden.</p> + +<p>"Eliza, do you think <em>he</em> would know me in this dress?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> +Or, if so, would he like it, as he did that dear Italian +costume?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," answered Eliza. "Them Italians have +queer notions about dress. Now, for my part, them short +skirts and low-necked waists did well enough for common-sized +girls; but you're too tall, and carry your head too +high, for anything but a skirt that sweeps out and puffs up +like that."</p> + +<p>"Still, I shall always like the dear old costume, Eliza. +Oh, what a happy, happy life madame broke up when she +sent for us!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose so. You seemed to enjoy it; and as for +that young fellow, what with his boating on the river, his +shooting birds—which I hate—on the hills, and his lessons—well, +really, he might about as well have lived with us."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Eliza, shall we ever be so happy again?" cried +the girl, kindling up with bright memories.</p> + +<p>"Not just in the same way; real folks never are. But I +suppose people have a pretty equal share of the good and +bad things of life, as they go along. Now I haven't an +idea but that the young fellow thought all was up with him +when he got the letter you left at the house."</p> + +<p>"I should not wonder," said Caroline, and her bosom +began to heave with an after-swell of the indignation which +had stormed it, when she left Italy at an hour's notice. +"It was a cruel thing. I never will forgive you or Mr. +Brown. A few hours would have made no difference, and +he was coming the next day."</p> + +<p>"What then? If he was a teacher, Mr. Brown left his +money, with two months' overpay."</p> + +<p>"His money!" repeated Caroline, with infinite scorn.</p> + +<p>"If not money, what did he come for?" questioned the +hand-maiden, sharply.</p> + +<p>"Eliza, you shall never think that—it degrades him and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> +me. He never touched—he never thought of money. If +Mr. Brown left it, as you say, I am sure he felt insulted."</p> + +<p>"Then what did he come for?" inquired Eliza, with dry +emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Because—because he loved me, and could not live without +seeing me, because I—I—"</p> + +<p>"Loved him," said the maid.</p> + +<p>But Caroline had broken down wholly with this first +passionate confession. The poor girl sank to a couch, flushed +all over with such shame as only a woman of fine sensibilities +can feel for that of which she has no reason to be +ashamed at all.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Eliza, how can you be so cruel?" she exclaimed, +dropping her hands, and revealing a face of crimson, wet +with tears. "I never meant to keep it from you."</p> + +<p>"Of course, you never meant it, and you didn't do it, +which is more. You supposed I didn't know. Men may +be blind as bats—they usually are; and our Brown is worse +than the commonality. But trust an old maid for spying +out a love secret. It's like exploring a strange land for her, +you know. Lord! Miss Carry, you can't keep a secret from +Eliza Casey; but then, why should you? Isn't she bound +to be your staunch friend forever and ever?"</p> + +<p>These words opened a new source of anxiety to the really +unhappy girl, who forgot her love-shame, and plunged at +once into a new subject.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Eliza, if you could help me. Madame is determined. +That is, she wishes me to go on the stage."</p> + +<p>"Well, you have been told that from the first."</p> + +<p>"I know—I know; but it seemed so far off then, like +death, or any other evil that you know will come, but cannot +tell when. But now she says it must be at once. Oh! +Eliza, I never can do it. The very fear of it makes me +shudder."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span>"But why? I remember, when we first came out here, +you had no other wish but to be like her—your mother, I +mean. Like her! I would rather see you dead!"</p> + +<p>Eliza muttered the last words under her breath, and +Caroline only heard the question.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. Everything seemed so bright then—she +brightest of all; but I was getting to shrink from it before +we went up to that dear little villa, and since then it has +seemed like death. Oh! tell her this, Eliza, and beg of her +to let me be as I am."</p> + +<p>"But shall I tell her all, and say that is the reason?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no! You may think it. Mr. Brown may +think it. That is like myself having a secret; but do not +tell her for the whole world."</p> + +<p>"Tell her! Well, well, I aint likely to; but if she is set +upon it, what can I say? Madame is not a woman to give +up her plans, and you have got <em>such a voice</em>! Sometimes +I think it would be splendid to see you taking the wind out +of her sails."</p> + +<p>"But it would kill me!"</p> + +<p>"Poor thing! Well, never mind—I will stand by you, +right or wrong; but this will be a tough battle. Tell me, +though, did that young fellow have anything to do with +setting you against the profession?"</p> + +<p>"There it is, Eliza. He never knew that I thought of +it, and used to speak of female performers with such careless +contempt, as if they were ten thousand degrees beneath +him."</p> + +<p>"And he only a teacher!" said Eliza, lifting her head in +the air.</p> + +<p>"And he only a teacher; but so proud, so sensitive, so +regal in all he said or did. Oh! Eliza, if he knew that +Olympia, grand, beautiful, and worshipped as she is, were +my mother, I fear he would never care for me again."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span>"Why, how on earth could you help that?"</p> + +<p>"I could not, and it would be wicked to desire it. But, +Eliza, I ought to have had the courage to tell him, and I +put it off. Every day I said to myself, the very next time +he comes, and at last you know how it was. I had no +chance, and now I may never see him again. He will +always think me Mr. Brown's daughter, and I shall feel like +an impostor. I cannot help this; but to go on the stage, +when he has said so much against it, that I will not do, +unless forced there by my mother's authority."</p> + +<p>"Well, as I said before, I will stand by you, right or +wrong; and so will Mr. Brown, I know. I only wish he +was your father."</p> + +<p>"He could not be kinder if he was," said Caroline.</p> + +<p>Just then the door opened, and Olympia's French maid +looked through.</p> + +<p>"Madame is in the drawing-room, and waits for mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"I will come! I will come!" exclaimed Caroline, breathlessly, +and she hurried down stairs.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /> +<br /> +<small>SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES GET INTO A CONJUGAL +DIFFICULTY.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Hope</span> had a house in Belgravia, that could always +be made ready for the family at a day's notice. So Rachael, +who could refuse nothing to her brother, sent up her steward +to make preparations one day, and followed him the +next with Lady Clara and Hepworth Closs; Margaret +Casey and other servants in attendance, of course.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span>These persons reached London on the very Saturday +when Olympia was stricken with dismay by finding an +empty seat or two in her usually well packed houses. +When this discovery first broke upon the prima donna, +Hepworth Closs was sitting quietly in the pit, where he +found himself, as if by accident. They had reached town +only in time for a late dinner, when the ladies, being +greatly fatigued, proclaimed their intention of retiring +early, which was, in fact, casting him adrift for the evening. +Being thus let loose upon the world, he very naturally +brought up at the opera, and was seated so near the +stage that his eyes more than once caught those of Olympia, +who gave him one of those quick glances of recognition, +which seemed aimed at the whole audience, but hit +only one person.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, sir, but isn't she a stunner!" said +a voice, as the first act closed. Hepworth might not have +recognized these words as addressed to himself, but for the +weight of a large hand which was laid on his arm. As it +was, he turned promptly, and encountered a stout, heavy +man, handsomely dressed, but for a massive gold chain +which passed across his bosom into his vest pocket, and +drooped in glittering lengths far down the rotundity of his +capacious person, and a large diamond that blazed on his +plaited shirt bosom. From the chain and the diamond, +Hepworth's first thought was, that the person must be +some Californian or Australian acquaintance, belonging to +his old mining days, but the man soon set that idea aside.</p> + +<p>"You don't happen to remember me, Mr. Hepworth, but +I knew you at the first sight. Ask my lady here. Didn't +I say, Mrs. Stacy, that gentleman with the coal-black +mustacher, and them splendid eyes, is Mr. Hepworth, if +ever I set my two eyes on Mr. Hepworth, which I did many +a time, when he used to come to Forty-third street?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span>Hepworth started. Forty-third street! Was he to be +forever haunted by the place and people connected with +that awful tragedy? Why was this? The guilt was not +his, yet he could not feel himself near any person, however +remotely connected with it, without thrills of dread.</p> + +<p>The man had been talking on, but Hepworth heard nothing +at first, he had been too painfully startled; when he +did listen, these words fell on his ear:</p> + +<p>"That was an awful affair, Mr. Hepworth; most people +was astonished, but I never was; always had my suspicions +of that old woman; believe she robbed the house of lots +and lots of things, after the lady was dead; in fact, am +sure of it. Mrs. Stacy here is of my opinion. There was +a girl in the house—perhaps you remember her, sir—Maggie +we used to call her; she and the old woman Yates was +thick as thieves, and both laid their heads together. It +wasn't for nothing, let me tell you; their nests were feathered, +you may believe. There never was a sharper girl +than Maggie Casey."</p> + +<p>"She was just a forerd, imperdent cretur as set her cap +at you like a fiery draggon," broke out the woman, who +occupied a seat by the stout man, and was evidently his +wife; "a cretur as I wouldn't wipe my shoes on, after a +long walk—no, not if she'd give me fifty pair for doing +of it."</p> + +<p>"I am not saying anything to the contrary, my dear, am +I? That girl was after me sharp enough, but I never +encouraged her. Mr. Hepworth can satisfy you on that +point, my own Harriet, for I remember, as if it was yesterday, +he and I talking about it the very day afore that murder, +and we both agreed that her conduct was scandalous."</p> + +<p>Hepworth shuddered. How well he remembered that +artful conversation. How hideous it appeared to him now.</p> + +<p>"But I don't think Mr. Hepworth remembers us for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> +positive, even now," said the woman; "just look in my +face, young gent, and say if you do."</p> + +<p>"Harriet, my dear, isn't that a little, just a little, promiscous?" +said the husband, as a broad, red face, with a +pointed nose, turning up in the centre, and two small leaden +blue eyes looking across it, was bent forward, and challenged +Hepworth's inspection. "Remember, things have changed +since we knew this gentleman."</p> + +<p>"In course they have changed, and I haven't no doubt +that is just what is a puzzling him now; but when I ask +Mr. Hepworth if he remembers the first punken-pie he +ever eat in his born days, and who made it, he'll be sure to +remember Harriet, and I ain't ashamed to say that I am +her, if I do wear an Injur shawl, and if that diment in +your bozzom is a flashing right in his eyes. Self-made +men, and women too, mayn't be of much account in England, +but in New York, the aristocracy are always a trying +to make out that they were born next door to the alms-house, +and started life with just twenty-five cents in their +pockets, so you and I needn't be ashamed."</p> + +<p>Hepworth was not cosmopolitan, and managed to get the +truth out of this confusion of cockney, Irish, and Yankee +dialect. In fact, at the first moment, he had recognized +Matthew Stacy and Harriet Long in the persons who +claimed his acquaintance, and they stung his memory like +a nest of serpents.</p> + +<p>"You'll be glad to know," said Stacy, "that Harriet has +been, in all respects, up to the 'casion whenever I've made +a rise in the world. There's smartness in that woman, I +can tell you. When I was elected alderman of our ward, +she just went into the saloon and dealt out licker to my +constituents with her own hand. There is no telling the +number of votes she got for me by that perseeding. You'd +be astonished."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span>Here the curtain went up with a rush, and Stacy could +only make himself heard by sharp whispers, which reached +Hepworth in fragments, when the music sank lowest.</p> + +<p>"Got into a first-rate thing. Mayor with us—street +contracts—cut through, widened—got hold of a dead charter—revived +it—stock went up like winking—kept the Irish +vote of the ward in my fist—no counting the presents that +woman got. I never took one, of course; such a woman!"</p> + +<p>Here Olympia's voice swept through the house, with an +outpouring of melody that brought the audience to its feet, +but when the tumult subsided, Hepworth found that the +man had been talking on and on, with an under-tow of +political gossip, that reached him in words at last.</p> + +<p>"They wanted the Legislature, which wasn't to be had +without money, you know; two or three men had been seen—nothing +less than a hundred thousand would do it. I +was president of the board, went up myself, saw the members, +who sent me to their confidential men—jackals we call +'em, ha! ha!—got it done for sixty thousand—said nothing, +but divided the rest—jackals got twenty, the other twenty—you +understand. She got an Inger shawl out of that operation, +the very one she has on."</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't nothing of the sort. This one was the +other," whispered Mrs. Stacy, holding up a corner of the +magnificent shawl she wore.</p> + +<p>Hepworth turned and gazed upon the shawl until his face +grew white as death, in the gaslight. The very sight of +that rich garment made him faint.</p> + +<p>The mistake he had made had a silencing effect upon +Stacy too. He had no wish that the history of that garment +should be produced, and when his wife was about to speak, +silenced her at once.</p> + +<p>"My dear Harriet," he said, "how often have I told you +that talking at a theater or the operer is awfully vulgar. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> +wonder you can persist in it, and Mr. Hepworth by. Just +listen to that music! Haven't you no taste? If you +haven't, just take a look around the boxes. That young feller +there is the Prince of Wales."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stacy took a mother-of-pearl opera glass from her +lap, and obediently turned it upon the royal box.</p> + +<p>Before the performance was over, and while Hepworth +was drawn back, in spite of himself, to the most painful +scenes of his life, an usher came down the nearest passage, +and put a little twisted note into his hand. It was from +Olympia, inviting him to supper the next evening.</p> + +<p>Hepworth crushed the pretty missive in his hand, while +he turned to send a verbal refusal, but the usher had withdrawn, +and he had no other way of sending a reply that +night.</p> + +<p>The opera was at its close now, and Hepworth left the +house, irritated and restless. Could he find no place in +which this miserable past would not haunt him? He had +hardly made his way through the crowd when his arm was +seized, and Stacy almost wheeled him around on the pavement.</p> + +<p>"My dear sir, this way. Mrs. Stacy is already in the +carriage. Of course we would not ride and let you go afoot. +Have been a poor man myself once—needn't deny that to +you. Know what it is to keep up a show without capital. +But no old friend of mine shall go afoot while I have the +wherewith to pay for a carriage, and an empty seat in it. +Shall set in the back seat with Mrs. Stacy, upon my soul +you shall, and that's an honor I don't offer to every man. +Now just tell me where you are putting up."</p> + +<p>Hepworth laughed, in spite of his annoyance. The patronizing +fussiness of the ex-alderman struck a keen sense of +the ridiculous, which was strong in his character.</p> + +<p>"If you insist," he said. "But you are too generous."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span>"Not at all, not at all. When Alderman Stacy does a +thing, he does it handsomely. This way, this way!"</p> + +<p>Hepworth seated himself in the carriage where Mrs. Stacy +squeezed herself in one corner, and gathered up her skirts +to make room for him, and Stacy had his foot on the step, +when a new poster, just placed at the door of the opera +house, struck his attention, and he stepped back to examine +it.</p> + +<p>"'First appearance of a young American, a protege of +Olympia.' Just read that poster, Mr. Hepworth, and tell +me what you think of it," he said, lifting himself into the +carriage. "Mrs. Stacy, my dear, just look that way, and +tell me if you can guess who it is that will make a first appearance +Monday night? You know that young lady, and +so does Mr. Hepworth. Now, make a guess."</p> + +<p>"How can you?" said Mrs. Stacy. "You know, Matthew, +dear, I never was good at conundrums and such like."</p> + +<p>Matthew puffed himself out with a deep, long breath, and +clasping two huge hands encased in flame-colored gloves +on his knee, leaned toward Hepworth.</p> + +<p>"You try, now."</p> + +<p>Hepworth shook his head, and Stacy burst out with his +mystery.</p> + +<p>"It's the identical child that was brought up at the +inquest in Forty-third street—Daniel Yates' little daughter."</p> + +<p>"No!" exclaimed Mrs. Stacy. "That little creature?"</p> + +<p>"It ain't nobody else—you may bet high on that, Mrs. +Stacy."</p> + +<p>Hepworth kept perfectly still, but his heart fairly stopped +beating.</p> + +<p>"But how did you find out, Matthew, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! we aldermen find out everything. The girl was +brought up in the country, near Sing-Sing, in a cedar-post +cottage that the executor wanted to raise some money on.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> +I went up to see it, and had a good look at the girl. Yes, +my dear, she was, to say, very handsome, but proud. Daniel +Yates had brought her up like a queen, and I give you +my word she looked it; but there was no mistake about it. +The executor had just gobbled up everything Yates left, and +there was no one to look after him, so that the girl was +just nowhere financially. I found out that the cottage could +not be sold or mortgaged, nor let either, according to law, +though the executor tried it on hard, and came again and +again about it, especially after she left it. So I found out +everything about the girl. That primer donner took a fancy +to her, and adopted her right out of hand because of her +voice, and to-morrow night you can both of you see her, for +I mean to have a box up among the British arrestocracy +that night, and I invite you both free gratis for nothing."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure of this?" questioned Hepworth, who had +not spoken till now.</p> + +<p>"Just as sure as I am that Alderman Stacy sits before +you. But if you don't believe it, ask the girl yourself. I +mean to call on her, and Mrs. Stacy will do likewise. You +can go along. That is, we will call, if she comes out first +chop on Monday night."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stacy," said the superb matron in the back seat, +drawing herself up with wonderful dignity, "I don't mean +to put on airs nor nothing because I'm your lady and richer +than some folks, or Mr. Hepworth wouldn't be an honored +guest in this here carriage; but I must set my foot square +aginst actresses and primmer donners—in short, theatre-clers +in general."</p> + +<p>"Just you hear that," said Stacy, looking at Hepworth. +"Isn't she coming it down strong, and lifting of her head +high?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't that, Mr. Stacy, but because I am a wife and a—a +woman—that I feel called upon to stand between them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> +creturs and the sect. Pay them your money, Mr. Stacy—pay +them any amount of money from the front—but nothing +beyond that, Mr. Stacy!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, humbug," said Mr. Stacy; "that is putting it too +strong, Harriet—as if I couldn't pay money or not, just as +I please."</p> + +<p>"It isn't humbug, Mr. Stacy, but a question of benignant +morality, which it is every woman's duty to take up +and hurl back, till she totters on the brink, martyr-like, +between heaven and earth! Don't you think so, Mr. Hepworth?"</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear anything up to that?" exclaimed +Stacy, swelling with pompous satisfaction. "Harriet is +the sort of woman that a man of substance can depend on, +morrerly, financierly, and—and—. Not that I'm going to +give in, you know; but it's satisfaction to know that your +money has lifted such a person into her proper spear."</p> + +<p>"That's very kind of you, and I feel it, Stacy, dear; but +when you speak of lifting me up with <em>your</em> money, who was +it that owned the first five hundred dollars you, or me, Mr. +Stacy?"</p> + +<p>"Harriet!"</p> + +<p>"It's no use thundering out my baptismal name against +me, Mr. Stacy, for that's a thing I won't bear at no price! +Truth is truth, Mr. Hepworth, and rich as that man is, +rolling over and over in gold, like a porpose in salt water, +it was my five hundred dollars that did it! Let him say if +I didn't own that much?"</p> + +<p>"But didn't I marry you, and then didn't you own me? +Would you set down good looks, financial ability, and moral +character A number one, at five hundred dollars, and +you—"</p> + +<p>What was coming next Hepworth was destined never to +learn, for Mrs. Stacy, overcome by a fit of conjugal remorse,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> +leaned forward and placed one substantial hand in the +flame-colored glove of her husband.</p> + +<p>"Matthew, forgive me! I didn't mean it. That mention +of the primmer donner and her protager upset me; but +I am your wife yet, Stacy, dear—your true and lawful wife—just +as ready to travel with you into every tropical climate +of Europe as I ever was."</p> + +<p>Stacy would not clasp his flame-colored fingers around +that hand, but let it drop with ignominious looseness, while +he drew a handkerchief from his pocket and buried his face +in it.</p> + +<p>"Harriet! Harriet! you have hurt my feelings, mortified +my—my manhood before an old friend!"</p> + +<p>It was in the night, the carriage was close, the lamps +dim, and Hepworth only knew that there a heap of drapery +launched itself into the front seat, that a voice came from +the midst, saying:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Matthew! Matthew!"</p> + +<p>Then the white handkerchief dropped like a flag at half +mast, and the reconciliation was complete.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE OPERATIC SUPPER.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">"Indeed,</span> Mr. Closs, I insist!"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear child, I have no particular desire to +go."</p> + +<p>"That is because you think that I care about it. Why +should I? In fact, it is unbearable that you should have +the idea."</p> + +<p>Hepworth Closs had in all loyalty told Lady Clara of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> +invitation he had received from Olympia, and, instead of +resenting it as he expected, she met his vague desire more +than half-way—one of the wisest things any woman can +do, for half the sins in the world are committed because +they are forbidden; not that this young girl knew of the +wisdom. With her, it was half pride, half bravado; she +was indignant that Hepworth should think of going—more +indignant that he should have refused the invitation at +once, without telling her of it.</p> + +<p>The result was, she insisted on his accepting it, though +her heart was burning with jealousy all the time.</p> + +<p>Closs, as I have said somewhere, had learned many +things in his travels; but in Japan and the frontier countries +of America girls like Clara had not often come under his +observation, and he was far too deeply in love for a cool examination +of her character or actions.</p> + +<p>So her impulse of unbounded generosity deceived him +utterly, and having some shrinking curiosity regarding +Daniel Yates' daughter, he resolved to accept Olympia's +invitation.</p> + +<p>Of course, Clara found a dozen absurd reasons for quarreling +with him that day, not one of which seemed to relate +to Olympia; yet that beautiful woman was the root of +them all, if Hepworth could have understood it.</p> + +<p>But he only comprehended that every room in that +sumptuous dwelling was dull as a wilderness on that particular +Sabbath day. Rachael kept her room; Clara would +not make herself agreeable; and he felt it a relief when +night came and took him to the little bijou of a mansion +where Olympia was waiting the advent of her guests.</p> + +<p>Hepworth had seen this woman in New York, and knew +something of the fantastic elegance with which she could +surround herself; but the house he entered surpassed anything +he had ever seen in that republican city.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span>Nothing sad or even grave in art or nature was ever permitted +to visit the Queen of Song in her own home. Her +servants were expected to be smiling and cheerful. There +was not a sombre corner in her dwelling.</p> + +<p>The very hall was a marvel of art; statuettes of snow-white +marble, airy and graceful as stone could be chiselled, +seemed ready to escort the guest into the unique drawing-room +beyond.</p> + +<p>Delicate bric-a-brac occupied gilded brackets on the +walls, or crowded the statuettes upon the floor; a laughing +faun held back the silken curtain that concealed the entrance +to that inner room where the goddess herself presided; +a soft mellow light fell upon these treasures, making +their beauty still more exquisite.</p> + +<p>A servant in silver and blue livery admitted Hepworth, +and pointed to the faun, who seemed inviting him forward +with a fantastic gesture.</p> + +<p>The servant disappeared, his duties ended when the outer +door was opened.</p> + +<p>Those who visited Olympia were supposed to know their +way to her presence. Hepworth lingered a moment in the +hall. Those beautiful marble people seemed enticing him to +stay, and, for the instant, he felt an unaccountable reluctance +to present himself before the actress; a feeling of humiliation +came upon him that he should be willing to visit +any woman whom the lady of his love could not meet on +equal terms. What right had he there?</p> + +<p>This question was almost upon his lips, when a silken +rustle made him hold his breath. It was a young girl, tall, +stately, beautiful, coming down the marble stairs. He was +standing near the centre of the floor, but drew back, step by +step, as the girl descended, turning white and cold, as if +there had been some wrong in his admiration of an antique<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> +group in bronze, which occupied a bracket on the wall close +by him.</p> + +<p>The girl paused, looked toward him, and, after a little +hesitation, crossed the hall.</p> + +<p>"Permit me to show you the way," she said. "The +servant should not have left you so."</p> + +<p>Hepworth did not speak, but stood gazing upon her +blankly. Her beauty had struck him dumb.</p> + +<p>She made a little gesture with her hand and moved on. +He followed, without a word, by the marble faun, through +the lifted curtains, and into the presence of Olympia, who +was walking up and down the Gobelin carpet, with the +light of a Venetian chandelier falling over her.</p> + +<p>She was becoming impatient for the arrival of her guests. +Yet the room seemed peopled fully; for, on every hand, +mirrors that seemed framed in a network of gold, threw back +and duplicated the group that stood there, the rich coloring +of the draperies, two vases of Malachite and Sevres, the +gifts of emperors, and the carpet, where masses of blossoms +seemed starting into fresh bloom, wherever a footstep trod +them down.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hepworth!" cried Olympia; "my good American +friend! This is a happiness!"</p> + +<p>Hepworth bowed over the white hand she held out; but +did not kiss it, as she might have expected, being used to +all sorts of homage.</p> + +<p>She looked at him in pleasant astonishment, dropped her +hand with a faint laugh, and turned to the young girl.</p> + +<p>"Caroline, you have never seen Mr. Hepworth, I think."</p> + +<p>"Closs, Hepworth Closs, dear lady; you forget."</p> + +<p>"Do I? Well, it is very likely, though, I am sure, we +always called you Hepworth; but that's nothing; in our +Bohemian set we generally preferred the given name, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> +sometimes only took half of that. Ah, ho! here come our +friends at last!"</p> + +<p>The curtain was flung back, revealing what seemed a +crowd in the hall, which soon came forward, with little +ceremony, and some rather riotous noise.</p> + +<p>Olympia was in her element now. Heart and soul she +loved society, and all these persons were picked people of +her own choice—brilliant persons in their various capacities, +each bringing a store of wit or some accomplishment to +swell the general gaiety. Artists, dilettanti noblemen, epicures, +and persons who would have accompanied Orpheus in +all his explorations for the music he could give them.</p> + +<p>Of course, there was high mirth and some sparkling wit +among a group like this, in which several females mingled +brilliantly, and sang like sirens after Olympia had set them +the example. These were professional, of course, but wonderfully +clever, and talked charmingly, as women who are +reckless of criticism usually do; but in all that was said, a +certain vein of doubtful license sometimes brought the color +to Caroline's cheek. She could not thoroughly understand +the conversation of these people. They seemed to have +come out of another world to astonish and bewilder her. +She knew that some of the men present were noblemen, +and saw that their manners, and even the tones of their +voices, changed when they addressed her.</p> + +<p>From the secluded life she had led, this girl was incapable +of making quick comparisons. She only knew that +none of these men possessed the gentle tenderness or the +proud bearing of the teacher, who had become to her a +beau-ideal of true manhood. Of all the men present she +felt the most sympathy with Hepworth Closs. He had +been in America, had known the places she loved so well, +and could understand her loneliness in a scene like that;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> +but there was something even in this man that startled her +a little.</p> + +<p>His fine eyes were frequently lifted to her face with a +look that troubled her, a look that seemed to go beyond her +and far away into the past or future. What was he thinking +of? Why were his answers about America so dreamy +and vague? Why did he look so sad while the voice of +Olympia was filling the whole house with such glorious +bursts of music?</p> + +<p>Before she could answer any of these questions, Olympia +arose from the piano, and, with a light wave of her hand, +said:</p> + +<p>"Come, Caroline, let them hear what is in your voice."</p> + +<p>How careless and natural it all seemed! What a tumult +of smiles and entreaties followed these few caressing words!</p> + +<p>They were words of iron to that proud, shrinking girl. +She knew how much of stern, selfish power lay under the +peach-like softness of that voice. Her color went and +came; her lips parted in absolute terror. She understood +now why she had been permitted to join her mother's +guests for the first time.</p> + +<p>"Come, my darling!"</p> + +<p>Olympia's voice grew softer, sweeter; but there was an +undertone in it that Caroline dared not disobey. She arose, +white and cold, her limbs trembling, her eyes turned upon +Olympia like those of a hunted doe appealing for its life; +but there was no relenting in that beautiful face—nothing +but smiles.</p> + +<p>Hepworth Closs saw how cruelly the proud girl suffered, +and was by her side in an instant. The firm clasp of his +hand, as he led her to the piano, gave her strength. She +thanked him with a look, and those frightened eyes implored +him to stay by her, as if he were the only friend she +recognized in the room.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span>It must be a terrible fright that can entirely overcome +real genius.</p> + +<p>The first notes of Caroline's voice trembled out from her +lips like the cry of a young bird when it first tempts the air. +The intense stillness with which the little group listened, +took away her breath. But all this passed away; her voice +gathered up its tones and swelled into a power of music +that Olympia, in her best days, had never reached. She +forgot the people around her—forgot everything but the +glorious genius which thrilled her whole being with ecstasies +of harmony. The nightingale, nested in clustering roses +and bathed with moonlight, never poured forth its song +with a sweeter impulse.</p> + +<p>At first it was the desperation of genius, but that soon +merged itself into an exquisite power that held her little +audience in amazement.</p> + +<p>Olympia grew restless. Had she, with her own hands, +given her crown and sceptre to another? How superbly +beautiful the creature looked with that glow of inspiration +on her face! How her own devoted adorers crowded +around the piano, leaving her on the outskirts of the crowd +quite alone!</p> + +<p>The woman's self-love and most active vanity were disturbed; +but above that rose another passion that had of +late years grown strong within her—avarice. She recognized +the sure ring of gold in those notes, and exulted +over it.</p> + +<p>As Caroline turned from the piano flushed, and, as it +were, inspired by a new life, a little storm of bravos broke +over her. Just then the supper-room was thrown open; +but even the exquisite picture it presented failed to draw +the crowd from its new idol.</p> + +<p>But Caroline was falling back to her normal state, and all +this tumultuous admiration terrified her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span>This annoyed Olympia, also. She made a signal to the +servant who stood waiting, and his announcement, in a +loud voice, that supper was served, broke up the crowd +which held Caroline prisoner.</p> + +<p>Olympia led the way into the most superb little supper-room +that even an artist could imagine. It was, in fact, a +temple, connected only by one compartment with the +house.</p> + +<p>A shallow dome, with ground glass, through which a +tender light shone like sunbeams through sifted snow, +by a gilded network over ground glass, which also reflected +hidden lights like a chain of clouded stars.</p> + +<p>This gallery was connected with the floor by slender +marble shafts, around which passion flowers, white jessamines, +creeping dwarf roses, and other clinging plants +wove their blossoms up to the lighted gallery, whence they +fell in delicate spray, forming arches of flowers all around +the room.</p> + +<p>The recesses thus garlanded in were lined with mirrors, +in which the crimson cushions of couch and chair, the +splendid supper table, with all its rich paraphernalia of +frosted plate, sparkling glass, translucent wines, and fruit in +all its mellow gorgeousness of coloring were reflected over +and over again.</p> + +<p>When that gay crowd came into the room, led by +Olympia, every recess seemed to fill with its own merry +company, and in each that handsome prima donna presided +like a goddess; while the tall figure of a proud, beautiful +girl sat near, looking strangely wild and anxious as a loud, +bacchanalian spirit broke into the scene, and turned it into +a revel. Amid the gurgle of wine and the mellow crush of +fruit, some one called out:</p> + +<p>"Fill up! fill up! A bumper to our new Queen of +Song!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span>With a half-suppressed shout and a waving of glasses, +the party sprang up, drops of amber and ruby wine rained +down to the table from a reckless overflow of the uplifted +goblets.</p> + +<p>Every recess gave back the picture with endless change +of view; and then the voice called out again:</p> + +<p>"To-morrow night we will show her how England can +receive American genius and American beauty. Lady, we +drink to you."</p> + +<p>To-morrow night! Every vestige of color fled from that +poor girl's face. She attempted to rise, supported herself +with one hand on the table a moment, then in the midst of +that riotous toast, sank back to her chair, with her face +turned imploringly on Hepworth Closs.</p> + +<p>When the revellers had drained their glasses and turned +to look for a reward in the face they had pronounced divine, +it had disappeared. Amid the confusion, Hepworth had led +Caroline from the room.</p> + +<p>"It is too much for her," said Olympia, tossing half a +dozen peaches on the table in her search for the mellowest. +"She is such a noble, grateful creature, and has not yet +learned how to receive homage."</p> + +<p>"While our Olympia almost disdains it. Fill up for our +goddess, The Olympia!"</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute!"</p> + +<p>It was the young noble next the actress who spoke. He +had taken some grape-leaves from a crystal vase near him, +and was weaving the smallest amber-hued and purple +clusters with them in a garland, with which he crowned the +goddess before her libation was poured out. She accepted +the homage, laughing almost boisterously, and when the +grape-wreath was settled in her golden hair, stood up, a +Bacchante that Rubens would have worshipped; for it made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> +no difference to her in what form adulation came, so long +as she monopolized it.</p> + +<p>That moment Caroline was lying upon her bed up-stairs, +shaking in every limb, and crying in bitterness of spirit.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>BEHIND THE SCENES.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Olympia</span> had selected an auspicious time for the first +appearance of her protege, as she always persisted in calling +Caroline.</p> + +<p>It was the fashion just then to recognize American +genius with something like enthusiasm, and the very suddenness +with which this young girl had been brought forward +operated in her favor.</p> + +<p>A glowing account of her voice and beauty had reached +the public just at a time when no special excitement occupied +it, and this served to draw a crowd around the opera +house long before the hour of opening.</p> + +<p>On the outskirts of this crowd, the carriage which contained +Olympia and her victim—for such the heroine of the +evening really was—made its way toward the stage door. +Olympia leaned out of the window, and cried exultingly:</p> + +<p>"Look, child, look! Hundreds of people waiting +already!"</p> + +<p>Caroline cast one frightened glance at the crowd, and +shrank back with a faint moan.</p> + +<p>Just as the audience began to pour in through the +opened doors the carriage drove up to the stage entrance, +and Olympia took a leap from the steps and held the carriage +door open with her own hand, while Caroline descended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> +more slowly. The light from a neighboring lamp +fell upon her face, and revealed the tears that stood upon +her cheeks, and a half rebellious look in the eyes, which +Olympia saw, and met with angry bitterness.</p> + +<p>"Crying again? Shooting spiteful looks at me, as if I +were a monster, instead of a tender, considerate, self-sacrificing +mother, ready to share everything with you, even my +glory! Was ever such ingratitude?"</p> + +<p>Caroline did not answer, but walked into the narrow door, +and stood upon the dreary stage, panting for breath, like +some superb animal from the wild woods, hunted down, and +without hopes of escape.</p> + +<p>"This way—come this way," said Olympia, taking hold +of her arm. "Perhaps you will remember that we are late. +The audience was crowding in like a torrent when we +passed the door. Come!"</p> + +<p>Caroline allowed herself to be led along the stage, through +yawning vistas of scenery ready placed for use, and along +dark passages, until she came to Olympia's dressing-room, in +which a blaze of light was reflected by half-a-dozen mirrors, +and fell like sunshine on a pile of gorgeous vestments laid +out for her use.</p> + +<p>Caroline shrank back with a faint, sick feeling. Oh, +how everything had changed since she was so fascinated by +a scene like that! Her delicate, proud nature revolted +from the splendid confusion. From her very heart she +loathed the sumptuous garments with which Olympia had +hoped to tempt her.</p> + +<p>"Is there no hope?" she cried, desperately. "I would +rather suffer anything than undertake this part!"</p> + +<p>"Hope? Yes, there is everything to hope. The house +is crowded already. There never was so fine an opening. +Come, make ready!"</p> + +<p>"Not if I have the power to resist."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span>She spoke in a low but resolute voice, which frightened +Olympia, who stood gazing at the pale young face turned +upon her with a frown of terrible anger gathering on her +forehead.</p> + +<p>"Caroline, you cannot resist. My word is given, the +contract signed, my honor pledged. Would you disgrace +me forever?"</p> + +<p>"Your honor pledged, and I belong to you," said the +girl. "I see, I see—there is no escaping! It is my miserable +destiny!"</p> + +<p>Caroline took off the cloak in which she was wrapped, +flung down all her magnificent hair, and seated herself +before one of the mirrors.</p> + +<p>"Do with me as you please," she said, turning a weary +glance upon the mirror. "It may be my death, but you +<em>will</em> have it so."</p> + +<p>The next moment that unhappy girl found herself in the +hands of a clever French maid, who fairly revelled in her +task, as she shook out that rich mass of hair, and held it up +for the light to shine through. But Caroline took no heed. +The toilet only reminded her of that most hideous one +when Marie Antoinette was prepared for the scaffold. For +the moment she almost wished it possible to change places +with that unhappy woman.</p> + +<p>But the French waiting-maid went on with her work, +while Olympia stood by, directing her.</p> + +<p>Not till she felt a soft touch on her cheek did the girl +rebel. Then she started up, and, pushing the maid away, +rubbed her cheek with a handkerchief so resolutely that the +maid clapped her hands, declaring that it was enough—no +roses could be more lovely.</p> + +<p>Then she fell to her task again, muttering to herself:</p> + +<p>"Oh, it will come in time! Youth is so satisfied with +itself. But it all ends in that."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span>Here the maid nodded toward a tiny jar of rouge, as if to +encourage it, and went on with her task.</p> + +<p>"Now look at yourself!" said Olympia, tossing aside +some garment that had been flung over the swinging-glass. +"What do you think of that?"</p> + +<p>Caroline looked, and saw a beautiful woman, with sweeping +garments of rose-colored silk, and a cloud of frost-like +lace flung over her head and trailing down her shoulders. +Splendid jewels—whether real or false, she did not care to +ask—twinkled like stars through the lace, both on her head +and bosom. The pictures thus reflected were beautiful, but +stormy.</p> + +<p>Olympia saw that the rebellious spirit was but half +subdued.</p> + +<p>"What can I do?" she said, in her perplexity, addressing +the maid, who lifted up both hands and shook her head +as she answered:</p> + +<p>"Ah, madame! if a toilet like that fails, who can say?"</p> + +<p>"I will send for Brown. She will listen to him," said +Olympia, driven to desperation. "With that spirit, she +will never get the rollicking air for her first act."</p> + +<p>She went to the door, and found the teacher lingering +near, restless and anxious almost as herself.</p> + +<p>"Brown—I say, Brown—come in! She is dressed, but +so obstinate! If she were about to play Norma, it would +be worth everything, but in this part—! Do come in, dear +Brown, and get her up to the proper feeling."</p> + +<p>Brown entered the room in absolute distress. He would +gladly have kept that young creature from the stage; but +having no power to aid her in avoiding it, was nervously +anxious that she should make a success.</p> + +<p>Caroline turned to him at once, and came forward with +her hands held out.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Brown, help me! It is not too late. Let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> +them say I am sick. Indeed, indeed, it will be true! She +can take the part, and leave me in peace. Ask her, beg of +her; say that I will go into her kitchen, be her maid, go +out as a teacher—anything on earth, if she will only spare +me this once! Ask her, Mr. Brown. Sometimes she will +listen to you!"</p> + +<p>Brown held both her hands. They were cold as ice, and +he felt that she was trembling all over.</p> + +<p>"My dear, dear child! I have pleaded with her. I have +done my best."</p> + +<p>"But again—again! Oh, Mr. Brown, do!"</p> + +<p>Brown drew Olympia on one side, and entreated her to +give the unhappy girl more time; but he knew well enough +that he was asking almost an impossibility—that the woman +had no power to grant that which he implored of her. In +her arrogant power she had pledged that young creature, +body and soul, to the public. How could she draw back, +when the crowding rush of the audience might now be +heard from the place where they stood.</p> + +<p>Still the man pleaded with her, for he loved the girl +better than anything on earth, and, knowing something of +the feelings which made the stage so repulsive to her, +would have died to save her from the pain of that night's +experience.</p> + +<p>Olympia was impatient, nervous, angry. What did the +man think? Was she to throw away the chances of a great +success and a brilliant fortune, because a romantic girl did +not know her own mind? Was she to disgrace herself +before all London?</p> + +<p>Brown had no answer. The whole thing was unreasonable—he +knew that well enough; but his heart ached for +the poor girl. So he had done his best, and failed miserably.</p> + +<p>"Go back and cheer the foolish thing up," said Olympia.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span> +"You can do it. She loves you better than any one in the +world. Now, if you want to oblige me, give her courage, +soothe her. I never saw such a creature! With the +genius and voice of an angel, she has no ambition; but it +will come. Before the drinking song is over, she will forget +herself. Go, Brown, and give her courage."</p> + +<p>Brown went back to the dressing-room, feeling like an +executioner.</p> + +<p>Caroline met him eagerly; but when she saw his face, +her heart turned to stone.</p> + +<p>"I see! I see!" she said. "I am doomed! But, remember, +I was forced into this. Of my own choice, I would +have died first; but she is my mother, and, in my ignorance, +I promised her. Tell <em>him</em> this, if you should ever see him. +I never shall. After what he said of parts like this, I +should perish with shame. Ha! what's that?"</p> + +<p>"They are calling you," faltered Brown.</p> + +<p>She caught a sharp breath and sprang away from him, +like a deer when the hounds are in full cry.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE FIRST PERFORMANCE.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> opera-house was full from floor to dome. A cheerful +multitude crowded the body of the house with smiling faces, +and filled it with gay colors, till it shone out gorgeously, +like a thickly-planted flower-garden. The boxes filled, +more slowly; but, after half an hour of soft, silken rustle +and answering smiles, they, too, were crowded with distinguished +men and beautiful women of the British aristocracy, +and the whole arena was lighted up with the splendor of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span> +their garments and the flaming brightness of their jewels. +Then came a movement, and a low murmur of discontent, +which the grandest efforts of the orchestra could not silence. +The hour had arrived, but the curtain was still down. +Was there to be a disappointment, after all?</p> + +<p>In the midst of this growing confusion a party entered +one of the most prominent boxes that drew the general +attention in that part of the house. A lady in crimson +velvet, with some gossamer lace about her arms and bosom, +and a cobweb of the same rich material floating from the +thick braids of her coal-black hair, came into the box, followed +by a gentleman so like her that people exclaimed at +once:</p> + +<p>"It is her brother!"</p> + +<p>These two persons were accompanied by a bright young +girl, in white muslin, with a blue ribbon drawn through her +hair like a snood, and a string of large pearls on her neck. +The girl was beautiful as a Hebe, and bright as a star—so +bright and so beautiful that a whole battery of glasses was +turned on the box the moment she entered it. Then a +murmur ran from lip to lip.</p> + +<p>"It is Lady Hope, that person who was once a governess, +and the young lady must be Hope's daughter by his first +marriage—the future Lady Carset, if the old countess ever +dies, which she never will, if it is only to spite that woman +yonder, whom she hates. Beautiful!"</p> + +<p>"You are speaking of Lady Hope? Yes, very; but +strange! Night and morning are not farther apart than +those two. Yet I am told they are devoted to each other."</p> + +<p>"Not unlikely. See how the woman smiles when the +Hebe speaks to her! Wonderful fascination in that face. +Just the person to carry away a man like Hope."</p> + +<p>Here the conversation was broken off by an impatient +outburst of the audience.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span>In obedience to it the curtain rolled up, and the first act +of "Traviata" commenced.</p> + +<p>The tumult stopped instantly, and every face was turned +with expectation on the stage, ready to greet "the lost one" +with a generous welcome.</p> + +<p>She came in hurriedly, with her head erect, her hand +clenching that cloud of lace to her bosom, and her eyes +bright as stars. A stag hunted to desperation would have +turned at bay with a look like that; and the poor animal +might have recoiled as she did, when that wild burst of +admiration stormed over her. For the outcry of the most +vicious hounds that ever ran could not have been more +appalling to a victim than that generous welcome was to +her.</p> + +<p>She did not bow or smile, but retreated slowly back, step +by step, until a voice from behind the scene startled her. +Then she bent her tall figure a little forward, her head +drooped to her bosom, and her hands were clenched passionately +under the laces.</p> + +<p>Again those who were nearest heard the voice, but did +not understand it as that poor girl did. In her panic the +little acting that belonged to the scene was utterly overlooked; +but this proud indifference was something new, and +charmed the audience, which took her wounded pride for +superb disdain of a pampered beauty, and accepted it as a +graceful innovation; while she stood trembling from head to +foot, conscious only of a burning desire to break away from +it all and hide herself forever. She did once move swiftly +toward the wing, but there stood Olympia, and the first +glimpse of that frowning face drove her back, panting for +breath.</p> + +<p>The audience, seeing her panic, encouraged her with +applause less stormy and more sustaining.</p> + +<p>She felt this kindness. The multitude were less her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> +enemy than the woman who stood in the shadows, hounding +her on. Among all that sea of faces she saw one—that +of a young girl, leaning over the crimson cushions of a box +near the stage, so eager, so earnest, so bright with generous +sympathy, that youth answered back to youth; a smile +broke over her own face, and with it came her voice, fresh, +pure, soaring like a bird suddenly let loose on the air.</p> + +<p>The audience listened in breathless sympathy, which +encouraged her. There was no doubt now; fear could not +long hold such genius in thrall; her movements became +free, her features brightened. She flung the lace back from +her head, and gave herself up to the joyous riot of that +drinking song.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this scene, when every one present, on +and off the stage, was lavishing homage upon her, she lifted +her eyes to the young girl who leaned forward, poising herself +in the box, like a bird preparing for flight, and clapped +her little hand with the glee of a delighted child.</p> + +<p>Once more their smiles met. Then a deathly faintness +came over the debutante, and without a word or motion she +sank upon the stage, like a statue of snow which the sun +had touched.</p> + +<p>In the next box, leaning forward like that young girl—but +oh! with what a different expression—she had seen the +Italian teacher, her lover.</p> + +<p>The drinking-song was hushed in its most exultant swell—the +revellers drew around the fainting girl and carried +her from the stage, helpless as an infant, white as the lace +that clouded her.</p> + +<p>The audience watched them bear her away in silence; +then it broke into murmurs of regret and sympathy.</p> + +<p>"The effort had been too much for her. Of course, such +genius was accompanied with corresponding sensitiveness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span> +but she would speedily recover. It was only a little interruption."</p> + +<p>They were mistaken. The debutante did not return that +night; but in her place came Olympia, with a little tragedy +in her face, and a touching speech, which excited admiration +for herself and unbounded sympathy for her protege; +after which, she entered into the character of Violette, with +a grace of action and a power of voice that carried the +management through what had threatened to be a serious +dilemma.</p> + +<p>The truth is, this woman, Olympia, was a remarkably +clever person, and knew how to manage her subjects a great +deal better than some monarchs of England have done. +But she was in a raging passion that night, and the excitement +lent her force, which she exhausted in the part, while +her child lay moaning on the dressing-room sofa.</p> + +<p>In the midst of the first confusion, that young girl in the +box had started up, and laid her hand on Hepworth Closs's +arm.</p> + +<p>"Go back to where they have taken her. You know the +way. Tell my maid, Margaret, to come to me at once. +No, no; take me with you. I may be of use. Poor girl! +poor girl! They have almost killed her."</p> + +<p>"But it is impossible," said Closs, looking toward Lady +Hope, who was leaning against the side of the box, with +her face turned away. "She would not permit it."</p> + +<p>"She does not object. We need not be seen. No one +will recognize us. Come! come!"</p> + +<p>She took Hepworth's arm, and almost forced him from +the box.</p> + +<p>"Which way? Come! come! I will go."</p> + +<p>Hepworth had been too often behind the scenes not to +know how to gain admittance there on this occasion. He +knew how resolute that young creature was, when a generous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> +or daring idea possessed her, and, after waiting a +moment for Lady Hope to speak, led Lady Clara away.</p> + +<p>Clara was bewildered and almost terrified by the black +darkness of the passage, which was lighted only by fitful +gleams from the stage; but excitement kept up her courage, +and she entered Olympia's dressing-room with the air +of a person born to the tragic purple.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>CHAPTER X.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE TWO FOSTER-CHILDREN MEET.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Caroline</span> was lying upon a heap of rich garments piled +on the sofa. She was trembling still, and every few moments +a burst of bitter sobs broke from her. Three women +were standing by—her own maid, Eliza, upon whose sympathetic +face tears were trembling; Margaret, her sister; +and, most conspicuous of all, Olympia's French maid, who +bent over the poor girl, with a bottle of perfume in each +hand, with which she insisted on assuaging the unhappy +girl's anguish.</p> + +<p>Lady Clara comprehended the scene at a glance, went up +to the sofa, took the French maid by the shoulders, and +wheeled her away so swiftly that the bottles jingled; then +she fell upon her knees by the sofa, and flung one arm over +Caroline.</p> + +<p>"Don't mind them; don't let them bother you. Just +tell me what has come over you, and I'll set it right, or +know the reason why."</p> + +<p>The voice, so sweet, so round and cheering, aroused +Caroline.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span>She rose up on her elbow, and seeing the bright, honest +face which had bent toward her so kindly from the box, +reached out her arms, and wound them over Clara's neck.</p> + +<p>"That's right; that's sisterly. I wish you were my +sister; but what's the use of wishing? There! kiss me +again, for I mean to be a mother to you—I do, indeed! +Now tell me, what was it that struck you down so? It was +frightful; it took away my breath. Tell me all about it. +My maid here and yours were sisters, and I shouldn't wonder +if we knew each other in America. But that is so long +ago, it wouldn't signify, but for the maids, who love us so, +that it makes a sort of tie. Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it could! if it could! I have no relative but one, +and she will not pity me!" cried Caroline, clinging to Lady +Clara. "She will make me go back to that hateful part! +It was bad enough before, but now I should die of shame!"</p> + +<p>"Why? Why now more than at first?" inquired Clara.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you. I know who you are, and how good +every one thinks you. I hate the stage!"</p> + +<p>"How strange! I cannot understand it. You don't +know how I envied you when all those people started up, +waving their handkerchiefs and shouting—to see them so +sorry and disappointed when you did not come back. I +could hardly keep myself from leaping over the box, and +asking the crowd to let me try!"</p> + +<p>Caroline looked into that animated face with wonder. +The tears stood still on her cheeks, a faint smile crept into +her eyes. Then she shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I understand. There was a time when I thought +like you, but that was before—before—"</p> + +<p>"Before what? Margaret and the rest of you, just go +outside. The room isn't large enough for so many. There, +we are alone now. Just tell me all about it. You can +trust me."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span>"I know it. Well, Lady Clara—you see I know your +name—"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. But just call me Clara—nothing more. I +really don't care for being a lady—at any rate, not much. +That one thing is going to give me any amount of trouble +yet, you'll see. Well, now, having settled the lady, tell me +why and when you began to hate the stage so. I think it +is a glorious life. Just put me where you stand, without a +sovereign to help myself with, and I'd give up the ladyship +to you in a minute."</p> + +<p>"But that is because you own your life."</p> + +<p>"Own my life? Of course I do. That is just what +every soul must own."</p> + +<p>"Not if—if she cares for some one more than her life."</p> + +<p>"Oh-e! oh-e! That is the secret! And he don't like +it? The heathen! I wish he had seen you just now!"</p> + +<p>"He did. He was standing in the box close by you. I +saw his face, for the first time in months. He was leaning +forward; his eyes met mine. They were full of reproach—contempt, +perhaps. I could not tell, for the house swam +round, the lights seemed leaping toward me. Then I felt +as if the noise were putting them out, for everything grew +dark."</p> + +<p>"And you fainted dead away, poor dear! I know how to +pity you. Not that I have had trouble yet; but it is sure +to come, and then, of course, you will be sorry for me."</p> + +<p>"I shall, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Just as I am sorry for you now. But who is the +man?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly think I know. He gave me an Italian name, +but I feel sure it was not his."</p> + +<p>"That accounts for his antipathy to the stage. If he had +really been an Italian, your singing would have entranced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> +him. It was heavenly; but an Englishman—. Well, +well, we must see!"</p> + +<p>That moment the door swung open, and Olympia came +in, radiant with jewels and fierce with anger. She saw +Lady Clara, and stopped upon the threshold in haughty +astonishment. Caroline shrank from the stormy expression +of her face, but faltered out:</p> + +<p>"Madame, it is Lady Clara, the daughter of Lord Hope."</p> + +<p>Instantly the frown lost itself in a bland smile. Olympia +was equal to her part at all times. She did not often see +a lady of rank in her dressing-room, and the honor drove +away the indignant wrath intended for Caroline.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she said, "this poor child—it was so unfortunate! +But she will recover. In a day or two she will get +back her courage. What a voice she has, my lady! Did +you hear? So fresh, so powerful, up to the very time when +she broke down. What could have occasioned it?"</p> + +<p>"It is indeed a misfortune," said Clara, with some +dignity; "because I am sure she will never do for the stage. +Her voice is superb, but so uncertain! When we compare +it with yours, madame, it is to regret that she ever ventured +so far."</p> + +<p>Olympia seated herself. She had a few moments to spare +before the call-boy would summon her back to the stage.</p> + +<p>"There you mistake, my lady. When I was her age no +one ever dreamed that I would succeed as a singer; but you +see what resolution and study can do."</p> + +<p>"But you <em>had</em> study; your guardians gave plenty of +time. Let her have that time; let her friends have an +opportunity to think what is best for her."</p> + +<p>"Her friends? I did not know that she had any in +England."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! I am one; Lady Hope is another. Then +there is Mr. Closs."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span>"Oh!" said Olympia. "It is to that gentleman we owe +the honor of this visit?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Clara. "He escorted me here. Being +Lady Hope's brother, it was proper, you understand."</p> + +<p>Olympia was looking in Clara's face. The girl pleased +her. The bright mobility of her features, the graceful +gestures with which she emphasized her expressions, +charmed the experienced actress.</p> + +<p>"Ah, if my daughter had your abandon!" she exclaimed, +with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Or if I had her sweet dignity. But fortune is sometimes +very perverse. Now I should glory in the applause +which makes her faint away."</p> + +<p>"Ah! she is sensitive as a child, proud as a duchess; but, +where we have plenty of genius, these things only serve to +brighten it. I shall take Caroline into my own training. +When you come to hear her sing again, it will be a different +affair."</p> + +<p>"Oh, madam, do not ask it!" cried Caroline, in a panic. +"I never, never can go on to that stage again!"</p> + +<p>"We shall see," answered Olympia, blandly. "Here +comes the call-boy; I must say adieu, with many thanks +for this visit."</p> + +<p>"But I have a request to make. You will give her +time?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes, my lady. She shall have sufficient time."</p> + +<p>Olympia went out smiling; but Caroline understood the +craft that lay under her soft words.</p> + +<p>"You see that I have accomplished something," said +Clara, delighted with her success; "we have gained time."</p> + +<p>"No, no! She will have her way."</p> + +<p>"What! that soft, handsome creature?"</p> + +<p>"Has a will of iron!"</p> + +<p>"And so have I!" exclaimed the young girl, "and my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> +will is that she shall not force you into a life you do not +like; but I wonder at it. Upon my word, if it were not for +one thing, I should like to change places with you."</p> + +<p>Caroline shook her head.</p> + +<p>"You have no idea what the life is!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes, I have; and it must be charming. No dignity +to keep up, no retinue of servants to pass every time you +come and go; but all sorts of homage, plenty of work, while +everything you have brings in a swift recompense. Talent, +beauty, grace discounted every night. Oh! it must be +charming."</p> + +<p>"I thought so once," answered Caroline, with a heavy +sigh.</p> + +<p>"Well, never trouble yourself to think about it again. If +that lovely woman has an iron will, you must get up one of +steel; but here comes Margaret. I suppose Mr. Closs is +getting tired of staying out there in the dark. Besides, +Lady Hope will be frightened. Adieu, my friend; I will +manage to see you again."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br /> +<br /> +<small>LADY CLARA QUARRELS WITH HER STEPMOTHER.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Hope</span> had fainted, but with such deathly stillness +that neither Hepworth Closs nor Clara had been aware of +it. She remained, after they left the box, drooping sideways +from her cushioned seat, with the cold pallor of her +face hid in the crimson shadows, and kept from falling by +the sides of the box, against which she leaned heavily.</p> + +<p>No one observed this, for the whole audience was intensely +occupied by what was passing on the stage; and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> +pang of self-consciousness returned to Rachael Closs in the +utter solitude of a great crowd. She opened her eyes +wearily, as if the effort were a pain. Then a wild light +broke through their darkness. She cast a quick glance +upon the stage and over the crowd. Then turning to look +for her companions, she found that they were gone. A +sense of relief came to the woman from a certainty that she +was alone. She leaned back against the side of the box in +utter depression. Her lips moved, her hands were tightly +clasped—she seemed in absolute terror.</p> + +<p>What had Rachael Closs heard or seen to agitate her +thus? That no one could tell. The cause of those faint +shudders that shook her from time to time was known only +to herself and her God.</p> + +<p>When Hepworth and Lady Clara came back, Lady Hope +rose, and gathering her ermine cloak close to her throat, +said that she was tired of the confusion, and would go home, +unless they very much wished to stay and see Olympia.</p> + +<p>They consented to go at once. The pallor of that beautiful +face, as it turned so imploringly upon them, was appeal +enough.</p> + +<p>On their way home Lady Clara told her stepmother of +her visit behind the scenes.</p> + +<p>Rachael listened, and neither rebuked her for going nor +asked questions; but when Clara broke forth, in her impetuous +way, exclaiming, "Oh, mamma Rachael, you will help +us! You will get this poor girl out of her mother's power! +You will let me ask her down to Oakhurst!" Rachael +almost sprang to her feet in the force of her sudden passion.</p> + +<p>"What! I—I, Lady Hope of Oakhust, invite that girl +to be your companion, my guest! Clara, are you mad? or +am I?"</p> + +<p>The girl was struck dumb with amazement. Never in +her existence had she been so addressed before—for, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> +her, Rachael had been always kind and delicately tender. +Why had she broken forth now, when she asked the first +serious favor of her life?</p> + +<p>"Mamma! mamma Rachael!" she cried. "What is +the matter? What have I done that you are so cross with +me?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Rachael, sighing heavily, "only you +ask an unreasonable thing, and one your father would never +forgive me for granting."</p> + +<p>"But she is so lovely! papa would like her, I know. She +is so unhappy, too! I could feel her shudder when the +stage was mentioned. Oh, mamma Rachael, we might save +her from that!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot! Do not ask me; I cannot!"</p> + +<p>"But I promised that you would be her friend."</p> + +<p>"Make no promises for me, Clara, for I will redeem none. +Drive this girl from your thoughts. To-morrow morning +we go back to Oakhurst."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning! And I promised to see her +again."</p> + +<p>"It is impossible. Let this subject drop. In my wish +to give you pleasure, I have risked the anger of Lord Hope. +He would never forgive me if I permitted this entanglement."</p> + +<p>Lady Clara turned to Hepworth Closs.</p> + +<p>"Plead for me—plead for that poor girl!" she cried, +with the unreasoning persistence of a child; but, to her +astonishment, Hepworth answered even more resolutely +than his sister.</p> + +<p>"I cannot, Clara. There should be nothing in common +between the daughter of Olympia and Lord Hope's only +child."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how cruel! What is the use of having rank and +power if one is not to use it for the good of others?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span>"We will not argue the matter, dear child."</p> + +<p>"But I will argue it, and if I cannot convince, I will +hate you, Hepworth Closs, just as long as I live."</p> + +<p>"Not quite so bad as that, I trust," answered Hepworth, +sadly. "To own the truth, Clara, I fear your mother will +have enough to do in reconciling Lord Hope to the position +another person has assumed in his household. Do not let +us add new difficulties to her position."</p> + +<p>Clara began to cry.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I never thought of troubling her or offending +my father. It is so natural for them to be good and kind, +why should I doubt them now, when the grandest, sweetest, +most beautiful girl in the whole world wants help—just the +help they can give, too? Well, well, when papa comes +home, I will lay the whole case before him."</p> + +<p>"Not for the world!" cried Rachael, suddenly. "I tell +you, cast this subject from your mind. I will not have my +lord annoyed by it. For once, Clara, I must and will be +obeyed."</p> + +<p>Clara sank back in her seat, aghast with surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma Rachael, you are getting to be awfully +cruel."</p> + +<p>"Cruel? No! In this I am acting kindly. It is you +who are cruel in pressing a distasteful and impossible thing +upon me."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand it; I can't believe it. You are +always so free, so generous, to those who need help. It is +just because this poor girl is my friend. Oh! I only wish +old Lady Carset would just die, and leave me everything! +I would let the world see a specimen of independence—I +would! Don't speak to me, don't attempt to touch my +hand, Mr. Closs! You haven't a spark of human nature in +you. I have a good mind to leave you all, and go on the +stage myself."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span>Again Lady Hope broke into a storm of impatience so +unlike her usual self-restraint, that Clara was really terrified.</p> + +<p>"Hush, girl! Not another word of this. I will not +endure it."</p> + +<p>This severe reprimand took away Clara's breath for an +instant; then she burst into a passion of sobs and tears, +huddling herself up into a corner of the carriage, and utterly +refused all consolation from Hepworth, who was generously +disturbed by her grief.</p> + +<p>Lady Hope did nothing, but sat in silence, lost in +thought, or perhaps striving to subdue the tumult of feelings +that had so suddenly broke forth from her usual firm +control.</p> + +<p>Thus they drove home in distrust and excitement. A +few low murmurs from Hepworth, bursts of grief from Lady +Clara, and dead silence on the part of Rachael Closs, +attended the first disagreement that had ever set the stepmother +and daughter in opposition.</p> + +<p>When they reached home, Clara, her face all bathed in +tears, and her bosom heaving with sobs, ran up to her room, +without the usual kiss or "Good-night."</p> + +<p>She was bitterly offended, and expressed the feeling in +her own childish fashion.</p> + +<p>Rachael sat down in the hall, and watched the girl as she +glided up the broad staircase, perhaps hoping that she +would look back, or, it may be, regretting the course she +had taken, for her face was unutterably sad, and her attitude +one of great despondency.</p> + +<p>At last, when Clara was out of sight, she turned a wistful +look on her brother.</p> + +<p>"She will hate me now."</p> + +<p>Her voice was more plaintive than the words. The confidence +of that young girl was all the world to her; for,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> +independent of everything else, it was the one human link +that bound her to the man she loved with such passionate +idolatry. Her kindness to his child was the silver cord +which even his strong will could not sunder, even if he +should wish it.</p> + +<p>Hepworth saw her anguish, and pitied it.</p> + +<p>"Let her go," he said, stooping down and kissing his +sister on the forehead, which, with her neck and arms, was +cold as marble. "She is disappointed, vexed, and really +indignant with us both; but a good night's sleep will set +her heart right again. I wish we had never chanced to +come here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Heavens! so do I."</p> + +<p>"Rachael," said Hepworth, "what is it troubles you so?"</p> + +<p>"What? Is it not enough that the child I have made a +part of my own life should quarrel with me and with you, +because of me, for a stranger?"</p> + +<p>"No; because her own generous nature assures us that +the evil will die of itself before morning. This is not +enough to account for the fact that you quiver as if with +cold, and the very touch of your forehead chills me."</p> + +<p>"Do I?" questioned Rachael. "I did not know it. +My cloak has fallen off—that is all."</p> + +<p>"Mamma Rachael!"</p> + +<p>They both started, for leaning over the banisters was the +sweet, tearful face of Lady Clara.</p> + +<p>"My own darling!" cried Rachael, lifting her arms.</p> + +<p>Down the staircase sprang that generous young creature, +her feet scarcely touching the polished oak, her hair all unbound +and rolling in waves down her back. Struck with +sweet compunctions, she had broken from the hands of her +maid, and left her with the blue ribbon fluttering in her +hand, while she ran back to make peace with the woman +who was almost dearer to her than a mother.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span>She fell upon her knees by Rachael, and shook the hair +from her face, which was glowing with sweet penitence.</p> + +<p>"Kiss me, mamma Rachael, not on this saucy mouth of +mine, but here upon my forehead. I cannot sleep till you +have kissed me good night."</p> + +<p>Rachael laid one hand on that bright young head, but it +was quivering like a shot bird. She bent the face back a +little, and pored over the features with yearning scrutiny, +as if she longed to engrave every line on her heart.</p> + +<p>Something in those black eyes disturbed the girl afresh. +She reached up her arms, and cried out:</p> + +<p>"Don't be angry with me, mamma Rachael, but kiss me +good night, and ask God to make me a better girl."</p> + +<p>Instead of kissing her, Rachael Closs fell upon her neck +and broke into a passion of tears such as Clara had never +seen her shed before.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE OLD PRISONER.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> America again. Yes, fate has swept most of the +characters of our story across the ocean; but one remains +behind to whom the kind heart must turn with more solemn +interest than the young, the beautiful, or the lordly can +inspire.</p> + +<p>No changes had fallen upon that bleak, gloomy prison, +whose very shadow, as it lay across the dusty road, +streamed out like a pall. Human crime brings human +misery, and that, crowded together and stifled under the +heel of the law, is a terrible, most terrible thing.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this desolation, that old woman had lived<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> +and suffered fourteen years, without a complaint, without +once asking for the freedom, which would have been so +sweet to her, even of her God. She had sinned deeply—how +far, she and the Almighty, who knows all things, alone +could tell; but she had borne her punishment with much +humility; in her quiet way, had made her presence in that +dreary place a blessing to those more wretched than herself.</p> + +<p>During that long, weary time many a poor prisoner had +felt the comfort of her presence near her sick couch and her +grave. Kind looks had cheered other desponding souls +when words of compassion were forbidden to her lips.</p> + +<p>One day this woman sat at her task sewing on some +heavy prison garments. A skein of coarse thread hung +about her neck, and a steel thimble was upon her long, +slender finger, where it had worn a ring about the nail with +incessant use.</p> + +<p>She did not look up when the matron entered the room, +but worked on, with steady purpose, not caring to see that +strange gentleman who came in with the matron, and stood +looking kindly upon her.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Yates."</p> + +<p>The old woman lifted her head with a suddenness that +almost shook the iron spectacles from her face. Her eyes +encountered those of the gentleman, and she stood up +meekly, like a school-girl aroused from her task, and +remained, with her eyes bent on the floor, waiting for the +man to pass on. He did not move, however, but stood +gazing upon her snow-white hair, her thin old face, and the +gentle stoop that had, at last, bent her shoulders a little, +with infinite compassion in his face.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Yates, why do you stand so motionless? How is +it that your eyes turn so steadily to the floor?"</p> + +<p>The old woman lifted her eyes slowly to that calm, thin +face. She did not know it, had never seen it before in her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> +life; but it was so seldom any one spoke to her, that a soft +glow of comfort stole to her heart as she looked, and two +great tears rolled from under her spectacles. Then she remembered +that he had asked something.</p> + +<p>"In prison, here, we get a down look," she said, with +pathetic simplicity.</p> + +<p>"But you will look in my face now."</p> + +<p>She did gaze at him earnestly; but shook her head and +dropped her eyes, for the force of habit was still upon her.</p> + +<p>"I do not know you," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Did you then expect some friend?" asked the gentleman.</p> + +<p>"I have no friends," was the sad reply.</p> + +<p>"Does no one come to see you?"</p> + +<p>"Years ago my son used to come and his wife, too; but +they are both dead."</p> + +<p>"Poor woman!"</p> + +<p>She looked up again with a glance of earnest surprise. +She was so unused to pity that the compassionate voice +brought a dry sob to her throat.</p> + +<p>"Are you content here? Tell me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am content."</p> + +<p>Her voice was low, but inexpressibly mournful.</p> + +<p>"I know the crime for which you were committed," said +the gentleman, "and have read the case over. Tell me, +were you guilty?"</p> + +<p>The old woman lifted her eyes slowly, and replied:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was a guilty woman."</p> + +<p>"But were you, before God, guilty of murder?"</p> + +<p>She met his eyes steadily. He saw a quiver of pain sweep +over her features, and the thin lips began to stir.</p> + +<p>"He is dead, my innocent, my honest son. Nothing can +harm him now. I have not suffered in vain. Before God I +was not guilty of murder, but terribly guilty in taking this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> +crime on myself: but it was to save him, and I cannot +repent, I cannot repent, and in that lies double guilt!"</p> + +<p>The stranger searched her features keenly as she spoke. +Perhaps he was prepared for this answer; but the light that +came over his face was full of compassion.</p> + +<p>"Have you done with me?" questioned the old woman, +in the meek, sad voice that had become habitual to her. +"Perhaps you will not believe me; but God knows!"</p> + +<p>The man turned from her and stepped into the matron's +room.</p> + +<p>The old woman sat down upon the bench from which she +had arisen, took the coarse needle from the bosom of her +dress, where she had fastened it when spoken to, and threaded +it again; but her hand shook a little, and the thread +baffled her confused vision. Then the strange gentleman +came back again, smiling, and with moisture in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"My good woman," he said, "put up your work. You +did not know it, but I am the Governor of New York, and +your pardon has just gone to the warden."</p> + +<p>The needle dropped from one quivering old hand—a +thread fell from its companion.</p> + +<p>"Pardon for me!"</p> + +<p>Her lips were white, and the words trembled from them +one by one. She did not comprehend that this man had +given her back to the world.</p> + +<p>"It is true," said the matron, weeping the glad, sweet +tears of a benevolent heart, "His Excellency has pardoned +you. This very hour you are free to leave the prison."</p> + +<p>"God help me! Oh! God help me!" cried the poor old +woman, looking around at her rude work and seating herself +among it. "Where can I go?"</p> + +<p>The Governor took some money from his pocket and laid +it in her lap. Then he went hastily from the room.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span>The matron sat down upon the bench, and clasped the +withered hand in hers.</p> + +<p>"Have you no friend?"</p> + +<p>"None."</p> + +<p>"No duties left undone?"</p> + +<p>The old woman drew herself up. Duties last longer than +friends. Yes, she had duties, and God had taken the shackles +from her limbs that she might perform them. Freedom +was before her and an object. She arose gently and looked +around a little wildly.</p> + +<p>"I will go now."</p> + +<p>The matron went out and returned with a bundle of +clothes and a black bonnet upon which was some rusty +crape; a huge, old-fashioned thing that framed in her silver-white +hair like a pent-house. The very shape and fashion +of this bonnet was pathetic—it spoke of so long ago. The +black dress and soft shawl with which she had come to the +prison were a little moth-eaten, but not much, for they had +been carefully hoarded; but the poor old woman looked with +a sigh on her prison-dress as it fell to the floor, and wept bitterly +before she went out, as if that gloomy mass of stones +had been a pleasant home to her.</p> + +<p>Slowly, and with a downcast look, the old woman went +out of the prison, up through the rugged quarries, where a +gang of men were at work, dragging their weary limbs from +stone to stone, with the listless, haggard effort of forced +labor. Some of these men looked up, as she passed them, +and watched her with bitter envy.</p> + +<p>"There goes a pardon," they said to each other; "and +that old woman with one foot in the grave, while we are +young and strong! Freedom would be everything to us; +but what good will it do to her?"</p> + +<p>So the poor old prisoner passed on, sadly bewildered and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> +afraid, like a homeless child, but thanking God for a mercy +she could not yet realize.</p> + +<p>There was one place to which she must go. It might be +empty and desolate, but there her son had died, and she +had seen the roof of his dwelling from the graveyard when +they let her come out from prison to see him buried.</p> + +<p>She knew the road, for her path led to the grave first, and +after that she could find the way, for every step, so far, had +been marked by a pang, to which her heart was answering +back now.</p> + +<p>At sunset, that day, some workmen, passing the village +burying-place, saw an old woman sitting by a grave that +had been almost forgotten in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>She was looking dreary and forlorn in the damp enclosure, +for clouds were drifting low in the sky, and a cold rain was +beginning to fall; but they did not know that this poor woman +had a home-feeling by that grave, even with the rain +falling, which belonged to no other place on earth.</p> + +<p>A little later, when the gray darkness was creeping on, +this same tall figure might have been discovered moving +through the rough cedar pillars of the Yates cottage. There +was no light in the house, for no human soul lived beneath +its roof; but a door was so lightly fastened that she got it +open with some effort, and entered what seemed to her like +the kitchen; for the last tenant had left some kindling-wood +in the fireplace, and two or three worn-out cooking utensils +stood near the hearth, where they were beginning to rust.</p> + +<p>When she left the prison, the matron had, with many +kind words, thrust a parcel into the old woman's hand. +Knowing her helplessness, she had provided food for a meal +or two, and to this had added some matches and candles.</p> + +<p>In the gray light which came through one of the windows, +she untied this parcel and found the candles. It seemed to +the forlorn creature as if a merciful God had sent them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> +directly to her, and she fell upon her knees, thanking Him. +The light which she struck gave her the first gleam of hope +that her freedom had yet brought. She was at liberty to +build a fire on that dark hearth, and to sit there just as long +as she pleased, enjoying its warmth. The rain that began +to rattle down on the low roof made her shelter more pleasant. +She began to realize that even in such desolation +liberty was sweet.</p> + +<p>She built a fire with the dry wood, and its blaze soon filled +the kitchen with a golden glow. Her garments were wet, +and a soft steam arose from them as she sat, enveloping her +in a gray cloud. The loneliness might have been terrible to +another person, but she had been so long accustomed to the +darkness and gloom of a prison cell, that this illuminated +space seemed broad as the universe to her.</p> + +<p>After her clothes were dry, the old woman lighted her +candle and began to examine the house. The parlor was +almost empty, and a gust of wind took her candle as she +opened the door, flaring back the flame into her face. The +wind came from a broken pane of glass in the oriel window, +through which a branch of ivy, and the long tendril of a +Virginia creeper had penetrated, and woven themselves in a +garland along the wall. A wren had followed the creeping +greenness and built her nest in the cornice, from which she +flew frightened, when a light entered the room.</p> + +<p>The old woman went out disappointed. The thing she +sought was not there; perhaps it had been utterly destroyed. +The man who had promised to keep it sacred, lay +sleeping up yonder in the graveyard. How could she +expect strangers to take up his trust? But if the object +she sought could not be found, what was the use of liberty +to her. The one aim of her life would be extinguished. +She took up the candle and mounted a flight of narrow +stairs which led to the chambers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span>They were all empty except one small room, where she +found an iron bedstead, on which some old quilts and refuse +blankets were heaped. Behind this bed, pressed into a corner, +was an old chair, covered with dust.</p> + +<p>When she saw this, the light shook in her hand. She +sat down upon the bedstead, and reaching the candle out, +examined the old chair, through its veil of cobwebs. It +was the same. How well she remembered that night when +her own hands had put on that green cover.</p> + +<p>The chair was broken. One of its castors dropped to the +floor as Mrs. Yates drew it from the corner, and the carved +wood-work came off in her hand; the cushion was stained +and torn in places, but this dilapidation she knew had not +reached her secret.</p> + +<p>She took the chair in her arms and carried it down to +the kitchen. Some of the brass nails dropped loose on the +stairs, but she took no heed of them. All she wanted was +some instrument with which she could turn the ricketty +thing into a complete wreck. In the drawer of a broken +kitchen table she found an old knife, with the blade half +ground away. This she whetted to an edge on the hearth, +and directly the little brass nails flew right and left, a mass +of twisted fringe lay on the hearth, when the old woman +stood in a cloud of dust, holding the torn rep in her hand. +It dropped in a heap with the fringe, then the inner lining +was torn away, handsful of hair were pulled out from among +the springs, and that casket with a package of papers rustled +and shook in the old woman's hands.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yates trembled from head to foot. It was many +long years since she had touched heavy work like that, and +it shocked her whole frame.</p> + +<p>The dull monotony of sewing upon prison garments had +undermined all her great natural strength. She sat there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> +panting for breath, and white to the lips. The excitement +had been too much for this poor prison woman.</p> + +<p>She sat like a dazed creature, looking down into the casket +which lay open in her lap, with ten thousand rainbow +fires leaping out of it, as the blaze in the chimney quivered +and danced and blazed over the diamonds. That morning +the old woman had crept out of prison in her moth-eaten +garments, and a little charity money in her bosom. Now a +fortune blazed up from her lap.</p> + +<p>There was money, too, a purse heavy with sovereigns, +dropped there from the gold contained in that malachite +box, from which all her awful sorrows had sprung. She +gathered up these things in the skirt of her dress and sat +brooding over them a long time, while the fire rose and +crackled, and shed warm floods of light all around her, and +the rain poured down in torrents. She was completely +worn out at last, and thought itself became a burden; then +her head fell back upon the ruined cushions of the chair, +which held her in a half-sitting position, as the heaviest +sleep that ever came to mortal eyes fell upon her.</p> + +<p>Still the rain poured down continually upon the roof and +overran the gutters in torrents. Up from the darkness of +a hollow near by, the rush and roar of a stream, swollen +into a torrent, came through the beating storm like a heavy +bass voice pouring its low thunders through a strain of +music. The great elm tree at the end of the house tossed +its streaming branches, and beat them upon the roof, till a +host of warriors seemed breaking their way through, while +the old vines were seized by the wind and ripped from the +sides of the house, as the storm seizes upon the cords of a +vessel, and tears them up into a net work of tangled floss.</p> + +<p>The old woman who had left her stone cell in the prison +for the first time in fourteen years, heard nothing of this, +but lay half upon the floor half on the broken chair, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> +the broad blaze of the fire flashing over her white hair, and +kindling up the diamonds in her lap to a bed of living +coals. She was perfectly safe with those treasures, even in +that lonely house, for in the pouring rain no human being +was likely to go about from his own free will. But one +poor fellow, whose child was desperately sick, did pass the +house, and saw the blaze of a fire breaking through a window, +where the shutters were dashing to and fro on their +hinges, and found breath to say, as he sped on in search of +a doctor:</p> + +<p>"So the cedar cottage has got another tenant at last. I +wonder who it is?"</p> + +<p>When the man went by to his work, the next morning, +he saw the shutters swaying to and fro yet, and wondering +at it, went into the enclosure, in hopes of meeting some of +the new inmates; but everything was still, the doors were +fastened, and through the kitchen window he saw nothing +but a heap of ashes on the hearth, and an old chair, torn to +pieces, standing before it.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE OLD COUNTESS.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the old countess of Carset threw out her flag from +the battlements of Houghton castle, it could be seen from +all the country around, for the grim old pile was built upon +the uplands, and the gray towers rose up from the groves +of the park like the peaks of a mountain.</p> + +<p>For many a long year that broad flag had streamed like +a meteor over the intense greenness of oaks and chestnuts; +for, when the head of the house was at home, the crimson<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> +pennant was always to be seen floating against the sky, +and over that sea of billowy foliage. The old lady of +Houghton had not been absent from the castle in many +years, for she was a childless woman, and so aged, that a +home among her own people was most befitting her infirmities +and her pride.</p> + +<p>One day, as the sun was going down behind those massive +castle towers, filling the sky so richly with gold and +crimson, that the red flag was lost among its fiery billows, +an old woman stood on the highway, with a hand uplifted +to shade her eyes, as she searched for the old flag.</p> + +<p>There was dust upon her leathern shoes and on the black +folds of her alpaca dress, for she had walked from the railway +station, and the roads were dry.</p> + +<p>"Ah, how the trees have grown!" she said, mournfully, +dropping her hand. "I never, never thought to be so near +Houghton and not see the flag. Is my lady dead?"</p> + +<p>The old woman was so distressed by the thought, that +she sat down on a bank by the wayside, and over her came +that dry, hard foreboding, which forbids tears to old eyes, +but holds the worn heart like a vise. Thus, with her +eyes fixed on the dusty road, she sat till all those bright +clouds melted into the coming night; then she looked up +and saw the great red flag streaming out against a sea of +purplish gray, as it had done when she was a girl, seventy +years ago.</p> + +<p>"My lady is alive. She is there. Oh! my God! make +me thankful!" she exclaimed, standing up in the road. +"Through all, I shall see her again."</p> + +<p>So she moved on, carrying a leathern travelling bag, worn +and rusty, in her feeble hand. Along the highway, up to +the gates of that noble park, she travelled with the slow, toilsome +step of old age; but when she came to the gates they +were closed, and her voice was so feeble that it failed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> +reach the lodge, from which she could see lights gleaming +through the twinkling ivy leaves.</p> + +<p>In patient disappointment the old woman turned from +the gate, and walked on half a mile farther, for she knew +of a small public house where a night's lodging could be +obtained. She reached this low stone building after dark, +and entered it quietly, like a gray ghost.</p> + +<p>It was a strange guest to enter that tap-room, with her +dusty garments and her old satchel. The villagers, who +were taking their beer comfortably, lifted their eyes in +astonishment at her sudden appearance, and they rounded +with wonder, as she passed through the room and entered +the kitchen naturally, as if she had belonged to the premises +all her life.</p> + +<p>No one in the house remembered the old woman. A curly-headed +girl named Susan, had flitted like a bird about that +kitchen the last time she had entered it, and now, when a +man's voice called out "Susan!" she started and looked +around in a dazed way, expecting the bright eyed girl would +come dancing through the door. But instead appeared an +elderly woman, with quantities of coarse black hair, smoothed +under her cap. A linen apron, large and ample, protected +her stuff dress, and a steel chatelaine, to which were suspended +scissors, a needle case and tiny money box rattled +at her side.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is to do now, Stephen?" said the landlady, +brushing some crumbs from her apron, for she had been cutting +bread.</p> + +<p>"Not much, only look sharp. Here is an old body just +come off the tramp. Ah, there she sits. See to her while +I mind the bar, for she seems a little above the common, +and is quiet."</p> + +<p>The landlord sank his voice as he made the communication,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> +and, after a glance at the old woman, went back to his +guests, while the matron addressed Mrs. Yates.</p> + +<p>"Ye will be wanting something, no doubt. Will it be +tea or a cup of ale posset?"</p> + +<p>The old heart in that bosom stirred with a tender recollection +of long ago, as this almost forgotten dish was mentioned, +a dish so purely English, that she had never once +heard it mentioned in her American life.</p> + +<p>"I will thank you for a posset," she said, taking off her +bonnet and smoothing her milk-white hair with both hands. +"It is long since I have tasted one."</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the landlady, "there is more refreshment +in a cup of warm posset, than in quarts of tea from +China. Wait a bit and you shall have one of my own +making; the maids never will learn how to curdle the milk +properly, but I am a rare hand at it, as was my mother +before me."</p> + +<p>"Aye, a good housewife was your mother," said the old +woman, as tender recollections stirred in her bosom, "for +now I see that it is little Susan."</p> + +<p>"Little Susan, and you know of her? That was what +they used to call me when I was a lass, so high."</p> + +<p>"But now, what is the name you go by?"</p> + +<p>"What name should a woman go by but that of her own +husband? You have just seen the master. The neighbors +call him Stephen Burke."</p> + +<p>"What, the son of James Burke, gamekeeper at the +castle?"</p> + +<p>"Why, did you know him, too?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, that did I. A brave young fellow he was, and +every one at the castle up yonder—"</p> + +<p>The old woman checked herself. She had not intended +to make herself known, but old recollections had thronged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> +upon her so warmly, that it seemed impossible to keep +silent.</p> + +<p>"You speak of the castle as if you knew about it," said +the landlady, eyeing her askance.</p> + +<p>"And no wonder," answered the old woman; "people +have told me about it, and I was in the neighborhood years +ago, when you were a slip of a lass."</p> + +<p>It was strange, but this old woman, since her entrance to +that room, had fallen back upon phrases and words familiar +to her lips once, but which had not made any part of her +speech for years. There was a home sound in them that +warmed her heart.</p> + +<p>"Did ye ever know any of them up yonder?" asked the +landlady, as she placed a broad porringer before the fire, and +poured some milk into it.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have seen the countess, but it was long ago."</p> + +<p>"May-be it was when the young lady was at home. Oh! +them were blithe times, when young Lord Hope came a +courting, and we could see them driving like turtle doves +through the park and down the village; or, walking along +by the hedges and gathering hyacinths and violets. It was +a sorry time, though, when he took her away for good and +all."</p> + +<p>"Is the young lady living near this?" inquired Mrs. +Yates, with an effort.</p> + +<p>"Near this, my good woman! Why, she has been dead +these many years, and Lord Hope had been married to his +second wife ten years, when my first lass was born; but he +lives at Oakhurst, and never comes here now. No one, in +these parts, has seen his second lady, for the countess was +sadly put out with the marriage, and all her household was +forbidden to mention Lord Hope's name before her. She +never got over the death of our own young lady in foreign +parts, off in America among the red Indians, who tomahawk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> +people, and no one asks why. This was where Lord Hope +took his wife and child. Can any one wonder that our countess +could not forgive him, especially when he came back +home with a new wife, and stood out that his daughter should +never come to Houghton, till our old lady up yonder was +ready to be gracious to the new woman."</p> + +<p>"So the child was never at the castle?" inquired the old +woman.</p> + +<p>"No one hereabouts has ever seen her, though we are +told that she is a beautiful young lady, sweet and pleasant, +but with a will of her own. The old countess sent for +her once, for she must be heiress of Houghton, you know; +but she sent back word that nothing could entice her into a +house where her stepmother was forbidden to come, and this +so offended our countess, that she has taken no notice of +her since."</p> + +<p>While she was talking, the landlady poured a measure of +frothing ale into the porringer, and became all at once silent. +The delicate art of curding the milk into whey took up all +her attention. Thus the old lady was allowed to drop into +a fit of thought, from which she was aroused, with a start, +when the hostess poured the warm posset into a china bowl +and began stirring it with a heavy silver spoon, as she called +out:</p> + +<p>"Come to the table, grandame, and sup the posset while it +is hot. You'll not get its fellow till I turn my hand to +another for ye. Come, come!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yates drew her chair to the table, and took up the +silver spoon, eagerly. Poor woman! She had travelled all +day without tasting food, and the posset took her from a +very painful train of thought.</p> + +<p>The hostess sat down at one end of the table, smiling +blandly over the keen appetite of her guest. With her +arms folded on the white cloth, and her ruddy face bending<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> +forward, she went on with her talk. But this time she turned +from the castle, and began to ask questions, for the presence +of this singular old woman in her house had fully +aroused her curiosity.</p> + +<p>But the traveller was on her guard now, and escaped +these blunt questions with quiet adroitness. When they +became oppressive, she arose from the table and asked permission +to seek her bed, as the day's travel had left her tired +beyond anything.</p> + +<p>The hostess took a candle from the table and led the way +up stairs, somewhat baffled, but full of kindly feeling. +There was something about the manner and speech of this +old woman that set all her warm-hearted interest afloat. +Who was she? From what part of England had she travelled +with that rusty little bag and those thick-soled shoes? +That quiet manner and gentle voice might have belonged to +any lady of the land.</p> + +<p>In the midst of these conjectures the quiet old woman +reached out her hand for the candle, and with a soft "good-night," +closed the chamber-door.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE OLD COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning Mrs. Yates was early at the park-gate. +She found no trouble in passing through now, and was soon +in the avenue, making slow progress toward the castle, +under the shade of those vast oaks and chestnuts. The +way was long, and the avenue swept upward with what, to +the old woman, was a toilsome ascent. The bag, which she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> +carried in her hand, was of some weight, too, and the cramped +inaction of so many years had rendered walking a slow +and painful process.</p> + +<p>At last she stood in full view of that grand old building—a +castle of the olden times—kept, so far as possible to elegance +or comfort, in its ponderous mediæval grandeur. But +Madam Art had softened all its ruder features. Plate-glass +was sunk into those thick walls; circular rooms in those +twin towers, commanded a splendid view of the valley, over +which the castle was built. The broad stone terrace connecting +the towers, and fronting the main building was connected +with a velvet lawn by a forest of hot-house plants, that +clung around the stone parapet in a sumptuous garland of +vines and flowers, that shed a soft and delicious fragrance +over everything in and around the building.</p> + +<p>Across this lawn and over the stone terrace the old woman +toiled toward the main entrance. She was beginning to +tremble now with something beside weariness. Her satchel +bore down the feeble hand that carried it, till it dragged +along the stones with a low, rasping sound, as she climbed +the terrace-steps. She lifted the ponderous bronze knocker, +and let it fall from her shaking hand with a crash that +startled herself, and brought a man, all glittering in silver +gray and scarlet, to the door, where he stood, with his insolent +lips ajar, waiting to know what miracle had brought +that forlorn creature to the grand entrance of Houghton +Castle.</p> + +<p>"I wish to speak with the countess."</p> + +<p>That sweet old voice could not counteract the effect of her +dress and worn satchel. The parted lips of the man in +scarlet fell together, and drooped scornfully down at the +corners.</p> + +<p>"There is a proper entrance for servants and village-people,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> +said this high functionary, with his powdered head +thrown back.</p> + +<p>"I know," answered the woman, quietly; "but I wish to +see my lady, and do not care to seek her from the servants' +hall. Go to her and say that Hannah Yates, an old +servant of the family, is below, waiting to see her."</p> + +<p>The man hesitated. Then the old woman stepped softly +into the hall, passing him so suddenly that he drew back +aghast.</p> + +<p>"If you will not go, I must find the way for myself," she +said, still in a voice so gentle that he could take little offence +at it.</p> + +<p>Her composure rather disturbed the man, who gave his +powdered head a toss, and mounted the broad oaken staircase, +with an indignant swell of the chest. Through a long passage, +carpeted with the thickness of forest turf, he went, +giving forth no sound till he opened a door in one of the +lower chambers, and, sweeping a curtain of crimson silk +back with his arm, announced the name that old woman had +given him at the door.</p> + +<p>Something lying under the rich colors of a great India +shawl moved quickly; the shawl dropped to the floor, and +a little old woman sat up on the couch where she had been +resting.</p> + +<p>"Yates—Hannah Yates? Did you say Yates, +Henry?"</p> + +<p>"That was the name, my lady."</p> + +<p>"An old woman like me?"</p> + +<p>"Old enough, my lady; but Heaven forbid I should say +like your ladyship. I could not force myself to do it."</p> + +<p>"Bring her here, Henry."</p> + +<p>The door closed, and the old countess drew herself gradually +upright.</p> + +<p>She was a pale, little woman, with hair as soft and white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> +as the delicate lace that fell like a spider's web over it. The +child-like hands, which lay in relief among the folds of her +black-satin dress, were withered in their whiteness, like the +leaves of a frost-bitten lily. They were quivering, too; and +now that she was alone, you might have seen that delicate +head begin to vibrate with a slow, perpetual motion, which +had been stopped a moment by the surprise which had fallen +upon her. She sat with her eyes on the curtain, which +shut the door from view. The trembling of her head +extended to her whole body, and her small feet pattered +freely on the carpet, like those of a child in the impotence of +sickness.</p> + +<p>As she looked the red curtain was lifted, and into the +luxurious splendor of that room came a tall, old woman, who +was trembling like herself, and stood in her presence, apparently +afraid to look up.</p> + +<p>The old countess arose from her couch, trampling the +India shawl under her feet, and moved with feeble slowness +toward her strange visitor.</p> + +<p>"Hannah Yates!"</p> + +<p>At these words the down prison-look that had fallen upon +Hannah was lifted from her, and those large gray eyes were +bent on the little patrician with a look of intense mournfulness.</p> + +<p>"My mistress!"</p> + +<p>"Hannah Yates, I never expected to see you again on +this earth, and now you come before me like a ghost."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my mistress," answered the old servant, with +pathetic humility. "I am a ghost of the woman who once +loved and served you."</p> + +<p>"And I? Look upon me, Yates. How have God and +time dealt with your mistress? Has my head been respected +more than yours?"</p> + +<p>They stood for a moment looking solemnly at each other—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> +tall, stately woman, born a peasant, and the delicate, +proud, sensitive peeress, whose blue blood rolled through a +series of dead greatness back to the Conqueror. The contrast +was touching. Both had begun to stoop at the shoulders, +both had suffered, and they were as far apart in station +as social power could place them; but a host of memories +linked them together, and the common sympathies of humanity +thrilled in the hearts of both with such pain and +pleasure that, unconsciously, the little withered hand of the +countess clasped that of her old servant.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Yates, and sit down. You are trembling, poor +old soul! The world must have gone hard with you when +the touch of my hand makes you shiver so. Sit down. We +are both old women now, and may rest ourselves together."</p> + +<p>So the woman, whose last home had been a convict's cell, +and the lady whose head had always been sheltered beneath +the roofs of a palace, sat down and looked, with sad timidity, +at each other. Still the feeling of caste was strong in the +servant. She had drawn an ottoman up to the couch, and +placed herself on that; but not until she had taken the shawl +from the carpet, and placed it around her mistress, did she +thus sit down, as it were, at her feet.</p> + +<p>"Where did you come from, Hannah Yates?"</p> + +<p>"From America. I came from the ship three days ago."</p> + +<p>At the word America the old countess shrank back, and +held out her hands, as if to avoid a blow. After a little she +spoke again, but it was now with a voice sharp with pain.</p> + +<p>"Yates, did you in America ever know anything of my +child?"</p> + +<p>The anguish in that voice startled Hannah Yates, and +her old face whitened. How much did the mistress know? +If little, perfect candor might kill her. She had not come +there to wound an old woman with the horrors that had +darkened her life; so she answered, cautiously:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span>"Yes, I saw Lady Hope more than once after she came +to America."</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" exclaimed the countess. "I may now +learn how and when she died."</p> + +<p>"I was not with her when she died," answered the servant, +in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"But you saw her before?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw her often."</p> + +<p>"And the child?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; the child was with me a good deal."</p> + +<p>"Yates, was my child happy in that strange land?"</p> + +<p>"How can I answer that, my lady?"</p> + +<p>"Did you see Hope there?"</p> + +<p>"Once, only once, and that for a moment."</p> + +<p>"And you can tell me no particulars. You have no +information to give me with regard to the woman who is +Lord Hope's wife?"</p> + +<p>"Of her I know but little. Remember, my lady, I am +but a servant."</p> + +<p>"You were my child's nurse. I never looked on you as a +common servant, but rather as a faithful friend. So did my +poor child. When I learned she was in the same country +with you and her foster-brother, my heart was somewhat at +rest. But her letters were so studied, so unsatisfactory; +yet there was nothing in them of sadness or complaint. +Only this, Yates, she never mentioned her husband, not once! +I should hardly have known that he was with her but for +the letter in which he told me that I was a childless old +woman."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yates drew a long, heavy sigh. She understood now +that the secret of that awful tragedy in New York had been +kept from her old mistress, and resolved that it never should +reach her—never while her will could keep back the horrible +truth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span>"My lady," she said, with an effort, "there is one thing +which our—which my young mistress bade me bring to you +if—if she should not live to place them in your own hands +herself. It is this which brought me across the ocean."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, Mrs. Yates took up the leathern satchel, +which lay against her feet, and opened its rusty clasp with +her trembling hands. She drew forth a casket from the +scant garments it contained, and, still kneeling on the floor, +opened it. A blaze of diamonds broke up from the box. +The old countess uttered a feeble cry, and clasped two quivering +hands over her eyes.</p> + +<p>"She was troubled about bringing them out of England, +and sent them to her foster-mother with this letter."</p> + +<p>"Is there a letter? Yates, give it to me!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yates reached forth the letter, which had begun to +turn yellow with age.</p> + +<p>The countess took it, and attempted to open her glasses; +but those little hands trembled so fearfully that she could +not loosen the gold which clasped them in.</p> + +<p>"Read it for me. I cannot! I cannot!"</p> + +<p>Two great tears trembled out of the pain in that aged +heart, and fell upon her cheeks like frost upon the white +leaves of a withered rose.</p> + +<p>Hannah Yates read the letter—a sweet, touching epistle, +full of mournful affection, which that murdered lady had +written only a few days before her death, when some presentiment +of coming evil was no doubt upon her. The diamonds +were her mother's, she wrote, and had only crossed +the ocean with her because of the haste with which the voyage +to America had been arranged. Fearing for their safety, +she was about to intrust them to her foster-mother, who +had promised to bring them back to England with her own +hands, if any evil should fall upon her, or if her sojourn in +America was protracted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span>"The jewels which belong to the Carset estate, and the +child, which will inherit them, I entrust to my dear foster-mother, +when I am gone, and I sometimes think that we +may never meet again, my mother. This good woman will +bring the diamonds, which I will not have endangered, and +will tell you about the child, dearer to me than my own life, +nay, than my own soul! Tell Lord Hope, if he should seek +to take her, that it was the dying wish of his wife that her +child should pass at once into the protection of her own most +beloved mother, when Hannah Yates brings her to England. +I think he will not deny this to a woman who has loved him +better, oh! how much better! than herself—who would die, +if she could, rather than be in the way of his happiness. +Give him this letter. I think he will not deny the last +request I may ever make of him. I will not say farewell, +my mother, because the gloom that is upon me in this +strange land may be only the homesickness of a heart +separated from those it loves. But, if this is given to you +by my foster-mother, know that a cloud of gloom has settled +down upon me forever."</p> + +<p>This much fell upon the ears of the countess as she held +her breath and listened.</p> + +<p>When Hannah Yates folded the letter, she felt that a +gleam of angry fire broke into the eyes bent upon her.</p> + +<p>"Yates," said the countess, sharply, "read the date of +that letter."</p> + +<p>The old servant read the date.</p> + +<p>"Fourteen years and more! Why was that letter kept +from me so long?"</p> + +<p>"I could not bring it."</p> + +<p>"I know you were not young even then, Yates; but your +son, my own protege! Surely, when my poor child gave +you this charge, she gave money also? Why was the child +kept from me and sent to that man?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span>"Yes, there was money; but my son could not come. +We had no power to bring her."</p> + +<p>"Then Hope took her from you by force?" questioned +the countess. "Where is your son, Yates? He was wrong +to permit it!"</p> + +<p>"With my young lady."</p> + +<p>"Dead! Then you, also, are childless?"</p> + +<p>Hannah Yates remembered how the news of her bereavement +had reached her in that stone cell which was cold as a +grave, and shuddered while the lady in her palace questioned +her. Then the old prison-look fell upon her, and she sat +motionless, with her eyes upon the floor, saying nothing. +How could she explain to that proud lady the bondage in +which she had been held?</p> + +<p>"Ah! if you had come earlier," said the countess, "the +child of my child might have been here! That man would +not have dared to keep her! She would not have been +taught to return my advances with insolence by his evil +wife."</p> + +<p>"I <em>could</em> not come before," repeated the old woman, +humbly.</p> + +<p>"And now it may be too late."</p> + +<p>"God forbid!" said the old woman. "No! no! He +will show me how to complete my task. It is for that I +have been kept alive."</p> + +<p>"Yates, you are brave and faithful. I was wrong to +question you so. Forgive me, old servant."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yates took the child-like hand held out to her and +pressed it to her lips.</p> + +<p>"I have tried, dear mistress."</p> + +<p>"Go, now, old friend, and let me have time to think. +Only this is certain, we do not part again."</p> + +<p>"Mistress, that cannot be. I have yet a task to perform. +It may be many, many miles to travel. When that is done,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> +I will come back and spend the few days left to me here. +Oh, it seems like home—it seems like Heaven to sit within +the sound of your voice once more! But I must depart at +once."</p> + +<p>"Where, old friend?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know yet; but God will direct me."</p> + +<p>"As I trust that He will direct me," answered the countess, +lifting her eyes in momentary prayer. "Yates, you +will never know what fearful suspicions have haunted me—how +hard and bitter they have made me. Oh, had this letter +come earlier!"</p> + +<p>"I could not! I could not!"</p> + +<p>"I know that, knowing you."</p> + +<p>Hannah Yates lifted her grateful eyes for a moment, and +dropped them again.</p> + +<p>"Now that I am free from the weight of these," she said, +lifting the casket in her hands, "the toil of my errand will +be less."</p> + +<p>The countess looked wistfully into the box, and shook her +head.</p> + +<p>"I have been unjust. I have accused that woman falsely. +Until this moment, Yates, I have not hesitated to proclaim +my belief that the woman they call Lady Hope had possessed +herself of these diamonds as she had won my daughter's +husband. This is a wrong which wounds me to the +soul. It must be atoned for."</p> + +<p>Hannah Yates moved toward the door, but heavily, and +with the reluctance of a woman whose strength had been +overtasked. The old countess sat gazing upon the jewels. +How trivial and worthless they seemed to her now! Yet +the retention of these very diamonds had been a great cause +of offence against Lord Hope's second wife. How unjust, +how cruel she had been in this! Was it possible that, in +other things, she had been equally mistaken? She took up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> +her daughter's letter and read it over. The first shock of +its reception had passed away, and nothing but the quivering +of the head remained of the fearful agitation that had +shook her little form like a reed.</p> + +<p>Hannah Yates stood near the curtain, regarding her with +a look of yearning sympathy. How much she had suffered—how +terribly she had struggled to save that delicate creature +from deeper sorrow—no human being but herself would +ever know; but the thought filled her heart with infinite +tenderness. She stepped back to the couch, took the hand +which lay in the lap of her old mistress, and kissed it.</p> + +<p>The old lady lifted her eyes from the letter. They were +full of tears—those painful, cold tears which come in such +scant drops to the aged.</p> + +<p>"Your hands are cold; you look tired. Ring for some +wine and biscuit. That poor, white face is a reproach to +your mistress, Yates."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will take some wine and bread before I go—it +will make me strong; but not here! not here!"</p> + +<p>Again the old countess turned to that letter, motioning +with her hand that Yates should stay; but the old woman +did not see that gentle motion of the hand—her eyes, also, +were full of tears.</p> + +<p>When the Countess of Carset had thrice perused her +daughter's letter, she laid it down, and resting her hand +tenderly upon it, fell into thought.</p> + +<p>She was a proud but just woman, on whose haughty power +old age had fallen like dew, softening all that was imperious, +and shading down strong personal pride into thoughtful +mercy.</p> + +<p>But for some injustice that she had to repent of, this simple, +affectionate letter, coming as it were from the grave, +would have aroused nothing but tender grief. It contained +no complaint of the man she had married—did not even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> +mention the governess, who now filled her place; and the +possibility that she had terribly wronged these two persons +dawned steadily upon her.</p> + +<p>She looked up at last, and spoke to Hannah Yates; but +there was no answer. The old woman was on her road to +the railroad station, burdened only with a secret she dared +not reveal, and the gold which had been saved with the +diamonds.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE EARL'S RETURN.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Days</span> passed, and Caroline heard nothing of the new +friend she had made; but one day Eliza brought her a letter +which had come, inclosed in one from Margaret, who +had left town with her mistress so suddenly that she found +no time to say farewell.</p> + +<p>This was the letter which broke down so many hopes for +the unhappy girl:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="noi">"<span class="smcap">My dear, dear friend</span>—</p> + +<p>"For that you always will be, so long as I have a pulse +in my heart or a purpose in my brain! It does not require +an eternity for two young girls like us to become firm +friends; but it will take more than that to destroy the faith +and love we feel for each other. I know that you will +believe every word that I say, though I may be compelled +to seem cruel and faithless. I cannot come to see you. +They tell me it might offend my father. I cannot ask you +to his house, because it <em>is</em> his, and I have no authority in it. +But the time will come when I shall have a house of my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> +own, and then no guest shall be so honored. Why do I +love you so? Is it that I remember something? Or has +any person told me that you and I have slept in each other's +arms, and breathed upon the same pillow, with an old +woman bending over us—a noble-faced old woman, with +gray hair, and a queenly way of carrying the head? Have +you any remembrance of a woman like that? Do you +remember a hot, red fire, streams of water gushing over it, a +ladder, a crowd, and great pipes coiling like a tangle of +huge snakes along a street full of people? I do—and this +no one has ever told me.</p> + +<p>"I want to ask all these things in person. You are from +America. I was there once, and after that fire I remember +the ocean and a great black ship, which sent banners of +smoke over us day after day.</p> + +<p>"Then Oakhurst. I was not four years old then, but my +life began in America, so far as I know of it.</p> + +<p>"I cannot help you now; but if you hate the stage so +much, be firm, and madame cannot force you upon it. Besides, +I am determined to redeem my pledge; so, if it can +be done in no other way, I will just have an early time set +for my marriage with Mr. Closs, and then you shall come to +us if any one attempts to oppress you.</p> + +<p>"Pray do not suppose that any one here dislikes you. +On the contrary, Lady Hope admits that you are charming. +The trouble is that here, in England, there is so much +prejudice against the stage. I cannot advise you, having +broken down so miserably in my promises; but I shall +not be helpless forever, and when I have power you shall +share it.</p> + +<p>"If she insists, if the worst comes to the worst, run +away, and come down here—I mean into the neighborhood. +I have plenty of pocket-money, and drive my ponies just +where I please. Margaret will help us.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span>"I am sure you will forgive me that I cannot do all I +promised. It does not grieve you more than it humiliates +me. To think that I should offer so much and perform +nothing! But it is not my fault, nor is it the fault of any +one here.</p> + +<p>"Believe in me, trust me, and love me, for I will deserve +it all.</p> + +<p class="center">"Yours affectionately,</p> +<p class="right1">"<span class="smcap">CLARA</span>."</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Lady Clara wrote this letter on the very night of her +return to Oakhurst. That much she insisted on doing. +Less, she said, would be cruel treachery.</p> + +<p>Neither Lady Hope nor her brother were disposed to +interfere, and so the little missive went, carrying both hope +and pain with it.</p> + +<p>It was some days before Hepworth Closs was able to +make his entire peace with the young lady. She could not +find it in her heart to oppose her stepmother, whose sad, +heavy eyes touched her sympathy; but it was pleasant to +tyrannize over a man so much older than herself, whom love +had made her slave.</p> + +<p>With him quarreling was delicious, and she was in no +haste to cut her enjoyment short. But even the pleasure +of tormenting one's lover has its reaction; so one day, as +the sun went down, pouring a flood of crimson into the +bosom of that old cedar of Lebanon, Clara relented a little, +and allowed Hepworth to kiss her hand. It was impossible +to hold out longer, with all the leaves quivering in that +soft air, and the little birds hiding away among them, +chirping to each other, and setting a sweet example to the +lovers.</p> + +<p>Of course an ardent man, very much in love, is not +likely to rest content with the touch of his lady-love's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> +hand after he has been kept in quarantine four or five +days. Hepworth was ardent, and desperately in love; so +he took advantage of her soft relenting, and drew her +close to his side, laid her head against his heart, and, with +his cheek touching the thick waves of her hair, began +to talk of the future, when they would be all in all to each +other.</p> + +<p>Clara shut her eyes, and allowed her head to rest so close +to her lover's heart that it rose and fell with its strong +beating. She loved the music of that full, warm pulse, and +a smile parted her lips as she listened.</p> + +<p>Thus they rested awhile in silence, she, carried into a +dreamy elysium by the swell of those full heart-beats; he, +calmed by the stir of the cedar-leaves, looking into her face, +and wondering, in the humility of true affection, how that +bright young creature had ever been won to love him. He +bent his head down softly, and kissed the blue veins on her +temple.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure, very, very sure, that you love me, +Clara?"</p> + +<p>She reached up one arm, wound it about his neck, laid +her cheek against his, and whispered:</p> + +<p>"Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Clara! Mr. Hepworth Closs!"</p> + +<p>It was a man's voice, stern and clear as the clash of bells. +Both the lover and the girl sprang to their feet.</p> + +<p>"Father!"</p> + +<p>"Lord Hope!"</p> + +<p>For a moment the two men stood face to face. They had +changed since their last parting; still that was but dimly +seen in the light of a young moon, which was rising over +the trees as the rich crimson faded away.</p> + +<p>Hepworth saw that all the wild passion of those times +had died out of that face, leaving it calm and hard; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> +other change was concealed by the silvery quiver of light +that fell upon it through the leaves.</p> + +<p>Hepworth was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"My lord, you have received my letter, I trust?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—and came at once to answer it."</p> + +<p>"By your tone, by your manner, I should fear—"</p> + +<p>"While this young lady is by, we will not speak of your +fears," said the earl, with a slow motion of the hand. +"Clara, you will find your—Lady Hope. She will, perhaps, +be glad to hear that I have returned."</p> + +<p>"Not while you meet me and—and Hepworth in this +fashion, papa. I don't like it. One would think you intended +to make trouble."</p> + +<p>"Foolish child! Go as I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Not while you look at me like that. Do you know, papa, +that you have forgotten to kiss me, or even shake hands; +and that is a thing I never saw you guilty of before."</p> + +<p>Clara drew close to the haughty man, and turning her +mouth into a half-open apple-blossom, held it up to be +kissed.</p> + +<p>The earl put her aside gently, but with firmness.</p> + +<p>"Go to Lady Hope, as I bade you," he said. "This is +no hour for trifling."</p> + +<p>Clara stood motionless. All the color had left her face, +even to the lips.</p> + +<p>"Papa, are you in earnest?"</p> + +<p>"In earnest? Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you mean to refuse this gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly I mean to refuse that gentleman."</p> + +<p>There was an emphasis of fine irony laid on the last +word, which Hepworth felt with a sting of indignation; +but he controlled himself, in respect to Clara's presence, +and stood aloof, pale and stern as the man before him.</p> + +<p>"I will go," said Clara; "but, before I leave you, let me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> +say one thing: I love this gentleman. But for that, he +never would have spoken to me or written to you. It was +not his fault, or of his seeking. He had not been here a +day before I loved him without knowing it. Now, all the +world may know it for aught I care, for I never will marry +any other man!"</p> + +<p>Lord Hope did not reply to her, but turned to Hepworth.</p> + +<p>"You have done honorable work, and in a short time!" +he said. "I was not aware that Lady Hope would entertain +her relatives in my absence, and with this result."</p> + +<p>Hepworth did not answer then, but turning to Lady +Clara, reached out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Let me lead you to the house," he said. "After that I +can meet Lord Hope on more equal terms."</p> + +<p>Clara took his arm; but her father interposed.</p> + +<p>"I will take charge of the lady," he said, with haughty +coldness, drawing her arm within his, and leading her to +the terrace, where he left her and returned to the cedar.</p> + +<p>"Now, sir, let us conclude this matter at once. You ask +the hand of my daughter in marriage. I refuse it. You +are here under my roof an unexpected and unbidden guest. +From this hour you cease to be welcome."</p> + +<p>"My lord, had I never known you in the past, never +served you in an unlawful desire, you would not have dared +to address me in this fashion. If you and I meet to bandy +insults, it is because the past has left no mutual respect +between us; but I have this advantage over you; the sins +which have drawn on me even your contempt have been +long since repented of, while yours, compared to which +mine fade into innocence, seem but to have hardened into +pride."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope smiled.</p> + +<p>"Of what crime does Mr. Hepworth Closs charge me?"</p> + +<p>"I make no special charge, Lord Hope; but there is an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> +old woman in America suffering the penalty of a crime +which she never committed—which you know she never +committed."</p> + +<p>"The law decided otherwise, if I remember rightly," +answered the earl, in a quiet, calm voice. "But even if it +did not, does that relate to the question in hand?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, and I am to blame in mentioning it—Heaven +knows I wish to think the best! I admit, my lord, your +prejudices against me would have been just when we knew +each other so well; but I was very young then and can +fairly claim to have worked out an honorable redemption +from the faults of my youth. Believe me, I have won more +than a respectable position among men; have wealth from +my own exertions enough to satisfy even your wishes. +True, I have not the rank to match yours; but there was a +time when you thought it no disgrace to mate with my +family."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope was moved out of his proud calm now. He +lifted his hand with a suddenness that was threatening, and +cried out:</p> + +<p>"Peace, sir! I have heard enough of this!"</p> + +<p>"But I must remind you again that Lady Hope is my +only sister, and in these insults you degrade her."</p> + +<p>"Degrade her, when she is my wife!"</p> + +<p>These words were drawn out with proud emphasis that +stung Hepworth like a wasp.</p> + +<p>"My lord," he said, "I will bear much from you, +because I once loved you, but more from the fact that you +are my sister's husband and <em>her</em> father; but I warn you +not even by a tone to cast reproach or slur upon your wife. +She became such against my wishes and in spite of my +protest. That lady has all the elements of greatness +within herself."</p> + +<p>"What right had you to wish or protest?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span>"The self-same right that you have to drive me from +your daughter. You did not heed my wishes, why expect +me to prove more delicate?"</p> + +<p>"Because I can enforce what I wish, and you could not."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"By asking Mr. Hepworth Closs to leave Oakhurst at +once, and by providing against all chance of his coming +here again."</p> + +<p>Closs turned very white, and his hand clenched and +unclenched itself with passionate force.</p> + +<p>"My lord, this is a cruel insult, which I have not +deserved!"</p> + +<p>All at once the earl turned, with some show of feeling, +and looked Hepworth steadily in the face.</p> + +<p>"Hepworth Closs, listen to me. If I seem cruel and +unmanly, it is because I wish to be kind. The hand +which sweeps a moth from its circling around a candle, +must seem very cruel to the poor insect. I tell you, fairly, +Hepworth Closs, it is not so much pride of birth or personal +dislike that prompts me to deny my daughter to you. +But she is heiress in entail to the Carset title and Houghton +Castle, a noble title, without support, unless the old +countess makes her heiress, by will, of her personal estates. +By marrying your sister, I mortally offended this old lady. +Rachael has been, from first to last, the special object of +her dislike. Lady Clara has added to this by refusing to +visit Houghton unless her stepmother is received there also. +This quarrel may throw one of the richest inheritances in +England out of my family, and all from my unfortunate +marriage."</p> + +<p>"Your unfortunate marriage!" exclaimed Closs, hotly.</p> + +<p>"How could it be otherwise?" answered Lord Hope, +sadly.</p> + +<p>There was something in Hope's voice that touched Hepworth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> +Closs with feelings akin to those he had felt for the +proud young man years ago.</p> + +<p>"This was the language I used to my sister the night +before she became your wife," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God! if she had but listened—if she had but +listened!"</p> + +<p>"Lord Hope! do I understand? Has your marriage +with Rachael Closs come to this?"</p> + +<p>"Hepworth, we will not discuss this subject. It is one +which belongs exclusively to Lady Hope and myself."</p> + +<p>"But she is my sister!"</p> + +<p>"Between a husband and wife no relative has claims."</p> + +<p>"Lord Hope, I was once your friend."</p> + +<p>"I have not forgotten it. Unfortunately for us both, +you were. I do not say this ungratefully. On the contrary, +I am about to appeal to that old friendship once +more. You ask for my daughter. To give her to a brother +of Rachael Closs would be the bitterest insult I could offer +the old lady at Houghton. It would close our last hopes of +a reconciliation. The estates, in doubt now, would be +eternally lost. I cannot afford this. Oakhurst is strictly +entailed; I am heavily in debt, so heavily, that we are +compelled to practise the most harassing economy. From +me Clara will inherit nothing; from her grandmother +worse than nothing if she dies offended with us. I am told +that she is relenting—that she has been heard to speak +kindly of Clara. Can you ask me to insult her over again, +knowing all the wrong I have done her, all the ruin it +would bring on my child?"</p> + +<p>"What can I do?" exclaimed Closs, who felt the reason +of this appeal. "How can I act generously to you—fairly +to her?"</p> + +<p>"Go away. She is young, volatile, capricious, but generous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> +as the day. Be open with her; tell her why you +leave Oakhurst and how impossible it is to return."</p> + +<p>"But there is one wild hope for me—the possibility of +gaining this old lady's consent."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope smiled in pity of the forlorn idea.</p> + +<p>"You may as well ask the stars of heaven to fall."</p> + +<p>"But it may chance that I can plead my cause with +her."</p> + +<p>"Then your best argument will be that I have driven +you ignominiously from Oakhurst," said Lord Hope, with +fine irony in his smile. "She will forgive much to any +man I am known to dislike."</p> + +<p>"My lord, I love your daughter so entirely, that it is +impossible for me to give up all hope. Leave me this one +gleam, or, failing in that, give me such chances as time +may bring."</p> + +<p>Again Lord Hope answered with that keen smile.</p> + +<p>"I withhold nothing from you but my consent."</p> + +<p>"But, if Lady Carset gives hers?"</p> + +<p>"Then I can safely promise mine."</p> + +<p>Again the smile came, and pierced Hepworth like an +arrow.</p> + +<p>"Now I will intrude here no longer," he said, taking his +hat from the ground where it had been lying.</p> + +<p>"It is better so, inhospitable as you may think me for +saying it. Lady Hope will be grieved, I know."</p> + +<p>"I am her only relative," said Closs, with deep feeling.</p> + +<p>"I know it; but we are all making sacrifices. I am, +certainly, in wishing you farewell."</p> + +<p>Hope reached out his hand. It was clear he wished +Closs to go without further leave-taking. Closs understood +the motion.</p> + +<p>"I will not pain my sister with a farewell. Explain this +as you please, or say that I will write—unless that is prohibited.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> +As for the young lady, I shall never seek her +again under your roof; but the time may come when I +shall assert the right which every man has to choose for +himself, and win the lady of his love, if he can. Meantime, +Lady Clara is free as air. Tell her so."</p> + +<p>With these words Hepworth Closs turned resolutely from +the house in which he had tasted pure happiness for the +first time in his life, and went away.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE WIFE AND THE DAUGHTER.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Hope</span> was in her own room when Clara came in, +pale and breathless, with news of her father's return. A +cry broke from the woman, so thrilling in its exquisite joy, +that it won Clara even from a remembrance of the harshness +with which her lover had been received. In the +birth of her own love, she found intense sympathy for the +intense passion that seemed to consume her stepmother like +a living fire.</p> + +<p>"Oh! mamma Rachael, do you love him so much, and is +this love nothing but a torment?" she said, kneeling down +at the woman's feet, and trying to draw that wild face down +to hers. "He is so cruel, so cruel, I almost hate him."</p> + +<p>Lady Hope pushed the girl from her.</p> + +<p>"What? Hate him?"</p> + +<p>"Then why don't he love you more?"</p> + +<p>"He does love me; how dare you question it?"</p> + +<p>The words were harsh, but Rachael's voice faltered in +uttering them, and the gloom of a hidden doubt broke into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> +those great black eyes. Clara saw the look, and her heart +ached with sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Then why does he stay from us so long?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, why!" answered Rachael, and the two plaintive +words sank deep into that young heart.</p> + +<p>"And why does he treat Hepworth, your own brother, +so cruelly?"</p> + +<p>"Has he done that? Oh, no, no!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma Rachael. We both love him <em>so</em> much; +but he is very hard with us just now. I thought he would +love Hepworth for your sake."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I thought so too. It was my last dream."</p> + +<p>"And my first," said Clara, with girlish tears in her eyes. +"He was very angry—they were both angry. I think he +meant to insult Hepworth and drive him away, knowing +how proud he is, and he will do it. Oh, mamma Rachael, +I am so miserable!"</p> + +<p>"Miserable!" cried Rachael, looking gloomily into that +fair young face. "Poor child! you have no idea what misery +is. God forbid that you ever should!"</p> + +<p>"Is not this misery? Papa against me, Hepworth looking +so proud and stormy. You. Oh! mamma, I feel for +you so much. Indeed, you look more unhappy than I am; +but it is hard."</p> + +<p>"Hush, dear! That is your father's voice."</p> + +<p>"Yes, how low and cutting. I cannot stand it. He is +coming this way. I will go to my room."</p> + +<p>For the first time in her life, Lady Clara shrank from +meeting her father.</p> + +<p>"Do not leave me yet," said Rachael, passing swiftly +toward the window. "They are together still. I cannot +see their faces, but they both stand up sternly in the moonlight. +What can they be saying?"</p> + +<p>"Something harsh, I know. Lord Hope, when he came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> +up so still and stern, did not seem like my father. His face +looked like marble. He would not kiss me, and—and put +me aside, when I offered, as if I had done something terribly +wrong, in just getting naturally in love with the most +splendid fellow that ever lived. I should think he might +remember when he fell so desperately in love with you himself, +and have some mercy on a poor little girl." Here Clara +seemed to catch a restless infection from Rachael, and joined +her in a quick, unequal walk up and down the room, +pausing now and then to dash the tears from her eyes, or +gaze in wonder at Lady Hope's face, which bore an expression +she had never seen in all its gloominess till then.</p> + +<p>All at once Rachael paused in her walk, and taking Clara +in her arms, looked at her with such earnest tenderness, +that the girl hushed her sobs to listen.</p> + +<p>"My darling, do you love him so much?"</p> + +<p>"Better than my father; better than you. Oh! forgive +me, but it is so—better than my own life. I think it is +worship, not love, dearest mamma."</p> + +<p>"Great heavens! what trouble I have brought upon us +all! Oh why, why did he come here!" cried Rachael, +beginning to pace the floor again, clasping her hands and +tearing them apart, as if angry with herself. "They were +such friends once, and loved each other like brothers. How +could I think it would turn out like this? I so needed him—this +one brother; had such hope in his influence, but it is +all over."</p> + +<p>"What is all over? You will not permit it? You will +not let him be sent away?"</p> + +<p>"How can I help it? What power or influence is left +to me?" answered Rachael, desperately.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma Rachael, will you fail me? You!"</p> + +<p>"Hush! he is coming. I hear his step on the terrace."</p> + +<p>How that dusky face lighted up. That woman trembled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> +all over under the sound of that man's tread. He was +coming to her, there in the room, in which they had once +been so happy; coming to her, perhaps in anger. That +was nothing. Anger itself would be Heaven, compared to +the cold politeness that had sometimes almost frozen her to +death. She turned to Clara.</p> + +<p>"Go, my child. I will see your father alone."</p> + +<p>Clara went to her room. Through the window which +looked out upon the lawn, she saw Hepworth Closs come +out from the shadow of the cedar, and walk swiftly toward +the avenue. By the proud lift of his head, and those quick +steps, that seemed to spurn the earth he trod upon, she +knew that he had parted from her father in anger, and +threw up the window.</p> + +<p>"Hepworth! Hepworth! Stop! Stop! and tell me +where you are going!"</p> + +<p>He did not hear her, the storm in his heart was too +violent. He had been driven forth from his sister's roof +with a cool politeness that was insulting. The commonest +courtesies of life had been denied to him, by the man who +had once been his friend. He scarcely thought of Clara, +then, a sense of burning indignation swept everything else +from his mind.</p> + +<p>Clara leaned from the window, trembling with sudden apprehension. +Was he really going? Had her father treated +him with indignity? Was he giving her up without a +struggle or a word of farewell?</p> + +<p>While she asked herself these questions, Closs disappeared +among the trees in the park, and was swallowed up in the +black shadows.</p> + +<p>"He shall not go!" cried the girl, in wild excitement. +"He shall not be driven away by papa, or any one else! +Where is my jacket? What has that girl done with my +hat? Ah! here, and here!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span>She huddled the shawl around her, tossed the little +sailor's hat to her head, and, opening the chamber door so +swiftly that it made no noise, darted down stairs, and, avoiding +the principal entrance, reached the lawn by leaping +from one of the drawing-room windows, where she paused a +moment to draw breath. But no time was to be lost. At +the rate Hepworth was walking, he must now be well on +his way to the lodge. The avenue swept away from the +house in a grand curve. She knew of a path through the +trees which would lead her straight to old Badger's lodge. +It was shadowy and lonesome, but what did she care for +that? No deer ever bounded down that path more lightly +than Clara went. She did not stop to think of propriety, +or of her own object. Her heart told her that Hepworth +had been driven from the house, perhaps thinking that she +would sanction the outrage; for it was an outrage, even if +her own father had done it. He should not go away, believing +it possible for her to prove so base.</p> + +<p>On she went, eager, breathless, with the streamers floating +out from her hat, and her white sacque flying open, +fairly racing through the moonlight, like a frightened fairy.</p> + +<p>As she came in sight of the lodge, the clang of an iron +gate falling into position, brought a cry of dismay from her +lips. He had reached the highway. Dared she follow him +there?</p> + +<p>Clara came out into the avenue, panting for breath. She +could hear his quick steps upon the road. How terribly +fast he was walking toward the village. Yes, he was surely +going that way.</p> + +<p>Old Badger stood in the lodge door, shaded by a trailing +drapery of ivy, and saw the young lady standing there in +the moonlight, wringing her hands and absolutely crying. +In his astonishment he addressed Jules confidentially, as +she lay on the stepping stone at his feet.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span>"It is the young lady as sure as you live, old girl, and +she's a following that handsome fellow as just left a golden +sovereign in my hand, Jules. Something has happened up +yonder, Jules. The master has come back and found out +what you and I knew all the time. If that handsome +brother of my lady hasn't got a ticket-of-leave, I lose my +guess; but what are we to do with the young lady, old girl? +That is what is a puzzling me just now."</p> + +<p>Jules arose, stretched herself, and threw out one paw as +she settled down again, when Badger broke out in a glow +of admiration.</p> + +<p>"Right, Jules. In a matter where the sects are concerned, +you are true as a clock. I'll show myself; I'll help +her."</p> + +<p>Jules gave a faint yelp, which brought Clara to the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Badger, you here! Go and call him back. Here is +some money; run like a deer; tell him I want to speak +with him—must speak with him. It's about Lady Hope; +but no matter. Why don't you start, Badger? It's half +an hour since I first told you."</p> + +<p>But Badger did not start. He stood a little way from +the door, examining the money she had given him, by the +moonlight, and muttering to himself; when the impatient +girl broke out again.</p> + +<p>"A shilling! Was it only a shilling I gave you? How +provoking! I thought it was gold. Well, start! start! +and I'll make it a sovereign—two, three—only bring him +back!"</p> + +<p>Old Badger went off with a rush now. Ordering Jules +to stay with the young mistress and mind the gate, he made +swift progress down the road.</p> + +<p>"I say, sir! I say! Halloo! I say!"</p> + +<p>Hepworth checked his rapid walk, and looked back. +Badger came up with a run, feeling that some extra exertion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> +was necessary, when so much gold lay in the question.</p> + +<p>"There is a person—well, a lady—a young lady—who +wishes to have you turn back, sir. She is waiting at the +lodge, sir; and I promised to bring you back, dead or alive, +sir—dead or alive!"</p> + +<p>Hepworth felt his heart give a great leap. Was it possible +that Clara could have followed him? or was it Lady +Hope?</p> + +<p>"A lady!" he said, "and at the lodge?"</p> + +<p>"A young lady—such as isn't commonly seen following +young gents by moonlight; but come, sir, she is waiting."</p> + +<p>Hepworth turned at once, and retraced his steps. Clara +saw him approaching the gate, and swinging it back, ran +to meet him, with tears still quivering on her anxious +face.</p> + +<p>She passed Badger, who was resolved to earn his money +at least by discretion, and moved in great haste toward the +lodge, never once looking back, as in honor bound, he told +Jules in his next confidential conversation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hepworth, how cruel! how wicked! Tell me truly, +were you going without a word?"</p> + +<p>Clara had clasped both hands over her lover's arm, and +was slowly leading him back, with her face uplifted in sweet +reproachfulness to his, and drawing deep, long sighs of +thanksgiving that she had him there, chained by her linked +hands.</p> + +<p>"I do not know. How can I tell? Your father has dismissed +me from his house."</p> + +<p>"He has? I thought as much; and thinking so, came +after you—but only to say that I love you dearly—ten times +more since this has happened—and nothing on earth shall +ever make me marry any other person."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span>Hepworth looked down into that generous face, and his +own took a softer expression in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>"Your father is against us," he said. "I think it must +be open defiance, or separation—at any rate, for a time."</p> + +<p>Clara's face clouded. She loved her father, and was a +little afraid of him as well; but that was nothing to the +passionate attachment she felt for Hepworth Closs. She +would have defied the whole world rather than give him +up; but open disobedience was a terrible thing to her. All +at once she brightened.</p> + +<p>"Some day, you know, I shall be my own mistress. We +can wait. I am so young. When I am Countess of Carset, +come and claim me. No one can stand between us +then."</p> + +<p>She spoke firmly, and with the dignity of deep feeling, +standing upright and looking bravely into his face, as if +she were a peeress already, and was ready to pledge all the +honor of a long race of ancestors for the faith that was in +her.</p> + +<p>"Ah, if you were only the bright, handsome girl you +seem, with no dignity to keep up, no belongings but your +own sweet self, how grateful I should be! From this night, +Clara, we would never part."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it were! If I hadn't anything to expect! But, +no! My old grandmother will be sure to leave me everything +she has, just out of spite, when all I want on earth is +my liberty, and the love that belongs to me. How I should +like to—"</p> + +<p>"To what, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing—only I was thinking how jolly it would be +just to tie on my hat, button my jacket, and go off with +you to America, where people can't die and leave you titles +and things; but it is of no use thinking of such a thing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> +It would break mamma Rachael's heart; and she needs me +so much."</p> + +<p>Hepworth caught his breath. The thought had been in +his mind. But for his sister, I think he would have proposed +it.</p> + +<p>"Do not tempt me, darling. We cannot abandon her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," answered Clara, pouting a little, "I didn't +mean anything of the kind. Of course, we have got to +part now; I know that."</p> + +<p>She clung to his arm more closely, and made him walk +slower. Both their faces grew pale and sad in the moonlight. +She could not speak because of the sobs that came +swelling into her throat. He was silent from a bitter sense +of bereavement. After those few weeks of entire happiness, +was he to be driven into the cold world again, leaving the +angel of his paradise behind?</p> + +<p>They were drawing near the gate now. Hepworth would +not pass into the boundaries of a man who had wounded +him so grievously, so he paused by the park-wall, snatched +her to his bosom, kissed her lips, her eyes, her hair, blessing +her with his soul, promising to find her again, to be faithful, +begging her to love him and no one else, until he broke +away from her and fled down the highway, dashing the tears +from his eyes as he went.</p> + +<p>She called after him. She ran a few paces with her arms +extended, entreating him to come back; but he would not +hear. All his brave manhood had been taxed to its utmost. +He knew well enough that to go back was to take the girl +with him, and he was not selfish enough for that.</p> + +<p>So poor Lady Clara watched him, till he passed quite +away into the shadows, with her back against the wall, and +her hands hanging down loose, as they had fallen after her +last cry. Then she crept slowly back through the gate,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> +which Badger had left open, and away into the depths of +the park, crying as if her heart would break.</p> + +<p>Badger saw her through the diamond-shaped panes of the +lodge-window, and muttered:</p> + +<p>"Poor thing, she has forgot the gold; but never mind, it +will come."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>HUSBAND AND WIFE.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Hope</span> stood in the middle of the room, breathless. +The supreme joy of her husband's presence drove every +other feeling from her heart. She forgot her brother, her +step-child, everything, in the one thought that he was near +her. But, was it certain that he would come? How many +months, nay, years, had passed since he had entered that +room, once so dear to him that no other apartment in that +spacious mansion seemed pleasant? She had allowed nothing +to be changed since those days. Year by year those +silken hangings and crimson cushions had lost their brightness +and grown threadbare; but he had pressed those cushions +and been shaded by the curtains, and that gave them +a brightness and glory to her which no stuffs of India or +cloth of gold could replace.</p> + +<p>She knew that he was offended, and doubted. But +would he come? His step grew slow; he paused. Would +he retreat at last, and leave her there, in an agony of disappointment?</p> + +<p>No—after a moment's hesitation, the steps advanced. +The very certainty of his approach suffocated her. She had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> +not deemed herself so weak. All the strength left her +frame.</p> + +<p>She sank down upon a couch near the window. The +moonlight fell over her like a veil of silver tissue, and +through it she looked like the Rachael Closs of New York.</p> + +<p>Lord Hope tore away the silvery veil with his presence, +for the shadow of his tall person fell across it, throwing the +woman back into darkness.</p> + +<p>But the light which he took from her slanted across his +face, and softened it back to youth. Rachael reached forth +her arms.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Norton! have you come back again?"</p> + +<p>Her voice vibrated between passion and pathos. Her +trembling limbs rustled the silken garments around her.</p> + +<p>He stood looking at her, not sternly, but with grave sadness. +It was nearly two months since they had met, but +he did not advance, or even reach out his hand. Then she +cried out, in a burst of bitter anguish:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Norton, will you not speak to me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Rachael," he said, very gently. "I came to speak +with you."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope advanced through the window. No lights +were burning, for in her sadness Rachael had thought the +moonbeams enough.</p> + +<p>She moved upon the couch, looking in his face with +pathetic entreaty.</p> + +<p>He sat down after a moment's hesitation, and took her +hand in his.</p> + +<p>Awhile before that hand had been cold as ice, but now a +glow of feverish joy warmed it, and her slender fingers +clung around his with nervous force. She was afraid to +loosen her clasp, lest he should leave her again.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Norton! you have been away so long, so long!"</p> + +<p>"Has that made you more unhappy, Rachael?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span>"More unhappy? God help me! have I any happiness +beyond your presence?"</p> + +<p>"I sometimes think that we two might be less—"</p> + +<p>Lord Hope paused. The hand in his seemed turning to +marble.</p> + +<p>"In mercy, do not say that, Norton! Surely you cannot +return love like mine with hate so cruel!"</p> + +<p>"We will not talk of hate, Rachael. It is an unseemly +word."</p> + +<p>"But you are angry with me?"</p> + +<p>"No, the time has gone by when I can be angry with you, +Rachael."</p> + +<p>"Oh! have some mercy upon me, Norton, and tell me +how I have lost your love—for you did love me."</p> + +<p>"God only knows how well!" answered the man, with a +throe of bitter passion breaking up the calm he had maintained.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, then—tell me again! It is so long since I +have had a happy thought! I will not be put off so! Now +that you are here, in this room, with my hand in yours, I +will not let you go! Tell me, Norton—oh, tell me why it is +that you have changed so completely? This question +haunts me. I dream of it in the night; I think of it all +day long. Answer me. Though the truth cleave my heart, +I would rather hear it! Why have you ceased to love me? +Why is it that you can leave me so?"</p> + +<p>"Rachael, I will answer you so far as this: I have not +ceased to love you."</p> + +<p>The woman uttered a cry, and fell down upon her knees +at her husband's feet, in a storm of wild and happy tears. +He raised her up, bent forward as if to kiss her, but drew +back with a heavy sigh. She felt him recoil, and the shudder +which chilled him reached her also.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span>"You love me, and yet shrink from my touch! Ah, me! +what has dug this gulf between us?"</p> + +<p>"It is the work of our own hands," he said, with strong +emotion. "It is your curse and mine that we must love +each other, Rachael—love each other, and yet be apart."</p> + +<p>"Apart! Oh! will there be no end—no season—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Rachael, when we can both repent that we ever +did love each other. Then, perhaps, a merciful God may +forgive us the great sin which has been our happiness and +our torment."</p> + +<p>"But you love me? You <em>do</em> love me?"</p> + +<p>"A thousand times better than my own miserable life!"</p> + +<p>"And you speak of torment! Who shall ever dare say +that word again to Rachael Closs? When they do, I will +answer, 'He loves me! he loves me!'"</p> + +<p>The woman sprang up, exulting. Her hands were +clasped, her face was radiant. It seemed impossible that +unhappiness should ever visit her again.</p> + +<p>"Poor woman! Poor, unhappy woman!"</p> + +<p>Hope took her hand in his, and drew her down to his +side. She was shaking like a leaf in the wind. For the +moment, her joy seemed complete.</p> + +<p>"I cannot believe it! Say again, 'Rachael, I love +you.'"</p> + +<p>"Have I not said that it is your curse and mine?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Norton! how cruel, with that sweet word sinking +into my heart, after pining and waiting for it so long! Do +not withhold it from me, or think of it as a curse."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Rachael! You are only exulting over Dead Sea +fruit. It is all ashes, ashes. Words that, up to this time, +I had forbidden to my lips, have been said, because of a +terrible danger that threatens us. Rachael, did you know +of the letter Hepworth sent me?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span>Rachael was a brave woman, even in her faults, and +would not deny anything.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he wrote the letter here," she said.</p> + +<p>"And you sanctioned his pursuit of my daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Norton. I loved him; he was my only relative. +That he might live near me was the last forlorn hope of +my life. Before you condemn me, remember how few +people exist in this world for me to love. I have no +friends. I was so cold, so dreary! There was nothing +left to me but your child and this one brother. How +could I part with either of them? That was to be utterly +alone!"</p> + +<p>Lord Hope checked this pathetic plea. It shook his +resolution, and that with a vigor she could not understand. +He looked her steadily in the face.</p> + +<p>"Rachael Closs, could you have given up my child to +that man?"</p> + +<p>Rachael fixed her wild eyes on the face turned upon her +so sternly.</p> + +<p>"Why, why?"</p> + +<p>"Had you no thought of the ruin it would bring upon +her?"</p> + +<p>"Ruin? Did you say ruin?"</p> + +<p>"Could you see that innocent girl's hand in his without +thrills of painful recollection?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he loves her; she loves him."</p> + +<p>"So much the more painful."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Her lips were white now, and the teeth gleamed and +chattered between them.</p> + +<p>"Have you no dread that he will bring that one event +perpetually before us?"</p> + +<p>Rachael shook her head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span>"Does nothing tell you that he was mixed up in that +tragedy?"</p> + +<p>"What should tell me of that? It was the crime of a +miserable old woman."</p> + +<p>"Still you understand nothing of that which is a continual +pain to me."</p> + +<p>A burst of hysterical laughter answered him. The +nerves of that woman were undoubtedly giving way.</p> + +<p>"You are mocking me. It is only fiends who torment +their victims. You are my husband, and should know +better!"</p> + +<p>"Rachael Closs, control yourself!"</p> + +<p>"I am not Rachael Closs!" cried the woman, fiercely. +"You would not have treated her so. It is Lady Hope +you are putting to torture. Oh, Norton! what have I +done to you? What have I done to you that you should +mock me so?"</p> + +<p>"I wish to save my child—to save myself."</p> + +<p>"Well, is that all? She shall never speak to Hepworth +again. Yes, what is my brother, or anybody in the world, +compared to one smile from my husband?"</p> + +<p>"And you will help me to reconcile Clara to that which +must be?"</p> + +<p>"I will do anything, everything that you wish, only do +not leave me again."</p> + +<p>"But I must sometimes go out."</p> + +<p>"And I cannot go with you. Rachael Closs is not good +enough for your high-born friends. Lady Carset has put +her ban on your wife, and the nobility of England accept +it. But for this I might have been the companion of your +visits, the helpmate of your greatness—for I have the +power. I could have done so much, so much in this great +world of yours, but that old woman would not let me. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> +is cruel! it is cruel! You would have loved me now as +you did at first, but for her."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope took Rachael's hand in his.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Rachael!" he said, "if you could but understand +the love which can neither be cherished nor cast away, +which pervades a whole life, only to disturb it! Between +you and me must ever come the shadow of a woman we +cannot talk of, but who stands eternally between us two. +Even in the first days of our passionate delirium I felt +this viperous truth creeping under the roses with which we +madly hoped to smother it. The thought grew and grew, +like a parasite upon the heart. It clung to mine, bound it +down, made it powerless. Oh, would to God the memory +of that one night could be lifted from my soul! The +presence of your brother here has brought it back upon me +with terrible force. But, thank God, he is gone!"</p> + +<p>"Gone! What, my brother? Am I never to see him +again?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless you wish to drive your husband from his +own house. I will not be reminded, by any one connected +with that night, that it was the mad passion of our love +which drove that most unhappy woman from her home, her +country, and, at last, into her grave!"</p> + +<p>Rachael sat with her glittering eyes fastened on his face. +She longed to ask a question; but it seemed to freeze upon +her lips. But, at last, she spoke:</p> + +<p>"Do you repent that love, then?"</p> + +<p>"No! no! Would to God I had the power to repent! +but I cannot, Rachael, with you by me!"</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE STORMY NIGHT AND SUNSHINY MORNING.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Clara</span> found her way into the house unnoticed, +and stole back to her own room, weary and heart-sick from +the excitement she had passed through.</p> + +<p>For more than an hour she sat by her window looking +out upon the moonlight which flooded the lawn, and the +dense black shadows of the trees beyond.</p> + +<p>The stillness gradually hushed her sobs into a sad calm, +and, without other light than that which came from the +moon, she crept into her bed, and lay there, as if buried in +a snow-drift, cold and shivering from exhausting emotions +and exposure to the night air.</p> + +<p>She could not sleep, but lay thinking of the man who +had been driven from the house that night, wondering +where he was, and when, upon the earth, she would meet +him.</p> + +<p>All at once she started up and uttered a faint cry. Some +one had passed swiftly through her door, and was approaching +the bed. She saw the face, as it crossed the window, +and sank to the pillow again.</p> + +<p>"Mamma Rachael, is it you?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>Lady Hope sat down on the edge of the bed. She +seemed deathly cold; but there was a far-off look in her +eyes, as the moonlight fell upon them, which seemed +unnatural to the girl.</p> + +<p>Clara put back the bed-clothes and reached out her +arms; for Lady Hope was in her night-dress, and her feet +were uncovered.</p> + +<p>"Come into bed, mamma Rachael; you shiver so."</p> + +<p>Lady Hope took no heed, but arose slowly from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> +bed, and, going to a dressing-table, poured some water +from a ewer that stood there, and began to wash her +hands.</p> + +<p>Clara could see her in the moonlight, and sat up in the +bed, afraid and wondering.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, mamma Rachael," she faltered, terrified by +the sound of her voice, "why are you staying out in the +cold like that?"</p> + +<p>Lady Hope shook the drops from her fingers, and +leaving the table, began to pace the floor. At last Clara +sprang from the bed and took hold of her.</p> + +<p>Every nerve in the woman's body seemed to quiver +under that touch; she uttered a shrill cry, and clung to the +girl to save herself from falling.</p> + +<p>"Come to the bed with me, mamma. Your hand is +cold; it touches mine like snow. That is right; put your +arms around me. Poor, poor mamma! how your heart +struggles! There, there; the chill is going off. We will +get each other warm; for we love each other, you and I, +mamma Rachael; nothing on this earth can change +that!"</p> + +<p>Rachael allowed herself to be taken to the bed; but she +trembled violently.</p> + +<p>"You are troubled about Hepworth; but I have promised—I +do promise. Papa, nor all the world to help him, +could change me. Besides, there is another thing; we +both love him; that would make us cling together, if nothing +else," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Ah, there it is—there it is! Hepworth is gone, and +neither you nor I must ever see him again!" answered +Rachael.</p> + +<p>"But we will! He loves us. I will marry him some +day, if I live."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no! That can never be! Never! never!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span>Rachael was fearfully agitated. Clara tore her form from +those clinging arms.</p> + +<p>"What! you?—you turned against us—you!" she +exclaimed, pushing Rachael back from her pillow, and +sitting up in the moonlight. "Has my father driven us all +crazy?"</p> + +<p>"Hush, child, hush! I have been thinking of that. It +seems to me that I am mad already. Be kind; oh, be +kind! Do not urge me on. To-night I have had such +thoughts!"</p> + +<p>The girl was frightened; for Rachael was bending over, +and the fire of her great black eyes seemed hot as it was +terrible.</p> + +<p>"Great Heavens!" she cried, "what has my father done +to you?"</p> + +<p>Rachael had exhausted herself. She lay down, panting +for breath; her lips were apart; the edges of her teeth +were visible; she did not answer.</p> + +<p>Clara forgot her own cause of offence, and laid her hand +over those wide-open, burning eyes.</p> + +<p>"Poor mamma Rachael! now try and sleep. I never +saw you so nervous before. Did you know it? you were +walking in your sleep."</p> + +<p>The cool touch of that hand soothed the woman. Clara +felt the eyelids close under her palm; but a heavy pulse +was beating in the temples, which resisted all her gentle +mesmerism for a long time; but, after a while, the worn +frame seemed to rest, and Clara sank down in weary +sleepiness by her side.</p> + +<p>When she awoke again Lady Hope was gone. It was +the dark hour of the morning; the moon had disappeared +from the heavens; the shadows, in diffusing themselves, +spread out into general darkness.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I have had a weary dream," she murmured; "I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> +have heard of such things, but never had anything dark +upon my sleep before. How real it was! My father home, +Hepworth gone, my mother in this bed, trembling, moaning, +and, worst of all, against me and him. Ah, it was a +terrible dream!"</p> + +<p>She turned upon her pillow, full of sleepy thankfulness, +and the next instant had deluded herself into a tranquil +sleep.</p> + +<p>A rapid fall of hoofs upon the avenue shook the stillness. +Nearer and nearer they came; then a clang of the +great bronze knocker at the principal entrance awoke her +thoroughly.</p> + +<p>The girl listened; her dream was fast taking shape, and +she knew that it was a reality. Had this untimely arrival +anything to do with it? A knock at her chamber-door, +and her father's voice answered the question.</p> + +<p>She was to get up, and prepare for a journey at once; +her maid was packing already.</p> + +<p>What was it? What had happened? Lord Hope forgot +that he had not told her. The old Countess of Carset +had sent for her. She must prepare to start at once for +Houghton.</p> + +<p>Clara sprang up, ready to offer battle to the old countess +a second time in behalf of her stepmother.</p> + +<p>While she was being dressed, Lord Hope stood in the +corridor without, reading the delicate, upright characters in +which the old countess clothed her thoughts.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"<span class="smcap">My Lord</span>:—Circumstances have happened of late +which convince me that I have been hasty and unjust to +your wife, and have taken offense too readily from the independence +exhibited by your child, my grand-daughter. It +is my desire to atone for this, as the men and women of +our house have ever atoned for injustice. The infirmities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> +of old age, and more than ordinary ill-health forbid me to +visit Oakhurst, which might, perhaps, be properly expected +of one who admits herself to have been in the +wrong; but, perhaps you and Lady Hope will permit +Lady Clara to come to me here a few weeks, in which +time, I trust, she will learn to know and love her grandmother.</p> + +<p>"Presuming upon your generosity, I have sent my +steward and my own maid, that she may have proper protection +on her journey. After my grand-daughter has +been at Houghton long enough to feel that it is to be her +home in the future, I shall expect the pleasure of a visit +from you and Lady Hope.</p> + +<p class="right1"> +<span class="smcap">"Louisa</span>, Countess of Carset."</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Never, since the day in which he brought the first Lady +Hope home, a bride, had such intense satisfaction filled the +earl's heart as this letter brought him.</p> + +<p>Involved, as he was, with pecuniary difficulties, harassed +about his daughter, humiliated by the silent rejection by +which the nobility in the neighborhood had repudiated his +wife for so many years, this concession so nobly made by +the old countess, was an opening of good fortune which +promised a solution of all these difficulties. It had, in +truth, lifted a heavy burden from his life.</p> + +<p>With the letter in his hand Lord Hope went to his wife's +dressing-room, where he found her, hollow-eyed, and so +nervous that a faint cry broke from her as he entered the +room.</p> + +<p>She felt the loss of her brother terribly, notwithstanding +what seemed to be a ready concession to the harsh +treatment he received, and her sleep, as we know, had been +restless and broken in the night.</p> + +<p>She was cold and shivering, though the weather was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> +warm, and had wrapped a shawl, full of richly-tinted +colors, over her morning-dress, and sat cowering under it +like some newly-caught animal.</p> + +<p>Lord Hope felt that his inhospitable expulsion of her +brother, and the cruel conversation that had followed it, +was the cause of this nervous depression, and his heart +smote him. With the letter open in his hand he went up +to her chair, and bending over it, kissed Rachael on the +forehead.</p> + +<p>A smile broke over those gloomy features; the heavy +eyes lighted up; she lifted her face to his.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you do love me—you do love me!"</p> + +<p>"My poor Rachael! how can you permit words that +sprang out of the gloomy memories which Hepworth +brought to trouble you so? Come, smile again, for I have +good news for you—for us all."</p> + +<p>"Good news! Is Hepworth coming back?"</p> + +<p>"Forget Hepworth just now, and read that."</p> + +<p>Lady Hope took the letter and read it through. When +she gave it back, her face was radiant.</p> + +<p>"At last—at last!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Norton, this +will lift me to my proper place by your side. Now, now I +will make you proud of me! These patricians shall learn +that all great gifts do not spring from birth—that genius +has a nobility which can match that given by kings."</p> + +<p>Rachael started up in her excitement, flung the shawl +away, and stood a priestess where she had just cowered +like a wounded animal.</p> + +<p>"Now we shall be all the world to each other, and walk +through this proud life of yours, fairly mated. Great +Heavens! after a night like the last, who could have +expected such a morning? But Clara, you will let her +go?"</p> + +<p>"She is preparing to go now."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span>"My girl—my bright, beautiful girl! She has always +been the angel in my path. But for her, this might never +have come. But we cannot give her up—not entirely. +You will not consent to that?"</p> + +<p>"If we do, it will be only for a time, Rachael. The +countess is very old."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it will not be for long, and we can trust Clara. I +will go to her now. She will need my help, and every +minute she stays under this roof is a grain of gold which I +must not lose. Oh! Norton, this is glorious news that you +have brought me! What can have wrought this change in +the old countess? I am going to Clara now."</p> + +<p>As Lady Hope opened the door, Clara stood upon the +threshold, ready for her journey. She knew that this +letter was the first that her father had received from Lady +Carset for years, and was curious to know its meaning. +She could not remember when Lady Carset's name had +been spoken in that house without bitterness, and was +astonished to hear the cheerful animation with which it was +spoken now.</p> + +<p>"Am I really to go, papa? Do you wish it? Is mamma +Rachael willing? Let me read the letter, please."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope gave her the letter, and replied as she was +reading it:</p> + +<p>"Yes, my child, it is but right. The old lady is your +nearest female relative."</p> + +<p>Here Clara reached out her hand to Lady Hope, but kept +her eyes on the letter, reading and listening at the same +time.</p> + +<p>"And you think it best, mamma?" inquired Clara, folding +the letter. "What a delicate, stately hand the old +lady writes! You don't object?"</p> + +<p>"Object, Clara! No, no. I long to part with you, for +the first time in my life."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span>"In some things," said Lord Hope, "the old lady has +been cruelly dealt by. Say this from me, Clara. The concessions +must not rest all on one side."</p> + +<p>"Of course, papa; I will tell her, if you desire it. But +why did she not ask you and mamma at once? It is awful +lonesome going to that grim old castle by myself."</p> + +<p>"It is only for a few weeks," answered Rachael, hastily. +"But, dear child, you must not let this old lady stand +between you and us. She may have more to give, but no +one on earth can ever love you like us."</p> + +<p>"Don't I know it? Is that the carriage? Dear me, +how things are rushed forward this morning! Am I all +right, mamma Rachael? Kiss me once more. What! +tears in your eyes? I won't go a step if you don't stop +crying! What do I care for Lady Carset, a cross old thing, +and old as the hills!"</p> + +<p>"Clara, I hear the carriage."</p> + +<p>"So do I, papa; but what's the use of hurrying?"</p> + +<p>"I wish your grandmother to know that I hold no +enmity by my promptness in sending you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that it? Well, good-bye, mamma Rachael. +One more kiss—again—again! Now, good-bye in earnest."</p> + +<p>Lady Hope left the room to hide her tears. Clara followed +her father to the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Poor, poor mamma! How pale and ill she was last +night! Oh, papa, do kiss her good-bye for me just once +again, when you go back."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope turned a smiling look upon the girl, and she +added, half in excuse:</p> + +<p>"It breaks my heart to leave her so."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope did not answer, but folded a cloak around his +daughter, helped her into the carriage, and took a seat himself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span>Margaret was already seated by the coachman.</p> + +<p>"I understand well enough that I am not to travel with +my young lady on her journey," she said; "but, so far as +her way lies toward London, I am going. My sister wants +me there, and I do just as lief be in a tomb as stay at Oakhurst +when Lady Clara is away. So, as she is willing, I +shall just leave her at the junction, and go up to London. +That I can do in spite of the crabbed old thing at Houghton, +who wants her at first all to herself."</p> + +<p>This was said in confidence to the coachman, who muttered +something under his breath about feeling uncommonly +lonesome when Mistress Margaret was away from Oakhurst.</p> + +<p>Directly after this the carriage drew up at the station, +where a grim-looking woman of fifty stood ready to receive +the young lady from the hands of her father.</p> + +<p>It was not often that Lord Hope was known to exhibit +any violent emotion; but Clara felt that he gave way a +little when she threw her arms around his neck in parting—and +Badger, after he opened the gate to let his master +pass through, observed to Jules that something out of the +common must be going on up yonder, for all night people +had been going in and out like ghosts, and the master seemed +like another man.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> +<br /> +<small>AFTER THE FAILURE.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Caroline reached home, after that involuntary +retreat from the theatre, she went to her own room with +Eliza, and falling upon the bed, lay perfectly still, so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> +exhausted and crushed, that she scarcely breathed. She +had disgraced herself, and she had seen <em>him</em>.</p> + +<p>Alas, alas! he had witnessed her defeat, her bitter humiliation!</p> + +<p>Why had she not told him before, that her mother was +an actress, a singer, of whose reputation he had heard; +that her own destiny must be guided by this woman, and +could hardly have a higher aim than she had already +reached. He would think that she had deceived him, and +she had, but with no premeditation. She had honestly +intended to tell him everything, but the suddenness of their +departure from Italy had rendered all explanation impossible. +What could she do but hide herself forever from him +and the whole world? She forgot the bursts of applause +that had followed the first effort of her voice, and sank +everything together in one sweep of bitter shame.</p> + +<p>"My darling! my poor darling!"</p> + +<p>It was Brown who had crept into her room, crest-fallen +and drooping, like a man stunned by some heavy blow. +Caroline started up.</p> + +<p>"Oh! my friend! You are sorry for me, yet I have +disappointed you so; my heart aches! my heart aches! but +what can I do?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," answered the tender-hearted man. "It +was the fright, stage fright—a terrible thing; but it seldom +comes twice. Why, that woman, your mother I mean, broke +down over and over again, but the parts were so small, no +one observed it enough to clap or hiss, while you sang like +an angel, up to the very minute you fainted. I never saw +anything like it."</p> + +<p>Caroline sank back to her pillow, moaning. She was still +in her theatrical costume, and its glitter sickened her.</p> + +<p>"Don't take on so," persisted the kind musician. "It +was not a failure. No one will consider it so. On the contrary,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> +it can be made to tell, and your next appearance will +be an ovation."</p> + +<p>Caroline started to her elbow again.</p> + +<p>"My next appearance! and you say that! You! you! +Oh! Mr. Brown, I did not think you would turn against +me!"</p> + +<p>"Turn against you, my child?" Tears trembled in the +man's voice, and the words quivered on his lips as he added: +"My poor darling. Do you not know that old Brown would +die for you?"</p> + +<p>"Then keep me from the stage; snatch me from a life +that I loathe. I tell you, all this is against my nature. I +have no genius to carry me forward, no ambition, no hope. +Oh! that is gone, quite."</p> + +<p>"But it is an honorable profession," faltered Brown, in +his distress. "Think how many noble geniuses have found +immortality on the stage."</p> + +<p>"I know it, I know it well; but they were led that way, +heart and soul, while I have no wish for fame or anything +that it could bring. What does a woman want with immortality—above +all, a poor young girl like me, whose very +heart trembles in her bosom, when a crowd of strange eyes +are turned upon her, as they were on me to-night?"</p> + +<p>"But you will soon get over that."</p> + +<p>"No. I never shall. This one night has broken up my +life, and well nigh killed me. Let what may come, I will +starve rather than tread that stage again."</p> + +<p>"Hush! dear, hush! This passion will make you +worse."</p> + +<p>"But I mean it, Eliza, and I say it here and now, when +you and Mr. Brown, the only friends I have on earth, are +standing by. Think for me, Eliza, and you also, my kind, +kind guardian!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, if I had the power," said Brown, answering Eliza's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> +appealing look with a mournful shake of the head; "but the +madame will never give her up."</p> + +<p>"She must," said Caroline, kindling with desperate +opposition: "I am not her slave. God does not give up the +soul and conscience of a child to her mother."</p> + +<p>"Especially one who never did a thing for her child, but +left her for others to bring up," broke in Eliza, uttering a +bitter truth, in her angry pity for the girl. "Mr. Brown, +all that I have got to say is this: you and I must stand by +this young cretur, let her do what she will. She is more +our child than hers. I stand by that. If she don't want +to put on this splendiferous dress again, why it shall not +come within a rod of her. If her heart is set against singing +on the stage, we are not the people to see her dragged +there against her will. You stand by me, I'll stand by you, +and we'll roll ourselves like a rock in that woman's way, if +she attempts to force our child into the theatre again."</p> + +<p>"But how can we oppose her? She has the power. +We have not, at this moment, five pounds among us."</p> + +<p>Eliza's face fell as if it had been suddenly unlocked.</p> + +<p>"No more we have, and in a strange country, too," she +said, dolefully.</p> + +<p>Here Caroline joined in.</p> + +<p>"But I can teach. If I please all those people, surely I +can teach."</p> + +<p>"Sure enough!" said Eliza, brightening a little. "What +do you say to that, Mr. Brown?"</p> + +<p>"We must take time. Perhaps there will be no cause for +trouble. When it comes in earnest, you shall not fight +alone, Eliza. So comfort yourself, my child. The old man +would rather beg for bread on the highway than see you +forced to anything that is so distasteful. Now try and +sleep."</p> + +<p>Brown bent down and smoothed the girl's hair with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> +hand. Then he turned from her with tears in his eyes, and +crept out of the room.</p> + +<p>Caroline followed him with wistful eyes until the door +closed. Then she turned to Eliza.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Eliza, do this one thing for me, if you can. Let, +let no one come in to-night. I can endure no more."</p> + +<p>"They'll have to knock me down and trample on me if +they do, that is all," answered the hand-maiden. "My gracious! +How I wish we were in our own little house again +up in Sing-Sing."</p> + +<p>"Oh! if we were!" sighed the girl. "Why did we ever +leave it?"</p> + +<p>"Because we were a couple of born fools, that's why!" +answered the maid. "Born fools! and I the biggest, the +oldest, the most outrageous fool of all! Wasn't we independent? +Couldn't you have took scholars, and I washing +by the dozen? Hadn't we the sweetest little garden +in that whole town? such cabbages, such onions, and lettuce +headed like cabbage, and tender as—as flowers! +Whenever I get sick over these French dishes, I think of +that garden, and the cow, and the shoat that knew me +when I came to the pen with corn in my apron, and gave a +little grunt, as if I'd been his sister. Then my heart turns +back to the old home, like a sunflower, and I say to myself, +You perposterous old maid, you! what did you let that poor +young thing come from under that honest roof for? You +was old enough to know better, if she wasn't; but you had +an idea of seeing the world, of dressing up and being a +lady's maid, of hearing whole crowds of young men stamp +and clap and whistle over that innocent young cretur. You +didn't think that she might faint dead away, and—and be +brought home heart-broken. Home, indeed! as if this box +of gilding could be a home to any American woman! It's +perposterous!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span>Here Eliza broke off with a half-uttered word on her lips, +for her speech had brought the old home back so vividly to +the heart-sick girl that she was sobbing upon her pillow like +a child.</p> + +<p>A little bustle down stairs, a knock at the door, and, as +Eliza ran forward, Olympia pushed it open and came in.</p> + +<p>She saw Caroline prostrate on the bed, with that delicate +robe wrapped around and crushed under her, and the +lace shawl falling from the pillow to the carpet, like a trail +of frost.</p> + +<p>The sight urged her into one of those quick passions that +sometimes threw her whole household into consternation.</p> + +<p>"Heavens! what extravagance!" she cried. "Does the +creature know that lace like that is worth its weight in +diamonds? A silk robe, too, which could not be purchased +out of Paris, tumbled up in a wad, and one mass of wrinkles! +I see! I see! the revenues of a duke would not +meet such extravagance! Get up! Get up, I say! and +if you must make a goose of yourself, do it at less cost!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, madam! she's sick! She's broken-hearted!" +retorted Eliza, turning fiercely red and planting herself +before the shrinking girl.</p> + +<p>"Well, she must break her heart in something less costly +than a French dress worth thirty pounds, and point lace +that cannot be got at any price! Just get up, my young +lady, and do your crying in less expensive costume! The +proper dress for tragedy is white muslin, but just now a +night-gown will do."</p> + +<p>Caroline arose without a word, and began to undress herself. +She no longer shrank or trembled, for the indignant +blood rushed to the surface, and pride gave her strength. +Eliza took the robe as she cast it off, and folded it with an +emphatic sweep of her hand.</p> + +<p>"A pretty mess you have made of it," said Olympia,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> +tossing the lace aside with her foot, and tearing it on the +buckle of her shoe, "with your perverse obstinacy—broken +up the most splendid debut I ever saw on any stage, and +making yourself and your failure the town's talk! if the +critics had not been my friends, the whole thing would have +been utter ruination; and here you are, with cheeks like +flame, looking as haughty as a duchess."</p> + +<p>"I am not haughty or perverse," said Caroline, wiping +the hot tears from her eyes, "but weary and ill."</p> + +<p>"Ill! with that color?" sneered Olympia.</p> + +<p>"It is fever," Eliza broke in. "Ten minutes ago she +was white as the pillow. You are making her worse and +worse, I can tell you that."</p> + +<p>"And I can tell you that impudent tongue will lose you +a good place within the next ten minutes, if it is not bridled +and well curbed. I stand no nonsense from servants. +Understand that!"</p> + +<p>Caroline cast an imploring glance on her maid, who +dashed both hands down upon the dress she was folding, +and ground her teeth in silent rage, as Olympia finished +the threat with a little snap of her slender fingers.</p> + +<p>"What was the matter with you? I have had no +chance to ask, with your countesses and duchesses swarming +about, as if you had some acquaintances that your own +mother could not reach! What came over you? I will +know!"</p> + +<p>"I was faint and frightened," said Caroline, in a low +voice. "The whole thing broke me down."</p> + +<p>"But there was something else. I will know it!"</p> + +<p>Caroline was silent.</p> + +<p>"Will you speak, miss?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing more to say. You could see how ill I +was."</p> + +<p>"But not the cause; it is that I wish to understand."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span>Caroline sat down on the side of her bed and remained +silent, with her eyes on the floor. She had no answer to +give.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell the truth, or must I search it out? I was +watching you; I saw your eyes and the man whose glance +struck you down."</p> + +<p>Caroline gave a start, and covered her face with both +hands.</p> + +<p>"What have you in common with young Lord Hilton?"</p> + +<p>The hands dropped from that burning face, and two great, +dilating eyes, in which the tears stood, were turned on the +angry woman.</p> + +<p>"Young Lord Hilton! I do not know him."</p> + +<p>The words came faintly from the girl's lips—she was bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Why did he drop his glass and bend over the box with +that look in his face, then? Why did you start and trample +back on your train? Why did you give him that piteous +glance just as your eyes closed? The audience might not +have seen it, but I did, I did."</p> + +<p>"I—I do not understand," faltered the girl.</p> + +<p>"Do not understand, miss!"</p> + +<p>"How should I, not knowing the person you speak of?"</p> + +<p>"Don't lie to me, girl! I am an old bird, and have had +my own flights too often not to understand a look when I +see it. You have met that man before—I don't know where +or how, but you have."</p> + +<p>"You speak of a person I never saw or heard of," +answered the girl, trembling with inward doubt; "how can +I tell you anything about him?"</p> + +<p>Olympia almost believed her, and, for once, her acute +penetration was baffled; but a doubt remained, and she +turned to Eliza.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span>"If you know anything about this, tell me now; it will +be better for her and for you."</p> + +<p>"I haven't anything to tell, Mrs. Olympia; not a +thing!"</p> + +<p>"Was any one admitted to the house near Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, there was."</p> + +<p>"Well, a young gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; one young un, and another, older."</p> + +<p>"Who were they?"</p> + +<p>"The man who taught her how to speak Italian and the +music fellow."</p> + +<p>"Only those two?"</p> + +<p>"Not another soul came or went while we stayed in that +house."</p> + +<p>"And she conversed with no one on the way?"</p> + +<p>"Not a soul."</p> + +<p>Olympia turned to go out. She was not convinced; +having no truth in herself she found no power of faith in +others; but, for the time, the blunt honesty of the servant +and proud sincerity of the girl silenced her, and she went +out, muttering:</p> + +<p>"I shall get at the bottom of it yet."</p> + +<p>Then Caroline turned to Eliza:</p> + +<p>"Can it be? I saw no other."</p> + +<p>"I haven't a doubt of it," said Eliza. "I always mistrusted +him for an Englishman."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br /> +<br /> +<small>LORD HILTON TAKES SUPPER WITH OLYMPIA.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">She</span> had fallen ill. The prima donna of a single hour +was lying in Olympia's bijou of a house, struggling with a +nervous fever. The whole town had been made aware of the +mournful fact; for the manager had spread the news broadcast +through the journals, thus displacing disappointment +with such overwhelming sympathy as the distress of beauty +and genius is sure to excite. For more than a week, now, +the prevailing topic had been this young girl; first the +promise of a brilliant debut, then the momentary triumph +and sudden breakdown; now came the news of her illness, +true, in so much that she was seriously ill, but exaggerated +into a romance which gave her out as dying with a shock of +a too sensitive nature.</p> + +<p>Olympia sang gloriously to crowded houses. In the romance +woven around this young girl her parentage had been +hinted at, and the practiced woman of the stage had managed +to turn the public rumor into popularity for herself.</p> + +<p>She had taken up the opera where Caroline had sunk +down, and carried it triumphantly forward, filling the world +with admiration of herself and sympathy for the girl.</p> + +<p>On the morning when Caroline's illness was made public, +some young men were seated in the window of a club-house, +and one of them threw down the Times with an impatient +movement.</p> + +<p>"So we are not to have this new singer again to-morrow +night or the next," he said. "Here is Olympia's name in +the bills, while the other is ill with something on the brain +or nerves."</p> + +<p>"All a sham, to enhance the public interest, I dare say,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> +answered another, taking up the journal. "There is nothing +these musical people will not do for popularity. But it +really was not needed here; the girl has beauty enough to +carry her forward, even without her glorious voice. For my +part, I am all in a fever to see her again."</p> + +<p>A young man sat in this circle, apparently occupied by +the panorama drifting through the streets. As the conversation +went on, the color came and went in his face, and +his eyes began to burn; but he said nothing, while the +others went on:</p> + +<p>"Who is the girl? what is her real name? Some say +she is an American; others, that she is Olympia's own +daughter, to whom all names are alike; but, then, where +was the woman Olympia born? Now and then a word +drops from the pretty lips which is purely American; but +then she has been all over the world, and has gathered +something from all nations, so that one can never make a +true guess about her."</p> + +<p>"Does this girl look like her?" inquired one of the +young men, who had not been at the opera last night.</p> + +<p>"No, not exactly," was the answer. "She is taller, +more queenly, in fact; quite a different style. This new +girl is superb."</p> + +<p>"While Olympia is simply bewildering, changeable as +the sky, erratic as a comet. We all understand Olympia."</p> + +<p>The young man, who had kept silent till now, joined in +the conversation, but his voice was constrained, and a little +husky.</p> + +<p>"Who is this woman, Olympia?"</p> + +<p>The other young men laughed at the question.</p> + +<p>"Who is Olympia? Why, the most bewitching, unprincipled, +delightful bit of wickedness that has been +thrown on the world for years. Don't tell us that you are +to learn anything of Olympia at this time."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span>"I have heard of her, and seen her too, but only as a +singer. What I ask is about her life, her principles, her +character as a woman."</p> + +<p>"And you ask that of us, my dear fellow? What +nonsense! Have we not said that she is an actress?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what then? An actress may be well-principled, +honest, honorable, and modest, too, as any woman living. +I asked if this woman, Olympia, the patroness, mother, or +what you will, of this new singer, is one of these?"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask any of us to endorse or condemn Olympia. +We know that she gives the most delicious little suppers in +the world, sings like a siren, smiles like an angel, and gets +more and more fascinating as she grows older, as fruit +ripens with age. No one ever thinks of asking her how +old she is, or where she was born. It is enough that her +beauty is in its summer, her voice perfect, and that she, +who perhaps reigned over our fathers, holds us as her slaves. +As for honor, dignity, principle, and all that, my dear +fellow, who ever expects such things in a woman like our +Olympia?"</p> + +<p>"Yet she has had the training of this new singer."</p> + +<p>"Training? Why it is said that the girl is really her +own daughter."</p> + +<p>"I heard you say as much," answered the young man, +drily.</p> + +<p>Then another voice broke in.</p> + +<p>"You seem so much interested in these people, Hilton,—why +not go and see for yourself? I will introduce you."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"To-night. The Olympia has a little supper after the +opera."</p> + +<p>"But I thought the young lady was ill."</p> + +<p>"Oh! that will make no difference. Olympia is a +woman to enjoy herself, if Death sat next door. She will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> +be certain to have her little supper. Will you go? Is it +an engagement? If so, I will send her a note."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will go."</p> + +<p>That night Olympia held high festival at her pretty +house, which overlooked one of the loveliest parks in +London. Among her guests was young Lord Hilton, the +grandson of one of the proudest old earls in the kingdom.</p> + +<p>Olympia was delighted at the presence of this man, who +had never before been lured into her circle.</p> + +<p>She had another reason for her satisfaction. The look +which had disturbed her still preyed on her mind. She +had a keen desire to learn how far it had relation to the +young girl who lay ill up-stairs. In order, if possible, to +inform herself, she selected the young man to sit next her +at table, and artfully led the conversation to the night of +Caroline's failure.</p> + +<p>"You were present," she said, "that night. Was ever +success more perfect, or failure more complete? It drove +me wild!"</p> + +<p>"I was present," said Hilton, very quietly, for he felt +her eyes upon him with that slow, sidelong glance that has +so much cunning in it, and this put him on his guard.</p> + +<p>"She was coming out so magnificently," said Olympia, +still vigilant, but with the white lids drooping over her +eyes, "when, all of a sudden, her voice broke, and she fell. +It must have been something in the audience."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said the young man; "but what? I was +looking at her all the time, and saw nothing. In fact, the +house was very still. I have seldom seen a crowd so +breathless."</p> + +<p>Olympia turned one long glance on that face, and saw it +was immovable in all the strong, but finely-cut features. +Her suspicions grew weaker now, and she gave her attention +more generally to the guests, who were becoming a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> +little impatient of the exclusive attention paid to Lord +Hilton; but the craft of this woman was as deep as her +feelings were superficial. She could not quite throw off +the idea that, in some way, this very person had been the +cause of her defeat, and that his visit to her house that +night would end in some effort to obtain an interview with +the young creature who lay so ill up-stairs.</p> + +<p>But she was mistaken. Hilton asked no questions, made +no effort to draw her out, but drifted into the general +conversation pleasantly enough, until the supper was near +its close, and the wines had begun to do their work.</p> + +<p>Then the entertainment swept into an orgie; tongues +were loosened, eyes brightened and swam in moisture.</p> + +<p>Snatches of bacchanalian songs broke from the laughing +lips of Olympia.</p> + +<p>She had been in a little awe of her new guest; but now +her real nature broke out. Her wit sparkled like the champagne +with which her red lips were continually moist; her +eyes shone under the droop of those long white lids. She +grew confidential with the young noble, and was easily led +by the cool, versatile man, into conversation that she would +have stubbornly avoided earlier in the evening. In one of +her bold snatches of song she rounded off with a rollicking +impromptu, which carried all the richness and force of +her voice with it. This threw the whole company into a +tumult of applause, but Hilton sat quietly and looked +on, with a smile of supreme contempt quivering about his +lips.</p> + +<p>"Ha," said Olympia, filling his glass with her own hands, +"you neither drink nor care for my singing. It is only the +youth and beauty of my daughter that can move Lord +Hilton."</p> + +<p>Her daughter! The face of the young man turned white, +and his lips closed sharply. He looked at the woman by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> +his side, the flushed cheeks, the soft, slumbrous eyes, with +absolute repulsion. He hated the very thought that the +young creature he had found, like a bird, in that sweet +Italian home, could belong in anything to a woman like +that. Still, she had, in her reckless inadvertency, called +her daughter, and though the very idea drove the blood to +his heart, it was only by a cold pallor that the shock this +one word had given to him was visible.</p> + +<p>"Your daughter is very beautiful," he said, in a low +voice.</p> + +<p>"Did I call Caroline my daughter? Oh, well, it is no +matter—the truth will out sometime, though I would rather +wait till her success is assured. When she becomes famous, +I shall glory in claiming her; but let me warn you, it is a +secret as yet. You will understand. One does not care to +own a girl as tall as that while the gloss is on one's hair. +Nothing but the most wonderful success will induce me to +acknowledge her before the world."</p> + +<p>"But if she is your child—"</p> + +<p>"I have said that she is my child; but it is a secret, and +I did not mean to talk about it. Tell me, now, did you +discover no likeness?"</p> + +<p>"I did not observe."</p> + +<p>"Still, they think her so beautiful."</p> + +<p>Lord Hilton made no answer. The conversation had become +irksome to him; but some person at the table took the +last word from Olympia's lips and repeated it aloud.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful! You must be speaking of our new prima +donna. In my opinion she is perfect; but you, Lord +Hilton, have only seen her from the stage—can form no +idea of her loveliness, or of her voice either. There was +nothing, the other night, that could compare with her singing +at our little supper here. Besides, her beauty, to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> +appreciated, must be seen close. There is not a fault in her +face or form, I can assure you."</p> + +<p>Lord Hilton's face flushed angrily, then a slow whiteness +crept over it again, and he bent his head, unable to +speak. The task he had imposed on himself had become +terribly painful.</p> + +<p>Olympia was not particularly pleased with this high +praise of another, though all her ambitious hopes lay in +the success of the person on whom these encomiums were +lavished. She began to shake up the sparkles in her wine +by swaying the glass to and fro with her hand, and a sullen +frown crept over her face.</p> + +<p>"She is obstinate as a mule," she muttered; "tall and +proud as Lucifer—not at all like me. But they will rave +about her beauty, just as if she were more likely to live +than to die."</p> + +<p>"What did you say?" cried Lord Hilton, sharply; "die! +die! Is there any danger? Is she so ill?"</p> + +<p>Olympia lifted her sleepy eyelids and flashed a suspicious +glance at him.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she exclaimed; "are you there! I thought so."</p> + +<p>"You are not answering me," was the cold reply.</p> + +<p>"You asked if there existed any danger, and I answer, +yes. Did you think we were practicing stage effects in the +journals? My poor Caroline is ill—very ill."</p> + +<p>"And what made her ill?"</p> + +<p>"What made her break down, after such glorious promise? +Why, after she sang before my friends here, as fresh +as a lark, and drove them all so wild that I, Olympia, +was almost overlooked? There never were such expectations; +but see how it ended—a total failure, and brain +fever."</p> + +<p>"Did you say brain fever?"</p> + +<p>The young man scarcely spoke above a breath.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span>"Yes, it is on the brain, or the nerves, I am not quite sure +which; but the doctors look terribly grave when I ask them +about her, and speak as if she would die."</p> + +<p>"Would to God she might die!" exclaimed the young +man, trembling from head to foot with a burst of agitation +that would not be suppressed longer.</p> + +<p>"What—What?" exclaimed Olympia, starting back in +affright. The glass fell from her hold, and a rivulet of +amber-hued wine flashed along the snow of the table-cloth +while she sat gazing upon the young lord.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me; I was thinking of something else," he +said, with a strong effort of self-control. "May I presume +on your favor, and steal away, now? The rest will not miss +me, I think."</p> + +<p>Olympia nodded her head hastily. The spilled wine was +dripping on her dress, so she started up, and Lord Hilton +withdrew while she was shaking the drops from its silken +folds, and creating general confusion by her laughing outcries.</p> + +<p>Lord Hilton looked back as he crossed the passage, and +shuddered at the picture of riotous luxury that supper-table +presented.</p> + +<p>"And she was among them, in a scene like that," he +said, as the door closed after him.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br /> +<br /> +<small>ON THE WAY TO HOUGHTON CASTLE.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">At</span> the junction of the railroad where Margaret changed +cars for London, a young man, who had just arrived by the +train, took the seat left vacant, and arranged himself comfortably +for a protracted journey. Lady Clara watched +him with some interest, and more than once caught a +glance from his fine eyes as they wandered from the pages +of his novel and dwelt upon her own bright face. Clara +had been left to her own devices while preparing for her +journey, and the antique attendant who had been sent to +protect her was grievously scandalized by the jaunty little +sailor's hat and double-breasted jacket which she had +selected for her travelling costume. But the woman had +been bred to almost abject subservience, and had no idea of +venturing upon spoken criticism or advice. She was +greatly troubled, however, about the impression this singular +costume might produce on her old mistress, and felt +really shocked when she saw the half-puzzled, half-amused +expression of their fellow-passenger's face, as his eyes first +encountered the future countess.</p> + +<p>By-and-by the old woman fell into deeper consternation, +for she began to remember that handsome face, in spite of +the brown beard that curved like a bow over the upper lip, +and swept down toward his bosom in soft, silken waves that +a child would long to bury its little hands in.</p> + +<p>"It is Lord Hilton, the grandson of the old earl," she +muttered, in silent consternation; "and to see her like +this, after all the mistress has been planning, is terrible to +think of."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span>The young man had been so much occupied with the +younger and prettier face that any regard for that of the +old servant was impossible; but after a while his eyes fell +on those hard outlines, and he gave a start of recognition +which made the old lady move restlessly in her seat.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mrs. Judson, is it possible that I find you so far +from home!" he exclaimed. "What can possibly have +come over the old lady that she is willing to part with you +for a journey long or short?"</p> + +<p>"My lady is not so well as we were when you left this +neighborhood for foreign parts, my lord. Indeed, I am +much afraid you will find her greatly altered. She is now +almost entirely confined to her room."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear that. Lady Carset is, after all, an +aged woman; but it would be mournful to see her broken +down. Let me think. She is quite as old, if not older, +than my grandfather, is she not?"</p> + +<p>"There is not a year between them, I have heard my +father say," answered Judson, with a prim consciousness +of the delicate subject they had trenched upon; "not that +I know of myself."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. But my grandfather—it is some weeks +since I heard of him."</p> + +<p>"The earl is quite well, my lord. He was at the castle +only last week, and spent a long morning with my lady."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" muttered the young man. "That probably +accounts for my summons home."</p> + +<p>"She had been uncommonly anxious for a long time, +and at last sent for him to come and see her."</p> + +<p>"Very natural. They are old friends."</p> + +<p>"Then, my lord, she sent me on this journey—not that I +came alone. The steward is on the train. My lady would +not permit her grand-daughter to travel with but one +attendant."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span>"Her grand-daughter?"</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, my lord, but this young lady is Lord +Hope's daughter."</p> + +<p>Hilton lifted his hat and met Lady Clara's look of +smiling surprise with a courteous bend of the head, but +her quick eye caught the sudden glow that swept his face, +and wondered at it. She wondered still more when a grave +expression followed the blush; and, instead of making +himself agreeable, he opened the novel that lay on the +seat, and seemed to be occupied by its pages, though she +remarked, with an inward chuckle, that he never turned a +page.</p> + +<p>After a while the young man laid down his book, wearily, +and Clara saw his chest heave slowly as he breathed a long, +deep, but unconscious sigh.</p> + +<p>"He is in trouble, like me," was her quick thought. +"Perhaps his grandfather is a hard, cruel old man, and +drives everything he loves out of doors, without caring how +he may feel about it, or perhaps—"</p> + +<p>Clara might have gone on conjecturing all sorts of possibilities; +but that moment the train stopped at a small +town, and close by the station she saw an old woman, with +a pile of crimson-cheeked peaches and some pears on a +table beside her. An exclamation broke from her, and she +leaned eagerly forward just as the carriage-door was +unlocked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how splendid! such peaches! such pears!" she +exclaimed, feeling in the pocket of her sacque for some +loose money, which she usually carried there. "Oh! Margaret—"</p> + +<p>Here she turned to the woman next her, and blushed +with vexation when she remembered that Margaret was no +longer there to take her commands.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span>"Dear me! I forgot. No matter. Oh, mercy! what +have I done?"</p> + +<p>She had done nothing but what was most likely to obtain +her object, for Lord Hilton had pushed open the door, +leaped out, and in a minute or two returned with his hands +full of the peaches and pears she had craved so. She was +blushing scarlet when he came back and dropped the luscious +fruit into her lap, as if they had been acquainted fifty +years.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are too kind! I did not mean—I did not +expect; but please eat some yourself. Here is a splendid +one. Mrs. Judson, take pears or peaches, just as you like—delicious!"</p> + +<p>The mellow sound of this last word was uttered as her +white teeth sank into the crimson side of a peach, and for +the next minute she said nothing, but gave herself up to a +child-like ecstasy of enjoyment, for the road was dusty, and +this luxurious way of quenching her thirst was far too +sweet for words. Besides, her companions were just as +pleasantly employed. She saw the young man wiping a +drop of amber juice from his beard, and wondered where +the Abigail found her self-command as she watched her +slowly peeling one of the finest pears with a silver fruit-knife +which she took from her traveling satchel.</p> + +<p>"Splendid, aint they?" she said, at length, leaning forward +and tossing a peach-stone out of the window, while +she searched the golden and crimson heap with her disengaged +hand for another peach, mellow and juicy as the last. +"I had no idea anything on earth could be so delightful. +We had breakfast so early, and I do believe I was almost +hungry. Oh, how pleasant it must be when one is really +famished!"</p> + +<p>Here Clara cast another peach-stone through the window, +and began to trifle with a pear, just as Judson cut a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> +dainty slice from the fruit she had been preparing. Clara +laughed, and reached a handful of fruit over to the gentleman +who had made her a gift of the whole. He received +it cheerfully—in fact, it was quite impossible for any man +under thirty to have spent a half hour in that young girl's +society without feeling the heart in his bosom grow softer +and warmer.</p> + +<p>"What a lovely day it is!" she said, tossing off her hat, +and leaning forward, that the wind might blow on her face, +which at the moment had all the sweet blooming freshness +of a child's. "I wonder if the country is as green and +fresh as this, where we are going?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, I can answer you. It is far more beautiful. +Houghton Castle is among the hills. The park is like a +forest, and in the valley you can see a river, winding in and +out like gleams of quicksilver. A grand old place is +Houghton Castle, let me answer you, Lady Clara."</p> + +<p>Clara shook her head, and drew back in her seat.</p> + +<p>"I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that the dear old +lady could just take the title and the castle with her."</p> + +<p>She seemed very much in earnest, and pulled the sailor's +hat down over her eyes, to conceal the tears, that were filling +them with moisture.</p> + +<p>Lord Hilton was surprised. He had certainly intended +to interest the young lady by a description of the noble +place that would some day be hers.</p> + +<p>"Ah, wait till you have seen Houghton. It is one of +the finest old strongholds in the kingdom. The only wonder +is that Cromwell, that magnificent old hypocrite, happened +to spare it. When Lady Carset stands upon her +own battlements, she can scarcely see the extent of her +lands. A very wealthy lady is the old countess."</p> + +<p>Clara all at once began to wonder how it happened that +the man was giving her so much knowledge about her own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> +near relative. How did he know that her information did +not equal his own?</p> + +<p>"You live near Houghton, I suppose?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes; when the flag is up, we can see it plainly enough +from my grandfather's place."</p> + +<p>Clara brightened out of her momentary depression. If +she were compelled to stay long at Houghton, it would be +pleasant to meet this handsome and pleasant young man. +How kind he had been about the fruit. With what genial +sunshine his eyes dwelt upon her, as he sought to interest +her about the place to which she was going. Judson was +not so well pleased. She had some doubts of the propriety +of permitting these young persons to drop into such familiar +conversation, with no more impressive introduction than the +chance courtesies of a railroad car.</p> + +<p>True, she had known the young man when he was quite +a child, and liked him, as well as her prim habits and +narrow channel of thought would permit; but nothing in +her experience had taught her how to act in an emergency +like that.</p> + +<p>The young people had given her no opportunity for +reflection, but plunged into an acquaintance at once. The +whole thing troubled her greatly, but what could she do?</p> + +<p>There they sat, face to face, eating peaches together, +talking of the scenery, laughing now and then, again and +again half quarreling, as if a dozen years had ripened the +acquaintance between them. It quite took away her +appetite for the fruit, and she clasped her little silver knife, +with a helpless sigh, and dropping both hands into her lap, +wondered what on earth she could do, and of course did +nothing.</p> + +<p>The young people forgot all about the prim Abigail, and +went on with their conversation; but after awhile a shade +of sadness crept over both those young faces. Their hearts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> +wandered off into serious reveries, and for a time they +became unconscious of each other's presence.</p> + +<p>Clara was thinking of that night, which now seemed far, +far away, but was, in fact, scarcely twenty-four hours back +in her life—of the words that were spoken, the promises +given, and sealed with kisses, which seemed burning on her +lips even yet.</p> + +<p>Oh! where was he now, the man whom she loved so +entirely, and whose humiliation made her heart ache, and +burn with sorrow and wrath every time she thought of it? +Would he hold to his faith with her, after such scornful +treatment from her father? Where would he go? Where +was he now? He had been a wanderer always, and had +found himself sufficient to himself.</p> + +<p>After he saw her the first idea of rest and a permanent +home had opened new vistas of hope to him. He had +found the one thing that had hitherto been denied to his +existence—found it only to be driven from the light that +had dawned upon him, like a trespassing dog.</p> + +<p>Clara's heart swelled as she thought of all this, and all at +once the prim Abigail was astonished out of all propriety +by a burst of sobs from the corner in which Clara had +retreated.</p> + +<p>The young man looked up and came out of his own melancholy +thoughts, just as Mrs. Judson had drawn forth her +smelling-bottle and was pressing it upon the girl, who +averted her face and sobbed out, piteously:</p> + +<p>"Oh! let me alone—please let me alone!"</p> + +<p>Judson retreated backward to her place in the opposite +corner, while the young man motioned her to remain quiet, +and let the pretty creature sob out her grief unmolested.</p> + +<p>At last Clara had wept her sudden burst of sorrow away, +and became conscious of her own strange conduct. She +pushed back her hat, drew the soft gauze streamers across<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> +her eyes, and burst into a sobbing laugh, exquisitely childlike, +but which Judson could not in the least understand.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I am getting homesick," she said. "I never +was so far from Oakhurst before, and, until this morning, +you know, I had never seen either of your faces, but all +that need not make such an absurd baby of me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Judson unfolded a fine pocket handkerchief and +held it toward the girl, with the most anxious look possible +to imagine.</p> + +<p>"Wipe your eyes, dear young lady, wipe your eyes. We +are coming to Houghton, and I would not have you seen +with that face for the world."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the young man, looking out, "yonder is +Houghton Castle."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE OLD COUNTESS.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">"I will</span> see her now, Judson." The old lady of Houghton +came out from her dressing-room as she said this.</p> + +<p>She had a little cap of gossamer lace and silver ribbon on +that shaking head, and tied a girdle of silken cord around +the floating folds of her cashmere morning robe, which would +better have concealed the attenuated figure underneath, had +it been permitted to float loose, as it had done. But the +dainty old lady still felt a stir of feminine pride in her toilet, +and though the exertion took away all her strength, she +had made these pretty additions to her dress, rather than +meet her grandchild, for the first time, in the disarray of an +invalid.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span>"I will see her now, Judson."</p> + +<p>She repeated this, panting for breath, as she sank down +to the couch in her favorite tower-chamber, and took the +delicate handkerchief of lace and cambric, on which Judson +had just dropped some pungent perfume.</p> + +<p>Judson left the room; directly the red curtain parted +again, and behind the grim waiting-maid came a young girl, +flushed with excitement and rosy with perfect health, but so +strangely dressed that the old countess uttered a little exclamation +of surprise, mingled perhaps with a little displeasure. +The jaunty hat with its blue streamers, the double-breasted +jacket, glittering with buttons, took away her breath.</p> + +<p>Lady Clara hesitated a moment, took off her hat hurriedly, +like a naughty boy, and came forward with an easy +step, as if she had been in a forest, and the high heels of +her pretty boots trampling down wood moss, instead of the +tangle of flowers in that sumptuous carpet.</p> + +<p>The old lady sat gazing on her full half a minute. The +girl flushed crimson under the steady look of those brown +eyes, turned around and gave her hat a toss to Judson, who +let it fall in her astonishment at the audacious act, and came +forward, half-indignant, half-crying.</p> + +<p>"Grandmother!"</p> + +<p>As that fresh, young voice fell upon her, the old countess +reached forth her hand.</p> + +<p>"My child!"</p> + +<p>The old voice was faint, but kind. Lovely as that young +creature was, she brought sadness and disappointment with +her. The prejudice of years is not easily swept away from +the mind of an aged woman, whatever her strength of +character may be. This girl was the step-daughter of the +governess she had so long detested, and she seemed to bring +the atmosphere of a hated place with her. Perhaps she +had expected a more stately bearing in her daughter's child.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span>A chair had been drawn up to the couch by the thoughtful +Judson, and the countess made a gentle motion that her +grand-daughter should occupy it.</p> + +<p>Clara sat down, feeling nervous and very miserable; for +those eyes followed her with mournful curiosity, which the +high-spirited girl mistook for criticism.</p> + +<p>"I dare say that I am not so handsome or so good as my +poor mother was, but she loved me dearly, everybody says +that, and for her sake you might be glad I am here, grandmother, +especially as you sent for me."</p> + +<p>As Clara said this, tears swelled from those blue eyes that +had been slowly filling, and dropped to her cheeks like rain +upon damask roses. This appeal, so childlike in its passion, +lifted the old countess out of her seeming apathy. She +arose, laid her hands on that young head and kissed the +flushed forehead.</p> + +<p>The moment Clara felt the touch of those tender lips, she +threw both arms around the shadowy old woman, and broke +forth.</p> + +<p>"Oh, grandmother, grandmother, don't stop to think +about it, but let me love you! I want to so much, for without +that I shall be awfully homesick."</p> + +<p>The old lady's heart beat as it had not done for years. +Never, since her only child went forth from those proud +walls a bride, had any one dared to claim her love, or speak +to her as one free soul speaks to another. In the haughty +isolation of her rank, she had almost forgotten that equality +could ever be claimed of her. The very audacity of this +cry for affection stirred the old lady's pride like a trumpet.</p> + +<p>"There speaks the Carset blood," she said, appealing to +the grim hand-maiden who stood by; "always ready to give +and bold to claim just rights. My grandchild is of the true +stock, you see. God bless her and love her as I will!"</p> + +<p>"There, now, that is very kind of you, grandmamma, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> +you are just the dearest, sweetest and queenliest lady that +ever made a poor girl happy, when she was, in fact, homesick +as death. The truth is, mamma Rachael spoils me so +completely with her great love, and—but, oh! I forgot you +can't bear mamma Rachael. Dear me! I am always getting +into scrapes. Does that belong to the Carset blood, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>The waiting-maid stood petrified when the old countess +broke into a soft, pleasant laugh, at what she deemed the +insolent familiarity of this speech. "Did you hear that?" +she exclaimed, wiping the moisture from her eyes, and +increasing the vibrations of her head.</p> + +<p>"Who but a Carset would dare ask such questions? Getting +into scrapes, child; why there never was a family so +reckless or so independent. That is, I speak of the males, +remember! the ladies of the house—but you will see in the +picture gallery, and judge for yourself. No commonplace +women can be found among the Carset ladies. Some of +them, my child, have intermarried with Royalty itself. +You are the last of the line, Lady Clara."</p> + +<p>Clara turned pale. She thought of Hepworth Closs, and +how far he was removed from royalty; but with no thought +of faithlessness in her heart. She was very sure that the +next Lord of Houghton would wear neither crown or coronet—but, +like a wise girl, she sat still and said nothing.</p> + +<p>The old countess was very feeble. Notwithstanding the +excitement, which left a tremulous pink on her withered +cheeks, the strength began to fail from her limbs. Gathering +up her feet upon the couch, she closed her eyes.</p> + +<p>When she opened them again, Lady Clara was bending +toward her with a look of tender anxiety that went to the +old lady's heart. A soft smile stole over her lips, and she +held out her hand.</p> + +<p>"Go to your room, my child."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span>Clara stooped down and kissed that delicate mouth with +her own blooming lips.</p> + +<p>"Sleep well, grandmother," she whispered; "I will come +back again by-and-by, after I have seen the other ladies in +the picture-gallery."</p> + +<p>Clara picked up her hat, and was going out on tip-toe, +when Judson laid a long, lean hand on her arm, and +addressed her in one of those shrill whispers, which penetrate +more surely than words.</p> + +<p>"Don't wear that thing into my lady's presence again," +she said. "Did you see her eyes, when they first fell upon +it?"</p> + +<p>"What, my poor little hat? Has grandmamma really +taken a dislike to that? I am so sorry."</p> + +<p>The old countess opened her eyes, and rose on one elbow +among her cushions.</p> + +<p>"Let the child alone, Judson. The hat is well enough, +and she looked very pretty in it."</p> + +<p>"Nobby, isn't it, grandmamma?" said Clara, tossing +the hat to her head, and shaking down the blue streamers; +"and I'm so fond of it."</p> + +<p>"Judson," said the old countess, "do not attempt to +judge for your mistress at this time of day. No one but a +Carset could wear a thing like that, without looking vulgar; +but you saw what an air she gave it."</p> + +<p>Judson was astounded. She had absolutely trembled, +when that round hat came into the room, in defiance of the +faint protest which she had ventured to make.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid, my lady, that a dress like that might set +you against the young lady."</p> + +<p>"Set me against my own grandchild, and she so unmistakably +a Carset! I am surprised, Judson."</p> + +<p>"I am sure there was no idea in my mind of giving +offense. She is a pretty young lady enough."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span>"Pretty! Are you speaking of that charming young +creature, with the air of a duchess and the heart of a child, +only to say that she is pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Did I say pretty, my lady, when I think her so beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"All the more beautiful, Judson, for not being so tall as +some of the ladies of our house. She owes nothing to size. +Perhaps you have remarked, Judson, that those of the +purest Carset blood have never been large women."</p> + +<p>A sweet, complacent smile quivered around those old lips, +as the countess settled back among her cushions. She, a +petite creature, had Carset blood in her veins from both +parents, and in her youth she had been distinguished +among the most beautiful women of England. She was +thinking of those days, when those withered eyelids closed +again, and they followed her softly into her sleep, which +the grim maid watched with the faithfulness of a slave.</p> + +<p>Meantime Clara went into the long picture gallery, and +there among a crowd of statues, and deeply-toned pictures +by the old masters, made the acquaintance of her stately +ancestors, and of the ladies who had one and all been peeresses +in their own right—an access of rank, prized almost +like a heritage of royalty by the old lady in the tower-chamber.</p> + +<p>No one had gone with the young heiress into the gallery, +for, with her childish wilfulness, she had preferred to go +alone, and single out the Carset ladies by their resemblance +to the old countess.</p> + +<p>All at once she stopped before the picture of a lady, +whose face struck her with a sudden sense of recognition. +She looked at it earnestly—the golden brown hair, the +downcast eyes, the flowing white dress. Across the mind +of that wondering girl, came the shadow of another woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> +upon a white bed, with hair and eyes like those; but wide +open, and to her lips came two words, "My Mother!"</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> often happens that a proud, austere person, so grounded +in opinions and prejudices as to be considered above and +beyond ordinary influences, will all at once, give heart and +reason up to passionate or capricious fondness for some +individual—often a very child—and yield everything to +persuasion when reason is utterly rejected.</p> + +<p>Indeed, few people like to be convinced; but the strongest +mind ever bestowed on man or woman finds something +gratifying to self-love in the persuasive enticements of +affection.</p> + +<p>This singular moral phenomenon astonished the neighbors +and household of Lady Carset when she gave herself +up, with the abandon of a child, to the caressing young +creature, who had, it seemed, appeared in her home to win +her back from the very brink of the grave, and make the +sunset of her long life brighter with love than the dawn +had been.</p> + +<p>There was nothing in the young girl which did not seem +beautiful to the old relative. Her originality, which made +the well-trained servants stare, seemed the perfection of +piquant grace to one whose fastidious tastes had been an +example to the whole neighborhood. In her estimation +Lady Clara could do nothing which was not in itself loveliest +and best. The old lady had been so long without an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> +object of affection, that her love of this girl became almost a +monomania.</p> + +<p>"I have an atonement to make," she would say to herself +in excuse for this extraordinary and most pleasant subjugation; +"for years and years I have driven this young creature +from me because of what, I am almost convinced, were +unfounded suspicions against her father and that woman. +It is but just that I should accept my grandchild with generous +confidence; and she deserves it—she deserves it."</p> + +<p>After reasoning in this fashion awhile the repentant old +lady would rack her brain for some new device by which +this bright creature, who had come like a sunbeam into her +house, might be persuaded never to leave it again. It was +not altogether the selfishness of affection that actuated this +honorable woman. It was hard to believe that a Carset +could have acted unjustly, or even be mistaken; but, once +convinced of that, her very pride insisted on a generous +atonement. Never in her life had she been so humiliated +as when the sight of those diamonds convinced her of the +cruel charge which she had maintained for years against a +person innocent of the offence imputed to her. She remembered, +with compunction, how much harm she had done +this woman, whose greatest fault now seemed to be that +Lord Hope had married her.</p> + +<p>Her own example had sufficed to exclude Lady Hope +from the society to which her husband's rank entitled her, +and her open expressions of dislike had cast a ban upon the +stepmother, which had, to an extent, reacted on her own +grandchild.</p> + +<p>These thoughts troubled the proud old peeress a long +time before she gave them expression; but, one day, Clara +sat by her, looking a little sad, for, now that the excitement +of her first coming was over, she began to think of Hepworth +Closs—to wonder where he was, and yearn for some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> +news of him to a degree that clouded her whole bright being +like a feeling of homesickness.</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" thought the old lady, while her soft, +brown eyes dwelt upon that downcast face, as it bent over a +piece of embroidery in which a cactus-flower formed the +chief central glory; "how weary and troubled she looks! +No wonder, poor thing! half her time is spent here with a +stupid old woman, shut up so long from the world that she +is but dull company for any one. I wonder if the thing +which is upon my mind would really make her happy?"</p> + +<p>"Clara."</p> + +<p>The girl started. She had been so lost in thought that +those bright eyes had been watching her some minutes, +while she unconsciously pursued her work, and indulged in +a reverie which was shadowed upon her features.</p> + +<p>"Clara, you have not told me much about your stepmother."</p> + +<p>"But I think of her; I was thinking of her then. Indeed, +indeed, grandmamma, I always must love mamma +Rachael, for she has been everything that is good and kind +to me—I only wish you could understand how kind. If I +know anything it is because she taught me."</p> + +<p>"Among other things, perhaps she taught you to hate +that cruel old Lady Carset," said the countess, a little suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"No, grandmamma, no. She never said anything to +make me dislike you; but I did—it was terribly wicked; +but how could I help it, loving her so, and knowing that it +was you that stood in the way of all she most desired in +life? Remember, grandmamma, I had never seen you, and +I loved her dearly. It was hard to see her overlooked and +put down by people who were not fit to buckle her shoes, all +because you would not like her."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span>"And you will always love her better than the cruel old +lady?"</p> + +<p>"Cruel! How can you? There never was a sweeter, +kinder, or more lovely old darling in the world than you +are! but then she is good, too, and so unhappy at times, it +almost breaks my heart to look in her face."</p> + +<p>"And you think I have made her so?"</p> + +<p>"I think you might make her very happy, if you only +would, grandmamma."</p> + +<p>"Would that make you happy, little one?"</p> + +<p>The old lady reached out her little, withered hand, and +patted Clara's fingers, as they paused in her work, while she +spoke. The girl's face brightened. She seized the little +hand between her rosy palms, and pressed it to her lips.</p> + +<p>"Oh, grandmamma! can you mean it?"</p> + +<p>"I always mean to be just, Clara."</p> + +<p>"Then you will be very, very kind to her?"</p> + +<p>"Does your father love this woman?"</p> + +<p>"Love her? Oh, yes! but this thing has come a little +between them. She has grown shy of going out, while he +must be in the world; and all her life seems to vanish when +he is away. Sometimes it makes my heart ache to think +how much she loves him."</p> + +<p>"But he loves you?"</p> + +<p>"Almost as much as mamma Rachael does. He was +never cross to me but once."</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>Clara turned pale, and took up her needle.</p> + +<p>"I would rather not talk about that just now. You +might be more angry than my father was."</p> + +<p>"It would be very difficult for me to get angry with you, +little one."</p> + +<p>"But you would, if I were to be very obstinate, and insist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> +on having my own way about—about something—that—that—"</p> + +<p>The old lady's face grew very serious. She understood, +these signs, and they troubled her; but she was feeble, and +shrank from any knowledge that would bring excitement +with it.</p> + +<p>"Some day we will talk of all that," she said, with a +little weary closing of the eyes.</p> + +<p>Clara drew a deep breath. See had been on the verge of +making a confidante of the old lady, and felt a sense of +relief when the subject was thus evaded.</p> + +<p>The countess opened her eyes again.</p> + +<p>"Clara," she said, "bring my writing-table here. We will +not trouble ourselves to ring for Judson."</p> + +<p>Clara dropped her embroidery, and brought the sofa-table, +with all its exquisite appointments for writing. The old lady +sat upright on her couch, took the pen, and began to write +on the creamy note-paper her grandchild had placed before +her. Clara watched that slender hand as it glided across +the paper, leaving delicate, upright letters perfect as an engraving, +as it moved. When the paper was covered, she +folded the missive with dainty precision, selected an envelope, +on which her coronet was entangled in a monogram, +and was about to seal it with a ring, which she took from +her finger; but recollecting herself, she drew the letter out, +and handed it to Clara, with a smile that kindled her +whole face.</p> + +<p>Clara read the letter, threw her arms around the old lady, +and covered her faces with kisses.</p> + +<p>"Oh, grandmamma, you are too good! Do you—do you +really mean it? Ah, this is happiness!"</p> + +<p>"You shall help me make out the invitations. There +was a time when Houghton had no empty chambers. It +will go hard, my dear, if we cannot find entertainment for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> +your father and the lady he has married. On that day, +Clara, I will present you to the world as my grandchild and +heiress."</p> + +<p>"Not yet! oh, not yet! Wait till you know more of +me."</p> + +<p>"Hush! hush! This is not my only object. If I have +wronged your stepmother, or neglected your father, the +whole country shall see that a Carset knows how to make +reparation. Lady Hope, too, shall be presented to my +friends as an honored guest. This entertainment will be my +last, but they shall find that the old countess knows how to +receive her guests."</p> + +<p>"Grandmother, you are an—an—. You are just the +sweetest old lady that ever drew breath! If you were to +live a thousand years, I should love you better and better +every day! To see you and Lady Hope together will be +splendid! And they are to stay at Houghton a month. +By that time you will love each other dearly."</p> + +<p>Clara took up her work again, but the needle flashed like +a thread of lightning in her unsteady fingers. She could +not work after this glorious news.</p> + +<p>The old lady smiled blandly, and sank down among her +cushions, exhausted.</p> + +<p>"Go out and take a walk in the park," she said, observing +that Clara was fluttering over her embroidery like a +bird in its cage. "It will do you good, and I will try to +sleep a little."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.<br /> +<br /> +<small>DOWN BY THE BROOK AMONG THE FERNS.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span> put on her hat and wandered off into the park, as +happy as a bird.</p> + +<p>She had found the dearest old fairy godmother. She saw +a glorious light breaking in upon the life of her stepmother, +and out of all this generous conduct in the old countess +sprang a vague hope that she might yet be won to sanction +her marriage with the man of her choice.</p> + +<p>She took no heed of the way, but wandered on, treading +the earth like a sylph, and breaking into little snatches of +song whenever the birds in the branches put her in mind of +it. She was descending into a little, ferny hollow, with a +brook creeping along the bottom, along which a narrow footpath +ran, when the crackle of a broken branch, and the quick +tread of a foot, made her pause and look at the opposite +bank, down which a young man was coming, with more +swiftness than he seemed to desire, for he only saved himself +from a plunge in the brook by leaping over it, with a +bound that brought him to Clara's side. It was Lord +Hilton.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, if I came near running you down," he said, +with laughter in his eyes, and taking off his hat; "it was +neck or nothing with me, after I once got one downward +plunge. I inquired for you at the castle, and they told me +that you had just gone out of sight in this direction, so I +followed and am here."</p> + +<p>Clara held out her hand, with the sweet, joyous laugh of +a pleased child. She was very happy, just then, and he saw +it in her eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span>"But you have been long in coming," she said. "I told +grandmamma about our journey together, and she has been +expecting you at Houghton every day."</p> + +<p>"And you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, I have been dreadfully disappointed. Are +you aware that it is more than a fortnight since you bought +those peaches for me?"</p> + +<p>"But you will approve my reasons for keeping away, +when I tell you what they are."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps—I doubt it; but tell me."</p> + +<p>"You will not be angry?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Not if I tell you the plain truth like an honest man?"</p> + +<p>"I love the truth. Why should it offend me?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Clara, I have almost resolved to make a confidante +of you."</p> + +<p>Clara brushed some fallen leaves from a rock, near which +they were standing, and sat down, motioning him to take +the vacant place by her side.</p> + +<p>"There—now let us begin."</p> + +<p>"Do you guess why I did not come before, Lady Clara?"</p> + +<p>"No—I have not the least idea. Perhaps you did not +like me, or were shocked with my hat; poor thing, it is getting +awfully shabby."</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course; why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because the old gentleman over yonder and my lady at +Houghton, had set their hearts upon it."</p> + +<p>"Set their hearts upon it. How?"</p> + +<p>"They have decreed that I shall fall in love with you, +and you with me, at first sight."</p> + +<p>Clara stared at him a moment, with her widening blue +eyes, and then broke into a laugh that set all the birds +about her to singing in a joyous chorus.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span>"What, you and I?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"But you have more sense. You could not be induced +to oblige them. I feel quite sure."</p> + +<p>"But why, pray? Am I so very stupid?"</p> + +<p>"No; but you are so very kind, and would not do anything +so cruel."</p> + +<p>Lord Hilton laughed; he could not help it.</p> + +<p>"But why would it be cruel?"</p> + +<p>"Because—because it would get me into trouble. +Grandmamma is a lovely old angel, and to oblige her I +would fall in love with fifty men if it were possible, especially +after what she has done to-day: but it is not possible."</p> + +<p>"And the old gentleman at the opposite side of the +valley is good as gold, and I should like to oblige him; and +sometimes I feel as if it could be done, so far as I am concerned, +but for one thing."</p> + +<p>"And what is that?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Clara, if I had not been fatally in love already, I +should by this time have adored you."</p> + +<p>The color came and went in the girl's face. She tore a +handful of ferns from the rock, and dropped them into the +water at her feet; then she lifted her eyes to the young +man's face, with the innocent confidence of a child. Her +voice was low and timid as she spoke again; but the ring +of modest truth was there.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hilton, I am very young; but in what you have +said, I can see that you and I ought to understand each +other. You love another person—I, too, am beloved."</p> + +<p>A shade of disappointment swept the young man's features. +He had not wished this fair girl to care for him, +yet the thought that it was impossible brought a little +annoyance with it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span>"And yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I have permitted a man to say he loved me, and did +not rebuke him; because every word he spoke made my +heart leap."</p> + +<p>"But will the old countess consent?"</p> + +<p>"I thought so—I hoped so, till you startled me with this +idea about yourself. Oh! be firm, be firm in hating me. +Don't leave the whole battle to a poor little girl."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I shall not feel all your earnestness, for there +is no hope in the future for me, with or without consent. +I can never turn back to the past, though I am not villain +enough to lay a heart which contains the image of +another at any woman's feet, without giving her a full +knowledge of that which has gone before. The love which +I confess to you, Lady Clara, was put resolutely behind me +before we met."</p> + +<p>Quick as thought a suspicion flashed through the girl's +brain. She turned her eyes full upon the handsome head +and face of the young man, and examined his features +keenly. His hat was off; he was bending earnestly toward +her.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hilton, you sat in a box in the opera next to us +on the night when that young American singer broke down. +I remember your head now. You were leaning from the +box when she fainted; her eyes were turned upon you as +she fell. She is the woman you love."</p> + +<p>"Say whom I loved, and Heaven knows I did love her; +but she fled from me without a word, to expose herself upon +that stage. I thought her the daughter of a respectable +man, at least; when I am told in every club-house, she is +the nameless child of that woman, Olympia. I would not +believe it, till the actress confirmed the story with her own +lips; then I learned that her home was with this woman, +and that she, a creature I had believed innocent as the wild<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> +blossoms, had used her glorious voice for the entertainment +of her mother's Sunday evening parties."</p> + +<p>Lady Clara grew pale, and her eyes began to flash.</p> + +<p>"You are doing great wrong to a noble and good young +lady," she said, in a clear, ringing voice, from which all +laughter had gone out. "You are unjust, cruel—wickedly +cruel—both to yourself and her. I have no patience with +you!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know Caroline, then? But that is impossible."</p> + +<p>"Impossible—what? That I should know the daughter +of Olympia? But I do know her. There was a time, I +honestly believe, when we were children together, cared for +by the same nurse. This I can assure you, Lord Hilton: +she was not brought up by the actress; never saw her, in +truth, until she was over sixteen years old, when the +woman, hearing of her genius and beauty, claimed her as a +chattel rather than a child."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure of this, Lady Clara?" inquired the +young man, greatly disturbed.</p> + +<p>"I know it. The poor young lady, brought up with +such delicate care, educated as if she were one day to become +a peeress of the land, took a terrible dislike to the +stage, and, so long as she dared, protested against the life that +ambitious actress had marked out for her. That night you +saw her she was forced upon the stage after praying upon +her knees to be spared. Her acting, from the first, was +desperation. She saw you, and it became despair; and you +could doubt her—you could leave her. Lord Hilton, I hate +you!"</p> + +<p>"I begin to hate myself," said the young man in a low +voice; "but even now, what can I do? What power have I +to wrest her from the influence of that woman?"</p> + +<p>"What power? The power of honest and generous love. +Ask her to marry you."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span>Lord Hilton answered with a faint, bitter laugh.</p> + +<p>"Ask her to marry me, and, with that act, proclaim myself +a beggar! I tell you, Lady Clara, there is not upon this +earth a creature so dependent as a nobleman with nothing +but expectations. Were I to follow your advice the doors +of my home would be closed against me. I should have a +title, by courtesy, to offer my wife, and nothing more. She +would, perhaps, be compelled to go on the stage to support +me—a poor substitute for these two vast estates which these +old people hope to unite in us."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.<br /> +<br /> +<small>HOW LADY CLARA GOT HER OWN WAY.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Clara</span> turned on the young nobleman with glowing +anger.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hilton," she said, "it is the land they are thinking +of; but an earthquake may swallow it before I will sell +a corner of my heart at their price. I am only a girl, Lord +Hilton, and, perhaps, this ancestral grandeur seems less to +me on that account; but the noblest possession that can be +given to me is liberty—liberty of heart, limb and conscience—liberty +to love and hate—though I do not hate +any one very much—but to love that which is splendid +and good without regard to anything else. The grandest +thing upon the face of the earth, Lord Hilton, is to own +oneself. If I were a man no one should own me but the +woman I loved."</p> + +<p>Was the girl inspired? You would have thought so +from the sparkle that came into her eyes, like sunshine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> +striking the dew in a violet—from the quick, generous +curve of her lips, and the flush of color that rushed over +her face.</p> + +<p>Lord Hilton looked at her with such admiration as would, +perhaps, have made obedience to the wishes of his family +an easier thing than he dreamed of; but he knew something +of the world, and had, more than once, searched +the female hearts that came in his way, for the gratification +of vanity alone. He read the one before him on the +instant.</p> + +<p>"The man you speak of is without these advantages," he +said. "I understand—they are a wall between you and +him."</p> + +<p>"No. This morning my grandmother told me that I +was to be her heiress; but I entreated her to take time. +Before she decides, I wish her to judge of this man as he +is, without prejudice or favor. Then she shall know all, +and if she is willing to endow us with her wealth, there +never was so grateful a girl as I shall be; but, if not, I will +fall upon my knees, kiss her dear old hand, thank her for +what she has done, and go away to America, where a +man's talents and energies can work out something that +will answer very well for a patent of nobility."</p> + +<p>"And you will carry this out? give up the title?"</p> + +<p>"The title! Ah, that may be of value in America," +answered Clara, with a laugh full of good-natured scorn; +"those things, they tell me, are at a premium out yonder."</p> + +<p>"Brave girl! You shame me by this generous energy."</p> + +<p>"Shame you? not at all; only I happen to know that +there is something worth living for besides the things +we hold so precious. A man, brave enough to work out his +own career, has taught me that real greatness is not always +hereditary. Ah! if you could only think so, too, Lord Hilton,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> +you would understand that there is nothing on earth so +sweet as the love for which we make sacrifices."</p> + +<p>"What a strange girl you are, Lady Clara! Up to this +time you have seemed to me only a very pretty and very +capricious child—a charming child, truly, but—"</p> + +<p>"There it is again," cried the girl falling back into her +natural manner; "everybody will insist on treating me like +a child. Oh! how I wish I was a little taller, like—like +Caroline!"</p> + +<p>Lord Hilton started, and a flood of recollections came +back upon him—that soft Italian sky, a flight of vine-draped +terraces, and, on the steps, that tall, beautiful girl +watching for him. In this picture he forgot Olympia and +everything that had repulsed him.</p> + +<p>"I shall never think of you as a child again, but as her +friend—her earnest, kind, noble friend!"</p> + +<p>"And so I am. Oh! if I were a man, and loved her—"</p> + +<p>"Well, what would you do in my place, supposing yourself +a man, Lady Clara?"</p> + +<p>"This is what I would do: The old gentleman over +yonder has a generous heart, I dare say. I would first +make my peace with that noble girl. It would not be easy, +I can tell you, for she is proud as an empress; but she +would be forgiving in the end, and for that I should adore +her. Then I would take her by the hand, lead her up to +that kind old nobleman over yonder—for I dare say, he is +like my blessed grandmother, proud as Lucifer and kind as +an angel—and I would just tell him the truth, lay the +whole case before him, and either take his blessing on two +bowed heads, or throw down my title, gather up all that +honorably belonged to me, and carry my youth, my knowledge, +and my energies into a country where no man would +question whether my wife had Olympia's blood in her veins +or not. This is what I would do, Lord Hilton."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span>"Lady Clara, I thank you."</p> + +<p>Lord Hilton reached out his hand, smiling, but there was +moisture in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"And you will do it?"</p> + +<p>"First, Lady Clara, I must have her forgiveness for +doubting her—for being a coward. Where is she now? +Can you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Ill, very ill, battling breathlessly with that woman, +who still persists on her reappearance. You can save her +from it. Will you?"</p> + +<p>"No wonder you ask the question, Lady Clara, I have +not deserved great confidence. But one thing; these are +strange confessions that we have made to each other; let +them rest inviolate between us. We shall be friends. Let +the world think us more, if it likes."</p> + +<p>"With all my heart. And now, good-by. I am going +back to the castle."</p> + +<p>When Clara reached the castle she found a letter waiting +for her. It was from Margaret, who was still in London, at +Olympia's house.</p> + +<p>Clara read this letter with a very thoughtful face, and +went at once to Lady Carset's room, with the letter in her +pocket and painful anxiety in her heart.</p> + +<p>Lady Carset had come out of her sleep, wonderfully +refreshed and cheerful.</p> + +<p>The effort which she had so generously made to make +atonement for what she considered the one mistake of her +life, gave to her own heart a feeling of exquisite rest. The +company of her grandchild also had let a whole burst of +sunshine into that princely old castle, and its mistress +seemed to have grown young in its warmth and brightness. +She had been thinking of the girl ever since the sleep left +her eyelids, and now, when she came in, with her sweet face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> +clouded, the idea that had been floating in her brain took +form.</p> + +<p>"You seem troubled, Clara," she said. "Did the great, +wandering old park frighten you with its loneliness? Sit +down, darling, and we will talk of something I have just +been thinking of."</p> + +<p>Clara sat down on the foot of the couch, and taking the +small feet of her grandmother into her lap, began to smooth +and caress them with her hand.</p> + +<p>"I am an old, old woman, my darling, and not over +strong, so it is impossible for me to make a companion to +you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I love you so much!"</p> + +<p>"I know, dear; but would you not like a companion of +your own age—some nice young lady, who could go with +you into the park, share the pretty phaeton, and help drive +the ponies I have ordered for you, when I am taking my rest +here?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, grandmamma, who told you what was in my mind? +how could you have guessed it? Can I—may I? Grandmamma, +I know the very person!"</p> + +<p>"She must be well-educated and well-bred."</p> + +<p>"She is a lady about my age, but handsomer."</p> + +<p>"I will not believe that, Clara," said the old lady, smiling.</p> + +<p>"But she is—taller, more queenly. You will like her so +much! Besides, she is in such trouble. I will tell you all +about it, grandmamma."</p> + +<p>Then Lady Clara told Caroline's story; how she had been +brought up by a good man, believing herself his child, +until he and his good wife died, and, just as she grew into +womanhood was claimed by the actress Olympia, who was +determined to force her upon the stage, from which she +shrank with a loathing that had made her ill. Lady Clara<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> +did not mention the name of Daniel Yates, because it had +made no impression upon her, if, indeed, she had heard it; +but she succeeded in interesting the old countess, and it was +decided that Caroline and the servant who had clung to her +so faithfully should be sent for.</p> + +<p>When Lady Clara left her grandmother's room, the face +that had been so clouded was radiant, for, after having all +her anxieties swept away, as it seemed by a miracle, she had +ventured upon a positive request, which made her breath +come short as she made it.</p> + +<p>With some adroitness, and a talent that would have made +her fortune on the stage, she brought the subject round to +Lady Hope, and from her to the fact that she had an only +brother, who had travelled in foreign parts for years, but +had just come back to England, and had been at Oakhurst.</p> + +<p>The old lady listened with gentle attention, but did not +divine Clara's wishes by intuition as she had before.</p> + +<p>"He is mamma Rachael's only relative, and she loves +him dearly," said Clara. "I think she would always like to +have him with her."</p> + +<p>Even this gentle hint did not arouse the old lady, who was +falling back into a pleasant lethargy, so common to aged +persons.</p> + +<p>"You would like him yourself, grandmamma," continued +Clara, getting anxious; "he has seen so much, and talks so +well; besides, he knows everything about horses, and taught +me so many things about managing them."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" said Lady Carset, arousing herself, for she +had been a splendid horsewoman in her time. "It would +be a great comfort if we had some one besides the groom to +advise with about the ponies. Then, we must have a couple +of saddle horses for you and the American young lady. +Would this young gentleman—Is he young, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Not very," answered Clara, blushing quietly, and drooping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> +her head to hide the fact, as the old lady took up her +sentence again.</p> + +<p>"I suppose not. So, as your stepmother might be pleased, +what objection would there be to inviting this gentleman +to the castle? When Lady Hope comes, I would like to +have as many of her friends here as possible. Houghton +will seem more like home to her. As for you, Clara, it will +always be your home, so we must try and make it pleasant. +Write the letter for me, child, and invite the gentleman +here."</p> + +<p>It was this conversation that sent Lady Clara out of her +grandmother's room with that radiant face.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">"Take</span> your choice, young lady, take your choice! Either +consent to have your name on the bills for Monday night, +or leave my house, bag and baggage, one and all of you! +Either obey me or go! I wash my hands of the whole +affair."</p> + +<p>Here Olympia rubbed one soft white hand over the other, +and shook them apart, as if she were already washing off +the annoyance that proud girl had given her.</p> + +<p>Caroline was deathly pale. She had grown thin and languid +with the illness that still hung about her. Around +her enlarged eyes lay faint, purplish shadows, that deepened +their sad expression; but, with all her weakness, a look of +settled resolution lay on her face.</p> + +<p>"Be it so, then!" she said, with pathetic sadness. "If +my own mother—"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span>"Mother? Hush that! I don't believe a word of it! +Brown may talk, and swear that he never lost sight of you, +but he needn't tell me! My daughter! why don't you +glory in the stage, then? Why don't you go down on your +knees and thank me for that voice? Don't dare to call me +mother till you can learn how to obey me!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot obey you in this. If you drive me out to perish +in the street I will not!"</p> + +<p>"Then into the street you go! Let Brown try his hand +at earning a living for you. It is more his duty than mine."</p> + +<p>Caroline turned a wild, wistful look on the woman as she +said this; then she moved a step toward her, and the tones +of her voice, as they came through her white lips, were +mournful and stormy, like wind over snow.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, madam? What is it that you +insinuate?"</p> + +<p>"Only this," answered Olympia, with a malicious laugh. +"As you are resolved—as you never will be anything to me +again, and are determined to throw away all your advantages, +I think the truth will bring down your pride a little, +and so mean to give it just for once. I really do suppose +that you are my daughter—else, where did you get the voice +you are giving to the wind? But, if you are, that man +Brown is your father, for he was my husband once."</p> + +<p>Caroline stood looking at the woman, white and still, her +large eyes widening, all her features in a tumult. Then she +fell upon her knees, covered her face with both hands, and +cried out:</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God! is this good man my father? Are these +the thrills of joy that a child knows for its parent?"</p> + +<p>A man who had opened the door of Olympia's boudoir +was arrested on the threshold by these words.</p> + +<p>Olympia saw him and sank to a chair, laughing maliciously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span>"Ask him," she said, pointing to the man; "ask him. +Don't look so astonished, Brown. I have told her all about +it, and you see how white it has made her. She does not +seem to relish you for a father much more than she does the +stage!"</p> + +<p>Caroline dashed the tears from her eyes, and arose, with a +smile breaking through the scattered moisture.</p> + +<p>"Not like him! He has always been kind, good, generous. +I did not need this to make me love him. Father, +<em>my</em> father! how many times I have called you so, but this +is real! Oh, God be thanked that you are my father!"</p> + +<p>"Ask him how he intends to support you," broke in +Olympia, washing her hands over again in dumb show, +and drawing in her breath till it hissed through her white +teeth, as if a snake had crept up from her bad heart.</p> + +<p>"I <em>will</em> support her! God helping me, I will! Don't +feel down-hearted, my poor child. You shall not be +ashamed of me. For your sake I will do anything. I can +go into an orchestra."</p> + +<p>"What! I ashamed of you, my father? Why, it gives +us to each other. I have something in this wide world to +love!"</p> + +<p>Brown's eyes filled with tears. He was trembling violently.</p> + +<p>"Father, my dear father!" murmured Caroline, drawing +close to him, with a feeling that he was all the friend she +had in the world, "do not look so troubled. This gives me +such joy that I cannot bear to see tears in your eyes, my +father."</p> + +<p>Brown did not speak; he had no power of voice, but +stood, with her hands in his, looking into her face in pathetic +silence.</p> + +<p>Olympia arose.</p> + +<p>"It is a pretty scene, and well acted," she said; "but I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> +am tired of being sole audience. When you have settled +upon anything, I shall have the pleasure of bidding you +farewell. I must go to rehearsal now. When I come back, +it will be convenient to have the house to myself. I give a +little supper this evening, and I remember you do not +exactly approve of my little suppers, and, for the world, +would not shock the young lady! Good morning, Caroline. +Good morning, Brown. You see our pretty experiment has +failed, and we have got to part again. I think this time +will be forever!"</p> + +<p>Olympia swept out of the room and entered her carriage, +looking like a baffled fury.</p> + +<p>Then those two were left together, and for half an hour +they sat, looking at each other with sad, wistful eyes, +talking of the past in snatches, till slowly and sadly their +minds turned to the future, and that looked blank enough +to them. What could they do? Olympia had never been +generous to her daughter or the agent. They had neither +money nor valuables. How were they to live, even for a +week?</p> + +<p>"I can, perhaps, obtain a situation in some orchestra."</p> + +<p>Poor Brown spoke under his breath, for he knew well +enough that Olympia would never permit him to earn his +bread in that way, so long as her influence in the theatres +could prevent it; but it was the only hopeful idea he could +think of, and so he suggested it with desponding hesitation. +But, to the young girl, there was encouragement even in +this.</p> + +<p>"And I can take pupils. You remember the young lady +that came to me that night in the dressing-room—Lord +Hope's daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Remember her!" exclaimed Brown, brightening all +over, "I should think so! When she turned her face +upon me and said, 'Don't be so anxious, sir. She is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span> +better now,' I longed to fall down on my knees and worship +her!"</p> + +<p>Tears came into Caroline's eyes. Her nature was noble +and full of gratitude. She could endure wrong and +cruelty without weeping, but generous and kind actions +melted her heart.</p> + +<p>"Ah, how good she was; we can trust her, my father."</p> + +<p>How falteringly, and with what pathos she used this +grand old word now! Before, she had done it in affectionate +play, but now, a solemn feeling of tenderness +thrilled the syllables, as "father" dropped from her lips, +and made the heart swell in his bosom with a tremulous +response.</p> + +<p>"She will speak to Lady Hope, and they will recommend +pupils to us. Oh, if we could only go back to Italy!"</p> + +<p>As this exclamation was on her lips, the servant in blue +and silver came through the door with a salver in his hand, +on which lay a letter. The seal and monogram had struck +his eye, and he brought the missive in with an excess of +ceremony that would have been laughable at another time. +He brought the letter to Caroline. She tore it open, and +an eager, almost wild look of thankfulness swept over her +face as she read it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, father! See what the good God has done +for us!"</p> + +<p>The servant, who lingered in the room, was so astonished +at hearing that sacred name used with thanksgiving or +reverence in Olympia's house, that he dropped the silver +tray and stood open-mouthed regarding the young lady.</p> + +<p>"Read it! read it! Oh, this will be Heaven to us. Remark, +please, you are to come with me and Eliza. Let us +start by the very next train."</p> + +<p>It was Lady Clara's letter, which, of course, contained +an invitation from the old countess. Clara had added a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> +little hospitality of her own, and suggested that Brown +should come to Houghton for awhile, and give her music +lessons—she was getting so out of practice. As usual, the +girl had her way, and that letter was the result. But +Brown's face grew thoughtful as he read.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" inquired Caroline, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"But how are we to get there?"</p> + +<p>All the anxiety that made Brown's heart heavy under +this good news, broke out in these words. Caroline's face +clouded, and her voice faltered.</p> + +<p>"Let me call Eliza and Margaret; perhaps they can +point out something."</p> + +<p>She rang the bell, and directly both the maids were informed +of the dilemma they were in.</p> + +<p>What was to be done? It was impossible to remain a +day longer in Olympia's house. The thought was intolerable. +Margaret and Eliza stood looking at each other in +blank helplessness. What was to be done? All at once +Margaret gave her head a fling and brightened all over.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," she said, with one of her old coquettish +gestures. "I may, I may—who knows?"</p> + +<p>Without further explanation the girl went up-stairs, got +out her most becoming hat and feather—for she had never +been restricted, like an English servant, in such matters—wrapped +a scarlet shawl over her flounced dress, and, after +practising a little before the mirror, came down with a +glittering parasol in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Eliza, just come here and see if my pannier is looped +properly," she said, giving that article a shake as she +looked in at the door.</p> + +<p>Eliza came out of the room, grim as ever, and gave the +pannier a discontented jerk or two.</p> + +<p>"Now what are you up to?" she inquired, curtly, for she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> +was sometimes a little scandalized at her younger sister's +coquettish airs.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind, only tell me one thing, honest. Look +at me. Ain't I about as good looking as I ever was? If I +am, tell them to wait till I come back."</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me!" was the curt answer. "Of course +they'll wait, because they can't help it."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>MAGGIE CASEY MEETS HER OLD LOVER.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Margaret Casey</span> called a cab, and ordering it to drive +to Morley's, Trafalgar Square, betook herself to rearranging +her toilet. She re-clasped a pair of heavy gold bracelets +around her wrists—at any rate there was enough of gold in +them to make a dashing display—and settled a splendid +shawl pin to her own infinite content, then she shook out +the folds of her dress, and settled down to serious meditation.</p> + +<p>Certainly she did not appear much older than when her +good looks had been a temptation to Matthew Stacy, which +came very near depriving Harriet, the cook, of her pompous +husband. Excitement had brought back the youthful color +to her face, and a spirit of benevolent mischief kindled all +the old coquettish fire in her eyes. Indeed, take her altogether, +the air of refinement, which she had obtained as a +lady's maid, and a certain style that she had, might well +have made Mrs. Matthew Stacy look about her when Margaret +came out in force, such as marked the dashing lady +who descended from that cab, just lifting her dress enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span> +to reveal glimpses of a high-heeled boot, and an ankle that +Matthew Stacy recognized in an instant, for nothing so trim +and dainty had ever helped make a footprint in his matrimonial +path, you may be sure. He was standing on the +steps at Morley's, with a white vest on and his heavy chain +glittering over it like a golden rivulet.</p> + +<p>"What! No! yes! On my soul I believe it <em>is</em> Miss +Maggie!" cried the ex-alderman, stepping forward and +reaching out his hand. "Miss Casey, I am in ecstasies of—of—in +short, I am glad to see you."</p> + +<p>Maggie bent till her pannier took the high Grecian curve +as she opened her parasol, then she gave him the tip end of +her gloved fingers, and said, with the sweetest lisp possible:</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Stacy? It is ages and ages since +I have had the honor of meeting you. How is Mrs. Stacy +and the—and the—"</p> + +<p>"Thank you a thousand times, Miss Casey; but—but—in +short, Mrs. Stacy is the only person about whom you need +inquire. There was another—forgive the outburst of a +father's feelings—but a little grave in Greenwood, that +long, tells the mournful story."</p> + +<p>Here Alderman Stacy measured off a half yard or so of +space with his fat hands, but found the effort too much for +him, and drew forth his pocket handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, but may you never know the feelings of a +father who—who—"</p> + +<p>"How distressing!" said Margaret, waving her head to +and fro, until her eyes settled on a window of the hotel.</p> + +<p>"But do control yourself. I think that is Harriet—I beg +pardon—Mrs. Stacy, at the window, and your grief may remind +her of her loss."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Stacy! Mrs. Stacy!" faltered Matthew. "Miss +Maggie, would you have any objection to stepping a little +this way? It is so unpleasant for a young lady of your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span> +refinement to stand directly in front of a hotel filled with +gentlemen. Beauty like yours is sure to bring them to the +windows in swarms, as one may observe, and I—I have +enough of the old feeling left to be jealous, miserably jealous +when any man dares to look upon you."</p> + +<p>"But I come to call on your wife, Mr. Stacy."</p> + +<p>"She is not at home, I do assure you. She has been +shopping since—since day before yesterday."</p> + +<p>Margaret's eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>"Then, perhaps, I had better go up, and wait for her?"</p> + +<p>Margaret was bright, but even here her old lover proved +equal to the occasion.</p> + +<p>"My dear Maggie—excuse me, Miss Casey—I do assure +you my lady has taken the parlor-key with her. She will be +so disappointed at not seeing you!"</p> + +<p>"It is unfortunate," said Maggie, playing with her parasol; +"because I was in hopes of having a few words with +you, and that would be improper, I fear, without her."</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Maggie, not at all—not at all. You have +no idea of the quantities of women that prefer to see me +alone. Indeed, sometimes I think Mrs. Stacy is a little in +the way. Just walk quietly along, miss—not before the +windows. Excuse my infirmity, but there are some feelings +that one never can throw off. Hold that elegant parasol +before that lovely face, and I will be with you in a twinkling. +The park is not far off. One moment, while I run up for +my cane."</p> + +<p>Margaret allowed herself to be persuaded, for the last +thing in her mind had been to see Mrs. Stacy. Like those +other ladies Matthew had boasted of, she very much preferred +to see him alone, and would have been greatly annoyed +had Harriet, in fact, appeared at the window.</p> + +<p>So, making a merit of her own wishes, she slanted her +parasol toward the house and sauntered down the street,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span> +while Matthew ran up-stairs, panting for breath, and, entering +his parlor, looked anxiously toward the window.</p> + +<p>"Matthew, dear, is that you?"</p> + +<p>Matthew's foreboding heart revived. That mumbling +term of endearment, coming, as it were, through a mouthful +of cotton wool, reassured him. He stepped to the sleeping-room +door, and found Mrs. Stacy, with her head buried in +the pillows and her feet thumping restlessly on the quilt.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, my love?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Stacy, dear, such a sudden take-down! My old neuralgia. +Matthew! Matthew! don't leave me! I feel as if +I was just a goin'!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense, dear. All you want is plenty of quiet. +A good, long sleep would bring you around in no time. +Just snuggle down in the pillows, and take yourself off to +sleep till I come back."</p> + +<p>"Are you going? and me like this? Oh, Matthew!"</p> + +<p>"You can't feel it more than I do, Harriet, dear; but I +must go down to the bankers with this bill of exchange. +Ten thousand dollars isn't to be carried round in a man's +pocket safely. Besides, there is a special messenger just +come up from the bank; so I must go, you see. But it +breaks my heart to leave you so—indeed it does!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it's about money, I do not mind. That is a thing +which must be attended to. But Stacy, dear, don't let them +keep you long; but go at onst, and right back."</p> + +<p>"The moment those rich old fellows will let me off—the +very moment, dear!" cried the model husband, waving his +hand airily toward the bed, and taking up both hat and +cane; "so try and sleep."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> +<a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>JUST FIFTY POUNDS.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Stacy</span>, thus reminded of her own needs, began to +moan softly among her pillows, and called out to the walls +and windows that she wished, if that pain was going to +keep on so, that she never had been born. If it wasn't +that she had the very best husband that ever drew breath, +she would just give up, and want to die; but for his sake she +would try and worry through.</p> + +<p>Stacy was far out of reach both of the moans and this +conjugal tribute to his goodness, for he had hastened to join +that bank messenger who, somehow, took the form of his +old sweetheart, and shaded him now and then with a +coquettish bend of her parasol.</p> + +<p>"Found your cane," observed Maggie, glancing at the +ponderous gold-headed affair in the hand of her old lover.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; no trouble; had just stood it up in a corner of +the parlor."</p> + +<p>Maggie laughed a little under the cover of her parasol, +but kept a discreet silence about the locked door until she +was snugly seated in the park, with Stacy crowded close to +her side.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, heaving a sigh that lifted the white vest +like a snow-bank, "this is something like happiness! If +you could only know what your haughtiness has driven me +to—but it is no use trying to make you understand! Look +at me, Miss Maggie! <em>Am</em> I the same man that adored you +so? Don't answer. I am, I am, for—Harriet, forgive me, +I love you yet—I love you yet!"</p> + +<p>"But you left me, Mr. Stacy."</p> + +<p>"Rather say the furies driv me. I wasn't myself. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> +was another fellow that woman married: the true man staid +with you, and here he is, just the same as ever, if you would +only believe it—but you won't, you won't!"</p> + +<p>"How can I believe it, Mr. Stacy, after abandoning me +so?"</p> + +<p>"But not till you driv me to it—not till you had slapped +my face with that precious little hand."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stacy, I—I'm glad you care for me a little, because +I want a great favor of you."</p> + +<p>Stacy sat upright in the iron seat, and pulled down his +white vest with a couple of jerks.</p> + +<p>"A favor, did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a great favor."</p> + +<p>"And what may its nature be, Miss Maggie?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stacy, you are a rich man."</p> + +<p>Stacy was troubled. To deny his wealth was a terrible +sacrifice of vanity—to admit it might be exposing himself to +depredation.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes," he said at last, "I am rich. No one in New +York would doubt that; but over here one has such trouble +in getting funds, you understand. It was only this morning +Mrs. Stacy wanted money for a little shopping, as she called +it; but I couldn't give it to her—upon my soul I couldn't."</p> + +<p>"Then, it would be of no use to ask you for a loan of +twenty-five pounds, as I thought of doing."</p> + +<p>"A loan of twenty-five pounds, my dear Maggie! Five +hundred pounds would not be too much, if I were only in +New York; but here in London, where Alderman Stacy is +not known, I could not raise even the miserable sum you +want—I could not, indeed."</p> + +<p>Maggie's eyes began to flash, for she understood the +meanness of this man, and despised it; but she thought of +that anxious group in Olympia's parlor, and resolved to +have the money.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span>"Still, considering everything, I think you will try to +oblige me."</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me. It wounds my manhood to refuse; but +let us talk of something else—those dear old times—"</p> + +<p>"No," said Margaret, unlocking one of her bracelets, +and closing it with a vicious snap. "If you cannot let me +have it, I will go to your wife."</p> + +<p>"My wife? You go to my wife! Why, she hates you +like pison!"</p> + +<p>"And I am not very fond of her; but I want this money, +and she will have to give it me."</p> + +<p>Stacy pulled down his vest again, and broke into a mellow +laugh.</p> + +<p>"Well, I <em>should</em> like to see you try it on! What would +you say to her, Maggie?"</p> + +<p>"I would say: Mrs. Matthew Stacy, you and I were +fellow-servants together in New York, where the lady was +murdered; and for some days, you and I, and the person +you have married, were left in charge of all the valuable property +that house had in it. One of those nights I went away, +leaving everything in its place. When I came back again +the wardrobes had been plundered, the bureaus broken open, +the wine-cellar pillaged."</p> + +<p>Matthew Stacy had been growing crimson while Maggie +spoke. He put up a hand to his throat, as if something +were choking him, and tore open a button or two of his vest; +then he gasped out:</p> + +<p>"Miss Maggie, Miss Maggie, do you mean to insinuate +that I or my wife Harriet—"</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to insinuate anything, because what I +say I know. You and your wife took these things. I knew +it at the time; I can prove it now."</p> + +<p>"Prove it fourteen years after?"</p> + +<p>"Some things do not wear out—jewelry and India shawls,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> +for instance. I was at the Opera not long since. My +sister, who used to come and visit me so often, is a little in +that line, and I used to show her all the shawls and splendid +dresses our mistress used to have. Well, that night at the +Opera we both saw your wife, sitting by you, with the best +shawl the madam had, on her own shoulders. We knew it +at a glimpse. There isn't another just like it to be found in +England or America. That shawl, Matthew Stacy, is worth +thousands of dollars, and your wife, Harriet Long, the cook, +was wearing it."</p> + +<p>"Margaret! Margaret Casey, you had better take care."</p> + +<p>"I have taken care. This woman had a gold-mounted +opera-glass in her hand that we both can swear to. Besides +that, she had a little watch at her side, set thick with diamonds. +That watch she took to a jeweller to be mended. +It is in his hands yet. When I leave this seat, it will be +my first business to make sure that she never gets the +watch again."</p> + +<p>"But it is fourteen years—time enough for anything to +be outlawed."</p> + +<p>"I have asked about that. Crimes are not like debts—they +cannot be outlawed, Mr. Stacy."</p> + +<p>"And you could find it in your heart to hunt down an +old sweetheart like that, providing all you say is true? I +wouldn't a believed it of you, Maggie."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that sweetheart just now refused to lend +me twenty-five pounds."</p> + +<p>"Refused! No, he did not refuse."</p> + +<p>Matthew caught his breath, and changed his wheedling +tone all at once. A new idea had struck him.</p> + +<p>"But, supposing what you say is true, there isn't any one +in England to prosecute—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is the lady's agent. He sat by you when we +first saw the shawl. Mr. Hepworth Closs."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span>Matthew Stacy sprang to his feet, perfectly aghast.</p> + +<p>"And you have told him?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet; but I mean to!"</p> + +<p>"You mean to—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do!"</p> + +<p>"That is it—that is it—the self-same cretur that left the +print of her fingers on my cheek, and of herself on my +heart. It is her who wishes to cast me to the earth, and +have me stamped on by the law. Oh, Maggie Casey, +Maggie Casey, I wouldn't have believed it of you!"</p> + +<p>"And I wouldn't have believed you capable of refusing +me fifty pounds!"</p> + +<p>"Fifty pounds! It was twenty-five, Miss Margaret."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I've changed my mind. One does not want +to be refused a miserable sum like that. I've doubled it."</p> + +<p>"But I did not refuse; I only wanted to put the subject +off till we had talked of old times—I didn't refuse you by +any manner of means. You hadn't told me anything about +yourself—how you came here, and what you were doing, or +anything that an old lover's heart was panting to know."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will tell you now. I have been, ever since that +time, in the family of a nobleman, as a sort of half servant, +half companion to his daughter."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so! Then what on earth can you want of +twenty-five pounds?"</p> + +<p>"Fifty."</p> + +<p>"Well, fifty it is, then. Between us, that was all I hesitated +about; twenty-five pounds was such a pitiful sum for +you to ask of me. You didn't understand this noble feeling, +and almost threatened me; but not quite, and I'm glad +of it, for Matthew Stacy is the last man on earth to give up +to a threat. I hope you will believe that, Miss Margaret."</p> + +<p>"Fifty pounds!" said Margaret, lifting a tuft of grass by +the roots with the point of her parasol.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span>"Did I dispute its being fifty? Certainly not. Now +just say how you will take it—in gold or Bank of England +notes?"</p> + +<p>"Notes will do."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you said that, because I happen to have the +notes about me," answered the alderman, drawing out a plethoric +note-case, and counting the money with terrible +reluctance. "Here we are; just the sum. Now tell me, +were you really in earnest about its being fifty?"</p> + +<p>"Just fifty," answered Margaret, counting the money on +her lap; "just fifty."</p> + +<p>Matthew heaved a grievous sigh, and stood up.</p> + +<p>"Now I suppose that little affair is settled forever?" +he said, working both hands about the head of his cane, +while he eyed the girl askance.</p> + +<p>"I said fifty pounds, and fifty pounds it is," answered +Margaret. "Now let us be going."</p> + +<p>"But you mean to act fair?"</p> + +<p>"I mean to act fair, and return your money."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mean that, I don't want that! It was the +other affair; you could not do anything so cruel."</p> + +<p>Margaret turned short round and faced the stout man, +who was trembling, abjectly, from head to foot.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stacy, I have kept silent fifteen years and rather +over. If I have not spoken before, you may be certain I +never shall. I wanted this money very much, indeed, and +shall repay it with less thankfulness because of the mean +way in which I forced it from you. Your wife may wear +her shawl and watch to the end, for any harm I mean her. +Good morning, Mr. Stacy."</p> + +<p>Stacy stood just as she left him, thrusting his cane into +the turf.</p> + +<p>"And she wouldn't have done it after all. What a confounded +fool I have made of myself! Two hundred and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> +fifty dollars, and gold up to one-forty at home, which makes +another clean hundred. What a mercy it is she didn't ask +a thousand, though! She took the starch out of me, +through and through. I should have handed over anything +she asked."</p> + +<p>As Stacy was walking from the park, now and then giving +a punch to the turf with his cane, in discontented abstraction, +he nearly ran against a man who had just passed +the gate, and, looking up angrily, saw Hepworth Closs. +The poor craven turned white as he saw that face; but +Hepworth was in haste, and took no heed of his agitation.</p> + +<p>"You are just the man I most wanted," he said.</p> + +<p>"What—what—me? Is it me you wanted?" stammered +Stacy, smitten with abject terror.</p> + +<p>"Yes; you are an American, and will understand the +value of American bonds."</p> + +<p>"American bonds! Surely, Mr. Closs, you will at least +give me a chance of bail? I tell you it is all false! That +creature isn't to be believed under oath."</p> + +<p>"I have no idea what you mean," said Closs, a good deal +puzzled; "but you evidently do not understand me. I +am about to leave England, and have a monied trust to +settle before I go. There is a reason why it is inexpedient +for me to act in person. I wish to pay the money, but +give no explanation. Will you act as my agent in this?"</p> + +<p>"Is—is it—that estate you are just settling up?" asked +Stacy, below his breath, for he felt as if the earth were +about to swallow him. "Is it that?"</p> + +<p>"I can give you no explanation. This money came into +my hands years ago. I invested it carefully—doubled it +over and over again; but now I wish to give up my trust. +I have it here in American bonds, fifty thousand dollars."</p> + +<p>"Fifty thousand!"</p> + +<p>"Just that. I wish you to take this to the young lady,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> +to whom it rightfully belongs, and place it in her own +hands, with the simple statement that it is hers. Will you +oblige me in this?"</p> + +<p>"First tell me who the young lady is."</p> + +<p>"Lady Clara, the daughter of Lord Hope, of Oakhurst."</p> + +<p>"The daughter of a lord! My dear sir, I shall be too +happy!"</p> + +<p>"But there is a condition. I do not wish the lady to +guess where this money comes from. You must be understood +as the agent, who has invested and increased it from a +small property left in New York by a relative. This will +work you no harm, but, on the contrary, win for you favor +and gratitude from as noble a lady as ever lived."</p> + +<p>"Will it get an invitation to Oakhurst for myself and +Mrs. Stacy? That is a thing I should like to mention +incidentally, to the Board of Aldermen when they give me +a public reception in the Governor's Room. Will it bring +about something of that kind?"</p> + +<p>"That I cannot tell. The young lady is not now at +Oakhurst, but with her grandmother, at Houghton Castle. +It is there you will find her."</p> + +<p>"Houghton Castle! Why, that's the place I saw mentioned +in the Court Journal. There is to be tremendous +doings at Houghton Castle before long; a grand entertainment, +to which all the grandees, far and near, are invited. +What if this fifty thousand dollars should get me and Mrs. +S. an invite? That would be a crusher."</p> + +<p>"It is possible," said Closs, controlling the fierce beating +of his heart. "Come to my hotel in the morning, early. +I am anxious to get this trust off my mind."</p> + +<p>Stacy promised, and the two men parted, the one elated, +the other doubtful, harassed, and painfully disappointed; +but the very next day after Matthew Stacy left London for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> +Houghton, Hepworth Closs received a letter, which put all +ideas of a voyage to America out of his mind.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.<br /> +<br /> +<small>OLYMPIA'S DEFEAT.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Olympia</span> stood, panic-stricken, in her fantastic little boudoir, +when she reached home and found a note from Caroline, +bidding her farewell, and stating that, not being able +to comply with her wishes, she had accepted the other alternative, +and left her house forever, in company with her +father and the old servant, who had been so faithful to her. +The note breathed of sadness and sorrow at the manner of +her leaving, and, if firm, was entirely respectful; but it +said nothing of her plans, nor told where she was going.</p> + +<p>Now, Olympia thought that she had provided against the +possibility of a choice between her cruel commands, by depriving +both Caroline and her father of all means by which +they could leave her. She had gone out, certain of the +girl's forced submission, and came back to find her gone. +She crushed the note in her hand, flung it down and stamped +upon it furiously; for it seemed as if half a million of gold +had melted down into the bit of paper, which she could only +trample under her feet in impotent wrath.</p> + +<p>"The viper! the ingrate! the thing made of iron! Oh, +if it were her! if it were her! I would trample her through +the floor! Where did she get the money? He had nothing—she +had nothing. I thought I had chained them to me by +their poverty; then I came home, so exhilarated by this +great offer from the manager—and she is gone! So beautiful! +and such a voice! Gone! gone! Oh, what a loss!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span>Here Olympia, who had never known what self-control was, +flung herself on a low, silken couch, heaped with cushions, +like a divan, and began to pound them with her little fists, +and spurn them with the soiled white satin slippers, in +which she had been to rehearsal. This burst of hysterical +fury would have brought down the house had she plunged +into such naturalness on the stage. But she started up, and +after snatching a mosaic card-receiver from her footman, and +dashing it against a marble statuette of Venus coming from +the bath, thus demolishing what little drapery the poor thing +was trying to make the most of, came partially to herself +and demanded what the fellow wanted.</p> + +<p>The footman, shivering under his blue and silver, pointed +to a card which lay on the carpet.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you pick it up?" cried Olympia, stamping +her satin slipper into a cluster of roses, that seemed to disappear +from the carpet.</p> + +<p>The man took up the card and handed it to her, with a +reverence so humble that she longed to trample him down +with the mock roses, and get him out of her sight; but, as +he towered above her a foot or two, the process seemed difficult, +so she ordered him out of the room, and looked at the +card.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hilton! Dear me!"</p> + +<p>Olympia made a dash through the silken curtains, ran +into the hall, just as Lord Hilton was leaving the door-step, +and called him back.</p> + +<p>He followed her into the boudoir, telling her the reason of +his visit as he went.</p> + +<p>This inflamed her anew, and she turned upon him savagely, +but with some attempt at self-restraint.</p> + +<p>"You wished to see Caroline? the ingrate! the viper! +the raven with a nightingale's voice! You wish to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span> +her? Why? This is singular. I thought she was a +stranger to you. No! Then, where did you meet?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen the young lady frequently in Italy. Will +you please to have her informed that I am here?"</p> + +<p>"Informed—I! Well, my lord, this is droll! No such +person is in my house. I could no longer tolerate her. +She is gone."</p> + +<p>"What! Your daughter?"</p> + +<p>"My daughter! Did I ever say that? Ah, I remember—it +was after one of our little suppers, when one gets liberal! +But this ingrate was no daughter of mine, but my protege—something +to fasten the heart on, as one loves a Skye terrier. +Her father was a poor man—very poor, almost +degraded, you understand—so, in my unfortunate munificence, +I lifted her out of her poverty, gave her some of my +own genius, and took her to my bosom, as Cleopatra took +the asp; and she stung me, just in the same way, villainous +ingrate! This girl has treated me shamefully. I had +made <em>such</em> an engagement for her—such concessions—carriage +for herself, dressing-maid always in attendance, a +boudoir for her retirement, private box, everything that a +princess might ask; bills almost made out, and when I +come home, she is gone. Read that note, my lord; it lies +there at your feet. Read it, and tell me if you ever heard +of such base ingratitude."</p> + +<p>Lord Hilton took up the crumpled and trodden paper. +His eyes eagerly ran over its contents, and brightened as +they read; while Olympia prowled around her boudoir, like +a newly-caged leopardess.</p> + +<p>"Read! read!" she said, "and then say if anything so +ungrateful ever lived. No, no, my lord, she is no child of +mine. I wash my hands of her—I wash my hands of +her!"</p> + +<p>Here Olympia laved her white hands in the air, and went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span> +through a process of dry washing in the heat of her promenade +up and down the room.</p> + +<p>"And have you no idea where the young lady has +gone?"</p> + +<p>"An idea! How should I have ideas? You have read +her letter. Well, that is all."</p> + +<p>Lord Hilton folded the note, and softly closed his hand +over it.</p> + +<p>"Then I will no longer trouble you, madam," he said, +holding back the curtain, while he bowed himself through +the entrance.</p> + +<p>Olympia watched the crimson curtains close over him, +standing, with some effort at self-control, in the middle of +the room. Then she broke into a fresh paroxysm, shattered +a few more ornaments by way of appeasing her appetite for +destruction, and plunged down among her cushions in a fit +of shrieking hysterics that brought the whole household +around her.</p> + +<p>A knock at the door—another visitor—brought Olympia +out of her fit, and turned her general rage into spite.</p> + +<p>"Show them in—show everybody in! If they want to +see how I bear it, let the whole world come!" she cried, +spreading her hands abroad.</p> + +<p>The man who went to the door obeyed her, and brought +in an old woman, whose anxious, tired face might have won +sympathy from a stone. She entered that glittering room +without excitement or any appearance of curiosity, and +when Olympia, in coarse and spiteful irony, bade her sit +down in one of the easy-chairs, she took it quietly.</p> + +<p>"There is a young lady staying with you, madam, that I +wish to see. I think she is known by the name of Brown."</p> + +<p>"Brown? Brown? There is no such person here. +How dare you come troubling me about her, the ingrate, +the asp, the—the—"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span>"It may be that the young lady may still be called +Yates. She bore that name once."</p> + +<p>"Yates? Brown? Brown? Yates? I know nothing +about them. Don't go on in that fashion, questioning; for +I won't hear it! Who are you that dares come here with +such names? I do not keep a lodging-house. I am +Olympia!"</p> + +<p>"But there was a young lady here—the one I wish to +see," said the old woman, with calm persistence.</p> + +<p>"Well, and if there was?"</p> + +<p>"I have very urgent reasons for wishing to find her."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps you will, who knows? Needles have +been found in haymows, but I wasn't the person to pick +them up, and it strikes me that you won't be more fortunate."</p> + +<p>"But I must see this lady!"</p> + +<p>"If you can find her, certainly; but she is not here, and +never is likely to be again—the wretch—the viper!"</p> + +<p>"When did she leave here, madam?"</p> + +<p>"When—when? What is that to you? Am I come to +the pass that I cannot turn a viper into the street without +being questioned by every old tramp that prowls about? +I tell you the creature you call Brown—"</p> + +<p>"Caroline Brown," said the old lady, gently.</p> + +<p>"Well, the creature you call Caroline Brown, then, has +gone from my house forever. I neither know nor care what +has become of her."</p> + +<p>The old woman arose, and walked close to Olympia.</p> + +<p>"You have forgotten me, Olive Brown. It is a long +time since you brought that helpless little child to me."</p> + +<p>Olympia turned white, and, turning, fiercely ordered the +servants from the room.</p> + +<p>"Who are you? What are you?" she faltered. "What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span> +tempted you to call me by that name, and they standing +by?"</p> + +<p>"I am named Yates. Years ago you brought a child for +me to care for."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is the child again! I tell you, on my honor, she +has left my house, I do not know where she has gone."</p> + +<p>"Are you certain, madam?"</p> + +<p>"Certain! Yes—yes. She left my house only this +morning."</p> + +<p>"Then I will go in search of her. Will this never +end?" sighed Hannah Yates.</p> + +<p>"Stop! stop!" cried Olympia. "Promise to say nothing +of that name. Promise!"</p> + +<p>"I am only wanting to find the young lady—not to +harm any one."</p> + +<p>"But it would harm me if you told that. Brown! +Brown! Think of Brown for a stage name! Can't you +understand that it would be death to me? Half my popularity +lies in the fact that no one can tell who or what I +am. Now, do be silent, that is a good old soul, if it is only +for <em>her</em> sake; for you know, in spite of the way she has +served me, everything I have or make will go to my child +in the end. I am ready to make it worth your while to be +quiet."</p> + +<p>Here Olympia took out a portemonnaie and unclasped it. +The old woman put the glittering thing aside with her +hand.</p> + +<p>"I do not take money," she said. "All I want is to find +her. If she is gone, I must search farther."</p> + +<p>Then, with a meek bend of the head, Mrs. Yates left the +room and the house.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + + +<p>Lord Hilton went out of that house, relieved by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span> +denial of Olympia that Caroline was her daughter, but in +other respects cruelly disappointed. The greatest and most +generous wish of his life was to find the young girl, and atone +for the cowardice which had made him avoid her for a time. +He had resolved that the fact that she was Olympia's child +should not prevent him acting this manly part; but when +that degradation was lifted from her by the woman's own +words, his heart was set free from an intolerable weight, +and went back to its old love with a happy rebound. He +remained in London some days, spending the time in vain +efforts to learn something of the beautiful fugitive, and +then started back to the neighborhood of Houghton Castle, +bitterly disappointed.</p> + +<p>For some distance, after he entered the railroad carriage, +Lord Hilton was alone; but at the junction, where he had +formerly met Lady Clara and her maid, a gentleman and +lady entered the carriage, and sat down opposite him. +There was something singular about the lady; her large, +black eyes illumined the whole face with a glow of proud +triumph that seemed to have uplifted her whole being. It +was this brilliant seeming of happiness which at first baffled +Lord Hilton; for after the lady had been seated awhile, she +probably began to feel the restraints of a stranger's presence, +for a fit of thoughtful lassitude crept over her, and +her eyelids began to droop.</p> + +<p>He remembered the face, now. One night he had seen +it at the opera, leaning against the crimson lining of the +box, paler by far than now; but the beautiful outlines were +the same, though that face had been still and passive, while +this was irradiated even in its rest.</p> + +<p>Turning his face from the lady, Lord Hilton encountered +a face that he knew in the tall and distinguished-looking +man who accompanied her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span>"Lord Hope, this is a pleasure," he said, holding out his +hand. "The last I heard of you was in Scotland."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we found the shooting good, and staid longer than +usual; but I fancied you were down at the old place."</p> + +<p>"And so I was, but these railways send a man from one +end of the universe to another so rapidly that one does not +know where to date from. I have been up to London for a +day or two, and am on my way back again."</p> + +<p>Here Lady Hope lifted her slumberous eyelids, and was +introduced.</p> + +<p>The sweet, alluring smile that we have seen on the face +of Rachael Closs had come back to it now.</p> + +<p>"I should almost have known Lord Hilton," she said, +"from Lady Clara's description. She was indeed fortunate +in chancing upon you for a travelling companion."</p> + +<p>"I have that great kindness to thank you for, Hilton," +said Lord Hope. "Clara's letters were full of your adventures +on the road and at Houghton. I did not know that +you had left the neighborhood, though."</p> + +<p>"I think myself more than fortunate," said Hilton, addressing +Lady Hope, "in having the honor of introducing +two such ladies to the castle, for I take it you are going to +Houghton."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, of course; it was impossible to refuse Lady +Carset. We shall be at the castle some time, I am glad to +say."</p> + +<p>How her magnificent eyes flashed. The very bend of +her head was regal, as she thus announced a triumph she +had been toiling for ever since she had become Lord Hope's +wife.</p> + +<p>The scorn of that old woman at Houghton, had been the +bane of her existence. Like an interdict of the Pope in +olden times, it had kept her apart from the people of her +own rank, as an excommunication would have done in past<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> +ages. But all this was removed. As it would seem by a +miracle, the bitter prejudices of that old lady had given +way, and through the broad doors of Houghton Castle, she +was invited to take her place among the peeresses of the +land.</p> + +<p>This had brought back the fire and bloom into Lady +Hope's life, and when Lord Hilton leaned out, as he had +done with Lady Clara, and exclaimed, "There is Houghton," +a glorious smile broke over her features.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE FAMILY MEETING AT HOUGHTON.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> train which took Caroline and her party down to +Houghton, reached their destination just as the sun was +setting over the glorious old trees of the park, and trembling +in golden brightness in the ivy that clung to those +twin towers.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had they left the train, when a basket-carriage +came dashing up to the platform, and a young lady sprang +out, tossing her reins to a dainty little tiger, who sat +behind, erect and decorous, knowing himself to be an object +of general attention.</p> + +<p>"So you are really here. I am so glad to find you! All +right, this way—jump in; don't be afraid, the ponies are +gentle as gentle can be. Here we are, never mind the +others. There is a carriage on the way for them; but, of +course, I got here first; always do. Give me the reins, Joe—now +for it."</p> + +<p>The little carriage wheeled around, and Lady Clara<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span> +looked back, nodding to Brown, as her ponies took the road +in full speed.</p> + +<p>"Nice old fellow, isn't he? I am so glad to get him +here, for I am going back on my music terribly."</p> + +<p>"Did you know he is my father?" said Caroline, in a +gentle voice.</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"He is, indeed. I never learned it till yesterday; but it +does not seem strange, for no father was ever more gentle or +kind than he has been since the first day I knew him."</p> + +<p>"And Olympia—she is your mother, no doubt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; she is my mother."</p> + +<p>"All right, we needn't talk of her! it isn't of the least +consequence. You must not speak so sadly. I dare say +she is a good enough person; but you don't know how to +manage her. For my part, I rather like her; but the old +gentleman is just lovely! I am glad he <em>is</em> your father; +because he can take care of us so properly, and grandmamma +will like it, I know. I have got you a chamber +next to mine. Our dressing-rooms open into each other, +and they are both near grandmamma's apartments. Dear +old lady, she is just the kindest, sweetest, loveliest mite of +a woman you ever saw; like a darling old fairy. Won't +you love her?"</p> + +<p>They drove along now for some distance in silence; but +as they mounted to the uplands, where Houghton stood, +Caroline began to take a lively interest in the scenery, +which was both grand and beautiful in that region. Away +toward the horizon, at the upper end of the valley, was +some large building, whose gray walls and oriel windows +were just now burning in the golden fires of a magnificent +sunset.</p> + +<p>"What place is that?" said Clara, repeating the question +her companion had asked, "Oh, that is Keath Hall,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> +and may some day belong to Lord Hilton, a friend of ours."</p> + +<p>Caroline felt her breath taken away, she had no power +to speak, while Lady Clara sat smiling pleasantly to herself. +The poor girl felt like springing out of the carriage, +and fleeing to the uttermost parts of the earth, rather than +be in the neighborhood with a man who had scorned her so.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hilton is not there now," said Clara, with the +innocent quietness of a kitten; "something has taken him +to London or Italy, I believe; but he is very pleasant, and +I like him well enough to be sorry about his going."</p> + +<p>Caroline breathed again; but her face was very sorrowful +and her heart heavy, during the rest of the drive.</p> + +<p>The size and splendor of that vast building almost terrified +the girl, who had been brought up in that little cedar +cottage. She gave no indication of this in her manner, +but walked by the side of her friend through that spacious +hall, with its bronze statues, suits of armor and bossed +shields, as if no meaner roof had ever sheltered her.</p> + +<p>"Come," said Clara, as the young traveller took off her +tiny hat, and began to smooth the hair back from her temples. +"I am so impatient to have grandmamma see you. +That will do—that will do. Come, now."</p> + +<p>The two girls went out together, Clara leading the way, +and directly stood in the dim light of Lady Carset's chamber.</p> + +<p>"Grandmamma, I have brought my friend to pay her +respects," said Clara; "only to pay her respects, for, of +course, she is famished; but I felt how glad you would be, +and brought her directly up here."</p> + +<p>The old countess arose from her chair, and came forward +holding out her hand. She did, indeed, seem like a fairy +godmother, with that soft lace quivering over her snow-white +hair, and those great diamonds blazing on her tiny +hands.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span>"I am glad to see you, Miss—Miss—"</p> + +<p>"Miss Brown, grandmamma."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed! well, I am very glad to welcome you, Miss +Brown. They tell me you have a fine voice. I should like +to hear it some day, when you are not tired."</p> + +<p>"If my voice will give you pleasure, lady, I shall, for +the first time in my life, be grateful for it," said Caroline, +so impressed by this sweet old lady's kindness, that she +longed to throw both arms about her.</p> + +<p>"What, what? I did not hear distinctly. Oh, it is the +voice they tell me of, which thrills the heart with its sweetness; +was not that what you said of it, Clara? No wonder +people like it. I do."</p> + +<p>The old lady still held Caroline's hand—her delicate fingers +clung to it, with the loving tenacity of a child. She +looked up to the beautiful face with eager, wistful curiosity; +but the light always came dimly into that chamber, and its +rich draperies of lace and brocade threw their shadows over +Caroline; besides, those old eyes were dim with age, or she +might have been troubled that such dangerous beauty +should come into her house in the form of a dependant. +As it was, she allowed the two girls to depart, without +dreaming that a more beautiful woman than her grandchild +had almost been put upon a level with her.</p> + +<p>Two or three days after this, Lord and Lady Hope arrived +at the castle, and the old countess, for the first time, saw the +woman who wore the coronet which had once belonged to +her child. It was beautiful to see that proud lady—for +now you could decide that she had been very proud—preparing +herself to receive this woman, whom she had hated +and wronged so grievously. She stood up in her tower-room +when Rachael entered it, her black satin dress trailing +far out upon the floor, the yellow old lace fastened over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span> +her bosom with a cluster of diamonds, and a handkerchief of +delicate lace in her hand.</p> + +<p>There was a little more motion of the head than usual, +and that was all the evidence she gave of extraordinary +emotion.</p> + +<p>Lady Hope came to the door, leaning on the arm of her +husband; but, on the threshold, she abandoned his support, +and came forward by his side, apparently calm and self-possessed; +but a proud fire shone in those black eyes, which +would not be quenched.</p> + +<p>"I have sent for you, Lady Hope, because I thought that +the most open and honorable way of acknowledging the +wrong I have done you, and of asking your forgiveness."</p> + +<p>The old countess folded her arms over her bosom, and +bent, in her proud humility, before that beautiful woman +whom she could never, never love.</p> + +<p>Rachael Closs forced back the triumph that swelled +haughtily in her bosom, for the old lady's acknowledgment +fired her heart like burning incense; but she bowed her +head, as if she had committed the fault, and turning to her +husband, appealed to him:</p> + +<p>"I cannot—I have no language in which to say how this +kindness overwhelms me. Pray tell her from this hour I +forget that she has not always thought so kindly of me as I +have deserved."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope was greatly agitated. The keen eyes of that +old lady, as they turned upon his face, troubled him. His +very lips were white as he attempted to open them, not to +utter the elegant speech suggested by his wife, for his heart +seemed to break forth in a single sentence:</p> + +<p>"Countess, have the justice to blame me if any wrong +has been done to you or yours. As for this lady, no more +devoted mother ever lived than she has been to your daughter's +child!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span>A burst of sobs arose from the other side of the room, and +Lady Clara came forward, her face wet with tears, her +mouth quivering.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed she has! Oh, grandmamma, do <em>love</em> +her, because she has been so good to me and everybody +else!"</p> + +<p>Lady Carset reached forth her hand gently, and with +delicate cordiality; but there was no yearning of the heart +there, such as had marked her reception of that young girl.</p> + +<p>Lady Hope cared very little for this. She had attained +the great aim of her life in this recognition; anything like +warmth of affection would have been as irksome to her as it +was impossible to the old countess. She took the little +hand, pressed her lips upon it, and retreated from the room, +keeping her face toward the old lady, as if she were retiring +from the presence of a queen.</p> + +<p>The old countess stood up bravely, and bent her delicate +person with the exquisite grace of a lady of the olden time, +as her guests disappeared. The moment they were gone +she turned to seek her couch; but her limbs lost their +strength, her feet became entangled in the satin train, and +she would have fallen to the carpet but for Lady Clara, +who sprang forward and held her up.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, how you tremble! Oh, grandmamma, don't! +I never saw you cry before. It breaks my heart!"</p> + +<p>The poor old lady was trembling in all her limbs, and +crying like a child. It had been a hard cross for her feebleness +to take up when she admitted that man and woman +to her presence. It seemed as if her own dead child had +stood between them, and with shadowy arms striven to +push them apart.</p> + +<p>"I have done no more than my duty," she said, with a +piteous smile. "It was hard, very hard. Still a Carset<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> +must not allow any wrong to go unatoned for, and about +those diamonds I did wrong her."</p> + +<p>Clara did not speak. She was frightened by the agitation +into which this scene had thrown the old lady, and only +besought her to rest; but strong, nervous excitement is not +so easily pacified. The countess conquered her tears, but the +couch shook under her nervous trembling. Then Clara ran +to her own apartments, and came back to an adjoining +room with Caroline, whose voice had a power of soothing +which even excitement could not resist.</p> + +<p>"Begin to sing—something low and sweet," she whispered. +"I will leave the door ajar."</p> + +<p>Then Clara stole back to her grandmother, and directly a +soft strain of music stole into the room, almost unnoticed at +first, like the perfume of flowers, but growing into harmonies +so full and swelling, that the whole atmosphere seemed +flooded with it.</p> + +<p>The old countess listened; the faint breath paused upon +her lips, her eyelids began to quiver, and her little withered +hands stole up to her bosom and rested there in a tremulous +clasp.</p> + +<p>"It is a heavenly voice. My child is not angry with me. +Oh! how sweetly she tells me so! how sweet—how sweet!"</p> + +<p>And so she fell asleep after awhile—all the trembling +gone, all the pain swept from those delicate features. Then +Caroline came in and sat down by Lady Clara, smiling over +the gentle work she had done. The old lady opened her +eyes once, and, reaching out her hand to Caroline, who sat +nearest, murmured:</p> + +<p>"You are not offended with me, child?"</p> + +<p>"She takes you for me," whispered Clara, "and is +dreaming, I think. Let us be very still."</p> + +<p>So the two girls sat together, and guarded the gentle +slumber into which the old countess had fallen, with loving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> +solicitude. She seemed to feel their loving presence even +in sleep, for a heavenly smile stole over her face, and occasionally +she whispered as if answering some pleasant voice +that came stealing through her dreams.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.<br /> +<br /> +<small>DOWN AMONG THE FERNS AGAIN.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Carset</span> had extended numerous invitations to her +old friends, and it was understood that Lady Hope would +represent the head of the house and do the honors. This +compliment was partly in atonement for the wrong that had +been done Rachael Closs, and partly from the infirmities of +extreme old age, which rendered it even dangerous for the +old countess to entertain her guests in person.</p> + +<p>For the first time in her life, Lady Hope was in her true +element. The weight of an intolerable restraint had been +lifted from her. She was mistress of one of the most +splendid establishments in all England, not even for a time, +for would it not descend unbroken to a step-daughter who +worshipped her? Was not the will which settled this +already made, and she as good as mistress there during her +whole life? She had thought Oakhurst a noble possession, +but it dwindled into insignificance when compared with the +splendor of Houghton Castle. Very seldom in the world +had the ambition of an aspiring woman been so suddenly +and completely gratified. It had been all like a dream to +her, but now she felt the reality, with an exultation of +spirit that took ten years from her person, and a weird +burden from her heart. This great happiness sprang out +of two grand passions—love and ambition.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span>The first was gratified in this—Lord Hope was a +changed man—a shadow had been swept from his path—hidden +shame had changed to unchecked pride. The +woman he had married, because of an overpowering love, +was now in a position to fascinate society with her beauty, +and win its homage with her genius. They had come out +from the shadow and were in the broad sunshine.</p> + +<p>All his old fondness returned; she could tell it by the +elasticity of his step, by the proud uplifting of his head, by +the very tones of his voice.</p> + +<p>She had thirsted for greatness, and it was hers. She had +pined for the old love, and it had come back to her. No +wonder the carriage of this woman was lofty, and her voice +full of music. No wonder that the rich coloring of her +youth returned, and her eyes took back their velvety +softness.</p> + +<p>At this period Rachael Closs was at the pinnacle of her +hopes. She could scarcely understand that this lofty position +had not always belonged to her. To dispense almost +regal hospitality came to her as the most natural thing on +earth, and as each day brought some noble guest to the +castle, she received them with more finished grace and a +deeper consciousness of power.</p> + +<p>Of course, at this time, Lady Clara was most frequently +with her stepmother, for the old countess would have it so, +and Caroline took her place very frequently in the tower +room, where she felt herself to be more than welcome. +Indeed, the old lady seemed almost as fond of her as she +was of the bright, generous heiress. Caroline would not +consent to mingle with the gay crowd which kept up a +brilliant carnival all day long in the park, in the vast +drawing-room, everywhere, except in that one old tower +where the countess spent her quiet life. At the grand festival +she had resolved to come forth and do the honors of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span> +her own castle, but until then she contented herself by +receiving her guests, and then pleasantly turning them +over to the splendid woman who filled her place with such +consummate ability.</p> + +<p>This arrangement threw Caroline almost constantly into +the seclusion of the tower apartments, and it so chanced +that she had not once met Lady Hope, who was, in fact, +unconscious of her presence in the castle.</p> + +<p>Clara remembered, with some trepidation, the rebuke +which had been given her, regarding her liking for this girl, +and, not caring to provoke a repetition, did not mention the +fact of her residence at Houghton. Thus it chanced that +neither Lord Hope or his wife knew of the independent +step their daughter had taken.</p> + +<p>Lady Clara had evidently something on her mind one +day, for she gave up a ride to the hunt, a thing she had set +her heart upon, and came after Caroline to take a long walk +in the park with her. Caroline went gladly, for her heart +was aching under its broken hopes, and as the excitement +connected with her new home died out, a sense of bereavement +and desolation came back. She was, indeed, very +wretched, and Lady Clara saw it. Perhaps this was the +reason she took her protege out for that pleasant walk in +the park.</p> + +<p>When the two girls reached that hollow through which +the brook ran, and where the ferns grew, Clara became suddenly +conscious that Caroline must be tired.</p> + +<p>Perhaps she was. Caroline, in her listlessness, did not +care to ask herself about it, but sat down on a fragment of +rock, as Clara directed her, and fell to watching the brook +with her sad eyes, as it crept through the ferns and gurgled +over the pebbles at her feet.</p> + +<p>Meantime Clara had wandered quietly up the hollow, and +disappeared in search of something which grew a little way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> +off, she said. So Caroline was not to move till she came +back, unless she wished to be lost utterly.</p> + +<p>Caroline liked the solitude, and the cool ripple of the +brook soothed her. She was rather sorry when a footstep +on the forest turf heralded the return of her friend; but she +looked up with a welcoming smile, and saw Lord Hilton, +her Italian teacher—the man who had told her more than +once that he loved her better than his own life!</p> + +<p>She did not cry out, or rise from her hard seat, but sat +still, looking at him in mournful quietness. What was he, +what could he ever be, to her? A nobleman of the realm, +and the Olympia's daughter!</p> + +<p>He came down the bank and seated himself by her side.</p> + +<p>"Caroline, have you no welcome to give me?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him with a gleam of excitement in the sadness +of her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You know who I am, and I, alas! know that you are +Lord Hilton," she said, with a touch of pathetic pride. +"How can I welcome you?"</p> + +<p>"Have you, then, ceased to love me, Caroline?"</p> + +<p>Her pale face flushed, her eyes kindled.</p> + +<p>"Is this a question to ask me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—because I have never ceased to love you, and +never shall."</p> + +<p>"Not when you are certain that I am the daughter of—of—an +actress?"</p> + +<p>"Not if you were the daughter of fifty actresses, Caroline! +I have been searching for you, in London, everywhere. +More than once I inquired at Olympia's door."</p> + +<p>"You!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I did; but she would give me no information."</p> + +<p>"She could not. I left no word."</p> + +<p>"And now that I have found you, Caroline?"</p> + +<p>"My name is Brown, Lord Hilton. I am, in truth, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> +daughter of that good man whom you supposed my father."</p> + +<p>"And of Olympia?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they were married and—and divorced before she +became celebrated and took the name of Olympia."</p> + +<p>Caroline said all this with a feeling of self-torture that +took all the color from her face. The love of Lord Hilton +seemed an impossibility to her, and she gave him the hard +truth, under which her heart was writhing, without a reservation +of pride or delicacy.</p> + +<p>"It is of very little consequence whose daughter you are," +said the young man, tenderly, "so long as I love you, and +am, with God's blessing, resolved to make you my wife."</p> + +<p>"Resolved to make me your wife!"</p> + +<p>The words came one by one from her lips, in measured +sadness. She knew the thing to be impossible, and uttered +the words as if she had buried some beloved object, and was +mourning over it.</p> + +<p>"I repeat it, Caroline. There is no change in my love—no +change in my determination. All that I felt for you in +our sweet Italian life lives with me yet."</p> + +<p>Caroline turned her eyes full upon him. An expression +of pain broke through their mournfulness.</p> + +<p>"It was impossible!"</p> + +<p>That was all she said; but he knew how much agony the +words had cost by the whiteness of her lips.</p> + +<p>"But why," he pleaded, "if we love each other, for you +love me yet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I love you!"</p> + +<p>Hilton threw his arms around her, and kissed her cold +face in a transport of thankfulness.</p> + +<p>"Then, why not? We were betrothed in Italy, when I +believed you Mr. Brown's daughter, as I do now."</p> + +<p>"But I did not know that you were an English nobleman, +and heir to a large estate."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span>"Is that a crime, Caroline? Besides, you need not trouble +yourself about the estate. When I ask you in marriage, +that is given up."</p> + +<p>She turned to him suddenly, and held out her hands.</p> + +<p>"Are you, indeed, ready to give up so much for me?"</p> + +<p>"I am ready to give up everything but my honor," was +his reply.</p> + +<p>"I am only a poor girl, with no honor to hold but my +own; but you shall not find me less generous than you are."</p> + +<p>He kissed her hands in passionate gratitude.</p> + +<p>"Ah, darling, I knew—I knew that it must end so."</p> + +<p>She forced her hands from his clasp.</p> + +<p>"You misunderstand me. I love you better than myself! +better than my life! Do believe it! And for that reason +we part, now and forever! I could not live through +another hour like this!"</p> + +<p>"Caroline!"</p> + +<p>"I know it is hard; my own heart is pleading against +it. But there is something which forbids me to listen."</p> + +<p>"Caroline, I will not permit this! It is unnatural, +cruel!"</p> + +<p>"I know it! I know it! Still it is our destiny. Nothing +that has been said, or can be said, will change the fact +of your birth and mine. Do not, I implore you, press this +matter farther. It is hard to fight against my own heart +and you. Spare me and let me go!"</p> + +<p>Caroline arose and absolutely fled from the man she +loved. He did not attempt to detain her, but walked +away slowly, half offended—but more resolved on making +her his wife than ever.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>OUT AMONG THE TREES.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Not</span> far from the glen, loitering up and down a secluded +forest-path, Caroline met Lady Clara, and, by her side, the +young man whom she had met that night at Olympia's +supper party. This took her by surprise, and she turned +into another path, where a sheltered garden seat invited +her to rest.</p> + +<p>Lady Clara had not seen her companion, and was too +much occupied for any thought regarding her. She was +talking earnestly to Hepworth Closs, who had refused Lady +Carset's invitation to take up his quarters at the castle, but +was staying at the public house down in the village, until +after the festival, at which Clara still refused to be +introduced as sole heiress of the broad domain on which +they stood.</p> + +<p>"Let us be patient," she said. "I cannot distress this +kind old lady while she is so disturbed and so feeble. +Let things take their course till she is strong enough to +endure this additional agitation. She was greatly pleased +with you that morning when you called. By degrees she +will learn to like you; and when she finds that Lord Hilton +has no idea of joining the estates by a marriage with her +heiress—a thing which I know she has at heart, but she has, +as yet, only given me warning by most delicate insinuations—your +proposal will not disturb her so much."</p> + +<p>Hepworth Closs had learned the great lessons of patience, +and loved the young girl by his side too sincerely for any +protest against what was, in fact, a necessary delay; so he +answered her kindly;</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span>"So long as we are not entirely separated, Clara, I can +bear anything, even your father's hostility, which, after all, +is but natural."</p> + +<p>"But that, too, will be swept away by grandmamma's +consent; and I am sure she loves me so much that, with +patience, that may be obtained. Besides, there is your +sister, eager for your interests and pining for your society."</p> + +<p>"Poor Rachael! How does she bear the honors heaped +upon her up yonder."</p> + +<p>"Like an empress. Indeed, I never saw her really happy +before. My father has all at once taken to adoring her. +No wonder! Happiness has made her so grandly beautiful, +so dashingly brilliant in all she says and does. The new +duke, who has just come down, is so taken with her that he +scarcely leaves her side."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that," exclaimed Closs. "If ever a +woman was born to control society, it is Rachael. Does +she know I am here?"</p> + +<p>"I have not told her yet. It will be time enough when +all this tumult about the heirship has abated. And perhaps +it will be best to let papa find it out in some natural way, +when he will, I hope, be anxious to recognize you as Lady +Carset's guest, and make atonement for his harshness at +Oakhurst."</p> + +<p>"What a wise little diplomat you have become, Clara!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so. It is just beginning to dawn on me +that rash action is the worst kind of selfishness; how, just +by a little kindness and a great deal of love, I, a harem-scarem +girl, who never stopped to think in my life before, +have reconciled an old family feud of fifteen years standing, +brought Lady Hope triumphantly to Houghton, and swept +ever so many cares out of my father's way, besides all the +little pleasantness that my coming has given to the old +countess. I wouldn't boast in this way to any one else,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> +Hepworth; but these things make me proud and happy, so +I tell them to you, as I whisper it to myself. When I +first came here, it was with the resolution of appealing to +grandmamma against Lord Hope's opposition to us, and, if +she went against me, to throw up everything, and set them +all at defiance. But one must have a hard nature to attempt +such harsh measures with that sweet old lady. It would +break my heart to leave her—wound my conscience to give +her a moment's pain. As for her title and her wealth, I tell +you, honestly, they are encumbrances I do not want. A +thousand times, rather, would I have her consent, with that +of my father, and freedom to go with you where we pleased. +I want no greatness or power for myself, unless it comes +through the man I love; but for you, Hepworth, I am ambitious, +and would rather a thousand times go to America, and +share the honors which your own genius would be sure to +win, as plain Mrs. Closs, than stay here as mistress of +Houghton, a countess in my own right, and you only recognized +as the husband of Lady Carset."</p> + +<p>The hot color came and went in her lover's face as Clara +spoke out the thoughts that haunted her about the future—his +own thoughts expressed through her girlish lips. He +turned suddenly, took her hands, and kissed them both +with passionate warmth.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if they would but give you up with nothing but +this glorious freedom, I should not have another wish on +earth; but they are about to bury you so deep beneath +their wealth and titles that I may not be able to find my +love when I ask for her."</p> + +<p>Clara smiled.</p> + +<p>"You shall never ask for me that I will not come. +There is not in all England wealth or honors enough to buy +me out of your reach. Only let us wait patiently a little +while longer."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span>"Sweet child! generous woman! Jacob never served +more faithfully for his love than I am willing to wait for +mine. Only this, we must not be kept apart."</p> + +<p>"We will not be kept apart. Our souls belong to each +other. No person on earth shall enthrall them."</p> + +<p>"Then I am content; all the more because I know what +utter desolation absence is. Ah, Clara, it seemed like an +opening from Paradise when you wrote me to come here! +Heaven knows where I should have been now but for that +blessed note!"</p> + +<p>"But you are here, safe and well, for which the good God +be thanked! Everything has happened without disappointment +to any one, unless it may be Caroline's mother, the +handsome Olympia. She is furious, Lord Hilton tells me. +I am a little sorry for that poor woman. Of course, she +wasn't just as she should be to Caroline, but I can't help +liking her, after all. There that dear girl sits, like patience +on a monument, waiting for me. I wonder what has become +of Lord Hilton?"</p> + +<p>Here Lady Clara and her lover separated; she joined her +friend, whose garments were visible through the green of +the leaves, and he walked toward the village, very happy, +notwithstanding the uncertainty of his affairs.</p> + +<p>As Hepworth entered his room at the inn, he was accosted +with boisterous familiarity by Mr. Stacy, the New York +alderman, who expressed the broadest astonishment at his +presence there, and was anxious to know if it would break +up his own mission to the castle.</p> + +<p>Hepworth reassured him on this point, and gave some +additional directions, which the alderman accepted with nods +and chuckles of self-sufficiency, that were a little repulsive to +the younger and more refined man.</p> + +<p>"I understand Matthew Stacy is to be 'A Number One'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span> +in the whole business—sole agent of her mother's trust; by-the-way, +who was her mother?"</p> + +<p>There was a shrewd twinkle in Stacy's eye as he asked +this, which Hepworth comprehended and met at once.</p> + +<p>"Her mother was the first Lady Hope, the only daughter +of Lady Carset, up there at the castle. She died in America +while travelling there with her husband, about fifteen years +ago."</p> + +<p>All this was plain and simple. The alderman drew a +deep breath, and the shrewd twinkle went out of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth," he said, "I was thinking of that +poor murdered lady, Mrs. Hurst. You know there was a +little girl at the inquest that would have been about the age +of this young lady; for I took a peep into the peerages, after +you opened this matter, and I thought possibly that Mrs. +Hurst and Lady Hope might be—you understand?"</p> + +<p>"What! Identical! Did you mean that?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no, not exactly identical—she was respectable +enough—but the same person."</p> + +<p>"But you forgot, Mr. Stacy, telling me that the young +lady who appeared as a singer in the opera that night was +that very child."</p> + +<p>"By Jingo! you are right! I did that same. Of course—of +course. What was I thinking of? How she did sing, +too; ten thousand mocking birds in her throat, all piping +away at once. What was I thinking of? Now, Mr. Closs, +while I'm gone—for I mean to strike while the iron is hot—just +have the goodness to look in on Mrs. S., she will feel it +a compliment, being a trifle homesick and lonesome down +here. But tell her to keep a stiff upper lip; there isn't +many ladies, not even your barronessers and duchessers, that +shall outshine her at the grand party up yonder."</p> + +<p>"The grand party!" repeated Hepworth, in amazement. +"Are you invited there?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span>"Not just yet, but of course I mean to be. One good +turn deserves another, Mr. Hepworth—I beg pardon—Mr. +Closs, and if I take this pile up to Castle Houghton, it is +no more than fair that the young lady gives me an invite +for myself and Mrs. S. Turn about is fair play, all the +world over, Mr. Closs, and I don't mean to lose my chances. +Some men would ask money for all this, but I am ready to +put up with an invite. Mrs. S. has set her heart on it. +Ask her to let you see that red velvet dress that she got +made on purpose, and the panier. Don't, by any means, +forget to ask her to show you the panier; it's tremendous, +I tell you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stacy stood for a moment longer, shaking the links +of his gold chain up and down in one hand, as if he had +something else to say, but not remembering what it was, he +disappeared, and was soon driving, in the best carriage he +could obtain, toward Houghton Castle.</p> + +<p>Lady Clara was in her own room scolding, persuading, +and comforting Caroline, when a card was brought to her, +and she read, with astonishment, the name of "Matthew +Stacy, Esq., Ex-Alderman, New York."</p> + +<p>"Who is this person?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Haven't the least hidea, my lady; he asked for yer leddyship, +and would, on no account, see any one else, yer +leddyship."</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?"</p> + +<p>"In the small drawing-room, yer leddyship."</p> + +<p>Clara went down, excited by the painful curiosity which +always disturbed her when she met any person from America. +What could he want?</p> + +<p>Alderman Stacy arose as she entered the room where he +was sitting, and made three profound bows in the different +stages of her advance from the door, then he sat down in a +light chair. The delicate India carving began to creak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> +under his weight, and he sprang to his feet again, looking +over his shoulder at the combination of azure silk and +lace-like ebony in awkward consternation. Then he took +another chair, all cushions and softness, in which he sank +down luxuriously, and began to fidget with his chain.</p> + +<p>"You are from New York, Mr. Stacy—I think it was on +your card?" said Clara, commencing the conversation.</p> + +<p>"Yes, exactly, my—my lady—Empire State; besides +that I have a little business with you—pleasant business, I +may undertake to say; money, my dear young lady. +Money always is pleasant. What ancient poet is it that +says, 'money makes the mare go?' which means, I take it, +that it drives men and women—I mean gentlemen and +ladies—just alike. So I call it pleasant news, when I tell +your ladyship that I have got a pile of it for you—American +bonds, payable in gold."</p> + +<p>"Money for me—for me?"</p> + +<p>"No wonder you are surprised. The amount was an +astonisher for me when I came to reckon it up. At first it +was a mere nothing, only a few thousand, but gold, in my +hands, grows, grows, grows, and now, my dear young lady, +that little heap left by your lamented mother—you understand—"</p> + +<p>"Left by my mother, and for me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, your lamented mother, the first Lady Hope, a +lovely woman, but delicate, very delicate; carried off by consumption +at last. Well, just before her death she sent for +me—we were great friends, you know. Being alderman, in +fact, president of the board, I had an opportunity to offer +her some municipal civilities, such as the use of the Governor's +room to receive her friends in, and the freedom of the +city. I assure you she had the broadest liberty to ride +where she pleased, especially in the Central Park. Then we +took her to the institutions, and she had a lovely dinner on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> +Blackwell's Island, for I was hand in glove with the commissioners. +I don't tell these things to boast of 'em only to +explain how she came to trust me as her executioner—I +beg pardon—her executor, and send for me just as her spirit +was taking flight."</p> + +<p>"Oh! please tell me of that—of her—I do not care about +the money," cried Clara, interrupting this pompous tissue +of falsehoods, with tears in her eyes. "You saw her, you +talked with her?"</p> + +<p>"Often and often."</p> + +<p>"Oh, tell me!"</p> + +<p>"Not just now, young lady. Business is business, and we +must not get things mixed. Some other time, after your +great party, for instance, I shall be too happy, for Mrs. +Stacy and I shall stay in the village, till after that august +occasion; but now I come on business, nothing short, and I +am in a hurry to get these ten thousand pounds American +gold-bearing bonds off my stomach—I beg pardon—conscience. +Here, my lady, is the pile of bonds. Every one +will bring the tin when its wanted, no mistake about that."</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Stacy laid a package of bonds in Lady Clara's +lap, and stood with a beaming face, regarding her puzzled +look, as she examined them.</p> + +<p>"And these are worth ten thousand pounds?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"And left to me without reservation or condition, by my +mother?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. 'My dear friend,' said she, 'you will find +somewhere about three thousand pounds in the bank. That +money I leave in your hands, for I have faith in you, Stacy. +That money is sure to grow, and when my daughter, Clara, +gets to be about eighteen or so, pay it and the increase over +to her in my name; tell her to keep it for her own independent +use; to say nothing to Lord Hope or his wife—I mean<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span> +if he should marry again—but to use it just as she pleases, +without regard to her grandmother or any one else.' These +were the directions your mother left with the money, and I +hope you will make sure to abide by them, my lady."</p> + +<p>"I will remember every word you have said," answered +Clara, whose face was beginning to brighten under a new +idea, and the bonds were becoming very precious to her. +"But is there nothing I can do in return for this kindness?"</p> + +<p>"I expected this. That was just what she said, 'My +friend,' says she, 'there will be no such thing as paying you +in specie for the service you will do my child; but she will +be a lady of rank, Mr. Stacy, and as such will know how to +return your kindness, and entertain you with the best. +Though dukes and princes should be her guests, she will +have pride and glory in introducing her mother's faithful +friend to them all. Yes, him and that splendid woman, +who is your wife, the friend of my bosom,' says she; 'and +if you ever go to England, be sure to take your wife along, +then you'll have a chance to learn what British hospitality +is in the walls of Houghton Castle, my own birthplace.'"</p> + +<p>"My mother has promised nothing in my power to perform +which shall not be done," said Clara, a good deal puzzled +by all that she heard, and quite at a loss to judge of +the social status of her visitor. But the great fact remained—her +mother had trusted him; he had brought her a +large sum of money, which nothing but the most honorable +integrity would have prevented him keeping for his own +benefit. The man who could so faithfully render back an +important trust, must be worthy even of her grandmother's +hospitality.</p> + +<p>The moment Mr. Stacy had bowed and stumbled himself +from the room, Clara ran to Lady Carset, and obtained an +invitation for M. Stacy, Esq., and lady, to the entertainment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span> +which was now close at hand. With that invitation, +went a large package directed to Hepworth Closs, in which +a letter was enclosed, requesting him to take such legal +steps in her behalf as would secure the amount contained +in the American bonds to Mr. Brown, the father of her dear +friend, Caroline. "I know that she would refuse the independence +for herself and her father, if I were to press it +upon her; indeed, she has already done so, when I only +hinted at the matter; but when it is secured irrevocably to +her father, she must submit to being made comfortable in +spite of herself. The money is mine to use exactly as I +please, and this is my pleasure. Pray help me to carry it +out. There is no need of consulting that dear old man, +Brown, whose welfare I seek quite as earnestly as I do that +of his daughter; for he is just the sweetest and dearest +character I ever knew, and I would give the world to see +his blessed old face, when he first discovers that he is a rich +man. Tell me all about it. Be very careful and delicate +in your management of this business, and say nothing until +you have put it out of your power or mine to revoke what +will make me the happier in the giving than they can be in +receiving. When we meet I will tell you how this money +came to be mine; but before then, I trust it will be in the +possession of another. What do I want of American +bonds? I think it would offend my dear old fairy-grandmother +if I took them, and I know you will approve what I +am doing."</p> + +<p>Closs read the letter with a smile of pleasure; but when +he took up the bonds again, his face clouded.</p> + +<p>"Can I never wash my hands of that poor lady's money," +he said. "Do what I can, it will come back to me."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE BALL AT HOUGHTON.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> night arrived at last in which Lady Carset was to +do the honors of her own castle, and receive the highest +and brightest of the land in person. A range of boudoirs +and saloons, connected with the state drawing-room, were +thrown together, and united in one splendid vista by silken +draperies and hot-house plants, which formed noble wreaths +and arches over each entrance, filling room after room with +brightness and fragrance.</p> + +<p>The conservatories had been stripped that night, that +their treasures of rare exotics might brighten the splendor +of those rooms, and soften the ancestral grandeur of the +vast entrance hall. They wound in massive wreaths +around the carved balustrades of that broad oaken staircase—were +duplicated over and over again in the height and +breadth of those noble mirrors. They formed a blooming +border around the oaken floors, black with age and bright +with polish, of the dancing-rooms. The gilded orchestras +were interlaced with them, and, in every group of plants or +clustering wreath, jets of gas twinkled out like stars, casting +tremulous shadows from the leaves, and lending a richer +color to the blossoms.</p> + +<p>When the first carriage load of guests came sweeping +across the stone terrace, Lady Carset left her dressing-room, +and, leaning on the arm of Lord Hope, took her place in +the central drawing-room, with gentle dignity, and stood, +with the gaslight quivering around her, touching up the +richness of her purple garments with golden ripples of light, +and striking out rainbows from the great Carset diamonds,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> +which held, and gathered up the woven moonlight of her +lace shawl on those dainty, sloping shoulders and delicate +bust, which had not known such ornaments for years. A +ripple of these noble jewels ran through the soft waves of +her hair, and held the tuft of Marchant feathers and lappets +of gossamer lace back from her left temple, whence +they floated off gently into the snow of her hair, scarcely +whiter than it was. A lovelier representative of the grandest +aristocracy on earth, or a more dainty lady of the olden +times, had never, since its foundation, done the honors of +Houghton Castle. But the sweet old lady was already +forced to exert all her strength, that nothing should fall +short of the old hospitality on this the last fête she ever +expected to give.</p> + +<p>Lady Clara had followed her, half dancing, half floating +down that broad staircase, jerking blossoms from the plants +as she went, and forming them into a tiny bouquet for her +grandmother. Her dress was just one cloud of silvery +whiteness. A little cluster of moss rose buds on the left +shoulder, and another in her belt, were all the ornaments +she wore. She had insisted, with almost passionate vehemence, +that no mention of her heirship should be made +that night, and the old lady consented with reluctance, but +appeased her own impatience by a grand festival to all her +tenants and retainers in the park, where nothing had been +omitted which, in feudal times, was considered proper when +the heirship of Houghton was proclaimed. Still, in words, +the old lady had kept honorable silence, and no one, even +from the grandeur of the entertainment, had a right to +more than guess that the general heirship was settled on +Lord Hope's daughter.</p> + +<p>In fact, this entertainment was ostensibly given to Lord +and Lady Hope, and the old countess had taken up the +sparkling weight of all those Carset jewels, that all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span> +world might know that they had come back honorably into +her own possession. It was a splendid and most delicate +way of acknowledging herself in the wrong.</p> + +<p>Before the guests had commenced to arrive in any numbers, +Lady Hope came floating into the state drawing-room, +with a noble cactus flower sweeping backwards from the +left side of her head, and resting upon the massive braids +of her hair, which curved upwards like a helmet, from her +neck almost to the forehead. Chains of large rubies encircled +her neck and arms, harmonizing with the cactus blossom, +but forming a bold contrast to the amber silk of her +dress, which swept far back upon the polished floor, and +took the light as birds of Paradise fling off sunshine from +their plumage. A beautiful and right queenly personage +was Rachael Closs that night, as she moved across the floor +and took her place by the little countess, who looked up and +smiled gently when she saw that Lord Hope's wife appeared +in the old family rubies, which she had presented to +her that morning.</p> + +<p>One bright glance at Clara, another of sparkling triumph +at Lord Hope, and Rachael gave herself up to the brilliant +duties that lay before her. This night was to be the +crowning success of her life.</p> + +<p>The guests swept through the great entrance, and into +the drawing-room now, in crowds and groups. Music +sounded from half a dozen gilded orchestras, and the oaken +floors of that old castle began to tremble under the feet of +many dancers, as they kept time to the music, and sent out +a soft undertone of conversation.</p> + +<p>Lord Hope opened the ball with the élite of the élite. +Lord Hilton led Lady Clara into the same set, at which the +old countess nodded her head and smiled. She observed +that the young nobleman bent his head, and looking in the +bright face of her grandchild, was talking earnestly to her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> +at which the dear old lady smiled again, and put up her +fan, that no one might observe how pleased she was.</p> + +<p>This was what Hilton was saying:</p> + +<p>"And she would not come down, fearing to meet me? +This is hard, Lady Clara!"</p> + +<p>"No," answered the girl, reaching out her hand for a +ladies' chain, and breaking from it in haste. "It is not altogether +that; she says that it is impossible to be of us—that +her birth forbids it, and any attempt at equality could only +end in humiliation. I cannot persuade her out of this +idea: entreat as I would, she refused utterly to come down. +Then I got grandmamma to urge it, and she did it beautifully, +but it was no use; and there the poor darling sits +all alone, hearing the music and our voices, as prisoners in +their cells listen to bird songs through windows in the +walls. It is cruel! Why can't people be born all alike, +and go up and down according to their own merits, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"That is an American idea. You must have picked it +up there in your infancy, Lady Clara."</p> + +<p>"I should not wonder. Some day I mean to go back +there and see what social equality is like."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you will find no place on earth where your title +will be of so much value, Lady Clara," said Hilton, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Well, that is because the Americans respect history, +and associate us with the great deeds of mutual ancestors. +It is the romance of tradition that interests them; for they +are great readers, these Americans, and know more of us, as +a people, than we do of ourselves. We represent the warriors +and the statesmen which they have clothed in the poetry +of great deeds. If the nobility of this day disappoints +them it is our own fault. When they learn that our greatness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span> +consists only in titles, we shall have little homage +merely for them."</p> + +<p>"What a strange little creature you are!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, rather. It is our turn now."</p> + +<p>After a little there was another long pause in the +dance. Then Hilton went back to the subject nearest to his +heart.</p> + +<p>"You could not possibly persuade her to come down—not +here, but into some of the less public rooms?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Impossible. She would not think of it."</p> + +<p>"Cruel!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so; but then, I would do exactly the same +thing."</p> + +<p>"What makes you start so, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you see? There is Mr. Closs going up to grandmamma, +and papa standing close by her. Why, Lord +Hope is speaking to him! How good! how kind! They +are both smiling; now, now, do look on mamma Rachael's +face—she sees them, and happiness makes her splendid! +He is coming this way. Understand now, I shall dance +with him just as often as I can, and you are to help me if I +get into any trouble. Thank Heaven, this set is over!"</p> + +<p>"You are complimentary," laughed Lord Hilton.</p> + +<p>"So I am; but you don't mind it. Here he is. Let me +introduce you before he takes me off. Lord Hilton, Mr. +Closs."</p> + +<p>The next moment Clara was whirling through the room, +with Hepworth Closs' arm around her waist, and her hand +on his shoulder. She kept her word, and spent half her +evening with him, managing to escape observation as much +as possible, and thus secured a few hours of supreme happiness.</p> + +<p>Lord Hope had received his brother-in-law with gentlemanly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> +ease. How could he help it, not being master at +Houghton?</p> + +<p>Besides, he was disposed to cast off all responsibility with +regard to his daughter's choice of a husband, and leave +everything to the judgment and pride of the old countess, +who happened to like Closs, and was not aware how much +of that evening he spent with her grandchild.</p> + +<p>Rachael was in ecstasies. She loved her brother dearly, +and his apparent reconciliation with her husband lifted the +last cloud from her heart. It seemed to her that night as +if she had nothing to wish for.</p> + +<p>The old countess stood to her post bravely, until after the +supper-rooms had been thrown open and the gay crowds +had passed in and out again; but when the dancing had +recommenced and the conversation around her grew brilliant +and a little confusing, she turned suddenly pale, and would +have fallen, but that Lady Clara, who stood near, sprang +forward and threw both arms around her.</p> + +<p>"She is better; she can walk now. I will go with her," +cried the excited young creature. "Papa, you shall help +her up-stairs, then I will take care of her," she added, seeing +how helpless the old lady was.</p> + +<p>Lord Hope almost carried the old lady up-stairs. Then +Clara called aloud for Caroline Brown, who came out from +her chamber, and, between them, they led the old countess +into the tower-room.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE OLD WOMAN WANDERS BACK AGAIN.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Old</span> Mrs. Yates had left the railroad station two miles +back, and was walking wearily along the high road toward +the village, which lay, as it were, at the feet of Houghton +Castle, like a spaniel crouching at the foot of its mistress. +At the station and all along the road she had observed an +unusual commotion. Carriages in an unprecedented number +were waiting for special trains, which came in more +than once that day for Houghton Castle.</p> + +<p>All the vehicles in the neighborhood were in motion, +dashing to and from the village inns, the castle, and a neighboring +town, where accommodations for a great access of +people could be obtained.</p> + +<p>Hannah Yates was more than once nearly run over and +driven back to the banks of the highway by those flying +vehicles, where she stood half-terrified, half-curious, looking +after them in wistful astonishment.</p> + +<p>What could this tumultuous movement mean? Was it +a wedding—but of whom? A funeral—the old countess?</p> + +<p>No, no! Destiny could not be so cruel. Besides, there +was no such eager driving or smiling faces when the head +of that castle was taken from its broad portals to the +family vault. It must be some festival, and she was yet in +time.</p> + +<p>At an abrupt curve of the road the old woman came suddenly +upon a full view of the castle. It was all ablaze +with lights, and rose up from the embosoming trees like +some enchanted palace upon which a tempest of stars had +rained down in all their heavenly brightness. The broad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> +façade which connected the tower was flooded with noonday +light, and she could discover groups of people moving to +and fro on the stone terrace in front, rendered so small +by the distance that they seemed unreal and fairy-like. +Down to the verge of the park and upward, curving +through the woods, she could trace the chestnut avenue by +wreaths of colored lanterns that blazed from tree to tree +like mammoth jewels chaining them together. Now and +then a carriage broke to view, sweeping along the macadamized +avenue, clearly revealed by the light that fell +around it.</p> + +<p>Never in her life had the old woman seen such splendid +commotion about that stately building, yet she could remember +many a festive scene in its old walls, when crowned +princes had been entertained there with a degree of splendor +scarcely exceeded in their own palaces.</p> + +<p>As the old woman stood gazing upon this scene, a countryman, +passing along the highway, paused near her to get +a sight of the castle.</p> + +<p>"What is going on up yonder?" inquired the woman, +drawing toward him and speaking in his own broad dialect.</p> + +<p>"What is't at yon castle? An' who mon you be that +donna know that the oud lady up at Houghton is giving a +grand blow-out to her gran'child, Lord Hope's daughter, an' +to Lady Hope, as people thought she would never abide in +her sight?"</p> + +<p>"And is Lord and Lady Hope at the castle?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, an' the young lady, too—her that the oud countess +is o'er fond of; but the young 'un is a right comely lass, an' +the oud 'un might go furder and fare worse."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yates gathered the woolen shawl she had travelled +in about her, and went hastily down the bank on which she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> +had been standing, so excited that all the weakness of age +seemed to have been suddenly swept from her.</p> + +<p>She had intended to sleep in the village that night; now +she bent her steps resolutely toward the castle.</p> + +<p>As she came out of the chestnut avenue, keeping upon +the turf and among the shadows, all of the glory of that +illumination broke upon her.</p> + +<p>The broad terrace, flooded with light—a fountain, directly +in front, shooting up a column of liquid crystal thirty feet +or more, where it branched off, like a tree of quivering ice +swayed gracefully in the wind, and broke up in a storm of +drops that rained downward, flashing and glittering through +that golden atmosphere to their source again.</p> + +<p>Above this rose those grand old towers, garlanded with +colored lamps that wound in and out of the clinging ivy in +great wreaths and chains of tinted fire, which harmonized +with the quivering foliage, and flooded the fountain, the +terrace, and all the neighboring trees with a soft atmosphere +of golden green.</p> + +<p>Here and there the gray old stonework of the towers +broke through, revealing glimpses of the giant strength +which lay hidden underneath; and over the right hand +tower, from a flag-staff turned around and around with +star-like lights, the broad, red banner, with which the +Carsets had for centuries defied their enemies and welcomed +their friends, floated slowly out upon the night +wind.</p> + +<p>Hannah Yates saw all this, and knew, by the music +which thrilled the air around her, that the revel, whatever +it was, had commenced; for a sound of pleasant voices and +sweet laughter came through the open windows, and from +the depths of the park—where an ox had been roasted whole +that day, and wine and beer had flowed freely as the waters +of the fountain—came subdued sounds of a waning festival,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span> +which had been given to the tenantry and villagers. The +gaiety of the castle was answered back from the park, and +harmonized by that of the working people who tilled all the +broad lands around it.</p> + +<p>When the old woman heard these answering sounds she +felt that an heiress to all this greatness was acknowledged +that night, for when lords gathered in the castle, and tenants +in the park, it was usually to acknowledge the rights +of a coming heir, and she could not believe that all this had +been done in honor of Lady Hope.</p> + +<p>Hannah Yates lost all the unnatural strength that had +brought her among this splendor. She knew that it was +scarcely possible that she could speak with Lady Carset +that night, if she could, indeed, gain admittance to the +castle; but she went around to a back entrance, and so +made her way, unseen, to the tower-chamber, which +opened into Lady Carset's dressing-room. There she sat +down and waited, hour after hour, until at last the door +opened, and the old countess came in, walking feebly between +two young girls, one of whom she had never seen +before, but the other made the sinking heart leap in her +bosom.</p> + +<p>When the old countess entered, the lights in her room +were shaded, but they struck those masses of jewels in the +snowy whiteness of her hair and upon her bosom with a +brilliancy that revealed the gray pallor of that aged face +with painful distinctness.</p> + +<p>Hannah Yates arose from the shaded place in which she +was sitting, and came forward to support her old mistress.</p> + +<p>The countess looked up, and a faint smile flickered across +her face.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Yates, is it you?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yates made no answer, but took that frail form in +her arms and carried it to the couch.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span>"Take them off! take them off! They are heavy, ah, so +heavy!"</p> + +<p>The old lady put a waving hand to her head, indicating +that it was the diamonds that troubled her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yates, who had performed this office many a time +before, unclasped the jewels and laid them on a sofa-table +close by, then she removed the burning stones from that +oppressed bosom, and unclasped them from the slender arms, +while her mistress lay struggling for breath, with her eyes +fixed on that kind old face with a look of touching helplessness.</p> + +<p>"Give me water," she whispered.</p> + +<p>Caroline ran for a goblet of water, and held it to those +white lips. The countess drank a swallow and then called +out:</p> + +<p>"Wine! wine!"</p> + +<p>Wine was brought, and she drank a little.</p> + +<p>"Go, my child," she whispered, seeing how anxious and +pale Clara appeared, in spite of the cloudy softness of her +dress. "Go to your room and get some rest. Ah, me! +how all this wearies, wearies!"</p> + +<p>The two girls hesitated. There was something in that +sweet old face that kept them spellbound. The old lady +saw it, and reaching forth her hand, drew them, one after +the other, down to her lips, and kissed them.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, good-night!"</p> + +<p>How softly those gentle words fell from her lips. With +what yearning fondness her eyes followed those young +creatures as they went reluctantly from the room, looking +back in wistful sorrow, as they left her in the care of +Yates.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span><a name="XXXV" id="XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.<br /> +<br /> +<small>LADY HOPE IN THE CASTLE.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Clara</span> had been dancing, talking and receiving +such homage as would have satisfied the ambition of a princess. +She had managed to snatch time to exchange many a +sweet word and bright look with her lover, and would have +been happy in delicious weariness, but for the sudden indisposition +which had fallen upon her grandmother. As it was +she could hardly realize anything, but gave way to intense +weariness, and almost fell asleep as Margaret was undressing +her.</p> + +<p>But Caroline had been alone all the evening, within hearing +of the laughter, the music, and feeling the very tread of +the dancers in every nerve. She was young, ardent, and +naturally felt a craving wish for the amusement she had +resolutely denied herself; now, less than ever, could she feel +a desire for sleep. Instead of seeking her room she wandered +off to a wing of the castle, in which the picture +gallery stretched its silent range of dead shadows, and tried +to throw off the unaccountable excitement that possessed +her, by walking up and down the long gallery.</p> + +<p>The late moon was shining through the windows, and a +crowd of dimly outlined figures, in armor or sweeping garments, +looked down upon her from the walls.</p> + +<p>Why this strange spirit of unrest had sent her to that +gallery she could not have told, but it was there still, urging +her on and on, she could not tell where, but walked swiftly +up and down, up and down, as if striving to weary herself +in a desire for the slumber that seemed to have fallen upon +every human being in the castle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span>As she was walking thus wildly, a footstep, not her own, +disturbed her. She stopped to listen—made sure that it +was some one advancing, and drew slowly back toward the +wall, hoping to shelter herself among the low-hanging pictures.</p> + +<p>The moonlight, from a neighboring window, lay full upon +her as she retreated across the room, with her face turned +down the gallery, and her breath hushed in fear. She saw, +coming toward her, now in shadow, now in broader light, a +lady, in garments of rustling silk, sweeping far back on the +oaken floor, and gleaming duskily, amber-hued in the imperfect +light of a small silver lamp which she carried in her +hand—a beautiful lady, with rubies on her neck and in her +hair. The lamplight, for a moment, concentrated on a face +whose weariness was overborne by slumbering triumph, +which poised her head like that of a newly crowned empress.</p> + +<p>Caroline stood for the moment fascinated, then made a +swift retreat, for she saw those great, black eyes turned full +upon her, and fled in a panic.</p> + +<p>A shriek—the crash of a falling lamp, and a mass of +dusky drapery huddled together on the floor, brought the +girl out of her covert. Something must have happened—the +lady had hurt herself—perhaps could not arise from +want of help. She went down the gallery, passing first +one window then another, taking the moonlight from each, +when the fallen lady uttered another cry, sprang to her feet +and fled down the gallery, leaving her lamp overturned, +with the wick still burning.</p> + +<p>Caroline took up the lamp, and placing it on a bracket, +left the gallery, vexed with herself for the fright she had +occasioned this strange lady by wandering about so heedlessly +in the dark. Still she could not sleep, but went to +her own room and sat waiting there for the morning to +dawn.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span>Perhaps an hour after Caroline left the picture gallery, a +figure clothed in white from head to foot, came through an +end door, walking firmly through the darkness, and touching +the floor with the noiseless tread of her naked feet. +She walked straight to the silver lamp and took it from the +bracket. Now her face was revealed. It was Lady Hope.</p> + +<p>She held the lamp before her, and moved on very slowly, +looking ahead through the darkness with those wide open, +staring eyes.</p> + +<p>After that, when all the fires of that vivid illumination +had burned out in the park, and were quenched in the +castle, a bright star seemed wandering up and down the +vast building; now at one window, then at another, lighting +it up with fitful gleams, then leaving it in darkness, +and appearing again in some far off casement.</p> + +<p>Once or twice the form of a woman in white cast its +cloudy outline across the plate glass of an unshuttered +window; but no person was in the park to observe her, and +she wandered on with a lamp in her firm hand, which +brightened over the pallid outlines of her face, and kindled +up her night drapery like sunshine over drifted snow. +Up and down along the corridors, and through the long +drawing-room, the figure swept, carrying her lamp, and +moving noiselessly over the floor with her white, naked +feet.</p> + +<p>Upon that unconscious face a look of deep pain had +stamped itself in place of haughty triumph, and the wide +open black eyes had a far-off look, as if their glance could +penetrate the walls and the very sky beyond.</p> + +<p>On and on the woman wandered, till she came to a closed +door in one of the corridors. Here she paused, laid her +right hand on the silver knob, and turned it so noiselessly +that, when the door opened, it seemed like the action of a +ghost.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span>The room was darkened from even the faint light of the +stars by sweeping draperies of silk, which glowed out +redly as the lamp light fell upon it in flashes, as if suddenly +drenched with wine.</p> + +<p>A high ebony bedstead stood in the centre of this noble +room, canopied half way over, and draped like the windows, +so that a red gleam fell upon the whiteness of the counterpane +as the light of that lamp fell upon it.</p> + +<p>A man lay profoundly sleeping on this bed—a handsome, +middle-aged man, whose thick brown beard showed soft +gleams of silver in it, and whose hair, though waving and +bright, was growing thin on the top of his head.</p> + +<p>The man appeared to sleep heavily, and a smile lay on +his lips; but a look of habitual care had written itself on +his forehead, and his mouth was surrounded by stern, hard +lines, that seemed graven there with steel.</p> + +<p>The woman stood by this sleeping man, gazing on him +with the far-off look of a ghost. She turned at last, and +set the light down on a console, where it fell less distinctly +on the pillow where that head was lying. Then she crept +back and sat down on the side of the bed, so close to the +unconscious sleeper that her shadow fell across him. +Slowly, as if she had been touching a serpent, her hand +crept stealthily toward that which lay in the supine carelessness +of sleep on the white counterpane. She touched it +at last, but started back. A blood-red stain from the +curtain fell across it as her bending form let the light +stream through the silk.</p> + +<p>The woman drew back and passed her left hand quickly +over that which had touched the sleeping man. Again and +again she rubbed one hand over the other, muttering to +herself.</p> + +<p>Then a look of passionate distress came to that dark face, +and, going to a marble table, on which a silver bowl and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span> +pitcher stood, she poured some water into the bowl, and +plunged the hand with which she had touched that sleeping +man into it. The splash of the water aroused him, and its +icy coldness shocked the woman out of her unnatural sleep. +She turned around wildly, with the water dripping from +her hands—turned to find herself in her husband's chamber, +with his astonished eyes fixed upon her as he sat up in +bed.</p> + +<p>"Rachael!"</p> + +<p>She did not answer him, but stood gazing around the +room in wild bewilderment. How came she standing +there? By what spirit of love or hate had she been sent to +that silver basin?</p> + +<p>"Rachael, is anything wrong? Are you ill?"</p> + +<p>The woman began to shiver. Perhaps the ice cold water +had chilled her.</p> + +<p>She looked down upon her hands as if the red shadow +haunted her yet, but all she saw were drops of pure water +rolling down her slender fingers, and falling one by one to +the floor.</p> + +<p>"I do not know!" she answered, in cold bewilderment. +"Something drove me out from the bed, and sent me +wandering, wandering, wandering! But how I came here, +alas! Norton, I cannot tell you."</p> + +<p>Rachael shivered all over as she spoke, and, as if drawn +that way by some unseen force, came close to Lord Hope's +bed, and sat down upon it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so cold—so dreary cold!"</p> + +<p>An eider down quilt lay across the foot of the bed. Lord +Hope reached forward and folded it around her, very gently, +murmuring:</p> + +<p>"My poor wife! poor Rachael! You have been dreaming."</p> + +<p>"No; it was not all dreaming, Norton. I did see—no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span> +matter what; but it was something that terrified me out +of all the joy and glory of this night. I must have been +fearfully worn out to sleep after that; but the lamp, which +I left behind me, is burning there, and my hands were in +the cold water, trying to wash themselves, when you awoke +me. I must have been in that fearful picture gallery +again."</p> + +<p>"You have courage to go there at all, Rachael!"</p> + +<p>"I got there without knowing it. The rooms have been +so changed I lost my way, and took the wrong corridor, and +there I saw—"</p> + +<p>"<em>Her</em> picture."</p> + +<p>"Was it that? Oh! was it only that?"</p> + +<p>"It is there—her picture—life size; and so like that I +would not look on it for the world."</p> + +<p>"But what carried me there, Norton? On this night, +too, when I have been honored, as your wife should be for +the first time! when her mother has taken me by the hand +and lifted the cloud from my name! Ah, Norton! Norton! +it was glory to me when I saw your eyes kindle, and +answer back to mine, as the noblest of the land crowded +round to do me homage. Then I knew that the old love +was perfect yet. Oh, Destiny is cruel, that it will not let +me have one perfect day!"</p> + +<p>"After all, it was but a picture. Why allow it to distress +you so?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hope took her hands in his. She did not shrink +from his touch now, as she had in her abnormal sleep; +but he felt her palms growing warm, and saw the light +coming back to her eyes, where it had seemed frozen at +first.</p> + +<p>"And you love me? I was sure of it to-night. That +was my chiefest glory. Lacking that, what would the +homage of all the world be to Rachael Closs? I was thinking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span> +this, when <em>that</em> seemed to start up before me, and +whispering to myself, 'He loves me! he loves me! he loves +me!' like a young girl; for I have seemed very young +to-night. Why not? A glorious life lies before us. You +will now step more fearlessly forward, and take your place +among the great men of the earth,—while I—I will be +anything; charm stones, work miracles, to win popularity +and lay it at your feet.</p> + +<p>"Say that you love me once more, Norton, and then I +will creep back to my pillow, the proudest and happiest +woman on earth—for, after all, it was only a picture!"</p> + +<p>Rachael Closs had hardly done speaking when a cry of +distress rang through the neighboring corridor, the door of +Lord Hope's chamber was flung open, and a pallid face +looked in.</p> + +<p>"Come—come at once! My lady is dying!"</p> + +<p>Round to other rooms came that cry of terror, arousing +those two girls—the one from her sleep, the other from her +mournful vigil—and drawing the family together, in pale +groups, into the tower-chamber.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXXVI" id="XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.<br /> +<br /> +<small>DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> old countess was not dying, but dead. Hannah +Yates, who had watched her faithfully, did not know when +the last faint breath left her lips; but she became conscious +of a solemn stillness which settled upon the room, and +bending forward, saw that soft gray shadows had crept over +that gentle face, up to the hair of silky snow, and down to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span> +the slender throat, till it was lost in the purple splendor of +that festive robe.</p> + +<p>There she lay, tranquil as a sleeping child, with a calm, +holy smile breaking through the shadows, and her little +hands meekly folded over the gossamer lace on her +bosom.</p> + +<p>Upon a marble table close by lay the jewels she had +worn—a glittering and neglected heap of fire, which gave +out more light than the shaded lamps that threw their +beams brightly on them, and shed tender moonlight on that +lovely old face.</p> + +<p>The family were slowly gathering in that death-chamber, +where Clara and Caroline were clinging together in bitter +grief, and old Mrs. Yates was kneeling with her face buried +in the purple of her mistress' robe.</p> + +<p>Lord Hope came in at last, followed by Lady Hope, who, +even in that solemn place, could not suppress her pride as +her eyes fell on Lady Clara, whom she recognized as the +heiress of all that gentle lady had left. But Lady Clara +saw nothing of this. The poor girl was weeping out her +passionate sorrow in the arms of her friend, who bent over +her with such tender sympathy that her face was almost +concealed.</p> + +<p>As Lord Hope advanced toward the death-couch, old +Mrs. Yates arose and stood before him. When he had last +seen her she was an old woman, but in the prime of her +strength; now her shoulders stooped, her hair was entirely +white, and she faltered in her walk. He reached out his +hand to her. She did not appear to observe it, but said to +him, in a quiet voice:</p> + +<p>"My lord, I am glad to find you here. God has so ordered +it that I was too late for her. She could not hear +what I had to say, but you must listen in her stead."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span>"At the proper time, Hannah; but we must not talk of +worldly things in this presence."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope bent his head reverently toward the pale form +upon the couch, and the old woman also bowed down her +face meekly, as she had learned to bow her head in prison; +but she answered, with gentle firmness:</p> + +<p>"No—that which I have to say must be told now, and +in her dead presence. Since God has forbidden me to +bring doubt and sorrow on her last moments I thank Him +for it, but you must listen."</p> + +<p>"Not now—not now," answered Hope, quickly. He +was disturbed by the sight of this old woman, whom he had +believed to be buried for life in an American prison; +but he had learned the great art of self-control, and gave +no indication of the shock her presence in that room gave +him.</p> + +<p>His first impulse was to get Lady Hope out of the apartment. +She had never seen Mrs. Yates, but he was fearful +that some mention of her name might renew the nervous +agitation from which she had but just recovered.</p> + +<p>"Come with me, Rachael," he said, in a low voice. +"I will take you to our room, for this is a painful sight. +Then I will return, alone, to hear what this person has to +say."</p> + +<p>Lady Hope was willing to leave a scene which filled her +with gloom.</p> + +<p>Whispering to Clara that she would come back and +watch with her when the old woman was gone, she twisted +a corner of the black lace shawl, which covered her head, +around her throat, and went away, glad to escape that +strange old woman, against whom she had taken one of +those sudden antipathies which were common to her.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! I look almost as deathly as she does, with all +these shadows on my face," said Lady Hope, as she stood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span> +before the mirror in her dressing-room, and unwound the +black lace from her head.</p> + +<p>She was correct. What with fatigue, and the black +shadows flung by her shawl, the best friends of this proud +woman would have recognized her with difficulty.</p> + +<p>She turned for her husband's answer, but found that +he had left her at the door. All rest was broken up for her +now; in fact, it was almost morning; so she began to pace +the room to and fro, thinking, with exultation, of the honors +and wealth that had poured in upon her family by that +gentle old lady's death.</p> + +<p>Meantime Lord Hope had gone back to the death-chamber, +where Mrs. Yates and the two young ladies were +waiting.</p> + +<p>The old woman arose from her knees when he came in.</p> + +<p>"That which I have to say, Lord Hope, relates to you, +first of all, now that my dear old mistress is gone. When +the first Lady Hope came to America, her little girl, then +between two and three years of age, was placed in my son's +family, and under my charge, as her mother had been when +a child. She had reasons, which you will understand, for +wishing the child to pass as the daughter of my son; so we +gave her his name, and she was known everywhere as my +grandchild.</p> + +<p>"We had another little girl, about the same age, the +daughter of Mrs. Brown, an actress; fair, like your child, +and very pretty. This child, Caroline Brown, was almost +given to us; for, after the first year, we never saw her +mother, or received anything from her. One night I +received a note asking me to come down to one of the theatres, +and meet a person who had business with me. There +was no name to the note; but I supposed it must be from +Mrs. Brown, and went. But no person was there to meet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span> +me, and I went home disappointed. That night Lady +Hope died."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope, who had been anxious and restless, drew a +deep breath; for he understood, by the slow caution of +the old woman's speech, that she meant to reveal nothing +which his anxious and listening daughter might not +hear.</p> + +<p>"My lady left a letter behind her, with some money, and +the Carset diamonds, which she charged me to deliver, with +my own hands, here at the castle.</p> + +<p>"She had fears about her daughter—anxieties, which I +need not explain—and besought me to keep the little girl; +to educate her, and conceal her identity until she was +eighteen years old, when I, or my son, should take her +back to England, and allow her to choose her own way of +life.</p> + +<p>"I had talked this matter over with my lady, and gave +her a solemn promise to protect her child, and the honor of +her name, with my life, if that were needed. The very +night of her death Lady Hope gave all the papers necessary +to the recognition of her child to my son. He +brought them home, and, while the children were asleep, +we two pledged ourselves to protect your child from everything +that her mother feared, and to secure for her all that +she hoped.</p> + +<p>"My lord, we kept our oaths. He died, broken-hearted, +under the terrible burden which we took on ourselves that +night. I lived, carrying it with me, till my shoulders are +bowed, and my hair white with old age.</p> + +<p>"The next day, while <em>she</em> lay dead, a fire broke out in +the house where we lived. Our rooms were high up; the +flames and smoke mounted so suddenly that it was impossible +for us to escape by the stairs. The two little girls +had crept into a corner of the room, and sat crying there,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span> +with the fire and smoke rolling toward them. I had +secured the box, in which were Lady Hope's jewels and +papers, and swung it over my shoulders, then snatched up +your child."</p> + +<p>Here the two girls, who stood, pale and trembling, by +the window, uttered a simultaneous cry.</p> + +<p>"I remember! I remember!" they said, each to the +other, then clung together and listened.</p> + +<p>The old woman scarcely heeded this interruption.</p> + +<p>Lord Hope looked toward the window, so bewildered that +he could neither see nor hear anything distinctly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yates went on:</p> + +<p>"I called on Daniel's wife to bring the other child. +Firemen and citizens were climbing the ladders and leaping +in at the windows. One man sprang into the room and +out again, while I waited for my turn. He had something +in his arms huddled up like a bundle—pushed me aside and +took my place on the ladder. Then Daniel's wife came to +me, wringing her hands and crying. She could not find +the child.</p> + +<p>"But I had the one most precious to me in my arms. +The flames drove me forward, and I let myself down on the +ladder. Your child was safe. I know now that the man +who pushed me from the window saved little Caroline +Brown and brought her to you. She has since been known +as your daughter. I saw her in your arms on board the +steamer. Last night she was recognized as grand-daughter +of Lady Carset."</p> + +<p>"But the other—my own child?"</p> + +<p>"I had no means of telling you the truth at the time, +and, after that, would not do it. The child, I knew, would +be a safeguard to little Clara. You would not inquire for +her while supposing her in your own possession. But we +took one precaution—that of giving her the name of Caroline,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span> +which was sure to prevent inquiry. After that she +was known as Caroline Yates, and, until my son's death, +thought herself his child. I never lived with them after +that, but saw her from time to time, though she never +noticed me or knew of the interest I took in her; but, year +by year, I saw her grow up, until my son died. Then I +lost all knowledge of her.</p> + +<p>"One day I was free to look for this dear child, and went +to the cottage where my son's will had secured her a home. +It was empty. She had gone away with some singing +woman and a person named Brown, who had been her +music-teacher.</p> + +<p>"The woman had claimed to be her mother, and was +known on the stage as Olympia."</p> + +<p>"Go on! go on!" exclaimed Lord Hope; "I am listening."</p> + +<p>The two girls in the window were listening also. As +they understood this story more and more clearly, their +arms tightened around each other and a look of unutterable +affection beamed upon their faces; but that of the girl +known as Lady Clara glowed with a look of generous self-abnegation, +while her companion was troubled, and almost +sad.</p> + +<p>"Go on! go on!"</p> + +<p>"I left America at once on learning this, bringing Lady +Hope's papers and Lady Carset's jewels with me. Olympia +was in England, and, no doubt, your daughter was +with her. First I came here, and gave up the trust that +had become a heavy, heavy burden. Then I went in search +of my young lady. The time had come when she might +claim her title and her rights, without violating her +mother's directions. After much search, I found Olympia's +house, and inquired for the person known as her daughter. +She told me herself, and with bitter anger, that she had no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> +daughter. I knew the woman, and attempted to make +her comprehend that I wished to find the young lady +for her own good; but this flung her into a passion of +rage, and she ordered me from the house. Then followed +an attempt to bribe me. Still I kept up the search, and at +last traced the girl they called Caroline Brown to this +neighborhood."</p> + +<p>"To this neighborhood!" exclaimed Lord Hope. +"Where? where?"</p> + +<p>"My lord, up to this time you have only the word of +an old woman, who has suffered under great reproach for +all this. I know that the identity of a nobleman's child +and the transfer of a great inheritance cannot be so proven. +But here is the letter, which Lady Hope gave to me, and +another that she wrote to you on the day of her death. +Poor, poor lady! She was very sad that morning, and +would undertake the letter at once. God seemed to warn +her of what would happen in the next twenty-four hours."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope took the papers which the old woman handed +to him, and there, in the presence of the dead, gathered a +confirmation of all Mrs. Yates had told him.</p> + +<p>The paper had grown yellow since it was blotted with +the tears of a woman he had once loved. No wonder it +shook his hand as he read.</p> + +<p>"And this girl, my daughter, where is she?" he cried, +with a passionate outburst of grief.</p> + +<p>The girl known as Lady Clara came out from the +shadows of the window curtains, and made an effort to +draw Caroline with her; but she shrank back and stood +alone, trembling violently.</p> + +<p>"Papa!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my poor, poor child! How will you bear this?" +cried Lord Hope.</p> + +<p>"Trust me, dear, dear papa—for I will call you so.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span> +Nothing can break my heart, if you and mamma Rachael +will love me yet; for the rest, I am glad, so glad, that I am +no longer a lady, and am left without a guinea. This is to +be really free!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, poor child, how can we ever part with you?"</p> + +<p>"Your own daughter will not begrudge me a little love; +and, after all, I do belong to mamma Rachael more than +she ever can. That is something. Besides, it is from me +that you must take your daughter, for I brought her here. +Ask her if I did not."</p> + +<p>The young girl was smiling, but tears stood in her eyes, +and her lips quivered as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"Come with me, father, and I will give you to her. It +is hard, but I will."</p> + +<p>She led Lord Hope across the room, drew back the curtain, +and let in the soft gray light of that early dawn upon +the trembling young creature who stood there.</p> + +<p>Lord Hope shook in all his limbs when he saw that face. +The eyes full of tears seemed to reproach him as <em>hers</em> had +on that fatal night.</p> + +<p>He reached out his arms, with a convulsive heaving of +the chest, and faltered out:</p> + +<p>"Forgive me! forgive me! for I have bitterly repented."</p> + +<p>He did not kiss her—he dared not even touch her forehead +in that solemn presence; but he laid one hand on her +head, rested his own upon it, asking that forgiveness of +God which her heart gave, but could only express by pathetic +silence.</p> + +<p>Then the old woman came up to the window, and stood +there, waiting.</p> + +<p>When Lord Hope fell back against the window-frame, +strengthless from excess of feeling, she laid a hand upon +the girl's shoulder, and, turning her face gently to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span> +light, gazed upon it with tender scrutiny. Then she said, +talking to herself:</p> + +<p>"It is her face! It is her face!"</p> + +<p>"And you are Daniel Yates' mother. How I shall love +you! Oh, how I loved him!"</p> + +<p>Then the old woman's face began to quiver, and her +large gray eyes filled with the slow tears old age gives out +with such pain.</p> + +<p>"Yes, child, you must love me a little for your mother's +sake."</p> + +<p>"And for the sake of that good man, your son, who was +a father to me. How often he has told me that, if there +was anything grand or good in him, it came from the best +mother that ever lived! 'Some day,' he once said, 'God +may be merciful and let you know her. Then remember +that she has nothing left but you.' I do remember it, and +no child ever loved a grandmother better than I will love +you."</p> + +<p>The old woman lifted up her head from the gentle embrace +thus offered her, and turned to her dead mistress.</p> + +<p>A smile, soft as that hovering about that cold mouth, +came to her lips and eyes.</p> + +<p>"God is very good to me. Are the angels telling you of +it, my old mistress, that you smile so?"</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXXVII" id="XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE NEMESIS.</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> last tender words were still lingering on the lips of +Mrs. Yates, when the door opened and Lady Hope stood +upon the threshold.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span>She had become restless beyond self-control in her own +room, and came back to the death-chamber, wondering what +detained her husband there so long. She had thrown the +lace shawl from her head entirely; but it fell around her +shoulders, shading her bare white arms and beautiful neck, +which the amber-hued dress would otherwise have left uncovered. +Framed in the doorway she made an imperial +picture.</p> + +<p>"My lord," she said, advancing to her husband, "what +detains you here so long?"</p> + +<p>Old Mrs. Yates stepped forward with a scared, wild look; +a gleam of anger or fear, bright as fire, and fierce as a martyr's +faith, shot into her eyes and broadened there. She +came close to Lady Hope, facing her, and laid one hand +heavily on her arm.</p> + +<p>The haughty woman drew back, and would have shaken +the hand from her arm, but it clung there with a grip of +steel.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hope, is this woman your wife?"</p> + +<p>"His wife! Yes, old woman, I am his wife," cried +Rachael, pale with indignation; "but who authorized you +to ask?"</p> + +<p>The old woman did not heed her scornfulness, but turned +her eyes upon Lord Hope, whose face was already white +with vague terror.</p> + +<p>"Is she your wife—the woman who was called Rachael +Closs?"</p> + +<p>"It is Lady Hope, my wife. Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"<em>Because it was this woman who murdered your first +wife, Lady Carset's daughter!</em>"</p> + +<p>More than the stillness of death settled upon that room. +The two girls hushed their sobs, and clung closer together +in awful silence. The man and the woman, on whom these +words had fallen like a rock hurled from some great high<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span> +stood living and human, but struck into marble by a single +blow. The man could not move; the woman did not seem +to breathe. Hannah Yates went on, her voice low, but +ringing out clear and distinctly like a funeral knell:</p> + +<p>"On the twenty-first of June, now more than fifteen +years ago, I saw you, Lord Hope, come out of a house in +Forty-third Street, in New York.</p> + +<p>"You know the house, and can never forget who lived in +it. That day I had carried your child to see its mother, +and left word at home for my son, Daniel Yates, to go after +her; for I had business with a woman at one of the theatres, +and was not sure of coming back in time. The woman I +expected to see was not there; but it took me a long time +to walk back, and it was about ten o'clock when I reached +the house in Forty-third Street. Thinking it possible that +Daniel might not have come home from his work till late, I +was crossing the street to go in and inquire about the child, +when the front door opened, and you came down the steps, +with a fierce, angry air, such as I had seen many a time on +this side the water. I knew that your presence in that +house could have no peaceful meaning, and went over. I +had a latch-key, and did not need to ring.</p> + +<p>"The hall was dark—everything was still below; but a +sound of weeping and moans of distress came from my +lady's chamber. I went up and found her in the dark, lying +across her bed, trembling dreadfully. She shrieked when I +bent over her, and it was not till I got a light that she would +be satisfied that it was only me. Then she sat up, and, in a +rapid way, told me that you had been there after the child, +and would have it but that the little creature had crept +away and could not be found anywhere in the house. +She must have got into the street, and you would find her, +or she might be lost. She begged me to go at once and look +for the child, and wanted to go with me; but I would not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span> +let her do that. I took her arms from my neck—for, in +her joy at seeing the old woman, she had flung them there—made +her lie down on the bed, and went away, promising +to come back if I did not find the child; but, if I did, it +was to be carried to my own house, as she was afraid to trust +it near her. With this understanding I left her to search +for the little girl.</p> + +<p>"She may have crept down to the basement door and be +hiding under the steps, I thought. Of course, the little +thing would be afraid to go out into the streets. So the +first thing I did was to run down into the area. In my +haste I had left the door ajar, and bethought myself to go +back and shut it, but while I was searching the area a +woman ran up the steps and, pushing the door open, went +into the house.</p> + +<p>"At first I thought it was one of the servants, for they +all appeared to be out, but she had on a striped India shawl, +such as ladies wore in travelling, and a straw bonnet, from +which the veil had blown back. These were not things +worn by servants; besides, her air and walk convinced me +that this woman was of another class. As she entered the +door I saw her face for a single moment, but long enough to +show me that I had never seen it before.</p> + +<p>"The child was not in the area. I rang the basement +bell, meaning to question the servants, but no one answered +it. Then I hesitated where to go next, and as I stood in +the shadow of the steps thinking the matter over, this same +woman came through the door, shut it without noise, and +ran down to the pavement. I saw her face clearly then, for +the street lamp was bright. It was that of the woman by +your side, Lord Hope."</p> + +<p>Rachael Closs turned a pallid face upon her husband.</p> + +<p>"Will you permit this woman to go on? Is this hideous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span> +lie a thing for my husband to encourage by his silence? +Who is this audacious woman?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hope attempted to speak, but his white lips seemed +frozen together.</p> + +<p>"I am Hannah Yates, the nurse of that murdered lady; +the woman who has given fourteen years of her life, rather +than have scandal fall on the husband her foster-child loved, +or the awful truth reach her dear old mistress, who died, +thank God, without knowing it."</p> + +<p>"And you listen, my lord, to this woman, a confessed +murderer, and, no doubt, an escaped convict?"</p> + +<p>"He <em>must</em> listen, and he must believe! How did I know +that he was in my lady's house that night, and the moment +of his leaving it? How did I know the very words he used +in attempting to force the child from her? No human +being but himself and the poor lady, whose lips were cold +within an hour, knew of anything that passed between the +husband and wife the last time they ever met on earth."</p> + +<p>"But you might have overheard—no doubt were listening—if +my lord was indeed in that place at all. This is no +evidence, even if a woman, convicted by her own confession +of a crime she now seeks to cast upon another, could bear +witness."</p> + +<p>Rachael Closs spoke out clearly now, and her eyes, shining +with the ferocity of a wild animal at bay, turned full upon +the old woman who accused her.</p> + +<p>The old woman put a hand into her bosom and drew out +a small poniard. Rachael Closs gave a sharp gasp, and +snatched at the poniard, but the old woman held it firmly.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hope, this has been in your hands a hundred +times. When did you part with it? To what person did +you give it? Your crest is on the handle; her blood rusts +the blade."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span>Lord Hope lifted both hands to conceal the horror that +was on his face, to shut out the weapon from his sight.</p> + +<p>"Oh! my God! my God! spare me more of this!"</p> + +<p>The proud noble was shaking from head to foot. The +veins swelled purple on his forehead. The sight of that +slender weapon swept away his last doubt. Lady Hope +shrank back from his side, but watched him keenly in her +agony of guilt and dread. Her proud figure withered down, +her features were locked and hard, but out of their pallor her +great eyes shone with terrible brilliancy. Her husband's +hands dropped at last, and he turned a look of such despairing +anguish upon her that a cry broke from her lips.</p> + +<p>"You—you condemn me?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hope turned from her, shuddering.</p> + +<p>"You know! you know!"</p> + +<p>He remembered giving her this poniard on the very day +of her crime. He had been in the habit of carrying it with +him when travelling, and though sharp as a viper's tongue, +it, with the daintily enamelled sheath, was a pretty table +ornament, and she had begged it of him for a paper cutter. +He had seen the sheath since, but never the poniard, and +now the sight of it was a blow through the heart.</p> + +<p>"I picked it up by her bed that morning, after the murder. +There is a person in the castle who saw me take it +from the place where it had fallen. If any one here doubts +me, let them ask a person called Margaret Casey—let them +ask her."</p> + +<p>That moment the door of the room opened, and Hepworth +Closs stood on the threshold. He had been informed of +Lady Carset's illness, just as he was leaving the castle, and +came back only to hear that she was gone. The scene upon +which he looked was something worse than a death-chamber.</p> + +<p>"Ask him if he did not see this poniard in her room while +she lay unburied in the house."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span>Rachael turned her eyes upon her brother—those great, +pleading eyes, which were fast taking an expression of pathetic +agony, like those of a hunted doe.</p> + +<p>"And you—and you!" she said, with a cry of pain that +thrilled the heart of her wretched husband. "Has all the +world turned against me? Old woman, what have I ever +done to you that you should hunt me down so?"</p> + +<p>Hepworth Closs came forward and threw an arm around +his sister's waist.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Rachael? Who is hunting you down?" +he said, tenderly. "No one shall hurt you while I am near."</p> + +<p>She turned, threw her arms around his neck, and covered +his face with passionate kisses. Then she turned to Lord +Hope, held out her pale hands imploringly; and cried out in +pathetic anguish:</p> + +<p>"Oh, do not believe it! Do not believe it!"</p> + +<p>But Lord Hope stepped back, and turned away his face. +She knew that this motion was her doom.</p> + +<p>"Let me look at the poniard," she said, with unnatural +gentleness. "I have a right to examine the proofs brought +against me."</p> + +<p>Hannah Yates gave her the dagger. She looked at it +earnestly a moment, laid one hand upon her heart, as if its +beating stifled her, then lifted the other and struck.</p> + +<p>"Now, my husband, will you kiss me? I have given +them blood for blood, life for life!"</p> + +<p>She fell in a heap at her husband's feet, and while +death glazed over her eyes, reached up her arms to him.</p> + +<p>He fell upon his knees, forgetting everything but the one +dreadful fact that she was his wife, and dying. His face +drooped to hers, for the lips were moving, and her eyes turned +upon him with pathetic anxiety.</p> + +<p>"It was love for you that led me to it—only that—Oh, +believe—beli—"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span>"I do! I do!" he cried out, in fearful anguish. "God +forgive me, and have mercy on you!"</p> + +<p>She struggled, lifted up her arms, drew his lips close to +hers, and over them floated the last icy breath that Rachael +Closs ever drew.</p> + +<p>Then the young girl, who had loved this woman better +than anything on earth, sank to the floor, and took that pale +head in her lap, moaning over it piteously.</p> + +<p>"My poor mamma! my darling mother! Speak to me! +Open your eyes! It is Clara—your own, own child! Her +eyelids close—her lips are falling apart! Oh! my God, is +she dead?"</p> + +<p>She looked piteously in the face of Hepworth Closs, who +had knelt by her side, and asked this question over and +over again:</p> + +<p>"Is she dead? Oh, tell me, is she dead?"</p> + +<p>Hepworth Closs bent down, and touched his lips to the +cold forehead of his sister; then he lifted Clara from the +floor, and half led her, half carried her, from the room.</p> + +<p>Then Lord Hope stood up and turned, with a shudder, to +the old woman, who had been to him and his a fearful +Nemesis.</p> + +<p>"Hannah Yates," he said, "you have suffered much, +concealed much, and, from your own confession, are not +without sin."</p> + +<p>"True, true," murmured the old woman. "I have sinned +grievously."</p> + +<p>"Therefore, you should have shown more mercy to this +unhappy woman. But the suffering and the wrong was +done to shield this girl from what you thought an evil influence, +and save from reproach two noble houses, to which +she belongs—for her face tells me that your story is true. +Spare the memory of this most unfortunate, if sinful woman. +Spare the high name and noble pride of the old countess,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span> +who beseeches you—her very face seems to change as I +speak—for silence and forgetfulness. That which you +have done in love, continue in mercy. Let this miserable +scene, with all that led to it, rest in sacred silence among us. +The persons who have suffered most are now before a tribunal +where no evidence of yours is wanted. Look on your old +mistress," he continued, pointing toward the death couch, +"and let her sweet face plead with you. Had she lived—"</p> + +<p>"Had she lived," said the old woman, "I should not +have spoken. Death itself would not have wrung from me +one word of what her daughter suffered. But the woman +who murdered her came suddenly before me. It was a +power beyond my poor will that made me speak; but hereafter +no word of this shall ever pass my lips. No evil story +of suffering or bloodshed shall ever go forth about a lady of +Houghton while I can prevent it."</p> + +<p>Lord Hope bent his head, and made an effort to thank +her, but he could not speak.</p> + +<p>"Leave me now," said the old woman. "Let no servants +come near these apartments, save two that can be trusted +here with me. Some one send Margaret Casey and Eliza, +her sister, here. Now leave me, Lord Hope, and you, Lady +Carset. You can trust the old woman alone with these +two."</p> + +<p>Before noon, that day, it was known in all the country +around that the old countess, Lady Carset, lay in funeral state +in the royal guest-chamber at Houghton Castle, for the long +red flag was floating half-way down its staff, and a hatchment +hung in mournful gorgeousness over the principal +entrance between those two massive towers.</p> + +<p>But farther than the flag could be seen, and swift as the +wind that stirred it, went the strange story that the beautiful +Lady Hope had been seized with a violent hemorrhage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span> +of the lungs while standing by the death couch of the old +countess, and had died before help could be obtained.</p> + +<p>After this, another wild rumor took wing. The young +lady who had been some weeks at the castle was only an +adopted daughter of Lord Hope, and, consequently could +not become heiress of Houghton under the will or by entail. +The daughter and heiress was at the castle, stricken down +with grief at the double loss that had fallen upon her since +her arrival from abroad, where she had been educated. +With a feeling of delicacy that did her honor she had +declined to appear as the acknowledged heiress at the festival +given to Lady Hope, feeling that it might interfere with +her grandmother's independent action with regard to the +vast property at her disposal, if she allowed herself to be +proclaimed thus early as the chosen heiress, which she now +undoubtedly was. The will had been read, and, with the +exception of a considerable legacy to Caroline Brown, the +adopted daughter, and provisions for the servants, young +Lady Carset came in for everything.</p> + +<p>Alderman Stacy took this story back to America, and +described his reception at Houghton Castle with such glowing +colors—when the assembled board were at supper one +night, in a pleasant, social way—that one of the fathers +proposed forthwith to draw up a resolution of thanks to +young Lady Carset for the hospitality extended to their +illustrious compeer, and forward it, with "the liberty of the +city, under the great seal of New York." At the next +meeting of the board this resolution was carried unanimously—in +fact, with acclamation.</p> + +<p>Months went by, twelve or more, and then the trees +around that grand old stronghold blazed out with lights +again. Two fountains shot their liquid brightness over the +stone terrace, at which the people from far and near came +to drink. One sent up crystal, and rained down diamonds,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span> +as it had done that night when the old countess died. The +other, being of wine, shot up a column of luminous red into +the air, and came down in a storm of rubies.</p> + +<p>The people, who caught the red drops on their lips, and +dipped the sparkling liquid up with silver ladles, knew that +a double wedding was going on in the castle, and clamored +loudly for a sight of their lady and her bridegroom.</p> + +<p>After a little, the windows along the façade of the building +were thrown back, and a gay throng poured itself into +a broad balcony, that projected a little over the stone terrace, +where the wine was flowing, and the eager people crowding +forward for the first look.</p> + +<p>Foremost came Lord Hilton, leading Clara—Lady Carset—by +the hand. Then Hepworth Closs stepped forth, and +on his arm a bright, sparkling little figure, in a cloud of +gauzy silk, and crowned with white roses, who smiled and +kissed her hand to the crowd, while her little feet kept time, +and almost danced, to the music, which broke from terrace +and covert as the bridal party appeared.</p> + +<p>Standing a little back, near one of the windows, stood +two gentlemen, one very old and stricken in years, who +leaned heavily on his cane, and looked smilingly down upon +the multitude swaying in front of the castle; and well he +might, for two of the finest estates in England had been +joined that day, and from horizon to horizon stretched the +united lands which the children of his grandson would +inherit.</p> + +<p>The other gentleman, standing there with the sad, worn +face was Lord Hope, who leaned heavily against the window-frame, +and looked afar off over the heads of the multitude +wearily, wearily, as if the days of marrying and giving in +marriage were all a blank to him. When the young bride, +who had given up her name, title and fortune willingly to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span> +another, came up to him at the window, she laid her hand +tenderly on his arm, whispering:</p> + +<p>"Farewell, father, farewell! I am not the less your child +because of the blue blood, for she cannot love you better +than I do. Will you not shake hands with my husband, +father?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hope lifted his heavy eyes to Hepworth Closs, saw +the features of another, whom no one ever mentioned now, +in that face, flung both arms about the bridegroom, shaking +from head to foot with tearless sobs.</p> + +<p>A little while after a carriage drove from Houghton to +the station, and in two days a steamer sailed with Hepworth +Closs and his wife, with that kind and faithful man, her +father, for New York.</p> + +<p>Just as they were about to sail, an old woman came +quietly into the second-class cabin, paid her passage, and +rested there, never coming on deck till the steamer landed. +Then she gathered up her effects in a carpet-bag and went +ashore.</p> + +<p>That night a fire blazed on the hearth at Cedar Cottage, +and the dilapidated furniture in the various rooms was +arranged in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>About six months after, this old woman was found dead +upon an iron bedstead up-stairs, and the neighbors held a +consultation about burying her at the expense of the town; +but, on searching the rooms, plenty of English gold was +found to have kept her comfortable for years. Then some +one remembered that a convict, discharged from the prison +not many years ago, was said to be the mother of Daniel +Yates, a good man and excellent citizen, and they decided +to bury the poor old convict by his side.</p> + +<p>There is a very prosperous firm in New York, which has +stood the shock of gold corners, and railway crashes, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span> +the firm resistance of heavy capital and business integrity. +It is the firm of Closs & Brown.</p> + +<p>The younger member is an active, shrewd, generous man, +full of resources, and capable of wonderful combinations.</p> + +<p>The other superintends the in-door business, and makes +himself very useful, in a quiet sort of way, in keeping +things straight—no unimportant position in a business +house, let me assure you.</p> + +<p>As for Caroline—Mrs. Hepworth Closs—you may see her, +any fine day, dashing faster than the law allows, along the +avenues of Central Park, holding a pair of white ponies +well in hand, while she chats and laughs with her husband, +glorying in him, and exulting in the freedom which she +gained in losing a grand title and estate.</p> + +<hr class="hr5" /> + +<h4>THE END.</h4> + + + +<hr class="hr5" /> + +<h2>MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS' WORKS.<br /> +<br /> +<small>Each Work is complete in one volume, 12mo.</small></h2> + + +<div class="block"> +<div class="advert1"><div class="advert2"> +</div><div class="advert2"> +<span class="i0"><em>THE OLD COUNTESS; OR, THE TWO PROPOSALS.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><em>LORD HOPE'S CHOICE.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><em>THE REIGNING BELLE.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i3"><em>A NOBLE WOMAN.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><em>MARRIED IN HASTE.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><em>WIVES AND WIDOWS; OR, THE BROKEN LIFE.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><em>THE REJECTED WIFE.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><em>THE GOLD BRICK.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i3"><em>THE CURSE OF GOLD.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><em>THE HEIRESS.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><em>FASHION AND FAMINE.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><em>PALACES AND PRISONS.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><em>THE OLD HOMESTEAD.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i3"><em>SILENT STRUGGLES.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><em>MARY DERWENT.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><em>THE WIFE'S SECRET.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><em>THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><em>RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i3"><em>MABEL'S MISTAKE.</em><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><em>DOUBLY FALSE.</em><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<h5>Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth; or $1.50 in Paper Cover.</h5> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any or +all of the above books will be sent to any one, to any place, +postage pre-paid, on receipt of their price by the Publishers,</p> + +<h4>T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,<br /> +<small><span class="smcap indent">306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa.</span></small></h4> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Old Countess; or, The Two Proposals, by +Ann S. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Old Countess; or, The Two Proposals + +Author: Ann S. Stephens + +Release Date: August 30, 2009 [EBook #29862] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD COUNTESS *** + + + + +Produced by Roberta Staehlin and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + THE OLD COUNTESS; + OR, + THE TWO PROPOSALS. + + BY + + MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS. + + AUTHOR OF "LORD HOPE'S CHOICE," "THE REIGNING BELLE," "MARRIED + IN HASTE," "MABEL'S MISTAKE," "DOUBLY FALSE," "WIVES AND + WIDOWS," "MARY DERWENT," "THE REJECTED WIFE," "THE SOLDIER'S + ORPHANS," "THE OLD HOMESTEAD," "FASHION AND FAMINE," "THE + HEIRESS," "RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY," "THE CURSE OF GOLD," "SILENT + STRUGGLES," "THE WIFE'S SECRET," "PALACES AND PRISONS," "THE + GOLD BRICK," "A NOBLE WOMAN." + + + A SEQUEL TO "LORD HOPE'S CHOICE." + + + PHILADELPHIA: + T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; + 306 CHESTNUT STREET. + + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by + T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, + In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + Chapter PAGE + + I.--LOVE LIGHTS IN TWO HEARTS. 23 + + II.--CLARA APPEALS TO HER STEPMOTHER. 30 + + III.--LOVERS' QUARREL. 40 + + IV.--THE ITALIAN TEACHER. 48 + + V.--THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER IN OPPOSITION. 57 + + VI.--SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES GET INTO A CONJUGAL + DIFFICULTY. 68 + + VII.--THE OPERATIC SUPPER. 77 + + VIII.--BEHIND THE SCENES. 86 + + IX.--THE FIRST PERFORMANCE. 91 + + X.--THE TWO FOSTER-CHILDREN MEET. 96 + + XI.--LADY CLARA QUARRELS WITH HER STEPMOTHER. 101 + + XII.--THE OLD PRISONER. 107 + + XIII.--THE OLD COUNTESS. 116 + + XIV.--THE OLD COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT. 122 + + XV.--THE EARL'S RETURN. 133 + + XVI.--THE WIFE AND THE DAUGHTER. 143 + + XVII.--HUSBAND AND WIFE. 152 + + XVIII.--THE STORMY NIGHT AND SUNSHINY MORNING. 159 + + XIX.--AFTER THE FAILURE. 167 + + XX.--LORD HILTON TAKES SUPPER WITH OLYMPIA. 176 + + XXI.--ON THE WAY TO HOUGHTON CASTLE. 184 + + XXII.--THE OLD COUNTESS. 191 + + XXIII.--EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS. 197 + + XXIV.--DOWN BY THE BROOK AMONG THE FERNS. 203 + + XXV.--HOW LADY CLARA GOT HER OWN WAY. 208 + + XXVI.--THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER. 214 + + XXVII.--MAGGIE CASEY MEETS HER OLD LOVER. 220 + + XXVIII.--JUST FIFTY POUNDS. 224 + + XXIX.--OLYMPIA'S DEFEAT. 232 + + XXX.--THE FAMILY MEETING AT HOUGHTON. 240 + + XXXI.--DOWN AMONG THE FERNS AGAIN. 247 + + XXXII.--OUT AMONG THE TREES. 253 + + XXXIII.--THE BALL AT HOUGHTON. 263 + + XXXIV.--THE OLD WOMAN WANDERS BACK AGAIN. 269 + + XXXV.--LADY HOPE IN THE CASTLE. 274 + + XXXVI.--DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER. 280 + + XXXVII.--THE NEMESIS. 289 + + + + +THE OLD COUNTESS; OR, THE TWO PROPOSALS. + +CHAPTER I. + +LOVE-LIGHTS IN TWO HEARTS. + + +During fourteen years Hepworth Closs had been a wanderer over the earth. + +When he was carried out from the court-room after Mrs. Yates' confession +of a crime which he had shrinkingly believed committed by another, he +had fainted from the suddenness with which a terrible load had been +lifted from his soul. + +In that old woman's guilt he had no share. It swept the blackness from +the marriage he had protested against as hideously wicked. The wrong he +had done was divested of the awful responsibilities which had seemed +more than he could bear. The revelation had made him, comparatively, an +innocent and free man. But a shock had been given to his whole being +which unfitted him for the common uses of society. + +After all that had passed through his mind he could not bear to think of +joining his sister or husband. The keen feelings of a nature, not in +its full development wicked or dishonorable, had been startled into +life, when he saw into what a gulf he had almost plunged. He saw the sin +and the wrong he had done in its true light, and not only repented of +it, but abhorred it from the very depths of his soul. He longed to make +atonement, and would have given ten years from his life for a chance by +which he could have sacrificed himself to any one that poor murdered +lady had loved. + +These feelings rose up like a barrier between him and his sister. Her +influence over his youth had been so powerful that his own better nature +never might have asserted itself but for the tragedy which followed his +first plunge into deception and wrong-doing. He loved this beautiful +young woman yet, as few brothers of any age or class ever did; but the +shock of that tragedy was on him, and his impulse was to flee from her +and the man for whose sake all this trouble had come. + +Hepworth Closs was not the first youth whose life has opened with evil +thoughts and evil deeds, from which his manhood shrank appalled. + +The unformed intellect and quick passions of youth have wrecked many a +noble soul, by the sin of an hour or a day, beyond the redemption of a +toiling and regretful after-life. The man who does redeem himself must +have a powerful nature, which will force its strength to be recognized, +and make its regeneration felt. But to the sins of youth much should be +forgiven, which, in the mature man, justice might utterly condemn. + +Hepworth Closs arose from that fainting fit humbled and grateful. That +moment his resolve was taken. He would not share the benefits which +might come to him through his sister's marriage, nor in anything partake +of a reward for the evil he had, in mercy, been saved from. The world +was before him. He would work his way into prosperity, if possible; if +not, bear his fate like a man who had deserved suffering, and could +endure it. + +One act of restitution was in his power. The property of the unfortunate +person, whom he knew as Lady Hope, had fallen into his possession, for +the house had been purchased in his name, and, in like manner, her +deposits had been made. He had never intended to claim this money as his +own, and invested it now, holding himself as the trustee. This done, he +threw himself upon the world, quite alone. + +During fifteen years he had asserted the honorable manhood that had +sprung out of his erring youth. That fearful tragedy had sickened him +with deception, and with all ambition which did not spring out of his +own honest exertions. He went forth, with all his energies on the alert, +and his intellect free from the suspicions that had for a time +enthralled it. He had craved riches, and hoped to obtain them through +Rachael's marriage. This had been a temptation. He had ambition still, +but it took a far more noble direction. With wealth he would gather +knowledge; with both, mental force and moral power. + +He went. Men saw him in the gold mines of California, in Australia, and +among the traders of India and Japan. Then he came back to New York, and +was honorably known upon the exchange. Then came a yearning wish to see +his sister, the only relative he had on earth; and we find him at the +gate of Oakhurst Park, just as Lady Clara dashed through it, as bright a +vision of joyous, happy girlhood as ever crossed the path of any man. + +That moment I think that Hepworth Closs fell in love with the girl. If +so, it was absolutely his first love. The boyish and most unprincipled +passion he had felt for that murdered lady had no similitude with the +feelings that possessed him now. It was a wicked, insane desire, +springing out of his perverted youth--a feeling that he would have +shuddered to have recognized as love, in these, his better days. + +Yes, it is certain Closs loved the girl at first sight, but was +unconscious of it, as the nest is when a dove settles down to its +brooding. + +As for the girl, she had seen but few men in her life calculated to +disturb the repose of a creature so gifted and rich in imagination. At +first Hepworth had seemed rather an old person to her, notwithstanding +the gloss of his black hair, and the smooth whiteness of his forehead. +With a trust in this, which gradually betrayed her, she accepted him +frankly as a relative, and in less than three weeks, grew restless as a +bird. She wondered what had made the world all at once so gloriously +beautiful, and why it was so difficult for her to keep the tears out of +her eyes when the soft purple evening came down, and divided the day +which had been spent with him, from the night, when she could only hope +to see him in shadowy dreams. + +Rachael Closs saw all this, and it filled her with bitter rejoicing. How +would her powerful old enemy receive the intelligence that a brother of +hers had won the heart of the future Lady Carset? that he would be lord +of the proud old castle, which must go with the title, and mingle the +blood she had so often denounced as base with that which had turned +against her, with such hot scorn, ever since she entered England as Lord +Hope's wife? + +The very thought of that haughty old peeress so humiliated was +wonderfully pleasant to the wounded pride of Rachael Closs. But far +beyond this was the yearning, almost passionate fondness she felt for +her brother and the beautiful girl who had been to her at once a Nemesis +and an infatuation. + +This was what Lady Hope had hinted at when Hepworth first came. The +great wish of her heart had grown to be the union of these two persons, +next to one supreme object of love, the dearest beings to her on earth. +It seemed to her that those long, weary intervals, which grew more and +more frequent, when Lord Hope left her alone in the desolate splendor of +that great house, would be more endurable if she were certain that these +two persons would always be near her. She was not ambitious for her +brother. That feeling had died out years ago; but her love sprang to +him, like a freshly-kindled flame. + +With Lady Hope, as with Rachael Closs, there was no moderation in her +feelings, which were tenacious as they were powerful and exacting. But +Rachael, with all her impetuosity, had strong contradictory qualities. +She was sagacious, and could rein in her passion of love or hate as an +Arab controls his desert steed. That which her soul most desired she +could wait for. + +One night, when the moonbeams lay like silver on the stone terrace, and +the shadow of the peacock fell from the balustrade like a second bird, +Lady Hope complained of fatigue, and retreated into her own room, +leaving Hepworth and Clara sitting upon a flight of steps which led down +to a flower-garden, somewhat neglected of late years, which lay beneath +the stone terrace and brightened the grounds nearest to the lady's +apartments. Not far from these steps was a noble old cedar of Lebanon, +rooted deep, where the drawbridge had been hundreds of years before. +Beneath it was a rustic seat, and in its branches innumerable birds were +sleeping. + +There never was, perhaps, a finer contrast of silver light and black +shadow in any landscape than surrounded these two persons, as they sat +together side by side, both thinking of the same thing, and both +reluctant to break the delicious silence. + +At last Hepworth spoke--it was but a single word, which made his +companion start and hold her breath. + +"Clara!" + +She did not answer him; that one word frightened her. She had half a +mind to start up and hide herself in the shadows, for he was looking in +her face, and the moonlight fell like a glory over his features, which +she now saw were grave even to sadness. + +"Clara, do you know that I must go away soon?" + +"Oh, no! no!" + +The girl had not expected this. The infinite tenderness in his voice had +led her completely astray, and she broke forth in an eager protest. + +"I must, dear child." + +"Dear child!" repeated the girl, half crying. "Yes, yes, you treat me +like a child--as if I could help being young--as if I could not feel and +think and be miserable like other people. It's hard, it's cruel, +it's--it's--" + +Here Clara burst into a flood of tears, and leaping to her feet, would +have run into the room where Lady Hope was sitting, but Closs caught her +in his arms. + +"What are you crying for, Clara? Why do you wish to run away? It is +wrong to say this, but I must go, because of loving you as no man ever +loved a woman before." + +"A woman?" said Clara, and gleams of mischief peeped out from behind her +tears. "You called me a child just now." + +"Woman or child, Clara, you are the dearest thing to me on earth." + +Clara struggled in his arms, and tried to push him from her. + +"I--I don't believe you. There!" + +"Don't believe me?" + +Hepworth released the girl, and allowed her to stand alone. On any +subject touching his honor he was peculiarly sensitive. + +"Because--because men who love people don't run away from them. It--it +isn't reasonable." + +All the mischief in her eyes was drowned in fresh tears. She thought +that he was offended, and the estrangement of a moment seems eternal to +first love. + +"Honorable men do not permit themselves to speak of love at all where +they have reason to think it unwelcome," was his grave reply. + +"Unwelcome? Oh, Mr. Closs!" + +Clara held out both her hands and came nearer to Hepworth, like a child +that wants to be forgiven. He drew her close to his side, but spoke a +little sadly. + +"You see how much I must love you, Clara, to forget all that a guest in +your father's house should remember." + +"I--I don't know; I can't understand what it is that you have done +wrong. I'm sure I'm ready to forgive you." + +She might have said more, but he took the breath from her lips, and held +her so close to his heart that she could feel its tumultuous beatings. + +"But I can never forgive myself, darling." + +"Oh, yes you will!" + +The creature pursed up her lips and offered them for his kiss--thus, as +she thought, tempting him into self-forgiveness. + +"Is it that you really--really love me?" questioned Hepworth, searching +the honest eyes she lifted to his with a glance half-passionate, +half-sorrowful, which brought a glow of blushes to her face. + +"Can you ask that now?" she questioned, drooping her head. "Will a good +girl take kisses from the man she does not love?" + +"God bless you for saying it, darling! Oh, if it could be--if it could +be!" + +"If what could be, Mr. Closs?" + +"That you might be my wife, live with me forever, love me forever." + +"Your wife?" answered Clara, pondering over the sweet word in loving +tenderness. "Your wife? Are you asking me if I will be that?" + +"I dare not ask you, Clara. What would your father say? What would he +have a right to say?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," answered Clara, ruefully, for she could not +honestly say that her father would consent. + +"You see, Clara, I have nothing to do but say farewell, and go." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +CLARA APPEALS TO HER STEPMOTHER. + + +Lady Hope had retreated into her own room, for the absence of her +husband was beginning to prey upon her; and she was all the more sad and +lonely because she knew in her heart that the two persons whom she saw +together in the moonlight were thinking, perhaps talking, of the love +which she must never know in its fullness again--which she had never +known as good and contented wives experience it. + +Indeed, love is the one passion that can neither be wrested from fate or +bribed into life. It must spring up from the heart, like a wild flower +from seed God plants in virgin forest soil, to bring contentment with +its blossoming. The sunshine which falls upon it must be pure and +bright from heaven. Plant it in an atmosphere of sin, and that which +might have been a holy passion becomes a torment, bitter in proportion +to its strength. + +Ah! how keenly Rachael Closs felt all this as she sat there alone in her +bower room, looking wistfully out upon those two lovers, both so dear to +her that her very soul yearned with sympathy for the innocent love she +had never known, and never could know upon earth! Yet, dear as these two +persons were to her, she would have seen that fair girl and the manly +form beside her shrouded in their coffins, if that could have brought +back one short twelve-months of the passionate insanity which had won +Lord Hope to cast aside all restraint and fiercely wrench apart the most +sacred ties in order to make her his wife. She asked for +impossibilities. Love born in tumult and founded in selfishness must +have its reactions, and between those two the shadow of a wronged woman +was forever falling; and, struggle as they would, it grew colder and +darker every year. But upon these two persons time operated differently. +The wild impetuosity of his character had hardened into reserve. His +ambition was to stand high among men of his own class--to be known as a +statesman of power in the realm. + +But, in all this Rachael knew that she was a drawback and a heavy weight +upon his aspirations. Was it that she was less bright or beautiful? No, +no. Her mirror contradicted the _one_ doubt, and the power which she +felt in her own genius rebuked the other. + +Once give her a foothold among the men and women who had so persistently +considered her as an intruder, and the old vigor and pride of her life +would come back with it: the idolatry which had induced that infatuated +man to overlook these stumbling blocks to his pride and impediments to +his ambition would surely revive. + +"Let him see me at court; let him compare me with the women whose +cutting disdain wounds me to death, because it disturbs him; let him +place me where this intellect can have free scope, and never on this +earth was there a woman who would work out a husband's greatness so +thoroughly." + +In the first years of her marriage, Rachael would say these things to +herself, in the bitterness of her humiliation and disappointment. +Others, less beautiful and lacking her talent, had been again and again +introduced from lower ranks into the nobility of England, accepted by +its queen, and honored by society. Why was she alone so persistently +excluded? The answer was always ready, full of bitterness. The enmity of +old Lady Carset had done it all. It was her influence that had closed +the queen's drawing-room against Lord Hope's second wife. It was her +charge regarding the Carset diamonds that had made Rachael shrink from +wearing the family jewels, which justly belonged to her as Lord Hope's +property. It was this which made her so reluctant to pass the boundaries +of Oakhurst. It was this that embittered her whole life, and rendered it +one long humiliation. + +These reflections served to concentrate the hopes and affections of this +woman so entirely around one object, that her love for Hope, which had +been an overwhelming passion, grew into that idolatry no man, whose life +was in the world, could answer to, for isolation was necessary to a +feeling of such cruel intensity. + +As the hope of sharing his life and his honors gave way, doubts, +suspicions, and anxieties grew out of her inordinate love, and the +greatest sorrow to her on earth was the absence of her husband. It was +not alone that she missed his company, which was, in fact, all the world +to her; but, as he went more and more into the world, a terrible dread +seized upon her. What if he found, among all the highly born women who +received him so graciously, some one who, in the brightness of a happy +life, might make him regret the sacrifice he had made for her, the +terrible scenes he had gone through in order to obtain her? What if he +might yet come to wish her dead, as she sometimes almost wished herself! + +In this way the love, which had flowed like a lava stream through that +woman's life, engendered its own curse, and her mind was continually +haunted by apprehensions which had no foundation, in fact, for, to this +day, Lord Hope loved her with deeper passion than he had ever given to +that better woman; but with him the distractions of statesmanship, and +the allurements of social life, were a resource from intense thought, +while she had so little beside himself. + +She had striven to bind him to her by kindness to his child, until the +bright girl became, as it were, a part of himself, with whom it would be +death to part. + +Is it strange, then, that this dream of uniting Clara to her only +brother should have been very sweet to the unhappy woman? + +Lord Hope had been absent a whole month now, and even with the +excitement of her brother's presence, Rachael had found those four weeks +terribly long. + +What would she do if that fair girl were separated from her entirely? +Then solitude would be terrible indeed! + +But another anxiety came upon her by degrees. In what way would her +husband receive Hepworth Closs? How would he accept the position the two +persons out yonder were drifting into? Would he consent to a union which +even her partiality admitted as unsuitable, or would he, in his cold, +calm way, plant his foot upon their hearts and crush her fond desire out +of existence? + +As Lady Hope pondered over these thoughts in silence and semi-darkness, +Clara came through the window, in great excitement. + +"Oh! mamma Rachael! He is going away from us. He told me so just now; +but you will not let him. You will never let him!" + +Lady Hope started out of her reverie. + +"Going away? Where? Who? I cannot understand, Clara!" + +"Hepworth--Mr. Closs, I mean. Oh, mamma! he threatens to leave us here +all alone by ourselves--the most cruel thing that ever was heard of. I +thought how angry you would be, and came at once. You can do anything +with him--he loves you so dearly. Let him threaten if he likes, but you +will not let him go. You will tell him how foolish, how cruel it is to +leave us, while papa is away. Oh! mamma Rachael, you can do anything! Do +this! Do this!" + +"But why, darling--why do you care so much?" + +"Why! why!" Clara threw back her head till the curls waved away from her +shoulders, then a burning crimson came over her, the shamed face drooped +again, and she answered: "I don't know--I don't know." + +Rachael bent her face till it almost touched that hot cheek, and +whispered: + +"Is it that you love him, my own Clara?" + +Again Clara lifted her face. A strange light came upon it. Her lips were +parted, her blue eyes opened wide. + +"Love him--love him? Oh! mamma Rachael, is this love?" + +Rachael smiled, and kissed that earnest face, holding it between both +hands. + +"I think it is, darling. Nay, I am sure that you love him, and that he +loves you." + +"Loves me? Then why does he go away? I should think so but for that." + +"Because of that, I am afraid, Clara." + +"Loves me, and goes away because he loves me!" said the girl, +bewildered. "I don't understand it." + +"There may be many reasons, Clara." + +"I can't think of one. Indeed I can't. Papa never was cruel." + +"He may not think it quite honorable to let--make you love him, when +your father knows nothing about it." + +"But papa would not mind." + +"Hepworth does not know that; nor do I. Your father is a very proud man, +Clara, and has a right to look high, for his only child." + +"What then? Mr. Closs is handsomer, brighter, more--more everything that +is grand and royal, than any nobleman I have ever seen. What can papa +say against that?" + +"But he is a man of no family position--simply Hepworth Closs, nothing +more. We can scarcely call him an Englishman." + +"What then, mamma? He is a gentleman. Who, in all this neighborhood, can +compare with him?" + +"No one! no one!" answered Rachael, with enthusiasm. "There is but one +man on all the earth so far above the rest; but persons who look upon +birth and wealth as everything, may not see him with our eyes, my Clara. +Then there is another objection. Hepworth is over thirty." + +"Mamma Rachael, you know well enough that I never did like boys," said +Clara, with childish petulance. + +"And compared with the great landed noblemen of England, he is poor." + +"Not so, mamma Rachael. He has made lots and lots of money out in those +countries where they dig gold from the earth. He described it all to me, +about washing dirt in pans, and crushing rocks in great machines, and +picking up pure gold in nuggets--why, he found an awful big one himself. +I daresay he has got more real money than papa. I do, indeed." + +Lady Hope sighed. Perhaps she thought so too; for Oakhurst was closely +entailed, and ready money was sometimes scarce in that sumptuous +dwelling. + +"And then how much shall I have? Let me ask that of papa." + +"But you will inherit something with the Carset title in spite of your +grandmother." + +"Yes, I know. An enormous old castle with just land enough to keep it in +repair. That isn't much to boast of, or make a man like Mr. Closs feel +modest when he thinks of me." + +"But the title. Is it nothing to be a peeress in your own right?" + +"I would rather he were an earl, and I a peeress in his right." + +"You are a strange girl, Clara." + +"But you love me if I am, mamma Rachael." + +"Love you, child! You will never know how much!" + +"And if it so happened that he did really like me, you wouldn't go +against it?" + +"But what would my will be opposed to that of your father?" + +"Only this--you can do anything with papa. Don't I remember when I was a +little girl?" + +Rachael sighed heavily. + +"That was a long time ago, Clara, and childish wants are easily +satisfied." + +Clara threw both arms around her stepmother's neck and kissed her. + +"Never mind if he is a little stubborn now and then; you can manage him, +yet, mamma. Only, don't let Mr. Closs do that horrid thing. I never +could ride alone with the ponies after the last three weeks. You don't +know how instructive he is! Why, we have travelled all over the world +together, and now he wants to throw me overboard; but you won't let him +do that, mamma Rachael. What need is there of any thought about what may +come? We are all going on beautifully, now, and, I dare say, papa is +enjoying himself shooting grouse. When he comes back and sees how much +Mr. Closs is like you, everything will be right. Only, mamma Rachael, +tell me one thing. Are you sure that--that he isn't thinking me a child, +and likes me only for that? This very night he called me 'my child,' and +said he was going. That made me wretchedly angry, so I came in here. Now +tell me--" + +"Hush! hush! I hear his step on the terrace." + +The girl darted off like a swallow. For the whole universe she could not +have met Hepworth there in the presence of a third person. + +As she left the room, Closs entered it. + +"Rachael," he said, standing before his sister, in the square of +moonlight cast like a block of silver through the window, "I have been +weak enough to love this girl whom we both knew as an infant, when I was +old enough to be a worse man than I shall ever be again; and, still more +reprehensible, I have told her of it within the last half-hour; a +pleasant piece of business, which Lord Hope will be likely to relish. +Don't you think so?" + +"I do not know--I cannot tell. Hope loves his daughter, and has never +yet denied anything to her. He may not like it at first; but--oh! +Hepworth, I know almost as little of my husband's feelings or ideas as +you can." + +"But you will not think that I have done wrong?" + +"What, in loving Clara? What man on earth could help it?" + +"Well, I do love her, and I think she loves me." + +"I know she does." + +"Thank you, sister; but she is such a child." + +"She is woman enough to be firm and faithful." + +"You approve it all, then?" + +Hepworth sat down by his sister and threw his arm around her. + +"My poor Rachael! how I wish this, or anything else, could make you +really happy!" + +She did not answer; but he felt her form trembling under his arm. + +"But I only see in it new troubles for you and dishonor for myself. +There is really but one way for me to act--I must leave this place." + +"And Clara? After what you have said, that would, indeed, be +dishonorable." + +"She is so young; the pain would all go with me. In a few months I shall +probably have scarcely a place in her memory." + +"You wrong the dearest and finest girl in the whole world when you say +that, Hepworth! To desert her now would be profound cruelty." + +"Then in what way am I to act?" + +"Write to Lord Hope; tell him the truth--that you have won the respect +of men by your actions, and have, with your own energies, acquired +wealth enough to make you a fair match in that respect for his daughter. +Make no allusion to the past; he is proud, and terribly sensitive on +that point, and might suspect you of making claims to equality because +of it." + +Hepworth smiled as he stood before her in the moonlight, and she saw it. +Wide travel and experience among men had led him to think that, after +all, the highest level of humanity did not always range with hereditary +titles; but he only said, very calmly: + +"Lord Hope cannot accuse me justly of aspiring where he is concerned." + +Rachael felt the hot crimson leap to her face. Did Hepworth dare to +equal himself with Lord Hope, the one great idol of her own perverted +life? She answered, angrily, forgetting that the sinner was her only +brother: + +"Lord Hope need have no fear that any man living will so aspire." + +"Poor foolish girl!" said Hepworth, feeling the flash of her black eyes, +and touched with pity, rather than anger, by her quick resentment. "Do +not let us quarrel about Hope. If he makes you happy, I have nothing to +say against him." + +"Happy! happy!" + +Rachael shrank back in her seat, uttering these two words in a voice so +full of pathetic sorrow, that it brought the pain of coming tears into +Hepworth's eyes. He was glad to turn the subject. + +"Then you are not willing that I should go away?" + +"It would almost kill me to lose you again, Hepworth." + +The young man felt that she spoke the truth; the very tones of her voice +thrilled him with a tender conviction. + +"I will write to Hope," he said; "it must end in that or absence. It +shall not be my fault, Rachael, if I ever go far away from you again." + +Lady Hope took her brother's hand between hers. + +"That is kind, and I really think the only wise thing to be done," she +said. "Hope knows that you were born a gentleman." + +"And having married into the family himself, can hardly say that it is +not good enough for his daughter. This is answer enough for all +objections of that kind. In fact, Rachael, I begin to think we can make +out a tolerable claim. Now that we have decided on the letter, I will +write it at once, here, if you will let me order more lights." + +Hepworth rang the bell as he spoke, and directly wax candles were +burning on the ebony desk at which Lady Hope was accustomed to write. + +Having made up his mind, Closs was not the man to hesitate in doing the +thing he had resolved on. He spread a sheet of paper before him, and +began his letter at once. Rachael watched him earnestly as his pen flew +over the paper. + +For the first time she realized, with a pang of apprehension, the step +she was so blindly encouraging. What if Lord Hope took offense at the +letter, or should condemn her for the intimacy which had led to it? She +was afraid of her husband, and each movement of Hepworth's pen struck +her with dread. Had she, indeed, laid herself open to the wrath of a +man, who was so terrible in his anger, that it made even her brave heart +cower? + +"There, it is finished," said Hepworth, addressing his letter, and +flinging down the pen. "Now let us throw aside care, and be happy as we +can till the answer comes." + +Lady Hope sighed heavily, and, reaching forth her hand, bade him +good-night. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +LOVER'S QUARREL. + + +They were sitting together, under the great cedar tree, declared lovers; +perhaps not the less happy because some little doubt rested over their +future, so far as the young lady was concerned. + +As for Hepworth Closs, he had made up his mind to expect difficulties, +and knew how to conquer them, if human ingenuity could do it. He loved +the bright young creature, and had resolved within himself that no +unreasonable opposition on the part of his former friend should prevent +him marrying her, while there was a possibility of conciliating his +bride, or working upon the love which he had always evinced for his +child. + +Hepworth had learned, from conversation with both the ladies, that the +Lord Hope of the present day was a very different person from the rash, +headstrong, audacious young man whom he had almost threatened with +disgrace fourteen years back. + +Then he was ready to cast wealth, rank, conscience, everything, aside +for the gratification of any wild passion that beset him. Now he held +the rank to which he was born sacred above all things; was careful, if +not covetous, of wealth, because it added power to rank; and was known +the whole country round as one of the proudest noblemen and most +punctilious magistrates in the three kingdoms. + +This man's daughter he--Hepworth Closs--desired to make his wife. Nay, +in spite of fate, meant to make his wife, unless she, in her own self, +cast his love from her. Having settled upon this, he cast off all care, +and gave himself up to the supreme happiness of loving and being +beloved. + +So, as the two sat under the cedar tree, that bland autumn day, Clara +thought, in her wilful little heart, that the man looked too confident +and happy. She had no idea of settling down into a commonplace +engagement, sanctioned or unsanctioned. What business had he to look so +supremely contented? Did he not know that girls sometimes changed their +minds? + +In short, Lady Clara was in a wilful mood, and could be provoking enough +when the fit came on her. Just now she was embroidering diligently. The +golden stamens of a superb cactus glowed out stitch by stitch, as her +needle flew in and out of its great purplish and crimson leaves. + +"Why don't you look up, Clara? I haven't seen your eyes these ten +minutes." + +"Indeed! Well, I'm too busy. Pray hand me a thread of that yellow silk." + +"Not if I can help it, ladybird. It's very tiresome sitting here, only +to watch your sharp little needle as it drops color into that great +flower. One never gets a sight of your full face." + +"Then you don't like the profile?" said Clara, demurely, and her needle +flashed almost into Hepworth's eyes as he bent over her. "That is just +what I expected. It isn't three days since you first pretended to care +for me." + +"Pretended! Clara?" + +"That was the word," answered Clara, holding her work at arms' length, +and examining it, with her head on one side, like a bird eyeing the +cherry he longs to peck at. "Lovely, isn't it?" + +"I have been where you could gather armsful of them from the wayside," +answered Hepworth. "That is well enough, of course, for silk and +worsted; but you never can get that mixture of crimson, purple and +glittering steel, that makes the flower so regal in the tropics; then +the soft tassel of pale gold, streaming out from the heart, and thrown +into relief by this exquisite combination of colors. Ah, some day I will +show you what a cactus really is, Clara." + +"Perhaps," said the provoking girl, searching her work-basket for the +silk she wanted. "Who knows?" + +A flash of color flew across Hepworth's forehead. The handsome fellow +never had given himself much to the study of women, and even that pretty +creature had the power to annoy him, mature man as he was. She saw that +he was vexed, and rather liked it; for if the truth must be told, a more +natural coquette never lived than Lady Clara. + +"Are you beginning to doubt, Clara?" + +"Doubt? Oh! not at all. I don't honestly believe that there ever was a +more perfect flower than that. See how the colors melt into each other; +then the point of that long, prickly leaf coming out behind. I tell you, +Mr. Closs, it's perfect." + +She was looking down at her work, and he could not detect all the +mischief that sparkled under her drooping lashes. + +"Clara, what does this mean?" + +The girl looked up at him so innocently. + +"Mean? Why, it means a cactus-flower." + +Hepworth Closs had never been a patient man, and the feelings which that +wild girl had awakened in his heart were all too earnest for such +trifling. He rose to leave her. Then she gave him a side glance, half +comic, half repentant. + +"Are you going?" + +"Yes." + +"Dear me, I am so sorry, because I wanted to tell you something." + +The girl spoke and acted like a penitent child. Hepworth sat down again, +but his face was clouded. + +"You can do anything with mamma Rachael, and I want you to ask a great +favor for me." + +"Why not ask yourself? My sister denies you nothing." + +"But this is something peculiar, and she may think papa would not like +it. There is to be a new opera brought out in London, and such a lovely +girl is to make her first appearance in it, handsome as the morning, and +with a voice like ten thousand nightingales. Now, I do so want to hear +her on the first night." + +"Well, that is easy." + +"Yes, yes--if mamma Rachael would only think so. But papa is awful +particular, and she may be afraid to take me. But with you for an +escort, there can't really be any harm; so I want your help." + +"But how did you know about this? I have not seen it in the journals." + +"No, it hasn't got abroad yet. I will tell you all about it. When I was +a very, very little girl, my poor mother died in America, where she was +travelling among the Indians, I believe, with my father. Well, you see +how hard it was on papa to be left with a poor little girl among the +savages. I do not know just how it was; but when he married mamma +Rachael, ever so long after, of course she got an American nurse in New +York, who has been with me ever since. I call her my maid now, and won't +have any other, French or not--for she's good as gold, and loves me +dearly. You will believe that when I tell you our head gamekeeper wanted +to marry her--she loved him, too, but wouldn't leave me. Margaret left a +sister behind in New York that she was very fond of, and has been pining +to see for years. Just before you came she received a letter from +London, saying that her sister was there, travelling with some lady +connected with the stage, and asking Margaret to come and visit her. Of +course, Margaret went, and has been all this time on a long visit to her +relative, who came to Europe with the great prima donna, Olympia. It is +her adopted daughter that is coming out." + +"Olympia. Yes, I saw her in America last year--a wonderfully beautiful +creature, in a certain way; but her style of acting is not exactly what +I should choose for you, Lady Clara, though her voice is wonderful." + +"Oh, it isn't her I care about, but the young lady. Margaret says she is +lovely as an angel, with a heavenly voice, but that she is frightened to +death at coming on the stage, and begs and pleads with her mother not to +insist on it; but Olympia is determined. My heart quite aches for this +poor girl. She is about my age, Margaret says, and so beautiful--not a +bit like me. I dare say it's true, for I would give the world to be an +actress, and have the whole world go mad over my singing. By-the-way, +Mr. Closs, do you know that I can sing? Mamma Rachael often says, if I +were not a lady, I might go on the stage and beat half the prima donnas; +besides, she says, I am a natural actress, and that seems to displease +her." + +"I think you are a natural actress," said Closs, with a tinge of +sarcasm, for this whole subject displeased him, he scarcely could have +told why. + +"Now you mean to be unkind," said Clara, rising, with a warm flush in +her cheeks; "I will not ask another favor of you." + +Clara gathered up her embroidery, and prepared to leave the sheltered +seat in which this conversation had been held. She certainly was not +acting now, for Closs saw that her eyes were full of tears. + +"Clara," he said, holding out both hands; "Clara, forgive me." + +She hesitated a minute, then set down her basket, and crept close to his +side, wiping the tears with one hand, while he clasped the other. Then +she snatched her hand away, and held it behind her. + +"No--I won't forgive you." + +"Not if I persuade Lady Hope to take you up to London for this +appearance?" + +"Ah, then, perhaps." + +"And go with you myself?" + +"That will be splendid." + +"That Olympia is a magnificent creature. I took supper with her once in +New York." + +"You, Mr. Closs! You took supper with her?" + +"She sang for us that night, divinely." + +"And you admire her so much?" + +"Very much." + +"Mr. Closs, I do not think I care to go. There is no need of your asking +Lady Hope--I decline the whole thing." + +"Still, I think we will go, Clara, if it is only to show you how much a +woman can be worshipped, and yet despised. Yes, yes, we will go and hear +Olympia sing." + +But Clara was not to be so easily appeased. She gathered up her worsted +and embroidery, huddled them together in her work-basket and went away, +refusing to let Closs carry her basket, or even walk by her side. + +While he stood watching the haughty little thing, a voice from the other +side of the cedar tree arrested him. He turned, and saw a face that had +once been familiar, but which he could not at the moment recognize. + +The woman came forward with a startled look. She was evidently past +thirty, and had an air of independence, which he had never seen in an +English domestic. + +She came closer, their eyes met, and he knew that it was Maggie Casey, +the chambermaid who had led him up to that death-chamber, the last time +he visited it. She had recognized him from the first. + +"Mr. Hepworth," she said, in a low voice: "Mr. Hepworth!" + +Closs had almost been prepared for this, and did not allow himself to be +taken by surprise. + +"You have got half the name right at any rate," he said, quietly; +"Hepworth Closs, and you have it complete. You never could have heard it +in full, when you lived in New York, I fancy." + +"Closs, Closs? No, I never heard that name given to you; but it once +belonged to Lady Hope, I remember." + +"And of course, naturally belongs to her brother, my good girl," said +Closs, with a quiet smile. + +"Her brother? Whose brother? Not the Lady that was--" + +The girl broke off, and her voice died in a low whisper. + +"No, no!" broke in the man, with sudden impatience; "that was a terrible +thing, which you and I will be all the happier in forgetting. The poor +woman who did it is suffering a hard penalty, if she is not in fact +dead." + +"Yes, sir, yes; but how came her grandchild here? How came you there?" + +"Hush!" said Hepworth, in a voice of command, that startled the woman; +"who gave you authority to ask such questions? What can you know about +the old woman's grandchild?" + +"I know that the young lady who left you ten minutes ago was the little +girl they called her grandchild. I saw the coroner holding the poor +little thing up to look on the dead lady. I think that lady was her +mother." + +"And have told her so, perhaps?" + +"No; I never did, and I never will. She called the old woman, Yates, +grandmother; but I know better than that, for I know where her +grandchild is this very minute." + +"You know her grandchild?" + +"Yes, I do, and a prettier creature never lived." + +"You know her, and will tell me?" + +"Indeed, I will do nothing of the sort," answered Margaret, for she had +thrown off the jaunty abbreviation of her name. "There is something +about all this that puzzles me. People that I never expected to see +again keep crossing my path like ghosts, and somehow most of them have +something to do with that time. Why can't the whole thing rest? I'm sure +that poor old woman, Yates, has had her punishment, and I don't want to +talk about what I don't understand." + +"You are wise," said Closs, whose face had lost all its cheerfulness; +"there is no good in even thinking of a dead past, and, as you say, that +poor old woman has her punishment. I am glad you have said nothing of +these things to my sister, or Lady Clara." + +"Why should I?" said Margaret, with shrewd good sense: "what good would +it do? In fact, what do I know? I only hope no such trouble will ever +come to this house." + +"Heaven forbid!" said Closs, fervently, and the two parted. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE ITALIAN TEACHER. + + +Lady Clara was right. Olympia had brought her daughter to London after a +professional tour on the continent, not as her daughter. Olympia would +not force herself to admit that the tall Juno-like girl, who outshone +her in beauty, and rebuked her flippant grace by a dignity at once calm +and regal, could, by any possibility, be her own offspring, at least as +yet. She had arranged it with Brown that no public acknowledgment of +Caroline's relationship should be made, and that she should pass as an +adopted child or protege, at least until her success on the operatic +stage was confirmed. + +Brown had stipulated, on his part, that the girl should receive her +musical training in strict privacy, so far as that was possible, and, in +no case, should be moved from his personal supervision, a condition that +Olympia accepted with delight, for, after a month or two, she began to +feel the presence of her cast-off husband something of a restraint, and +regarded the quick growth and blooming loveliness of the young girl as +almost a wrong to her own ripe beauty. Still she would not loosen her +hold as a parent on the girl's life, but still hoped to reap a golden +harvest from her talent, and sun her own charms, as they waned, in the +splendor of her child's beauty. + +With these feelings, Olympia opened her campaign in Europe, and swept a +brilliant career from France to Italy, and from thence to Austria and +St. Petersburg, leaving Caroline with her guardian and maid, in a +village near Florence, where she could perfect herself in Italian and +music at the same time. + +There Caroline's life really began. They were staying at a pretty villa, +terraced up from the banks of a bright little stream, that emptied +itself into the Arno, so isolated and lonely, that it was perfect heaven +to Brown, who was set down at once as the young lady's father, and to +Eliza, who delighted in the chance of rest this arrangement promised. + +While in Florence, Brown had taken his charge to one of the best +teachers in Europe, who consented to break through his usual rules and +give her lessons in the pretty home she had decided on. He would also +charge himself with selecting a teacher of the language, who should make +her pronunciation of the sweet Tuscan perfect as her voice, which was, +in fact, something wonderful. + +Some persons were in the musician's room when these arrangements were +made, and one of them, a young man, drew slowly toward the piano, like a +bird charmed against its will, and listened with rapt attention while +Caroline took her first lesson. The girl looked up once or twice, as her +voice rang out with unusual power, and unconsciously answered back the +warm smile that enkindled his whole face. A musician himself--she knew +by the very expression of his dark eyes. + +Brown saw it too, and was delighted with the effect of her genius; which +he, in his partial affection, deemed transcendent. + +"He is a professor, I dare say, or perhaps a great singer," thought the +kind old man; "but she charmed him at once." + +Brown was confirmed in this idea when the eminent teacher he had +consulted fell into a discussion with the man in Italian, which Caroline +did not hear, and Brown himself could not understand, but which +evidently turned upon Caroline's performance. They were both delighted +with it; that was evident from the very ardor with which they spoke. +Brown was pleased with all this, but Caroline, perhaps, remembered it +with greater interest than he had felt, for the young man's face haunted +her long after she was settled in the pretty villa, and had made herself +at home among the vines and flowers that turned those terraces into a +jungle of fruit and blossoms. + +Nothing could be more lovely than the home Brown had chosen, and +certainly no place could have been found more completely isolated. The +coming of her teachers even became a matter of deep interest to +Caroline. + +One morning, when her language-master was expected, she went out early +and stood upon the lower terrace, looking down the little stream which +led to the Arno, as I have told you, impatient for his coming; impatient +to know what sort of a person he would prove, and if his society might +not break the monotonous stillness of that beautiful place. It was early +yet. She had no reason to believe that her new teacher would be there +for hours. She felt it very tiresome, walking up and down those terraces +and watching the ripe olives drop one by one into the long grass from +the branches overhead. The restlessness of youth was upon her, and she +longed for some means of leaping over the next three hours, when the new +teacher would come, perhaps with a disappointment. + +He might be some poor old soul, whose very presence would prove an +annoyance. No matter; a disappointment or an annoyance was better than +utter stagnation. She wished the new man would come, she wished there +was something for her to work at till he did come. + +A flight of stone steps fell down to the water from the lower terrace. +Fastened to an iron staple sunk deep into the granite, was a little boat +swinging by a cable. Caroline's heart gave a leap at the sight. + +She ran down the steps, untied the cable, and in a moment was sweeping +down the little stream, pulling her oars like an Indian girl. + +It was a lovely flow of water, clear as crystal. The sky was mirrored in +it softly blue; the sun struck it with arrows of silver, the flowering +shrubs trailed down from its banks, and rippled the waters like the lost +plumage of a peacock; fruit-laden vines broke away from the olive +branches, and dipped their purple clusters in the stream, where they +shone out richly--amethysts gleaming through crystal. Everything was +beautiful around her. Full of youth and health she gloried in the +exercise of rowing; gloried in the sunshine and quivering shadows +through which her pretty boat ploughed its way, breaking up pictured +trees and clouds, and turning them to foam. + +The current was with her, the wind swept softly down stream, bringing a +scent of wall-flowers and jessamines with it. The boat shot downward +like the shuttle through a web. The water deepened, the stream grew +wider; she could hear the broad, free rush of the Arno, a little way +off. Still she went on. + +It would be glorious, finding herself in the broad river sweeping toward +Florence, in her arrow-like boat. Of course she could turn at any time, +but not yet. + +Something stopped the boat. A wild vine, hidden in the water, had seized +upon it, and swept it half around, then a current tossed it forward into +a sweeping whirl of waters. She was close by a vortex near the mouth of +the river, a ravenous little whirlpool that threatened to swallow her +up. The oars dropped from her hands; she seized the sides of her boat +and sat still, rigid as stone, white as death. Then a great arrow, or +what seemed to be one, shot through the water close by her, ploughing it +white with foam. Then a man leaped into her boat, pitching a pair of +oars in before him, and holding the cable of another boat in his hand. + +He neither spoke nor looked at her, but twisting the cable around one +ankle, and setting the other foot upon it further up, seized his oars, +and for a minute or two battled like a tiger with the waters. + +The boat rocked, wheeled slowly away from the awful danger, then plunged +forward with a shock that brought a sharp cry from Caroline's white +lips. + +"Do not be afraid. The danger is over." + +She turned her pallid face, and over it came a flash of recognition. It +was the man who had listened to her first lesson in Florence. He +recognized her, pale as she was, and slackened his oars--they were out +of danger now. + +"Am I so fortunate? My pupil! This is a great happiness." + +Caroline leaned forward and held out her trembling hands. Words of +gratitude were on her lips, but they only trembled there, without +utterance. He leaned over the little hands, as they came quivering +toward him, but could not touch them, his own being sufficiently +occupied with the oars. + +"There is nothing to fear now sweet lady," he said, in Italian, which +never sounded so sweet to her before. "The danger is wholly past--but it +_was_ danger!" + +Caroline shuddered; she almost felt those curling waters sweep over her. +The sensation was terrible. + +"And you saved me?--you, whose face I have seen before so often, so +often. It seems like that of a friend." + +"Once--only once. I wish it had been a thousand times, if that could +lessen your fright." + +"Tell me how it was," said Caroline, beginning to recover herself. "I +cannot realize it." + +"Nor I, sweet lady, it was all so sudden. I saw a boat whirling toward +that treacherous vortex, the flash of a blue mantle, the whiteness of an +upturned face. What I did, you know. I cannot tell how it was done; did +not dream who the person was. Now, I long to fall upon my knees and +thank God." + +Caroline clasped the hands which had fallen to her lap, bent her head, +and unspoken words of thanksgiving trembled in her heart. The man looked +upon her eagerly. That gentle glow of devotion gave her face the +sweetness of a madonna. + +He thought this, and almost dropped the oars, the longing to fall down +upon his knees by her side was so intense. + +She saw this, understood it, and smiled for the first time. + +"I was asking God to forgive me for being grateful to you before I +thought of Him." + +"And I was asking Him to make me grateful enough for having saved you. +Surely that should bring his blessing on us both." + +Caroline bent her head, and a sweet smile crept over her lips. Then she +bethought herself of the things of this world, and grew troubled. + +"But I am taking you from your course. Forgive me!" + +"From my course? Not so. It was for this purpose I come. Perhaps you are +not informed that I am to make your Italian more perfect than it is, +which is scarcely needed." + +"You sir!--you?" + +She said no more, but her face lighted up, and he saw her hands softly +clasp themselves, as if she were thanking God over again. Then his own +head bent forward, and he made a great effort with the oars, but it was +only to hide the smile that broke over it. + +So up the little river these two people went more and more slowly, for +the stillness and the beauty were pleasant beyond anything, and both +dreaded the moment when this delicious happiness would end. But they +reached the steps at last, and there was Mr. Brown and Eliza, on the +lower terrace, in great trouble. + +They had missed her and the boat. Dreading they scarcely knew what +danger, both were anxious to follow her, but they had no means. Thus an +hour of keen anxiety had passed, while they stood watching the river. + +"There is your father, looking anxious," said the young man. "I hope he +has not suffered much." + +Caroline did not answer him, but sprang to the steps and ran up them, +holding out her hands. + +"My child! my dear, dear child!" cried Brown, throwing both arms around +her. + +He often used endearing terms like this when much affected, and she +thought nothing of it, but kissed his face, and kissed Eliza also, who +scolded her terribly, as was her habit when disturbed by a sudden fit of +tenderness--a state of feeling she was sure to resent. + +"Father Brown, this is my new teacher. The professor sent him. He has +just saved my life. I have tried to thank him, but could not. You have +more power." + +Brown and Eliza both came close to the young man; but he shook his head, +and tried to evade them. After her tender thankfulness, their gratitude, +generous and pure as it was, seemed coarse to him. + +"We must begin the lesson," he said, laughing, and drawing a book from +his pocket. "This little accident, which was nothing, has made us lose +time." + +He said this in Italian, which, of course, silenced them; and at this +moment the man could say nothing which his companion would not confirm. + +Caroline smiled, and went up the steps from terrace to terrace, while he +kept by her side. Her color had come back more vividly than ever. The +sunshine struck her hair, and turned all its brown to gold. She was +dressed like a peasant of the better class, with some scarlet in her +blue bodice, and more bordering the bottom of her skirt. Her neck was +uncovered, for the blue mantle had fallen off and now lay in the bottom +of the boat. It was a becoming dress, but not for her--she was too +queenly. + +They went into that old stone dwelling, forming one group; but the +moment the parlor was reached, Eliza went off to her work, she said--but +if any one had followed her, it would have been to a chamber under the +roof, where she was upon her knees full twenty minutes, thanking God for +Caroline's escape from death. + +Then Brown went away, and seated himself in an arbor on one of the +terraces, where he was seen once or twice to take out his handkerchief +and wipe his eyes, as if the dust troubled him. + +The man up yonder, brave as he was, had rather evaded his gratitude; but +he knew that God would listen. + +Then Caroline took one of the volumes her new teacher had brought, and +retreated to a latticed window, which had a cushioned seat in it large +enough for two, though I really do not believe she thought of that. At +any rate, he did not accuse her of it, even in his thoughts, but went +quietly to the window and took a seat by her side, at which she blushed +a little, but did not move. + +Caroline was very well grounded in her Italian; so, instead of grammars, +these young people fell to reading the native poets, and began with +Tasso--a course of studies well calculated to produce more results than +one; but Brown did not understand Italian, though he was a splendid +musician, and repeated it like a parrot. Besides, what did Eliza know +about Tasso, Petrarch, Dante, or any of those wild fellows that +disseminate love-poison by the line? + +When her teacher was ready to go, Brown asked his name. I have no idea +that Caroline had thought of it. The young man seemed quite taken aback +for a minute, but answered, after that, something that would have +sounded like an English name rendered in Italian, had a thorough +Italian scholar been present, which there was not. + +Well, for three months those young people sat twice a week in the seat +in the lattice-window, and read the poets together. Need I say more +about that? + +At the end of three months Olympia had an engagement in London, and sent +for Brown to join her there with his charge. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER IN OPPOSITION. + + +Of course there is no such thing as arousing all London into a fit of +enthusiasm, because millions of people are not moved at the same moment +by anything less than a revolution. But the West End, just then, wanted +an excitement, and found it in the coming of Olympia. Her style was new, +her action a little too free, perhaps, for the high-bred dames of the +aristocracy; but they all went, and were amused, shocked, fascinated, +and went again, but only to keep the young people, they said, from utter +demoralization--the creature really was irresistible. + +At any rate, Olympia was the fashion, and drew famously, till a rival +novelty proclaimed itself. Then she was horror-stricken by seeing a few +empty seats in the house. To Olympia, an empty seat was desolation. + +That night Olympia went to her daughter's room the moment she reached +her hotel after a late performance. The cloak which she had worn from +the theatre still hung about her shoulders. Her cheeks blazed with +rouge, her eyes were restless and anxious. + +Caroline started up from her sweet sleep, disturbed and almost +terrified. + +"What is it, mamma?" she said, holding back the hair from her lovely +face with both hands. "Is any one ill--Mr. Brown?" + +Olympia sat down on her daughter's bed, and drew the cloak around her; +not that she was cold, but to show that her resolution was taken. + +"No one is ill, Caroline; as for Brown, I know nothing about him. But I +come to prepare you; for this week we shall bring you out. In what opera +have you practiced most?" + +"Bring me out? Oh, mamma!" + +The girl fell back on her pillow, dismayed, and clasping both hands, +held them out imploringly. + +"Oh! I thought you had given it up." + +"Foolish child! I never give anything up. Ask Brown." + +It was true; that woman never gave up her own will to any one. The +possibility of sacrifice or willing concession could not enter her mind. + +"But I cannot, I cannot! Oh, mother! think how little I have seen of +crowds. To sing before one would _kill_ me!" + +"Mother!" repeated Olympia, "how often must I tell you that I hate the +word!--an American vulgarism!" + +"Forgive me, mamma; it was only because I was so frightened at the idea +of singing in public. But I know that you did not mean it." + +The poor girl made a pitiful attempt at disbelief, and tried to win +acquiescence with a timid smile. + +"I not only mean it, but will have no more evasion or protest. When we +left New York, you were dying to get on the stage." + +"Oh, that was before I knew--before I dreamed--" + +"Before you knew--before you dreamed what?" + +"That it made one so--so--" + +"Well, speak out!" + +"So unhappy. Indeed, indeed, I cannot say what I mean; only, I would +rather die than put rouge on my face, and--oh, forgive me! I did not +mean to make you look so angry!" + +But Olympia was angry. The prima donna of a company does not usually +bear much opposition, even in trifles, and here Olympia had great +interests at stake. + +Through the young girl before her she intended to run a second career, +and thus crowd the enjoyment of two lives into one. + +"This all comes of Brown," she said. "He would have you kept quiet, and +out of the world, pretending that society would distract attention from +your practice; but it was all an artful plan to keep you to himself. I +have not been so busy as not to understand that, let me tell him." + +Caroline started up in bed, almost as much excited as the actress. + +There was plenty of good honest character in the girl; and, if she +appeared timid, it was from delicacy, not weakness. + +"You wrong Mr. Brown. There is not a selfish feeling in his heart. What +he does, is always done for my good." + +"Yes; I suppose it is for your good when he drinks too much!" + +There was a sneer on Olympia's lip, an evil spirit in her eye, which +destroyed all its beauty; but even this did not make the girl shrink; +she only put out both her hands, and turned her head away. + +"Oh! how can you?" she cried. "I never saw him in my life when he was +not in all respects a gentleman." + +"But I have! I have!" + +"Ah, madam, it is cruel to say this. Mr. Brown was my friend, my only +friend, long before--before you came and took me away from my poor +little home. If you could make me think ill of him, would it be kind?" + +"But he has been treacherous; he has taught you hatred of the profession +which you were so crazy for at one time." + +"No, no; it was not Mr. Brown. I saw for myself." + +"Yes, the dark side; never in its brightness or its glory. But you +shall, you shall." + +Caroline lay back upon her pillow and covered her face with one hand. +The sight of that beautiful woman, so hard in her resolve, so completely +ignoring all feelings but her own, was hateful to her. + +"Please let me rest to-night," she pleaded. + +"To-night, yes. It is enough that you understand me now; but, after +this, I shall expect no opposition. If you are so stupidly ignorant of +the power which lies in your own beauty and genius, I am not. So try and +come to your senses before morning. Good-night." + +The woman went out, with her head aloft, and her cloak trailing behind +her, for, in her excitement, she had flung it away from one shoulder, +that she might gesticulate with the arm that was free. + +Caroline turned upon her pillow and cried bitterly till morning. + +Olympia was right. The girl had been scrupulously kept from all society +that her freshness might be preserved, and her education completed. + +She had been to the theatres, here and there, when some new piece was +presented, but it was rather as a study than an amusement; and after a +knowledge of the public idol in private life had slowly swept away all +the romance of their first meeting, the innate coarseness of this +beautiful, selfish woman was not long in revealing itself to the +pure-minded girl, who soon began to grieve that she could not love and +still admire the mother she had at first almost worshipped. Olympia, who +had found it easy enough to dictate to managers, and oppress +subordinates, had far different material to act upon when she broke in +upon the midnight sleep of the girl Daniel Yates had grounded in the +nobility of true womanhood. + +The next day, being Sunday, was Olympia's great day of rest and +amusement. She slept till long after mid-day, ate an epicurean breakfast +in a little dressing-room with rose-tinted draperies, ran lazily over +the pages of some French novel, in the silken depths of a pretty Turkish +divan, heaped up with cushions, till long after dark; then threw herself +into the mysteries of a superb toilet, and came into her exquisite +little drawing-room like a princess--say Marguerite of Navarre--ready to +entertain the guests, invariably invited on that evening, in a fashion +that made her quite as popular in this particular social strata as she +was behind the footlights. + +From these little suppers Caroline had been carefully excluded up to +this time; but the morning after she had left the young girl in tears +upon her pillow, Olympia broke into her day of luxurious repose by +sending for her agent, with whom she had a rather stormy interview in +the dressing-room, from which Brown came out pale as death, but with an +uprightness of the person, and an expression in the eyes that no one had +ever seen there before. + +About an hour after he had departed, Olympia's French maid was seen +hurrying up stairs to the chamber which Caroline occupied, and where she +stood that moment, just as she had sprung from her chair, with a wild +and startled look; for every knock she heard seemed to come from her +mother, whose appearance she dreaded terribly that morning. But, instead +of Olympia, the French maid came in, with a creamy-white dress of India +gauze thrown over her arm, its whiteness broken up by the blue ripple of +a broad sash, with a purple tinge in it; and in her hands the woman +carried some half-open moss-roses, with a delicate perfume absolutely +breaking from their hearts, as if they were the outgrowth of a generous +soil--which they were not, however difficult it might be to decide from +a first or second look; these French are so like nature in everything +but themselves. + +The French maid laid these things daintily on Caroline's bed, where the +roses glowed out, as if cast upon the crust of a snow-bank. Then, +looking upon the girl's magnificent hair, which was simply turned back +from her forehead and done in braids behind, she said, with pretty, +broken speech: + +"I will do it in crimp and puffs, if mademoiselle pleases. With her +face, it will be charming." + +Caroline drew a deep breath, and cast a half-frightened, half-pleased +glance at her maid, Eliza, who stood near by, looking grimly at +preparations she could not understand. This was not half so dreadful as +the presence she had expected, and the dress was so lovely that she +could not keep her eyes from it. + +"What is it all about?" questioned staunch America, with a look at +France which was not altogether friendly. + +"It is," answered the French maid, spreading out her little hands, "It +is that madame will have mademoiselle down to her little supper. The +evening will be very charming because of mademoiselle." + +Caroline glanced at the blush-roses, and her eyes began to sparkle. Then +she caught a glimpse of Eliza's face, and turned her glance resolutely +away, looking penitent. Eliza knew something of madame's little suppers, +but Caroline did not. If bursts of laughter and a soft tangle of voices +sometimes came up to her room in the night, she had no means of knowing +that the noise was not from the servants' hall, and Eliza would have +died rather than enlighten her. Besides, she had nothing absolutely +wrong to tell, for some of the first young noblemen in England came to +Olympia's little entertainments; and when Eliza heard their names +announced she had not a word to say, having lived long enough to attain +a reverence for titles. + +In fact, it is doubtful if she did not value her charge a little more +highly from the fact that she lived in a house where noblemen came and +went with such evident sociability. + +At first Eliza had darted fiery glances at the robe of India gauze, +thinking it a theatrical costume; but when she learned that it was only +a dress which would introduce her darling into the best society, from +which a selfish mother had rigidly excluded her, she allowed her +features to relax, and absolutely smiled on the little French woman. + +Then the smile, which had been struggling all the time about Caroline's +mouth, broke over her whole face. She could neither keep her hands from +the dress or the moss-roses, but touched them daintily, half doubtful, +indeed, if they were intended for her. + +"If mademoiselle will please," said the little French woman, drawing a +low chair before the dressing-table, and taking an ivory brush, carved +at the back like a Chinese puzzle, in her hand. + +Caroline sat down, smiling in spite of herself. Eliza stood a little on +one side, resolved to be upon her guard. + +While she was looking, down came that abundant hair in a torrent, tress +upon tress, wave after wave, with tinges of gold rippling through and +through the brown. The little French woman held up both hands, brush and +all, in astonishment, and burst out in a noisy cataract of French, which +delighted Eliza all the more because she could not understand a word of +it. + +But Caroline did understand, and this outburst of genuine admiration +pleased her so much that, in a moment, her face was glowing like a whole +thicket of roses, and she hadn't the courage to lift her eyes, from fear +that Eliza would see how foolish she was to care about what the little +French woman said. + +Eliza saw all this, but it only made that grim smile broader and deeper +on her own face; and when the golden-brown hair was frizzed and rolled, +and dropped in two rich curls on that white shoulder, she turned her +face upon the French woman and said, "Very nice!" in a way that made the +little woman put her head on one side, and nod it half a dozen times, +while she answered: + +"Yes, I tink so." + +India gauze was dropped like a cloud over Caroline's head; the sash of +purplish blue was girded around her waist, and bunched up in superb bows +behind; then the cloudy stuff was gathered up in drapery from a silken +under-skirt, tinted like the sash, and fastened back with clusters of +the moss-roses. + +This completed the toilet. No jewels were there, not even a string of +pearls, though Olympia had ropes of them; and Caroline rather sighed for +their completeness when she took a full-length view of herself in the +mirror, as foolish girls will, who never learn the value of simplicity +and freshness until both are lost. + +Then the little French woman went away to Olympia, giving Caroline +plenty of time for reflection. The first thing the girl did was to look +shyly at Eliza, who pursed up her lips, and did her best to keep from +smiling. Then she took courage, and said: + +"Eliza." + +"I hear," answered the grim hand-maiden. + +"Eliza, do you think _he_ would know me in this dress? Or, if so, would +he like it, as he did that dear Italian costume?" + +"I don't know," answered Eliza. "Them Italians have queer notions about +dress. Now, for my part, them short skirts and low-necked waists did +well enough for common-sized girls; but you're too tall, and carry your +head too high, for anything but a skirt that sweeps out and puffs up +like that." + +"Still, I shall always like the dear old costume, Eliza. Oh, what a +happy, happy life madame broke up when she sent for us!" + +"Yes, I suppose so. You seemed to enjoy it; and as for that young +fellow, what with his boating on the river, his shooting birds--which I +hate--on the hills, and his lessons--well, really, he might about as +well have lived with us." + +"Oh! Eliza, shall we ever be so happy again?" cried the girl, kindling +up with bright memories. + +"Not just in the same way; real folks never are. But I suppose people +have a pretty equal share of the good and bad things of life, as they go +along. Now I haven't an idea but that the young fellow thought all was +up with him when he got the letter you left at the house." + +"I should not wonder," said Caroline, and her bosom began to heave with +an after-swell of the indignation which had stormed it, when she left +Italy at an hour's notice. "It was a cruel thing. I never will forgive +you or Mr. Brown. A few hours would have made no difference, and he was +coming the next day." + +"What then? If he was a teacher, Mr. Brown left his money, with two +months' overpay." + +"His money!" repeated Caroline, with infinite scorn. + +"If not money, what did he come for?" questioned the hand-maiden, +sharply. + +"Eliza, you shall never think that--it degrades him and me. He never +touched--he never thought of money. If Mr. Brown left it, as you say, I +am sure he felt insulted." + +"Then what did he come for?" inquired Eliza, with dry emphasis. + +"Because--because he loved me, and could not live without seeing me, +because I--I--" + +"Loved him," said the maid. + +But Caroline had broken down wholly with this first passionate +confession. The poor girl sank to a couch, flushed all over with such +shame as only a woman of fine sensibilities can feel for that of which +she has no reason to be ashamed at all. + +"Oh! Eliza, how can you be so cruel?" she exclaimed, dropping her hands, +and revealing a face of crimson, wet with tears. "I never meant to keep +it from you." + +"Of course, you never meant it, and you didn't do it, which is more. You +supposed I didn't know. Men may be blind as bats--they usually are; and +our Brown is worse than the commonality. But trust an old maid for +spying out a love secret. It's like exploring a strange land for her, +you know. Lord! Miss Carry, you can't keep a secret from Eliza Casey; +but then, why should you? Isn't she bound to be your staunch friend +forever and ever?" + +These words opened a new source of anxiety to the really unhappy girl, +who forgot her love-shame, and plunged at once into a new subject. + +"Oh! Eliza, if you could help me. Madame is determined. That is, she +wishes me to go on the stage." + +"Well, you have been told that from the first." + +"I know--I know; but it seemed so far off then, like death, or any other +evil that you know will come, but cannot tell when. But now she says it +must be at once. Oh! Eliza, I never can do it. The very fear of it makes +me shudder." + +"But why? I remember, when we first came out here, you had no other wish +but to be like her--your mother, I mean. Like her! I would rather see +you dead!" + +Eliza muttered the last words under her breath, and Caroline only heard +the question. + +"Yes, I know. Everything seemed so bright then--she brightest of all; +but I was getting to shrink from it before we went up to that dear +little villa, and since then it has seemed like death. Oh! tell her +this, Eliza, and beg of her to let me be as I am." + +"But shall I tell her all, and say that is the reason?" + +"No, no, no! You may think it. Mr. Brown may think it. That is like +myself having a secret; but do not tell her for the whole world." + +"Tell her! Well, well, I aint likely to; but if she is set upon it, what +can I say? Madame is not a woman to give up her plans, and you have got +_such a voice_! Sometimes I think it would be splendid to see you taking +the wind out of her sails." + +"But it would kill me!" + +"Poor thing! Well, never mind--I will stand by you, right or wrong; but +this will be a tough battle. Tell me, though, did that young fellow have +anything to do with setting you against the profession?" + +"There it is, Eliza. He never knew that I thought of it, and used to +speak of female performers with such careless contempt, as if they were +ten thousand degrees beneath him." + +"And he only a teacher!" said Eliza, lifting her head in the air. + +"And he only a teacher; but so proud, so sensitive, so regal in all he +said or did. Oh! Eliza, if he knew that Olympia, grand, beautiful, and +worshipped as she is, were my mother, I fear he would never care for me +again." + +"Why, how on earth could you help that?" + +"I could not, and it would be wicked to desire it. But, Eliza, I ought +to have had the courage to tell him, and I put it off. Every day I said +to myself, the very next time he comes, and at last you know how it was. +I had no chance, and now I may never see him again. He will always think +me Mr. Brown's daughter, and I shall feel like an impostor. I cannot +help this; but to go on the stage, when he has said so much against it, +that I will not do, unless forced there by my mother's authority." + +"Well, as I said before, I will stand by you, right or wrong; and so +will Mr. Brown, I know. I only wish he was your father." + +"He could not be kinder if he was," said Caroline. + +Just then the door opened, and Olympia's French maid looked through. + +"Madame is in the drawing-room, and waits for mademoiselle." + +"I will come! I will come!" exclaimed Caroline, breathlessly, and she +hurried down stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES GET INTO A CONJUGAL DIFFICULTY. + + +Lord Hope had a house in Belgravia, that could always be made ready for +the family at a day's notice. So Rachael, who could refuse nothing to +her brother, sent up her steward to make preparations one day, and +followed him the next with Lady Clara and Hepworth Closs; Margaret Casey +and other servants in attendance, of course. + +These persons reached London on the very Saturday when Olympia was +stricken with dismay by finding an empty seat or two in her usually well +packed houses. When this discovery first broke upon the prima donna, +Hepworth Closs was sitting quietly in the pit, where he found himself, +as if by accident. They had reached town only in time for a late dinner, +when the ladies, being greatly fatigued, proclaimed their intention of +retiring early, which was, in fact, casting him adrift for the evening. +Being thus let loose upon the world, he very naturally brought up at the +opera, and was seated so near the stage that his eyes more than once +caught those of Olympia, who gave him one of those quick glances of +recognition, which seemed aimed at the whole audience, but hit only one +person. + +"I beg your pardon, sir, but isn't she a stunner!" said a voice, as the +first act closed. Hepworth might not have recognized these words as +addressed to himself, but for the weight of a large hand which was laid +on his arm. As it was, he turned promptly, and encountered a stout, +heavy man, handsomely dressed, but for a massive gold chain which passed +across his bosom into his vest pocket, and drooped in glittering lengths +far down the rotundity of his capacious person, and a large diamond that +blazed on his plaited shirt bosom. From the chain and the diamond, +Hepworth's first thought was, that the person must be some Californian +or Australian acquaintance, belonging to his old mining days, but the +man soon set that idea aside. + +"You don't happen to remember me, Mr. Hepworth, but I knew you at the +first sight. Ask my lady here. Didn't I say, Mrs. Stacy, that gentleman +with the coal-black mustacher, and them splendid eyes, is Mr. Hepworth, +if ever I set my two eyes on Mr. Hepworth, which I did many a time, when +he used to come to Forty-third street?" + +Hepworth started. Forty-third street! Was he to be forever haunted by +the place and people connected with that awful tragedy? Why was this? +The guilt was not his, yet he could not feel himself near any person, +however remotely connected with it, without thrills of dread. + +The man had been talking on, but Hepworth heard nothing at first, he had +been too painfully startled; when he did listen, these words fell on his +ear: + +"That was an awful affair, Mr. Hepworth; most people was astonished, but +I never was; always had my suspicions of that old woman; believe she +robbed the house of lots and lots of things, after the lady was dead; in +fact, am sure of it. Mrs. Stacy here is of my opinion. There was a girl +in the house--perhaps you remember her, sir--Maggie we used to call her; +she and the old woman Yates was thick as thieves, and both laid their +heads together. It wasn't for nothing, let me tell you; their nests were +feathered, you may believe. There never was a sharper girl than Maggie +Casey." + +"She was just a forerd, imperdent cretur as set her cap at you like a +fiery draggon," broke out the woman, who occupied a seat by the stout +man, and was evidently his wife; "a cretur as I wouldn't wipe my shoes +on, after a long walk--no, not if she'd give me fifty pair for doing of +it." + +"I am not saying anything to the contrary, my dear, am I? That girl was +after me sharp enough, but I never encouraged her. Mr. Hepworth can +satisfy you on that point, my own Harriet, for I remember, as if it was +yesterday, he and I talking about it the very day afore that murder, and +we both agreed that her conduct was scandalous." + +Hepworth shuddered. How well he remembered that artful conversation. How +hideous it appeared to him now. + +"But I don't think Mr. Hepworth remembers us for positive, even now," +said the woman; "just look in my face, young gent, and say if you do." + +"Harriet, my dear, isn't that a little, just a little, promiscous?" said +the husband, as a broad, red face, with a pointed nose, turning up in +the centre, and two small leaden blue eyes looking across it, was bent +forward, and challenged Hepworth's inspection. "Remember, things have +changed since we knew this gentleman." + +"In course they have changed, and I haven't no doubt that is just what +is a puzzling him now; but when I ask Mr. Hepworth if he remembers the +first punken-pie he ever eat in his born days, and who made it, he'll be +sure to remember Harriet, and I ain't ashamed to say that I am her, if I +do wear an Injur shawl, and if that diment in your bozzom is a flashing +right in his eyes. Self-made men, and women too, mayn't be of much +account in England, but in New York, the aristocracy are always a trying +to make out that they were born next door to the alms-house, and started +life with just twenty-five cents in their pockets, so you and I needn't +be ashamed." + +Hepworth was not cosmopolitan, and managed to get the truth out of this +confusion of cockney, Irish, and Yankee dialect. In fact, at the first +moment, he had recognized Matthew Stacy and Harriet Long in the persons +who claimed his acquaintance, and they stung his memory like a nest of +serpents. + +"You'll be glad to know," said Stacy, "that Harriet has been, in all +respects, up to the 'casion whenever I've made a rise in the world. +There's smartness in that woman, I can tell you. When I was elected +alderman of our ward, she just went into the saloon and dealt out licker +to my constituents with her own hand. There is no telling the number of +votes she got for me by that perseeding. You'd be astonished." + +Here the curtain went up with a rush, and Stacy could only make himself +heard by sharp whispers, which reached Hepworth in fragments, when the +music sank lowest. + +"Got into a first-rate thing. Mayor with us--street contracts--cut +through, widened--got hold of a dead charter--revived it--stock went up +like winking--kept the Irish vote of the ward in my fist--no counting +the presents that woman got. I never took one, of course; such a woman!" + +Here Olympia's voice swept through the house, with an outpouring of +melody that brought the audience to its feet, but when the tumult +subsided, Hepworth found that the man had been talking on and on, with +an under-tow of political gossip, that reached him in words at last. + +"They wanted the Legislature, which wasn't to be had without money, you +know; two or three men had been seen--nothing less than a hundred +thousand would do it. I was president of the board, went up myself, saw +the members, who sent me to their confidential men--jackals we call 'em, +ha! ha!--got it done for sixty thousand--said nothing, but divided the +rest--jackals got twenty, the other twenty--you understand. She got an +Inger shawl out of that operation, the very one she has on." + +"No, it isn't nothing of the sort. This one was the other," whispered +Mrs. Stacy, holding up a corner of the magnificent shawl she wore. + +Hepworth turned and gazed upon the shawl until his face grew white as +death, in the gaslight. The very sight of that rich garment made him +faint. + +The mistake he had made had a silencing effect upon Stacy too. He had no +wish that the history of that garment should be produced, and when his +wife was about to speak, silenced her at once. + +"My dear Harriet," he said, "how often have I told you that talking at a +theater or the operer is awfully vulgar. I wonder you can persist in +it, and Mr. Hepworth by. Just listen to that music! Haven't you no +taste? If you haven't, just take a look around the boxes. That young +feller there is the Prince of Wales." + +Mrs. Stacy took a mother-of-pearl opera glass from her lap, and +obediently turned it upon the royal box. + +Before the performance was over, and while Hepworth was drawn back, in +spite of himself, to the most painful scenes of his life, an usher came +down the nearest passage, and put a little twisted note into his hand. +It was from Olympia, inviting him to supper the next evening. + +Hepworth crushed the pretty missive in his hand, while he turned to send +a verbal refusal, but the usher had withdrawn, and he had no other way +of sending a reply that night. + +The opera was at its close now, and Hepworth left the house, irritated +and restless. Could he find no place in which this miserable past would +not haunt him? He had hardly made his way through the crowd when his arm +was seized, and Stacy almost wheeled him around on the pavement. + +"My dear sir, this way. Mrs. Stacy is already in the carriage. Of course +we would not ride and let you go afoot. Have been a poor man myself +once--needn't deny that to you. Know what it is to keep up a show +without capital. But no old friend of mine shall go afoot while I have +the wherewith to pay for a carriage, and an empty seat in it. Shall set +in the back seat with Mrs. Stacy, upon my soul you shall, and that's an +honor I don't offer to every man. Now just tell me where you are putting +up." + +Hepworth laughed, in spite of his annoyance. The patronizing fussiness +of the ex-alderman struck a keen sense of the ridiculous, which was +strong in his character. + +"If you insist," he said. "But you are too generous." + +"Not at all, not at all. When Alderman Stacy does a thing, he does it +handsomely. This way, this way!" + +Hepworth seated himself in the carriage where Mrs. Stacy squeezed +herself in one corner, and gathered up her skirts to make room for him, +and Stacy had his foot on the step, when a new poster, just placed at +the door of the opera house, struck his attention, and he stepped back +to examine it. + +"'First appearance of a young American, a protege of Olympia.' Just read +that poster, Mr. Hepworth, and tell me what you think of it," he said, +lifting himself into the carriage. "Mrs. Stacy, my dear, just look that +way, and tell me if you can guess who it is that will make a first +appearance Monday night? You know that young lady, and so does Mr. +Hepworth. Now, make a guess." + +"How can you?" said Mrs. Stacy. "You know, Matthew, dear, I never was +good at conundrums and such like." + +Matthew puffed himself out with a deep, long breath, and clasping two +huge hands encased in flame-colored gloves on his knee, leaned toward +Hepworth. + +"You try, now." + +Hepworth shook his head, and Stacy burst out with his mystery. + +"It's the identical child that was brought up at the inquest in +Forty-third street--Daniel Yates' little daughter." + +"No!" exclaimed Mrs. Stacy. "That little creature?" + +"It ain't nobody else--you may bet high on that, Mrs. Stacy." + +Hepworth kept perfectly still, but his heart fairly stopped beating. + +"But how did you find out, Matthew, dear?" + +"Oh! we aldermen find out everything. The girl was brought up in the +country, near Sing-Sing, in a cedar-post cottage that the executor +wanted to raise some money on. I went up to see it, and had a good look +at the girl. Yes, my dear, she was, to say, very handsome, but proud. +Daniel Yates had brought her up like a queen, and I give you my word she +looked it; but there was no mistake about it. The executor had just +gobbled up everything Yates left, and there was no one to look after +him, so that the girl was just nowhere financially. I found out that the +cottage could not be sold or mortgaged, nor let either, according to +law, though the executor tried it on hard, and came again and again +about it, especially after she left it. So I found out everything about +the girl. That primer donner took a fancy to her, and adopted her right +out of hand because of her voice, and to-morrow night you can both of +you see her, for I mean to have a box up among the British arrestocracy +that night, and I invite you both free gratis for nothing." + +"Are you sure of this?" questioned Hepworth, who had not spoken till +now. + +"Just as sure as I am that Alderman Stacy sits before you. But if you +don't believe it, ask the girl yourself. I mean to call on her, and Mrs. +Stacy will do likewise. You can go along. That is, we will call, if she +comes out first chop on Monday night." + +"Mr. Stacy," said the superb matron in the back seat, drawing herself up +with wonderful dignity, "I don't mean to put on airs nor nothing because +I'm your lady and richer than some folks, or Mr. Hepworth wouldn't be an +honored guest in this here carriage; but I must set my foot square +aginst actresses and primmer donners--in short, theatre-clers in +general." + +"Just you hear that," said Stacy, looking at Hepworth. "Isn't she coming +it down strong, and lifting of her head high?" + +"It isn't that, Mr. Stacy, but because I am a wife and a--a woman--that +I feel called upon to stand between them creturs and the sect. Pay them +your money, Mr. Stacy--pay them any amount of money from the front--but +nothing beyond that, Mr. Stacy!" + +"Oh, humbug," said Mr. Stacy; "that is putting it too strong, +Harriet--as if I couldn't pay money or not, just as I please." + +"It isn't humbug, Mr. Stacy, but a question of benignant morality, which +it is every woman's duty to take up and hurl back, till she totters on +the brink, martyr-like, between heaven and earth! Don't you think so, +Mr. Hepworth?" + +"Did you ever hear anything up to that?" exclaimed Stacy, swelling with +pompous satisfaction. "Harriet is the sort of woman that a man of +substance can depend on, morrerly, financierly, and--and--. Not that I'm +going to give in, you know; but it's satisfaction to know that your +money has lifted such a person into her proper spear." + +"That's very kind of you, and I feel it, Stacy, dear; but when you speak +of lifting me up with _your_ money, who was it that owned the first five +hundred dollars you, or me, Mr. Stacy?" + +"Harriet!" + +"It's no use thundering out my baptismal name against me, Mr. Stacy, for +that's a thing I won't bear at no price! Truth is truth, Mr. Hepworth, +and rich as that man is, rolling over and over in gold, like a porpose +in salt water, it was my five hundred dollars that did it! Let him say +if I didn't own that much?" + +"But didn't I marry you, and then didn't you own me? Would you set down +good looks, financial ability, and moral character A number one, at five +hundred dollars, and you--" + +What was coming next Hepworth was destined never to learn, for Mrs. +Stacy, overcome by a fit of conjugal remorse, leaned forward and placed +one substantial hand in the flame-colored glove of her husband. + +"Matthew, forgive me! I didn't mean it. That mention of the primmer +donner and her protager upset me; but I am your wife yet, Stacy, +dear--your true and lawful wife--just as ready to travel with you into +every tropical climate of Europe as I ever was." + +Stacy would not clasp his flame-colored fingers around that hand, but +let it drop with ignominious looseness, while he drew a handkerchief +from his pocket and buried his face in it. + +"Harriet! Harriet! you have hurt my feelings, mortified my--my manhood +before an old friend!" + +It was in the night, the carriage was close, the lamps dim, and Hepworth +only knew that there a heap of drapery launched itself into the front +seat, that a voice came from the midst, saying: + +"Oh, Matthew! Matthew!" + +Then the white handkerchief dropped like a flag at half mast, and the +reconciliation was complete. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE OPERATIC SUPPER. + + +"Indeed, Mr. Closs, I insist!" + +"But, my dear child, I have no particular desire to go." + +"That is because you think that I care about it. Why should I? In fact, +it is unbearable that you should have the idea." + +Hepworth Closs had in all loyalty told Lady Clara of the invitation he +had received from Olympia, and, instead of resenting it as he expected, +she met his vague desire more than half-way--one of the wisest things +any woman can do, for half the sins in the world are committed because +they are forbidden; not that this young girl knew of the wisdom. With +her, it was half pride, half bravado; she was indignant that Hepworth +should think of going--more indignant that he should have refused the +invitation at once, without telling her of it. + +The result was, she insisted on his accepting it, though her heart was +burning with jealousy all the time. + +Closs, as I have said somewhere, had learned many things in his travels; +but in Japan and the frontier countries of America girls like Clara had +not often come under his observation, and he was far too deeply in love +for a cool examination of her character or actions. + +So her impulse of unbounded generosity deceived him utterly, and having +some shrinking curiosity regarding Daniel Yates' daughter, he resolved +to accept Olympia's invitation. + +Of course, Clara found a dozen absurd reasons for quarreling with him +that day, not one of which seemed to relate to Olympia; yet that +beautiful woman was the root of them all, if Hepworth could have +understood it. + +But he only comprehended that every room in that sumptuous dwelling was +dull as a wilderness on that particular Sabbath day. Rachael kept her +room; Clara would not make herself agreeable; and he felt it a relief +when night came and took him to the little bijou of a mansion where +Olympia was waiting the advent of her guests. + +Hepworth had seen this woman in New York, and knew something of the +fantastic elegance with which she could surround herself; but the house +he entered surpassed anything he had ever seen in that republican city. + +Nothing sad or even grave in art or nature was ever permitted to visit +the Queen of Song in her own home. Her servants were expected to be +smiling and cheerful. There was not a sombre corner in her dwelling. + +The very hall was a marvel of art; statuettes of snow-white marble, airy +and graceful as stone could be chiselled, seemed ready to escort the +guest into the unique drawing-room beyond. + +Delicate bric-a-brac occupied gilded brackets on the walls, or crowded +the statuettes upon the floor; a laughing faun held back the silken +curtain that concealed the entrance to that inner room where the goddess +herself presided; a soft mellow light fell upon these treasures, making +their beauty still more exquisite. + +A servant in silver and blue livery admitted Hepworth, and pointed to +the faun, who seemed inviting him forward with a fantastic gesture. + +The servant disappeared, his duties ended when the outer door was +opened. + +Those who visited Olympia were supposed to know their way to her +presence. Hepworth lingered a moment in the hall. Those beautiful marble +people seemed enticing him to stay, and, for the instant, he felt an +unaccountable reluctance to present himself before the actress; a +feeling of humiliation came upon him that he should be willing to visit +any woman whom the lady of his love could not meet on equal terms. What +right had he there? + +This question was almost upon his lips, when a silken rustle made him +hold his breath. It was a young girl, tall, stately, beautiful, coming +down the marble stairs. He was standing near the centre of the floor, +but drew back, step by step, as the girl descended, turning white and +cold, as if there had been some wrong in his admiration of an antique +group in bronze, which occupied a bracket on the wall close by him. + +The girl paused, looked toward him, and, after a little hesitation, +crossed the hall. + +"Permit me to show you the way," she said. "The servant should not have +left you so." + +Hepworth did not speak, but stood gazing upon her blankly. Her beauty +had struck him dumb. + +She made a little gesture with her hand and moved on. He followed, +without a word, by the marble faun, through the lifted curtains, and +into the presence of Olympia, who was walking up and down the Gobelin +carpet, with the light of a Venetian chandelier falling over her. + +She was becoming impatient for the arrival of her guests. Yet the room +seemed peopled fully; for, on every hand, mirrors that seemed framed in +a network of gold, threw back and duplicated the group that stood there, +the rich coloring of the draperies, two vases of Malachite and Sevres, +the gifts of emperors, and the carpet, where masses of blossoms seemed +starting into fresh bloom, wherever a footstep trod them down. + +"Mr. Hepworth!" cried Olympia; "my good American friend! This is a +happiness!" + +Hepworth bowed over the white hand she held out; but did not kiss it, as +she might have expected, being used to all sorts of homage. + +She looked at him in pleasant astonishment, dropped her hand with a +faint laugh, and turned to the young girl. + +"Caroline, you have never seen Mr. Hepworth, I think." + +"Closs, Hepworth Closs, dear lady; you forget." + +"Do I? Well, it is very likely, though, I am sure, we always called you +Hepworth; but that's nothing; in our Bohemian set we generally preferred +the given name, and sometimes only took half of that. Ah, ho! here come +our friends at last!" + +The curtain was flung back, revealing what seemed a crowd in the hall, +which soon came forward, with little ceremony, and some rather riotous +noise. + +Olympia was in her element now. Heart and soul she loved society, and +all these persons were picked people of her own choice--brilliant +persons in their various capacities, each bringing a store of wit or +some accomplishment to swell the general gaiety. Artists, dilettanti +noblemen, epicures, and persons who would have accompanied Orpheus in +all his explorations for the music he could give them. + +Of course, there was high mirth and some sparkling wit among a group +like this, in which several females mingled brilliantly, and sang like +sirens after Olympia had set them the example. These were professional, +of course, but wonderfully clever, and talked charmingly, as women who +are reckless of criticism usually do; but in all that was said, a +certain vein of doubtful license sometimes brought the color to +Caroline's cheek. She could not thoroughly understand the conversation +of these people. They seemed to have come out of another world to +astonish and bewilder her. She knew that some of the men present were +noblemen, and saw that their manners, and even the tones of their +voices, changed when they addressed her. + +From the secluded life she had led, this girl was incapable of making +quick comparisons. She only knew that none of these men possessed the +gentle tenderness or the proud bearing of the teacher, who had become to +her a beau-ideal of true manhood. Of all the men present she felt the +most sympathy with Hepworth Closs. He had been in America, had known the +places she loved so well, and could understand her loneliness in a scene +like that; but there was something even in this man that startled her a +little. + +His fine eyes were frequently lifted to her face with a look that +troubled her, a look that seemed to go beyond her and far away into the +past or future. What was he thinking of? Why were his answers about +America so dreamy and vague? Why did he look so sad while the voice of +Olympia was filling the whole house with such glorious bursts of music? + +Before she could answer any of these questions, Olympia arose from the +piano, and, with a light wave of her hand, said: + +"Come, Caroline, let them hear what is in your voice." + +How careless and natural it all seemed! What a tumult of smiles and +entreaties followed these few caressing words! + +They were words of iron to that proud, shrinking girl. She knew how much +of stern, selfish power lay under the peach-like softness of that voice. +Her color went and came; her lips parted in absolute terror. She +understood now why she had been permitted to join her mother's guests +for the first time. + +"Come, my darling!" + +Olympia's voice grew softer, sweeter; but there was an undertone in it +that Caroline dared not disobey. She arose, white and cold, her limbs +trembling, her eyes turned upon Olympia like those of a hunted doe +appealing for its life; but there was no relenting in that beautiful +face--nothing but smiles. + +Hepworth Closs saw how cruelly the proud girl suffered, and was by her +side in an instant. The firm clasp of his hand, as he led her to the +piano, gave her strength. She thanked him with a look, and those +frightened eyes implored him to stay by her, as if he were the only +friend she recognized in the room. + +It must be a terrible fright that can entirely overcome real genius. + +The first notes of Caroline's voice trembled out from her lips like the +cry of a young bird when it first tempts the air. The intense stillness +with which the little group listened, took away her breath. But all this +passed away; her voice gathered up its tones and swelled into a power of +music that Olympia, in her best days, had never reached. She forgot the +people around her--forgot everything but the glorious genius which +thrilled her whole being with ecstasies of harmony. The nightingale, +nested in clustering roses and bathed with moonlight, never poured forth +its song with a sweeter impulse. + +At first it was the desperation of genius, but that soon merged itself +into an exquisite power that held her little audience in amazement. + +Olympia grew restless. Had she, with her own hands, given her crown and +sceptre to another? How superbly beautiful the creature looked with that +glow of inspiration on her face! How her own devoted adorers crowded +around the piano, leaving her on the outskirts of the crowd quite alone! + +The woman's self-love and most active vanity were disturbed; but above +that rose another passion that had of late years grown strong within +her--avarice. She recognized the sure ring of gold in those notes, and +exulted over it. + +As Caroline turned from the piano flushed, and, as it were, inspired by +a new life, a little storm of bravos broke over her. Just then the +supper-room was thrown open; but even the exquisite picture it presented +failed to draw the crowd from its new idol. + +But Caroline was falling back to her normal state, and all this +tumultuous admiration terrified her. + +This annoyed Olympia, also. She made a signal to the servant who stood +waiting, and his announcement, in a loud voice, that supper was served, +broke up the crowd which held Caroline prisoner. + +Olympia led the way into the most superb little supper-room that even an +artist could imagine. It was, in fact, a temple, connected only by one +compartment with the house. + +A shallow dome, with ground glass, through which a tender light shone +like sunbeams through sifted snow, by a gilded network over ground +glass, which also reflected hidden lights like a chain of clouded stars. + +This gallery was connected with the floor by slender marble shafts, +around which passion flowers, white jessamines, creeping dwarf roses, +and other clinging plants wove their blossoms up to the lighted gallery, +whence they fell in delicate spray, forming arches of flowers all around +the room. + +The recesses thus garlanded in were lined with mirrors, in which the +crimson cushions of couch and chair, the splendid supper table, with all +its rich paraphernalia of frosted plate, sparkling glass, translucent +wines, and fruit in all its mellow gorgeousness of coloring were +reflected over and over again. + +When that gay crowd came into the room, led by Olympia, every recess +seemed to fill with its own merry company, and in each that handsome +prima donna presided like a goddess; while the tall figure of a proud, +beautiful girl sat near, looking strangely wild and anxious as a loud, +bacchanalian spirit broke into the scene, and turned it into a revel. +Amid the gurgle of wine and the mellow crush of fruit, some one called +out: + +"Fill up! fill up! A bumper to our new Queen of Song!" + +With a half-suppressed shout and a waving of glasses, the party sprang +up, drops of amber and ruby wine rained down to the table from a +reckless overflow of the uplifted goblets. + +Every recess gave back the picture with endless change of view; and then +the voice called out again: + +"To-morrow night we will show her how England can receive American +genius and American beauty. Lady, we drink to you." + +To-morrow night! Every vestige of color fled from that poor girl's face. +She attempted to rise, supported herself with one hand on the table a +moment, then in the midst of that riotous toast, sank back to her chair, +with her face turned imploringly on Hepworth Closs. + +When the revellers had drained their glasses and turned to look for a +reward in the face they had pronounced divine, it had disappeared. Amid +the confusion, Hepworth had led Caroline from the room. + +"It is too much for her," said Olympia, tossing half a dozen peaches on +the table in her search for the mellowest. "She is such a noble, +grateful creature, and has not yet learned how to receive homage." + +"While our Olympia almost disdains it. Fill up for our goddess, The +Olympia!" + +"Wait a minute!" + +It was the young noble next the actress who spoke. He had taken some +grape-leaves from a crystal vase near him, and was weaving the smallest +amber-hued and purple clusters with them in a garland, with which he +crowned the goddess before her libation was poured out. She accepted the +homage, laughing almost boisterously, and when the grape-wreath was +settled in her golden hair, stood up, a Bacchante that Rubens would have +worshipped; for it made no difference to her in what form adulation +came, so long as she monopolized it. + +That moment Caroline was lying upon her bed up-stairs, shaking in every +limb, and crying in bitterness of spirit. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +BEHIND THE SCENES. + + +Olympia had selected an auspicious time for the first appearance of her +protege, as she always persisted in calling Caroline. + +It was the fashion just then to recognize American genius with something +like enthusiasm, and the very suddenness with which this young girl had +been brought forward operated in her favor. + +A glowing account of her voice and beauty had reached the public just at +a time when no special excitement occupied it, and this served to draw a +crowd around the opera house long before the hour of opening. + +On the outskirts of this crowd, the carriage which contained Olympia and +her victim--for such the heroine of the evening really was--made its way +toward the stage door. Olympia leaned out of the window, and cried +exultingly: + +"Look, child, look! Hundreds of people waiting already!" + +Caroline cast one frightened glance at the crowd, and shrank back with a +faint moan. + +Just as the audience began to pour in through the opened doors the +carriage drove up to the stage entrance, and Olympia took a leap from +the steps and held the carriage door open with her own hand, while +Caroline descended more slowly. The light from a neighboring lamp fell +upon her face, and revealed the tears that stood upon her cheeks, and a +half rebellious look in the eyes, which Olympia saw, and met with angry +bitterness. + +"Crying again? Shooting spiteful looks at me, as if I were a monster, +instead of a tender, considerate, self-sacrificing mother, ready to +share everything with you, even my glory! Was ever such ingratitude?" + +Caroline did not answer, but walked into the narrow door, and stood upon +the dreary stage, panting for breath, like some superb animal from the +wild woods, hunted down, and without hopes of escape. + +"This way--come this way," said Olympia, taking hold of her arm. +"Perhaps you will remember that we are late. The audience was crowding +in like a torrent when we passed the door. Come!" + +Caroline allowed herself to be led along the stage, through yawning +vistas of scenery ready placed for use, and along dark passages, until +she came to Olympia's dressing-room, in which a blaze of light was +reflected by half-a-dozen mirrors, and fell like sunshine on a pile of +gorgeous vestments laid out for her use. + +Caroline shrank back with a faint, sick feeling. Oh, how everything had +changed since she was so fascinated by a scene like that! Her delicate, +proud nature revolted from the splendid confusion. From her very heart +she loathed the sumptuous garments with which Olympia had hoped to tempt +her. + +"Is there no hope?" she cried, desperately. "I would rather suffer +anything than undertake this part!" + +"Hope? Yes, there is everything to hope. The house is crowded already. +There never was so fine an opening. Come, make ready!" + +"Not if I have the power to resist." + +She spoke in a low but resolute voice, which frightened Olympia, who +stood gazing at the pale young face turned upon her with a frown of +terrible anger gathering on her forehead. + +"Caroline, you cannot resist. My word is given, the contract signed, my +honor pledged. Would you disgrace me forever?" + +"Your honor pledged, and I belong to you," said the girl. "I see, I +see--there is no escaping! It is my miserable destiny!" + +Caroline took off the cloak in which she was wrapped, flung down all her +magnificent hair, and seated herself before one of the mirrors. + +"Do with me as you please," she said, turning a weary glance upon the +mirror. "It may be my death, but you _will_ have it so." + +The next moment that unhappy girl found herself in the hands of a clever +French maid, who fairly revelled in her task, as she shook out that rich +mass of hair, and held it up for the light to shine through. But +Caroline took no heed. The toilet only reminded her of that most hideous +one when Marie Antoinette was prepared for the scaffold. For the moment +she almost wished it possible to change places with that unhappy woman. + +But the French waiting-maid went on with her work, while Olympia stood +by, directing her. + +Not till she felt a soft touch on her cheek did the girl rebel. Then she +started up, and, pushing the maid away, rubbed her cheek with a +handkerchief so resolutely that the maid clapped her hands, declaring +that it was enough--no roses could be more lovely. + +Then she fell to her task again, muttering to herself: + +"Oh, it will come in time! Youth is so satisfied with itself. But it all +ends in that." + +Here the maid nodded toward a tiny jar of rouge, as if to encourage it, +and went on with her task. + +"Now look at yourself!" said Olympia, tossing aside some garment that +had been flung over the swinging-glass. "What do you think of that?" + +Caroline looked, and saw a beautiful woman, with sweeping garments of +rose-colored silk, and a cloud of frost-like lace flung over her head +and trailing down her shoulders. Splendid jewels--whether real or false, +she did not care to ask--twinkled like stars through the lace, both on +her head and bosom. The pictures thus reflected were beautiful, but +stormy. + +Olympia saw that the rebellious spirit was but half subdued. + +"What can I do?" she said, in her perplexity, addressing the maid, who +lifted up both hands and shook her head as she answered: + +"Ah, madame! if a toilet like that fails, who can say?" + +"I will send for Brown. She will listen to him," said Olympia, driven to +desperation. "With that spirit, she will never get the rollicking air +for her first act." + +She went to the door, and found the teacher lingering near, restless and +anxious almost as herself. + +"Brown--I say, Brown--come in! She is dressed, but so obstinate! If she +were about to play Norma, it would be worth everything, but in this +part--! Do come in, dear Brown, and get her up to the proper feeling." + +Brown entered the room in absolute distress. He would gladly have kept +that young creature from the stage; but having no power to aid her in +avoiding it, was nervously anxious that she should make a success. + +Caroline turned to him at once, and came forward with her hands held +out. + +"Oh, Mr. Brown, help me! It is not too late. Let them say I am sick. +Indeed, indeed, it will be true! She can take the part, and leave me in +peace. Ask her, beg of her; say that I will go into her kitchen, be her +maid, go out as a teacher--anything on earth, if she will only spare me +this once! Ask her, Mr. Brown. Sometimes she will listen to you!" + +Brown held both her hands. They were cold as ice, and he felt that she +was trembling all over. + +"My dear, dear child! I have pleaded with her. I have done my best." + +"But again--again! Oh, Mr. Brown, do!" + +Brown drew Olympia on one side, and entreated her to give the unhappy +girl more time; but he knew well enough that he was asking almost an +impossibility--that the woman had no power to grant that which he +implored of her. In her arrogant power she had pledged that young +creature, body and soul, to the public. How could she draw back, when +the crowding rush of the audience might now be heard from the place +where they stood. + +Still the man pleaded with her, for he loved the girl better than +anything on earth, and, knowing something of the feelings which made the +stage so repulsive to her, would have died to save her from the pain of +that night's experience. + +Olympia was impatient, nervous, angry. What did the man think? Was she +to throw away the chances of a great success and a brilliant fortune, +because a romantic girl did not know her own mind? Was she to disgrace +herself before all London? + +Brown had no answer. The whole thing was unreasonable--he knew that well +enough; but his heart ached for the poor girl. So he had done his best, +and failed miserably. + +"Go back and cheer the foolish thing up," said Olympia. "You can do it. +She loves you better than any one in the world. Now, if you want to +oblige me, give her courage, soothe her. I never saw such a creature! +With the genius and voice of an angel, she has no ambition; but it will +come. Before the drinking song is over, she will forget herself. Go, +Brown, and give her courage." + +Brown went back to the dressing-room, feeling like an executioner. + +Caroline met him eagerly; but when she saw his face, her heart turned to +stone. + +"I see! I see!" she said. "I am doomed! But, remember, I was forced into +this. Of my own choice, I would have died first; but she is my mother, +and, in my ignorance, I promised her. Tell _him_ this, if you should +ever see him. I never shall. After what he said of parts like this, I +should perish with shame. Ha! what's that?" + +"They are calling you," faltered Brown. + +She caught a sharp breath and sprang away from him, like a deer when the +hounds are in full cry. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE FIRST PERFORMANCE. + + +The opera-house was full from floor to dome. A cheerful multitude +crowded the body of the house with smiling faces, and filled it with gay +colors, till it shone out gorgeously, like a thickly-planted +flower-garden. The boxes filled, more slowly; but, after half an hour of +soft, silken rustle and answering smiles, they, too, were crowded with +distinguished men and beautiful women of the British aristocracy, and +the whole arena was lighted up with the splendor of their garments and +the flaming brightness of their jewels. Then came a movement, and a low +murmur of discontent, which the grandest efforts of the orchestra could +not silence. The hour had arrived, but the curtain was still down. Was +there to be a disappointment, after all? + +In the midst of this growing confusion a party entered one of the most +prominent boxes that drew the general attention in that part of the +house. A lady in crimson velvet, with some gossamer lace about her arms +and bosom, and a cobweb of the same rich material floating from the +thick braids of her coal-black hair, came into the box, followed by a +gentleman so like her that people exclaimed at once: + +"It is her brother!" + +These two persons were accompanied by a bright young girl, in white +muslin, with a blue ribbon drawn through her hair like a snood, and a +string of large pearls on her neck. The girl was beautiful as a Hebe, +and bright as a star--so bright and so beautiful that a whole battery of +glasses was turned on the box the moment she entered it. Then a murmur +ran from lip to lip. + +"It is Lady Hope, that person who was once a governess, and the young +lady must be Hope's daughter by his first marriage--the future Lady +Carset, if the old countess ever dies, which she never will, if it is +only to spite that woman yonder, whom she hates. Beautiful!" + +"You are speaking of Lady Hope? Yes, very; but strange! Night and +morning are not farther apart than those two. Yet I am told they are +devoted to each other." + +"Not unlikely. See how the woman smiles when the Hebe speaks to her! +Wonderful fascination in that face. Just the person to carry away a man +like Hope." + +Here the conversation was broken off by an impatient outburst of the +audience. + +In obedience to it the curtain rolled up, and the first act of +"Traviata" commenced. + +The tumult stopped instantly, and every face was turned with expectation +on the stage, ready to greet "the lost one" with a generous welcome. + +She came in hurriedly, with her head erect, her hand clenching that +cloud of lace to her bosom, and her eyes bright as stars. A stag hunted +to desperation would have turned at bay with a look like that; and the +poor animal might have recoiled as she did, when that wild burst of +admiration stormed over her. For the outcry of the most vicious hounds +that ever ran could not have been more appalling to a victim than that +generous welcome was to her. + +She did not bow or smile, but retreated slowly back, step by step, until +a voice from behind the scene startled her. Then she bent her tall +figure a little forward, her head drooped to her bosom, and her hands +were clenched passionately under the laces. + +Again those who were nearest heard the voice, but did not understand it +as that poor girl did. In her panic the little acting that belonged to +the scene was utterly overlooked; but this proud indifference was +something new, and charmed the audience, which took her wounded pride +for superb disdain of a pampered beauty, and accepted it as a graceful +innovation; while she stood trembling from head to foot, conscious only +of a burning desire to break away from it all and hide herself forever. +She did once move swiftly toward the wing, but there stood Olympia, and +the first glimpse of that frowning face drove her back, panting for +breath. + +The audience, seeing her panic, encouraged her with applause less stormy +and more sustaining. + +She felt this kindness. The multitude were less her enemy than the +woman who stood in the shadows, hounding her on. Among all that sea of +faces she saw one--that of a young girl, leaning over the crimson +cushions of a box near the stage, so eager, so earnest, so bright with +generous sympathy, that youth answered back to youth; a smile broke over +her own face, and with it came her voice, fresh, pure, soaring like a +bird suddenly let loose on the air. + +The audience listened in breathless sympathy, which encouraged her. +There was no doubt now; fear could not long hold such genius in thrall; +her movements became free, her features brightened. She flung the lace +back from her head, and gave herself up to the joyous riot of that +drinking song. + +In the midst of this scene, when every one present, on and off the +stage, was lavishing homage upon her, she lifted her eyes to the young +girl who leaned forward, poising herself in the box, like a bird +preparing for flight, and clapped her little hand with the glee of a +delighted child. + +Once more their smiles met. Then a deathly faintness came over the +debutante, and without a word or motion she sank upon the stage, like a +statue of snow which the sun had touched. + +In the next box, leaning forward like that young girl--but oh! with what +a different expression--she had seen the Italian teacher, her lover. + +The drinking-song was hushed in its most exultant swell--the revellers +drew around the fainting girl and carried her from the stage, helpless +as an infant, white as the lace that clouded her. + +The audience watched them bear her away in silence; then it broke into +murmurs of regret and sympathy. + +"The effort had been too much for her. Of course, such genius was +accompanied with corresponding sensitiveness, but she would speedily +recover. It was only a little interruption." + +They were mistaken. The debutante did not return that night; but in her +place came Olympia, with a little tragedy in her face, and a touching +speech, which excited admiration for herself and unbounded sympathy for +her protege; after which, she entered into the character of Violette, +with a grace of action and a power of voice that carried the management +through what had threatened to be a serious dilemma. + +The truth is, this woman, Olympia, was a remarkably clever person, and +knew how to manage her subjects a great deal better than some monarchs +of England have done. But she was in a raging passion that night, and +the excitement lent her force, which she exhausted in the part, while +her child lay moaning on the dressing-room sofa. + +In the midst of the first confusion, that young girl in the box had +started up, and laid her hand on Hepworth Closs's arm. + +"Go back to where they have taken her. You know the way. Tell my maid, +Margaret, to come to me at once. No, no; take me with you. I may be of +use. Poor girl! poor girl! They have almost killed her." + +"But it is impossible," said Closs, looking toward Lady Hope, who was +leaning against the side of the box, with her face turned away. "She +would not permit it." + +"She does not object. We need not be seen. No one will recognize us. +Come! come!" + +She took Hepworth's arm, and almost forced him from the box. + +"Which way? Come! come! I will go." + +Hepworth had been too often behind the scenes not to know how to gain +admittance there on this occasion. He knew how resolute that young +creature was, when a generous or daring idea possessed her, and, after +waiting a moment for Lady Hope to speak, led Lady Clara away. + +Clara was bewildered and almost terrified by the black darkness of the +passage, which was lighted only by fitful gleams from the stage; but +excitement kept up her courage, and she entered Olympia's dressing-room +with the air of a person born to the tragic purple. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE TWO FOSTER-CHILDREN MEET. + + +Caroline was lying upon a heap of rich garments piled on the sofa. She +was trembling still, and every few moments a burst of bitter sobs broke +from her. Three women were standing by--her own maid, Eliza, upon whose +sympathetic face tears were trembling; Margaret, her sister; and, most +conspicuous of all, Olympia's French maid, who bent over the poor girl, +with a bottle of perfume in each hand, with which she insisted on +assuaging the unhappy girl's anguish. + +Lady Clara comprehended the scene at a glance, went up to the sofa, took +the French maid by the shoulders, and wheeled her away so swiftly that +the bottles jingled; then she fell upon her knees by the sofa, and flung +one arm over Caroline. + +"Don't mind them; don't let them bother you. Just tell me what has come +over you, and I'll set it right, or know the reason why." + +The voice, so sweet, so round and cheering, aroused Caroline. + +She rose up on her elbow, and seeing the bright, honest face which had +bent toward her so kindly from the box, reached out her arms, and wound +them over Clara's neck. + +"That's right; that's sisterly. I wish you were my sister; but what's +the use of wishing? There! kiss me again, for I mean to be a mother to +you--I do, indeed! Now tell me, what was it that struck you down so? It +was frightful; it took away my breath. Tell me all about it. My maid +here and yours were sisters, and I shouldn't wonder if we knew each +other in America. But that is so long ago, it wouldn't signify, but for +the maids, who love us so, that it makes a sort of tie. Don't you think +so?" + +"Oh, if it could! if it could! I have no relative but one, and she will +not pity me!" cried Caroline, clinging to Lady Clara. "She will make me +go back to that hateful part! It was bad enough before, but now I should +die of shame!" + +"Why? Why now more than at first?" inquired Clara. + +"I will tell you. I know who you are, and how good every one thinks you. +I hate the stage!" + +"How strange! I cannot understand it. You don't know how I envied you +when all those people started up, waving their handkerchiefs and +shouting--to see them so sorry and disappointed when you did not come +back. I could hardly keep myself from leaping over the box, and asking +the crowd to let me try!" + +Caroline looked into that animated face with wonder. The tears stood +still on her cheeks, a faint smile crept into her eyes. Then she shook +her head. + +"Ah! I understand. There was a time when I thought like you, but that +was before--before--" + +"Before what? Margaret and the rest of you, just go outside. The room +isn't large enough for so many. There, we are alone now. Just tell me +all about it. You can trust me." + +"I know it. Well, Lady Clara--you see I know your name--" + +"Exactly. But just call me Clara--nothing more. I really don't care for +being a lady--at any rate, not much. That one thing is going to give me +any amount of trouble yet, you'll see. Well, now, having settled the +lady, tell me why and when you began to hate the stage so. I think it is +a glorious life. Just put me where you stand, without a sovereign to +help myself with, and I'd give up the ladyship to you in a minute." + +"But that is because you own your life." + +"Own my life? Of course I do. That is just what every soul must own." + +"Not if--if she cares for some one more than her life." + +"Oh-e! oh-e! That is the secret! And he don't like it? The heathen! I +wish he had seen you just now!" + +"He did. He was standing in the box close by you. I saw his face, for +the first time in months. He was leaning forward; his eyes met mine. +They were full of reproach--contempt, perhaps. I could not tell, for the +house swam round, the lights seemed leaping toward me. Then I felt as if +the noise were putting them out, for everything grew dark." + +"And you fainted dead away, poor dear! I know how to pity you. Not that +I have had trouble yet; but it is sure to come, and then, of course, you +will be sorry for me." + +"I shall, indeed." + +"Just as I am sorry for you now. But who is the man?" + +"I hardly think I know. He gave me an Italian name, but I feel sure it +was not his." + +"That accounts for his antipathy to the stage. If he had really been an +Italian, your singing would have entranced him. It was heavenly; but an +Englishman--. Well, well, we must see!" + +That moment the door swung open, and Olympia came in, radiant with +jewels and fierce with anger. She saw Lady Clara, and stopped upon the +threshold in haughty astonishment. Caroline shrank from the stormy +expression of her face, but faltered out: + +"Madame, it is Lady Clara, the daughter of Lord Hope." + +Instantly the frown lost itself in a bland smile. Olympia was equal to +her part at all times. She did not often see a lady of rank in her +dressing-room, and the honor drove away the indignant wrath intended for +Caroline. + +"Ah!" she said, "this poor child--it was so unfortunate! But she will +recover. In a day or two she will get back her courage. What a voice she +has, my lady! Did you hear? So fresh, so powerful, up to the very time +when she broke down. What could have occasioned it?" + +"It is indeed a misfortune," said Clara, with some dignity; "because I +am sure she will never do for the stage. Her voice is superb, but so +uncertain! When we compare it with yours, madame, it is to regret that +she ever ventured so far." + +Olympia seated herself. She had a few moments to spare before the +call-boy would summon her back to the stage. + +"There you mistake, my lady. When I was her age no one ever dreamed that +I would succeed as a singer; but you see what resolution and study can +do." + +"But you _had_ study; your guardians gave plenty of time. Let her have +that time; let her friends have an opportunity to think what is best for +her." + +"Her friends? I did not know that she had any in England." + +"Oh, yes! I am one; Lady Hope is another. Then there is Mr. Closs." + +"Oh!" said Olympia. "It is to that gentleman we owe the honor of this +visit?" + +"Yes," answered Clara. "He escorted me here. Being Lady Hope's brother, +it was proper, you understand." + +Olympia was looking in Clara's face. The girl pleased her. The bright +mobility of her features, the graceful gestures with which she +emphasized her expressions, charmed the experienced actress. + +"Ah, if my daughter had your abandon!" she exclaimed, with enthusiasm. + +"Or if I had her sweet dignity. But fortune is sometimes very perverse. +Now I should glory in the applause which makes her faint away." + +"Ah! she is sensitive as a child, proud as a duchess; but, where we have +plenty of genius, these things only serve to brighten it. I shall take +Caroline into my own training. When you come to hear her sing again, it +will be a different affair." + +"Oh, madam, do not ask it!" cried Caroline, in a panic. "I never, never +can go on to that stage again!" + +"We shall see," answered Olympia, blandly. "Here comes the call-boy; I +must say adieu, with many thanks for this visit." + +"But I have a request to make. You will give her time?" + +"Oh! yes, my lady. She shall have sufficient time." + +Olympia went out smiling; but Caroline understood the craft that lay +under her soft words. + +"You see that I have accomplished something," said Clara, delighted with +her success; "we have gained time." + +"No, no! She will have her way." + +"What! that soft, handsome creature?" + +"Has a will of iron!" + +"And so have I!" exclaimed the young girl, "and my will is that she +shall not force you into a life you do not like; but I wonder at it. +Upon my word, if it were not for one thing, I should like to change +places with you." + +Caroline shook her head. + +"You have no idea what the life is!" + +"Oh! yes, I have; and it must be charming. No dignity to keep up, no +retinue of servants to pass every time you come and go; but all sorts of +homage, plenty of work, while everything you have brings in a swift +recompense. Talent, beauty, grace discounted every night. Oh! it must be +charming." + +"I thought so once," answered Caroline, with a heavy sigh. + +"Well, never trouble yourself to think about it again. If that lovely +woman has an iron will, you must get up one of steel; but here comes +Margaret. I suppose Mr. Closs is getting tired of staying out there in +the dark. Besides, Lady Hope will be frightened. Adieu, my friend; I +will manage to see you again." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +LADY CLARA QUARRELS WITH HER STEPMOTHER. + + +Lady Hope had fainted, but with such deathly stillness that neither +Hepworth Closs nor Clara had been aware of it. She remained, after they +left the box, drooping sideways from her cushioned seat, with the cold +pallor of her face hid in the crimson shadows, and kept from falling by +the sides of the box, against which she leaned heavily. + +No one observed this, for the whole audience was intensely occupied by +what was passing on the stage; and the pang of self-consciousness +returned to Rachael Closs in the utter solitude of a great crowd. She +opened her eyes wearily, as if the effort were a pain. Then a wild light +broke through their darkness. She cast a quick glance upon the stage and +over the crowd. Then turning to look for her companions, she found that +they were gone. A sense of relief came to the woman from a certainty +that she was alone. She leaned back against the side of the box in utter +depression. Her lips moved, her hands were tightly clasped--she seemed +in absolute terror. + +What had Rachael Closs heard or seen to agitate her thus? That no one +could tell. The cause of those faint shudders that shook her from time +to time was known only to herself and her God. + +When Hepworth and Lady Clara came back, Lady Hope rose, and gathering +her ermine cloak close to her throat, said that she was tired of the +confusion, and would go home, unless they very much wished to stay and +see Olympia. + +They consented to go at once. The pallor of that beautiful face, as it +turned so imploringly upon them, was appeal enough. + +On their way home Lady Clara told her stepmother of her visit behind the +scenes. + +Rachael listened, and neither rebuked her for going nor asked questions; +but when Clara broke forth, in her impetuous way, exclaiming, "Oh, mamma +Rachael, you will help us! You will get this poor girl out of her +mother's power! You will let me ask her down to Oakhurst!" Rachael +almost sprang to her feet in the force of her sudden passion. + +"What! I--I, Lady Hope of Oakhust, invite that girl to be your +companion, my guest! Clara, are you mad? or am I?" + +The girl was struck dumb with amazement. Never in her existence had she +been so addressed before--for, with her, Rachael had been always kind +and delicately tender. Why had she broken forth now, when she asked the +first serious favor of her life? + +"Mamma! mamma Rachael!" she cried. "What is the matter? What have I done +that you are so cross with me?" + +"Nothing," said Rachael, sighing heavily, "only you ask an unreasonable +thing, and one your father would never forgive me for granting." + +"But she is so lovely! papa would like her, I know. She is so unhappy, +too! I could feel her shudder when the stage was mentioned. Oh, mamma +Rachael, we might save her from that!" + +"I cannot! Do not ask me; I cannot!" + +"But I promised that you would be her friend." + +"Make no promises for me, Clara, for I will redeem none. Drive this girl +from your thoughts. To-morrow morning we go back to Oakhurst." + +"To-morrow morning! And I promised to see her again." + +"It is impossible. Let this subject drop. In my wish to give you +pleasure, I have risked the anger of Lord Hope. He would never forgive +me if I permitted this entanglement." + +Lady Clara turned to Hepworth Closs. + +"Plead for me--plead for that poor girl!" she cried, with the +unreasoning persistence of a child; but, to her astonishment, Hepworth +answered even more resolutely than his sister. + +"I cannot, Clara. There should be nothing in common between the daughter +of Olympia and Lord Hope's only child." + +"Oh, how cruel! What is the use of having rank and power if one is not +to use it for the good of others?" + +"We will not argue the matter, dear child." + +"But I will argue it, and if I cannot convince, I will hate you, +Hepworth Closs, just as long as I live." + +"Not quite so bad as that, I trust," answered Hepworth, sadly. "To own +the truth, Clara, I fear your mother will have enough to do in +reconciling Lord Hope to the position another person has assumed in his +household. Do not let us add new difficulties to her position." + +Clara began to cry. + +"I'm sure I never thought of troubling her or offending my father. It is +so natural for them to be good and kind, why should I doubt them now, +when the grandest, sweetest, most beautiful girl in the whole world +wants help--just the help they can give, too? Well, well, when papa +comes home, I will lay the whole case before him." + +"Not for the world!" cried Rachael, suddenly. "I tell you, cast this +subject from your mind. I will not have my lord annoyed by it. For once, +Clara, I must and will be obeyed." + +Clara sank back in her seat, aghast with surprise. + +"Oh, mamma Rachael, you are getting to be awfully cruel." + +"Cruel? No! In this I am acting kindly. It is you who are cruel in +pressing a distasteful and impossible thing upon me." + +"I don't understand it; I can't believe it. You are always so free, so +generous, to those who need help. It is just because this poor girl is +my friend. Oh! I only wish old Lady Carset would just die, and leave me +everything! I would let the world see a specimen of independence--I +would! Don't speak to me, don't attempt to touch my hand, Mr. Closs! You +haven't a spark of human nature in you. I have a good mind to leave you +all, and go on the stage myself." + +Again Lady Hope broke into a storm of impatience so unlike her usual +self-restraint, that Clara was really terrified. + +"Hush, girl! Not another word of this. I will not endure it." + +This severe reprimand took away Clara's breath for an instant; then she +burst into a passion of sobs and tears, huddling herself up into a +corner of the carriage, and utterly refused all consolation from +Hepworth, who was generously disturbed by her grief. + +Lady Hope did nothing, but sat in silence, lost in thought, or perhaps +striving to subdue the tumult of feelings that had so suddenly broke +forth from her usual firm control. + +Thus they drove home in distrust and excitement. A few low murmurs from +Hepworth, bursts of grief from Lady Clara, and dead silence on the part +of Rachael Closs, attended the first disagreement that had ever set the +stepmother and daughter in opposition. + +When they reached home, Clara, her face all bathed in tears, and her +bosom heaving with sobs, ran up to her room, without the usual kiss or +"Good-night." + +She was bitterly offended, and expressed the feeling in her own childish +fashion. + +Rachael sat down in the hall, and watched the girl as she glided up the +broad staircase, perhaps hoping that she would look back, or, it may be, +regretting the course she had taken, for her face was unutterably sad, +and her attitude one of great despondency. + +At last, when Clara was out of sight, she turned a wistful look on her +brother. + +"She will hate me now." + +Her voice was more plaintive than the words. The confidence of that +young girl was all the world to her; for, independent of everything +else, it was the one human link that bound her to the man she loved with +such passionate idolatry. Her kindness to his child was the silver cord +which even his strong will could not sunder, even if he should wish it. + +Hepworth saw her anguish, and pitied it. + +"Let her go," he said, stooping down and kissing his sister on the +forehead, which, with her neck and arms, was cold as marble. "She is +disappointed, vexed, and really indignant with us both; but a good +night's sleep will set her heart right again. I wish we had never +chanced to come here." + +"Oh, Heavens! so do I." + +"Rachael," said Hepworth, "what is it troubles you so?" + +"What? Is it not enough that the child I have made a part of my own life +should quarrel with me and with you, because of me, for a stranger?" + +"No; because her own generous nature assures us that the evil will die +of itself before morning. This is not enough to account for the fact +that you quiver as if with cold, and the very touch of your forehead +chills me." + +"Do I?" questioned Rachael. "I did not know it. My cloak has fallen +off--that is all." + +"Mamma Rachael!" + +They both started, for leaning over the banisters was the sweet, tearful +face of Lady Clara. + +"My own darling!" cried Rachael, lifting her arms. + +Down the staircase sprang that generous young creature, her feet +scarcely touching the polished oak, her hair all unbound and rolling in +waves down her back. Struck with sweet compunctions, she had broken from +the hands of her maid, and left her with the blue ribbon fluttering in +her hand, while she ran back to make peace with the woman who was almost +dearer to her than a mother. + +She fell upon her knees by Rachael, and shook the hair from her face, +which was glowing with sweet penitence. + +"Kiss me, mamma Rachael, not on this saucy mouth of mine, but here upon +my forehead. I cannot sleep till you have kissed me good night." + +Rachael laid one hand on that bright young head, but it was quivering +like a shot bird. She bent the face back a little, and pored over the +features with yearning scrutiny, as if she longed to engrave every line +on her heart. + +Something in those black eyes disturbed the girl afresh. She reached up +her arms, and cried out: + +"Don't be angry with me, mamma Rachael, but kiss me good night, and ask +God to make me a better girl." + +Instead of kissing her, Rachael Closs fell upon her neck and broke into +a passion of tears such as Clara had never seen her shed before. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE OLD PRISONER. + + +In America again. Yes, fate has swept most of the characters of our +story across the ocean; but one remains behind to whom the kind heart +must turn with more solemn interest than the young, the beautiful, or +the lordly can inspire. + +No changes had fallen upon that bleak, gloomy prison, whose very shadow, +as it lay across the dusty road, streamed out like a pall. Human crime +brings human misery, and that, crowded together and stifled under the +heel of the law, is a terrible, most terrible thing. + +In the midst of this desolation, that old woman had lived and suffered +fourteen years, without a complaint, without once asking for the +freedom, which would have been so sweet to her, even of her God. She had +sinned deeply--how far, she and the Almighty, who knows all things, +alone could tell; but she had borne her punishment with much humility; +in her quiet way, had made her presence in that dreary place a blessing +to those more wretched than herself. + +During that long, weary time many a poor prisoner had felt the comfort +of her presence near her sick couch and her grave. Kind looks had +cheered other desponding souls when words of compassion were forbidden +to her lips. + +One day this woman sat at her task sewing on some heavy prison garments. +A skein of coarse thread hung about her neck, and a steel thimble was +upon her long, slender finger, where it had worn a ring about the nail +with incessant use. + +She did not look up when the matron entered the room, but worked on, +with steady purpose, not caring to see that strange gentleman who came +in with the matron, and stood looking kindly upon her. + +"Mrs. Yates." + +The old woman lifted her head with a suddenness that almost shook the +iron spectacles from her face. Her eyes encountered those of the +gentleman, and she stood up meekly, like a school-girl aroused from her +task, and remained, with her eyes bent on the floor, waiting for the man +to pass on. He did not move, however, but stood gazing upon her +snow-white hair, her thin old face, and the gentle stoop that had, at +last, bent her shoulders a little, with infinite compassion in his face. + +"Mrs. Yates, why do you stand so motionless? How is it that your eyes +turn so steadily to the floor?" + +The old woman lifted her eyes slowly to that calm, thin face. She did +not know it, had never seen it before in her life; but it was so seldom +any one spoke to her, that a soft glow of comfort stole to her heart as +she looked, and two great tears rolled from under her spectacles. Then +she remembered that he had asked something. + +"In prison, here, we get a down look," she said, with pathetic +simplicity. + +"But you will look in my face now." + +She did gaze at him earnestly; but shook her head and dropped her eyes, +for the force of habit was still upon her. + +"I do not know you," she murmured. + +"Did you then expect some friend?" asked the gentleman. + +"I have no friends," was the sad reply. + +"Does no one come to see you?" + +"Years ago my son used to come and his wife, too; but they are both +dead." + +"Poor woman!" + +She looked up again with a glance of earnest surprise. She was so unused +to pity that the compassionate voice brought a dry sob to her throat. + +"Are you content here? Tell me." + +"Yes, I am content." + +Her voice was low, but inexpressibly mournful. + +"I know the crime for which you were committed," said the gentleman, +"and have read the case over. Tell me, were you guilty?" + +The old woman lifted her eyes slowly, and replied: + +"Yes, I was a guilty woman." + +"But were you, before God, guilty of murder?" + +She met his eyes steadily. He saw a quiver of pain sweep over her +features, and the thin lips began to stir. + +"He is dead, my innocent, my honest son. Nothing can harm him now. I +have not suffered in vain. Before God I was not guilty of murder, but +terribly guilty in taking this crime on myself: but it was to save him, +and I cannot repent, I cannot repent, and in that lies double guilt!" + +The stranger searched her features keenly as she spoke. Perhaps he was +prepared for this answer; but the light that came over his face was full +of compassion. + +"Have you done with me?" questioned the old woman, in the meek, sad +voice that had become habitual to her. "Perhaps you will not believe me; +but God knows!" + +The man turned from her and stepped into the matron's room. + +The old woman sat down upon the bench from which she had arisen, took +the coarse needle from the bosom of her dress, where she had fastened it +when spoken to, and threaded it again; but her hand shook a little, and +the thread baffled her confused vision. Then the strange gentleman came +back again, smiling, and with moisture in his eyes. + +"My good woman," he said, "put up your work. You did not know it, but I +am the Governor of New York, and your pardon has just gone to the +warden." + +The needle dropped from one quivering old hand--a thread fell from its +companion. + +"Pardon for me!" + +Her lips were white, and the words trembled from them one by one. She +did not comprehend that this man had given her back to the world. + +"It is true," said the matron, weeping the glad, sweet tears of a +benevolent heart, "His Excellency has pardoned you. This very hour you +are free to leave the prison." + +"God help me! Oh! God help me!" cried the poor old woman, looking around +at her rude work and seating herself among it. "Where can I go?" + +The Governor took some money from his pocket and laid it in her lap. +Then he went hastily from the room. + +The matron sat down upon the bench, and clasped the withered hand in +hers. + +"Have you no friend?" + +"None." + +"No duties left undone?" + +The old woman drew herself up. Duties last longer than friends. Yes, she +had duties, and God had taken the shackles from her limbs that she might +perform them. Freedom was before her and an object. She arose gently and +looked around a little wildly. + +"I will go now." + +The matron went out and returned with a bundle of clothes and a black +bonnet upon which was some rusty crape; a huge, old-fashioned thing that +framed in her silver-white hair like a pent-house. The very shape and +fashion of this bonnet was pathetic--it spoke of so long ago. The black +dress and soft shawl with which she had come to the prison were a little +moth-eaten, but not much, for they had been carefully hoarded; but the +poor old woman looked with a sigh on her prison-dress as it fell to the +floor, and wept bitterly before she went out, as if that gloomy mass of +stones had been a pleasant home to her. + +Slowly, and with a downcast look, the old woman went out of the prison, +up through the rugged quarries, where a gang of men were at work, +dragging their weary limbs from stone to stone, with the listless, +haggard effort of forced labor. Some of these men looked up, as she +passed them, and watched her with bitter envy. + +"There goes a pardon," they said to each other; "and that old woman with +one foot in the grave, while we are young and strong! Freedom would be +everything to us; but what good will it do to her?" + +So the poor old prisoner passed on, sadly bewildered and afraid, like a +homeless child, but thanking God for a mercy she could not yet realize. + +There was one place to which she must go. It might be empty and +desolate, but there her son had died, and she had seen the roof of his +dwelling from the graveyard when they let her come out from prison to +see him buried. + +She knew the road, for her path led to the grave first, and after that +she could find the way, for every step, so far, had been marked by a +pang, to which her heart was answering back now. + +At sunset, that day, some workmen, passing the village burying-place, +saw an old woman sitting by a grave that had been almost forgotten in +the neighborhood. + +She was looking dreary and forlorn in the damp enclosure, for clouds +were drifting low in the sky, and a cold rain was beginning to fall; but +they did not know that this poor woman had a home-feeling by that grave, +even with the rain falling, which belonged to no other place on earth. + +A little later, when the gray darkness was creeping on, this same tall +figure might have been discovered moving through the rough cedar pillars +of the Yates cottage. There was no light in the house, for no human soul +lived beneath its roof; but a door was so lightly fastened that she got +it open with some effort, and entered what seemed to her like the +kitchen; for the last tenant had left some kindling-wood in the +fireplace, and two or three worn-out cooking utensils stood near the +hearth, where they were beginning to rust. + +When she left the prison, the matron had, with many kind words, thrust a +parcel into the old woman's hand. Knowing her helplessness, she had +provided food for a meal or two, and to this had added some matches and +candles. + +In the gray light which came through one of the windows, she untied this +parcel and found the candles. It seemed to the forlorn creature as if a +merciful God had sent them directly to her, and she fell upon her +knees, thanking Him. The light which she struck gave her the first gleam +of hope that her freedom had yet brought. She was at liberty to build a +fire on that dark hearth, and to sit there just as long as she pleased, +enjoying its warmth. The rain that began to rattle down on the low roof +made her shelter more pleasant. She began to realize that even in such +desolation liberty was sweet. + +She built a fire with the dry wood, and its blaze soon filled the +kitchen with a golden glow. Her garments were wet, and a soft steam +arose from them as she sat, enveloping her in a gray cloud. The +loneliness might have been terrible to another person, but she had been +so long accustomed to the darkness and gloom of a prison cell, that this +illuminated space seemed broad as the universe to her. + +After her clothes were dry, the old woman lighted her candle and began +to examine the house. The parlor was almost empty, and a gust of wind +took her candle as she opened the door, flaring back the flame into her +face. The wind came from a broken pane of glass in the oriel window, +through which a branch of ivy, and the long tendril of a Virginia +creeper had penetrated, and woven themselves in a garland along the +wall. A wren had followed the creeping greenness and built her nest in +the cornice, from which she flew frightened, when a light entered the +room. + +The old woman went out disappointed. The thing she sought was not there; +perhaps it had been utterly destroyed. The man who had promised to keep +it sacred, lay sleeping up yonder in the graveyard. How could she expect +strangers to take up his trust? But if the object she sought could not +be found, what was the use of liberty to her. The one aim of her life +would be extinguished. She took up the candle and mounted a flight of +narrow stairs which led to the chambers. + +They were all empty except one small room, where she found an iron +bedstead, on which some old quilts and refuse blankets were heaped. +Behind this bed, pressed into a corner, was an old chair, covered with +dust. + +When she saw this, the light shook in her hand. She sat down upon the +bedstead, and reaching the candle out, examined the old chair, through +its veil of cobwebs. It was the same. How well she remembered that night +when her own hands had put on that green cover. + +The chair was broken. One of its castors dropped to the floor as Mrs. +Yates drew it from the corner, and the carved wood-work came off in her +hand; the cushion was stained and torn in places, but this dilapidation +she knew had not reached her secret. + +She took the chair in her arms and carried it down to the kitchen. Some +of the brass nails dropped loose on the stairs, but she took no heed of +them. All she wanted was some instrument with which she could turn the +ricketty thing into a complete wreck. In the drawer of a broken kitchen +table she found an old knife, with the blade half ground away. This she +whetted to an edge on the hearth, and directly the little brass nails +flew right and left, a mass of twisted fringe lay on the hearth, when +the old woman stood in a cloud of dust, holding the torn rep in her +hand. It dropped in a heap with the fringe, then the inner lining was +torn away, handsful of hair were pulled out from among the springs, and +that casket with a package of papers rustled and shook in the old +woman's hands. + +Mrs. Yates trembled from head to foot. It was many long years since she +had touched heavy work like that, and it shocked her whole frame. + +The dull monotony of sewing upon prison garments had undermined all her +great natural strength. She sat there panting for breath, and white to +the lips. The excitement had been too much for this poor prison woman. + +She sat like a dazed creature, looking down into the casket which lay +open in her lap, with ten thousand rainbow fires leaping out of it, as +the blaze in the chimney quivered and danced and blazed over the +diamonds. That morning the old woman had crept out of prison in her +moth-eaten garments, and a little charity money in her bosom. Now a +fortune blazed up from her lap. + +There was money, too, a purse heavy with sovereigns, dropped there from +the gold contained in that malachite box, from which all her awful +sorrows had sprung. She gathered up these things in the skirt of her +dress and sat brooding over them a long time, while the fire rose and +crackled, and shed warm floods of light all around her, and the rain +poured down in torrents. She was completely worn out at last, and +thought itself became a burden; then her head fell back upon the ruined +cushions of the chair, which held her in a half-sitting position, as the +heaviest sleep that ever came to mortal eyes fell upon her. + +Still the rain poured down continually upon the roof and overran the +gutters in torrents. Up from the darkness of a hollow near by, the rush +and roar of a stream, swollen into a torrent, came through the beating +storm like a heavy bass voice pouring its low thunders through a strain +of music. The great elm tree at the end of the house tossed its +streaming branches, and beat them upon the roof, till a host of warriors +seemed breaking their way through, while the old vines were seized by +the wind and ripped from the sides of the house, as the storm seizes +upon the cords of a vessel, and tears them up into a net work of tangled +floss. + +The old woman who had left her stone cell in the prison for the first +time in fourteen years, heard nothing of this, but lay half upon the +floor half on the broken chair, with the broad blaze of the fire +flashing over her white hair, and kindling up the diamonds in her lap to +a bed of living coals. She was perfectly safe with those treasures, even +in that lonely house, for in the pouring rain no human being was likely +to go about from his own free will. But one poor fellow, whose child was +desperately sick, did pass the house, and saw the blaze of a fire +breaking through a window, where the shutters were dashing to and fro on +their hinges, and found breath to say, as he sped on in search of a +doctor: + +"So the cedar cottage has got another tenant at last. I wonder who it +is?" + +When the man went by to his work, the next morning, he saw the shutters +swaying to and fro yet, and wondering at it, went into the enclosure, in +hopes of meeting some of the new inmates; but everything was still, the +doors were fastened, and through the kitchen window he saw nothing but a +heap of ashes on the hearth, and an old chair, torn to pieces, standing +before it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE OLD COUNTESS. + + +When the old countess of Carset threw out her flag from the battlements +of Houghton castle, it could be seen from all the country around, for +the grim old pile was built upon the uplands, and the gray towers rose +up from the groves of the park like the peaks of a mountain. + +For many a long year that broad flag had streamed like a meteor over the +intense greenness of oaks and chestnuts; for, when the head of the house +was at home, the crimson pennant was always to be seen floating against +the sky, and over that sea of billowy foliage. The old lady of Houghton +had not been absent from the castle in many years, for she was a +childless woman, and so aged, that a home among her own people was most +befitting her infirmities and her pride. + +One day, as the sun was going down behind those massive castle towers, +filling the sky so richly with gold and crimson, that the red flag was +lost among its fiery billows, an old woman stood on the highway, with a +hand uplifted to shade her eyes, as she searched for the old flag. + +There was dust upon her leathern shoes and on the black folds of her +alpaca dress, for she had walked from the railway station, and the roads +were dry. + +"Ah, how the trees have grown!" she said, mournfully, dropping her hand. +"I never, never thought to be so near Houghton and not see the flag. Is +my lady dead?" + +The old woman was so distressed by the thought, that she sat down on a +bank by the wayside, and over her came that dry, hard foreboding, which +forbids tears to old eyes, but holds the worn heart like a vise. Thus, +with her eyes fixed on the dusty road, she sat till all those bright +clouds melted into the coming night; then she looked up and saw the +great red flag streaming out against a sea of purplish gray, as it had +done when she was a girl, seventy years ago. + +"My lady is alive. She is there. Oh! my God! make me thankful!" she +exclaimed, standing up in the road. "Through all, I shall see her +again." + +So she moved on, carrying a leathern travelling bag, worn and rusty, in +her feeble hand. Along the highway, up to the gates of that noble park, +she travelled with the slow, toilsome step of old age; but when she came +to the gates they were closed, and her voice was so feeble that it +failed to reach the lodge, from which she could see lights gleaming +through the twinkling ivy leaves. + +In patient disappointment the old woman turned from the gate, and walked +on half a mile farther, for she knew of a small public house where a +night's lodging could be obtained. She reached this low stone building +after dark, and entered it quietly, like a gray ghost. + +It was a strange guest to enter that tap-room, with her dusty garments +and her old satchel. The villagers, who were taking their beer +comfortably, lifted their eyes in astonishment at her sudden appearance, +and they rounded with wonder, as she passed through the room and entered +the kitchen naturally, as if she had belonged to the premises all her +life. + +No one in the house remembered the old woman. A curly-headed girl named +Susan, had flitted like a bird about that kitchen the last time she had +entered it, and now, when a man's voice called out "Susan!" she started +and looked around in a dazed way, expecting the bright eyed girl would +come dancing through the door. But instead appeared an elderly woman, +with quantities of coarse black hair, smoothed under her cap. A linen +apron, large and ample, protected her stuff dress, and a steel +chatelaine, to which were suspended scissors, a needle case and tiny +money box rattled at her side. + +"Well, what is to do now, Stephen?" said the landlady, brushing some +crumbs from her apron, for she had been cutting bread. + +"Not much, only look sharp. Here is an old body just come off the tramp. +Ah, there she sits. See to her while I mind the bar, for she seems a +little above the common, and is quiet." + +The landlord sank his voice as he made the communication, and, after a +glance at the old woman, went back to his guests, while the matron +addressed Mrs. Yates. + +"Ye will be wanting something, no doubt. Will it be tea or a cup of ale +posset?" + +The old heart in that bosom stirred with a tender recollection of long +ago, as this almost forgotten dish was mentioned, a dish so purely +English, that she had never once heard it mentioned in her American +life. + +"I will thank you for a posset," she said, taking off her bonnet and +smoothing her milk-white hair with both hands. "It is long since I have +tasted one." + +"Yes," answered the landlady, "there is more refreshment in a cup of +warm posset, than in quarts of tea from China. Wait a bit and you shall +have one of my own making; the maids never will learn how to curdle the +milk properly, but I am a rare hand at it, as was my mother before me." + +"Aye, a good housewife was your mother," said the old woman, as tender +recollections stirred in her bosom, "for now I see that it is little +Susan." + +"Little Susan, and you know of her? That was what they used to call me +when I was a lass, so high." + +"But now, what is the name you go by?" + +"What name should a woman go by but that of her own husband? You have +just seen the master. The neighbors call him Stephen Burke." + +"What, the son of James Burke, gamekeeper at the castle?" + +"Why, did you know him, too?" + +"Aye, that did I. A brave young fellow he was, and every one at the +castle up yonder--" + +The old woman checked herself. She had not intended to make herself +known, but old recollections had thronged upon her so warmly, that it +seemed impossible to keep silent. + +"You speak of the castle as if you knew about it," said the landlady, +eyeing her askance. + +"And no wonder," answered the old woman; "people have told me about it, +and I was in the neighborhood years ago, when you were a slip of a +lass." + +It was strange, but this old woman, since her entrance to that room, had +fallen back upon phrases and words familiar to her lips once, but which +had not made any part of her speech for years. There was a home sound in +them that warmed her heart. + +"Did ye ever know any of them up yonder?" asked the landlady, as she +placed a broad porringer before the fire, and poured some milk into it. + +"Yes. I have seen the countess, but it was long ago." + +"May-be it was when the young lady was at home. Oh! them were blithe +times, when young Lord Hope came a courting, and we could see them +driving like turtle doves through the park and down the village; or, +walking along by the hedges and gathering hyacinths and violets. It was +a sorry time, though, when he took her away for good and all." + +"Is the young lady living near this?" inquired Mrs. Yates, with an +effort. + +"Near this, my good woman! Why, she has been dead these many years, and +Lord Hope had been married to his second wife ten years, when my first +lass was born; but he lives at Oakhurst, and never comes here now. No +one, in these parts, has seen his second lady, for the countess was +sadly put out with the marriage, and all her household was forbidden to +mention Lord Hope's name before her. She never got over the death of our +own young lady in foreign parts, off in America among the red Indians, +who tomahawk people, and no one asks why. This was where Lord Hope took +his wife and child. Can any one wonder that our countess could not +forgive him, especially when he came back home with a new wife, and +stood out that his daughter should never come to Houghton, till our old +lady up yonder was ready to be gracious to the new woman." + +"So the child was never at the castle?" inquired the old woman. + +"No one hereabouts has ever seen her, though we are told that she is a +beautiful young lady, sweet and pleasant, but with a will of her own. +The old countess sent for her once, for she must be heiress of Houghton, +you know; but she sent back word that nothing could entice her into a +house where her stepmother was forbidden to come, and this so offended +our countess, that she has taken no notice of her since." + +While she was talking, the landlady poured a measure of frothing ale +into the porringer, and became all at once silent. The delicate art of +curding the milk into whey took up all her attention. Thus the old lady +was allowed to drop into a fit of thought, from which she was aroused, +with a start, when the hostess poured the warm posset into a china bowl +and began stirring it with a heavy silver spoon, as she called out: + +"Come to the table, grandame, and sup the posset while it is hot. You'll +not get its fellow till I turn my hand to another for ye. Come, come!" + +Mrs. Yates drew her chair to the table, and took up the silver spoon, +eagerly. Poor woman! She had travelled all day without tasting food, and +the posset took her from a very painful train of thought. + +The hostess sat down at one end of the table, smiling blandly over the +keen appetite of her guest. With her arms folded on the white cloth, and +her ruddy face bending forward, she went on with her talk. But this +time she turned from the castle, and began to ask questions, for the +presence of this singular old woman in her house had fully aroused her +curiosity. + +But the traveller was on her guard now, and escaped these blunt +questions with quiet adroitness. When they became oppressive, she arose +from the table and asked permission to seek her bed, as the day's travel +had left her tired beyond anything. + +The hostess took a candle from the table and led the way up stairs, +somewhat baffled, but full of kindly feeling. There was something about +the manner and speech of this old woman that set all her warm-hearted +interest afloat. Who was she? From what part of England had she +travelled with that rusty little bag and those thick-soled shoes? That +quiet manner and gentle voice might have belonged to any lady of the +land. + +In the midst of these conjectures the quiet old woman reached out her +hand for the candle, and with a soft "good-night," closed the +chamber-door. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE OLD COUNTESS AND HER SERVANT. + + +The next morning Mrs. Yates was early at the park-gate. She found no +trouble in passing through now, and was soon in the avenue, making slow +progress toward the castle, under the shade of those vast oaks and +chestnuts. The way was long, and the avenue swept upward with what, to +the old woman, was a toilsome ascent. The bag, which she carried in her +hand, was of some weight, too, and the cramped inaction of so many years +had rendered walking a slow and painful process. + +At last she stood in full view of that grand old building--a castle of +the olden times--kept, so far as possible to elegance or comfort, in its +ponderous mediaeval grandeur. But Madam Art had softened all its ruder +features. Plate-glass was sunk into those thick walls; circular rooms in +those twin towers, commanded a splendid view of the valley, over which +the castle was built. The broad stone terrace connecting the towers, and +fronting the main building was connected with a velvet lawn by a forest +of hot-house plants, that clung around the stone parapet in a sumptuous +garland of vines and flowers, that shed a soft and delicious fragrance +over everything in and around the building. + +Across this lawn and over the stone terrace the old woman toiled toward +the main entrance. She was beginning to tremble now with something +beside weariness. Her satchel bore down the feeble hand that carried it, +till it dragged along the stones with a low, rasping sound, as she +climbed the terrace-steps. She lifted the ponderous bronze knocker, and +let it fall from her shaking hand with a crash that startled herself, +and brought a man, all glittering in silver gray and scarlet, to the +door, where he stood, with his insolent lips ajar, waiting to know what +miracle had brought that forlorn creature to the grand entrance of +Houghton Castle. + +"I wish to speak with the countess." + +That sweet old voice could not counteract the effect of her dress and +worn satchel. The parted lips of the man in scarlet fell together, and +drooped scornfully down at the corners. + +"There is a proper entrance for servants and village-people," said this +high functionary, with his powdered head thrown back. + +"I know," answered the woman, quietly; "but I wish to see my lady, and +do not care to seek her from the servants' hall. Go to her and say that +Hannah Yates, an old servant of the family, is below, waiting to see +her." + +The man hesitated. Then the old woman stepped softly into the hall, +passing him so suddenly that he drew back aghast. + +"If you will not go, I must find the way for myself," she said, still in +a voice so gentle that he could take little offence at it. + +Her composure rather disturbed the man, who gave his powdered head a +toss, and mounted the broad oaken staircase, with an indignant swell of +the chest. Through a long passage, carpeted with the thickness of forest +turf, he went, giving forth no sound till he opened a door in one of the +lower chambers, and, sweeping a curtain of crimson silk back with his +arm, announced the name that old woman had given him at the door. + +Something lying under the rich colors of a great India shawl moved +quickly; the shawl dropped to the floor, and a little old woman sat up +on the couch where she had been resting. + +"Yates--Hannah Yates? Did you say Yates, Henry?" + +"That was the name, my lady." + +"An old woman like me?" + +"Old enough, my lady; but Heaven forbid I should say like your ladyship. +I could not force myself to do it." + +"Bring her here, Henry." + +The door closed, and the old countess drew herself gradually upright. + +She was a pale, little woman, with hair as soft and white as the +delicate lace that fell like a spider's web over it. The child-like +hands, which lay in relief among the folds of her black-satin dress, +were withered in their whiteness, like the leaves of a frost-bitten +lily. They were quivering, too; and now that she was alone, you might +have seen that delicate head begin to vibrate with a slow, perpetual +motion, which had been stopped a moment by the surprise which had fallen +upon her. She sat with her eyes on the curtain, which shut the door from +view. The trembling of her head extended to her whole body, and her +small feet pattered freely on the carpet, like those of a child in the +impotence of sickness. + +As she looked the red curtain was lifted, and into the luxurious +splendor of that room came a tall, old woman, who was trembling like +herself, and stood in her presence, apparently afraid to look up. + +The old countess arose from her couch, trampling the India shawl under +her feet, and moved with feeble slowness toward her strange visitor. + +"Hannah Yates!" + +At these words the down prison-look that had fallen upon Hannah was +lifted from her, and those large gray eyes were bent on the little +patrician with a look of intense mournfulness. + +"My mistress!" + +"Hannah Yates, I never expected to see you again on this earth, and now +you come before me like a ghost." + +"Ah, my mistress," answered the old servant, with pathetic humility. "I +am a ghost of the woman who once loved and served you." + +"And I? Look upon me, Yates. How have God and time dealt with your +mistress? Has my head been respected more than yours?" + +They stood for a moment looking solemnly at each other--that tall, +stately woman, born a peasant, and the delicate, proud, sensitive +peeress, whose blue blood rolled through a series of dead greatness back +to the Conqueror. The contrast was touching. Both had begun to stoop at +the shoulders, both had suffered, and they were as far apart in station +as social power could place them; but a host of memories linked them +together, and the common sympathies of humanity thrilled in the hearts +of both with such pain and pleasure that, unconsciously, the little +withered hand of the countess clasped that of her old servant. + +"Come in, Yates, and sit down. You are trembling, poor old soul! The +world must have gone hard with you when the touch of my hand makes you +shiver so. Sit down. We are both old women now, and may rest ourselves +together." + +So the woman, whose last home had been a convict's cell, and the lady +whose head had always been sheltered beneath the roofs of a palace, sat +down and looked, with sad timidity, at each other. Still the feeling of +caste was strong in the servant. She had drawn an ottoman up to the +couch, and placed herself on that; but not until she had taken the shawl +from the carpet, and placed it around her mistress, did she thus sit +down, as it were, at her feet. + +"Where did you come from, Hannah Yates?" + +"From America. I came from the ship three days ago." + +At the word America the old countess shrank back, and held out her +hands, as if to avoid a blow. After a little she spoke again, but it was +now with a voice sharp with pain. + +"Yates, did you in America ever know anything of my child?" + +The anguish in that voice startled Hannah Yates, and her old face +whitened. How much did the mistress know? If little, perfect candor +might kill her. She had not come there to wound an old woman with the +horrors that had darkened her life; so she answered, cautiously: + +"Yes, I saw Lady Hope more than once after she came to America." + +"Thank God!" exclaimed the countess. "I may now learn how and when she +died." + +"I was not with her when she died," answered the servant, in a low +voice. + +"But you saw her before?" + +"Yes, I saw her often." + +"And the child?" + +"Yes; the child was with me a good deal." + +"Yates, was my child happy in that strange land?" + +"How can I answer that, my lady?" + +"Did you see Hope there?" + +"Once, only once, and that for a moment." + +"And you can tell me no particulars. You have no information to give me +with regard to the woman who is Lord Hope's wife?" + +"Of her I know but little. Remember, my lady, I am but a servant." + +"You were my child's nurse. I never looked on you as a common servant, +but rather as a faithful friend. So did my poor child. When I learned +she was in the same country with you and her foster-brother, my heart +was somewhat at rest. But her letters were so studied, so +unsatisfactory; yet there was nothing in them of sadness or complaint. +Only this, Yates, she never mentioned her husband, not once! I should +hardly have known that he was with her but for the letter in which he +told me that I was a childless old woman." + +Mrs. Yates drew a long, heavy sigh. She understood now that the secret +of that awful tragedy in New York had been kept from her old mistress, +and resolved that it never should reach her--never while her will could +keep back the horrible truth. + +"My lady," she said, with an effort, "there is one thing which +our--which my young mistress bade me bring to you if--if she should not +live to place them in your own hands herself. It is this which brought +me across the ocean." + +As she spoke, Mrs. Yates took up the leathern satchel, which lay against +her feet, and opened its rusty clasp with her trembling hands. She drew +forth a casket from the scant garments it contained, and, still kneeling +on the floor, opened it. A blaze of diamonds broke up from the box. The +old countess uttered a feeble cry, and clasped two quivering hands over +her eyes. + +"She was troubled about bringing them out of England, and sent them to +her foster-mother with this letter." + +"Is there a letter? Yates, give it to me!" + +Mrs. Yates reached forth the letter, which had begun to turn yellow with +age. + +The countess took it, and attempted to open her glasses; but those +little hands trembled so fearfully that she could not loosen the gold +which clasped them in. + +"Read it for me. I cannot! I cannot!" + +Two great tears trembled out of the pain in that aged heart, and fell +upon her cheeks like frost upon the white leaves of a withered rose. + +Hannah Yates read the letter--a sweet, touching epistle, full of +mournful affection, which that murdered lady had written only a few days +before her death, when some presentiment of coming evil was no doubt +upon her. The diamonds were her mother's, she wrote, and had only +crossed the ocean with her because of the haste with which the voyage to +America had been arranged. Fearing for their safety, she was about to +intrust them to her foster-mother, who had promised to bring them back +to England with her own hands, if any evil should fall upon her, or if +her sojourn in America was protracted. + +"The jewels which belong to the Carset estate, and the child, which will +inherit them, I entrust to my dear foster-mother, when I am gone, and I +sometimes think that we may never meet again, my mother. This good woman +will bring the diamonds, which I will not have endangered, and will tell +you about the child, dearer to me than my own life, nay, than my own +soul! Tell Lord Hope, if he should seek to take her, that it was the +dying wish of his wife that her child should pass at once into the +protection of her own most beloved mother, when Hannah Yates brings her +to England. I think he will not deny this to a woman who has loved him +better, oh! how much better! than herself--who would die, if she could, +rather than be in the way of his happiness. Give him this letter. I +think he will not deny the last request I may ever make of him. I will +not say farewell, my mother, because the gloom that is upon me in this +strange land may be only the homesickness of a heart separated from +those it loves. But, if this is given to you by my foster-mother, know +that a cloud of gloom has settled down upon me forever." + +This much fell upon the ears of the countess as she held her breath and +listened. + +When Hannah Yates folded the letter, she felt that a gleam of angry fire +broke into the eyes bent upon her. + +"Yates," said the countess, sharply, "read the date of that letter." + +The old servant read the date. + +"Fourteen years and more! Why was that letter kept from me so long?" + +"I could not bring it." + +"I know you were not young even then, Yates; but your son, my own +protege! Surely, when my poor child gave you this charge, she gave money +also? Why was the child kept from me and sent to that man?" + +"Yes, there was money; but my son could not come. We had no power to +bring her." + +"Then Hope took her from you by force?" questioned the countess. "Where +is your son, Yates? He was wrong to permit it!" + +"With my young lady." + +"Dead! Then you, also, are childless?" + +Hannah Yates remembered how the news of her bereavement had reached her +in that stone cell which was cold as a grave, and shuddered while the +lady in her palace questioned her. Then the old prison-look fell upon +her, and she sat motionless, with her eyes upon the floor, saying +nothing. How could she explain to that proud lady the bondage in which +she had been held? + +"Ah! if you had come earlier," said the countess, "the child of my child +might have been here! That man would not have dared to keep her! She +would not have been taught to return my advances with insolence by his +evil wife." + +"I _could_ not come before," repeated the old woman, humbly. + +"And now it may be too late." + +"God forbid!" said the old woman. "No! no! He will show me how to +complete my task. It is for that I have been kept alive." + +"Yates, you are brave and faithful. I was wrong to question you so. +Forgive me, old servant." + +Mrs. Yates took the child-like hand held out to her and pressed it to +her lips. + +"I have tried, dear mistress." + +"Go, now, old friend, and let me have time to think. Only this is +certain, we do not part again." + +"Mistress, that cannot be. I have yet a task to perform. It may be many, +many miles to travel. When that is done, I will come back and spend the +few days left to me here. Oh, it seems like home--it seems like Heaven +to sit within the sound of your voice once more! But I must depart at +once." + +"Where, old friend?" + +"I do not know yet; but God will direct me." + +"As I trust that He will direct me," answered the countess, lifting her +eyes in momentary prayer. "Yates, you will never know what fearful +suspicions have haunted me--how hard and bitter they have made me. Oh, +had this letter come earlier!" + +"I could not! I could not!" + +"I know that, knowing you." + +Hannah Yates lifted her grateful eyes for a moment, and dropped them +again. + +"Now that I am free from the weight of these," she said, lifting the +casket in her hands, "the toil of my errand will be less." + +The countess looked wistfully into the box, and shook her head. + +"I have been unjust. I have accused that woman falsely. Until this +moment, Yates, I have not hesitated to proclaim my belief that the woman +they call Lady Hope had possessed herself of these diamonds as she had +won my daughter's husband. This is a wrong which wounds me to the soul. +It must be atoned for." + +Hannah Yates moved toward the door, but heavily, and with the reluctance +of a woman whose strength had been overtasked. The old countess sat +gazing upon the jewels. How trivial and worthless they seemed to her +now! Yet the retention of these very diamonds had been a great cause of +offence against Lord Hope's second wife. How unjust, how cruel she had +been in this! Was it possible that, in other things, she had been +equally mistaken? She took up her daughter's letter and read it over. +The first shock of its reception had passed away, and nothing but the +quivering of the head remained of the fearful agitation that had shook +her little form like a reed. + +Hannah Yates stood near the curtain, regarding her with a look of +yearning sympathy. How much she had suffered--how terribly she had +struggled to save that delicate creature from deeper sorrow--no human +being but herself would ever know; but the thought filled her heart with +infinite tenderness. She stepped back to the couch, took the hand which +lay in the lap of her old mistress, and kissed it. + +The old lady lifted her eyes from the letter. They were full of +tears--those painful, cold tears which come in such scant drops to the +aged. + +"Your hands are cold; you look tired. Ring for some wine and biscuit. +That poor, white face is a reproach to your mistress, Yates." + +"Yes, I will take some wine and bread before I go--it will make me +strong; but not here! not here!" + +Again the old countess turned to that letter, motioning with her hand +that Yates should stay; but the old woman did not see that gentle motion +of the hand--her eyes, also, were full of tears. + +When the Countess of Carset had thrice perused her daughter's letter, +she laid it down, and resting her hand tenderly upon it, fell into +thought. + +She was a proud but just woman, on whose haughty power old age had +fallen like dew, softening all that was imperious, and shading down +strong personal pride into thoughtful mercy. + +But for some injustice that she had to repent of, this simple, +affectionate letter, coming as it were from the grave, would have +aroused nothing but tender grief. It contained no complaint of the man +she had married--did not even mention the governess, who now filled her +place; and the possibility that she had terribly wronged these two +persons dawned steadily upon her. + +She looked up at last, and spoke to Hannah Yates; but there was no +answer. The old woman was on her road to the railroad station, burdened +only with a secret she dared not reveal, and the gold which had been +saved with the diamonds. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE EARL'S RETURN. + + +Days passed, and Caroline heard nothing of the new friend she had made; +but one day Eliza brought her a letter which had come, inclosed in one +from Margaret, who had left town with her mistress so suddenly that she +found no time to say farewell. + +This was the letter which broke down so many hopes for the unhappy girl: + + "MY DEAR, DEAR FRIEND-- + + "For that you always will be, so long as I have a pulse in my + heart or a purpose in my brain! It does not require an eternity + for two young girls like us to become firm friends; but it will + take more than that to destroy the faith and love we feel for + each other. I know that you will believe every word that I say, + though I may be compelled to seem cruel and faithless. I cannot + come to see you. They tell me it might offend my father. I + cannot ask you to his house, because it _is_ his, and I have no + authority in it. But the time will come when I shall have a + house of my own, and then no guest shall be so honored. Why do + I love you so? Is it that I remember something? Or has any + person told me that you and I have slept in each other's arms, + and breathed upon the same pillow, with an old woman bending + over us--a noble-faced old woman, with gray hair, and a queenly + way of carrying the head? Have you any remembrance of a woman + like that? Do you remember a hot, red fire, streams of water + gushing over it, a ladder, a crowd, and great pipes coiling like + a tangle of huge snakes along a street full of people? I do--and + this no one has ever told me. + + "I want to ask all these things in person. You are from America. + I was there once, and after that fire I remember the ocean and a + great black ship, which sent banners of smoke over us day after + day. + + "Then Oakhurst. I was not four years old then, but my life began + in America, so far as I know of it. + + "I cannot help you now; but if you hate the stage so much, be + firm, and madame cannot force you upon it. Besides, I am + determined to redeem my pledge; so, if it can be done in no + other way, I will just have an early time set for my marriage + with Mr. Closs, and then you shall come to us if any one + attempts to oppress you. + + "Pray do not suppose that any one here dislikes you. On the + contrary, Lady Hope admits that you are charming. The trouble is + that here, in England, there is so much prejudice against the + stage. I cannot advise you, having broken down so miserably in + my promises; but I shall not be helpless forever, and when I + have power you shall share it. + + "If she insists, if the worst comes to the worst, run away, and + come down here--I mean into the neighborhood. I have plenty of + pocket-money, and drive my ponies just where I please. Margaret + will help us. + + "I am sure you will forgive me that I cannot do all I promised. + It does not grieve you more than it humiliates me. To think that + I should offer so much and perform nothing! But it is not my + fault, nor is it the fault of any one here. + + "Believe in me, trust me, and love me, for I will deserve it + all. + + "Yours affectionately, + "CLARA." + +Lady Clara wrote this letter on the very night of her return to +Oakhurst. That much she insisted on doing. Less, she said, would be +cruel treachery. + +Neither Lady Hope nor her brother were disposed to interfere, and so the +little missive went, carrying both hope and pain with it. + +It was some days before Hepworth Closs was able to make his entire peace +with the young lady. She could not find it in her heart to oppose her +stepmother, whose sad, heavy eyes touched her sympathy; but it was +pleasant to tyrannize over a man so much older than herself, whom love +had made her slave. + +With him quarreling was delicious, and she was in no haste to cut her +enjoyment short. But even the pleasure of tormenting one's lover has its +reaction; so one day, as the sun went down, pouring a flood of crimson +into the bosom of that old cedar of Lebanon, Clara relented a little, +and allowed Hepworth to kiss her hand. It was impossible to hold out +longer, with all the leaves quivering in that soft air, and the little +birds hiding away among them, chirping to each other, and setting a +sweet example to the lovers. + +Of course an ardent man, very much in love, is not likely to rest +content with the touch of his lady-love's hand after he has been kept +in quarantine four or five days. Hepworth was ardent, and desperately in +love; so he took advantage of her soft relenting, and drew her close to +his side, laid her head against his heart, and, with his cheek touching +the thick waves of her hair, began to talk of the future, when they +would be all in all to each other. + +Clara shut her eyes, and allowed her head to rest so close to her +lover's heart that it rose and fell with its strong beating. She loved +the music of that full, warm pulse, and a smile parted her lips as she +listened. + +Thus they rested awhile in silence, she, carried into a dreamy elysium +by the swell of those full heart-beats; he, calmed by the stir of the +cedar-leaves, looking into her face, and wondering, in the humility of +true affection, how that bright young creature had ever been won to love +him. He bent his head down softly, and kissed the blue veins on her +temple. + +"Are you sure, very, very sure, that you love me, Clara?" + +She reached up one arm, wound it about his neck, laid her cheek against +his, and whispered: + +"Don't you think so?" + +"Lady Clara! Mr. Hepworth Closs!" + +It was a man's voice, stern and clear as the clash of bells. Both the +lover and the girl sprang to their feet. + +"Father!" + +"Lord Hope!" + +For a moment the two men stood face to face. They had changed since +their last parting; still that was but dimly seen in the light of a +young moon, which was rising over the trees as the rich crimson faded +away. + +Hepworth saw that all the wild passion of those times had died out of +that face, leaving it calm and hard; but other change was concealed by +the silvery quiver of light that fell upon it through the leaves. + +Hepworth was the first to speak. + +"My lord, you have received my letter, I trust?" + +"Yes--and came at once to answer it." + +"By your tone, by your manner, I should fear--" + +"While this young lady is by, we will not speak of your fears," said the +earl, with a slow motion of the hand. "Clara, you will find your--Lady +Hope. She will, perhaps, be glad to hear that I have returned." + +"Not while you meet me and--and Hepworth in this fashion, papa. I don't +like it. One would think you intended to make trouble." + +"Foolish child! Go as I tell you." + +"Not while you look at me like that. Do you know, papa, that you have +forgotten to kiss me, or even shake hands; and that is a thing I never +saw you guilty of before." + +Clara drew close to the haughty man, and turning her mouth into a +half-open apple-blossom, held it up to be kissed. + +The earl put her aside gently, but with firmness. + +"Go to Lady Hope, as I bade you," he said. "This is no hour for +trifling." + +Clara stood motionless. All the color had left her face, even to the +lips. + +"Papa, are you in earnest?" + +"In earnest? Yes." + +"And you mean to refuse this gentleman?" + +"Undoubtedly I mean to refuse that gentleman." + +There was an emphasis of fine irony laid on the last word, which +Hepworth felt with a sting of indignation; but he controlled himself, in +respect to Clara's presence, and stood aloof, pale and stern as the man +before him. + +"I will go," said Clara; "but, before I leave you, let me say one +thing: I love this gentleman. But for that, he never would have spoken +to me or written to you. It was not his fault, or of his seeking. He had +not been here a day before I loved him without knowing it. Now, all the +world may know it for aught I care, for I never will marry any other +man!" + +Lord Hope did not reply to her, but turned to Hepworth. + +"You have done honorable work, and in a short time!" he said. "I was not +aware that Lady Hope would entertain her relatives in my absence, and +with this result." + +Hepworth did not answer then, but turning to Lady Clara, reached out his +hand. + +"Let me lead you to the house," he said. "After that I can meet Lord +Hope on more equal terms." + +Clara took his arm; but her father interposed. + +"I will take charge of the lady," he said, with haughty coldness, +drawing her arm within his, and leading her to the terrace, where he +left her and returned to the cedar. + +"Now, sir, let us conclude this matter at once. You ask the hand of my +daughter in marriage. I refuse it. You are here under my roof an +unexpected and unbidden guest. From this hour you cease to be welcome." + +"My lord, had I never known you in the past, never served you in an +unlawful desire, you would not have dared to address me in this fashion. +If you and I meet to bandy insults, it is because the past has left no +mutual respect between us; but I have this advantage over you; the sins +which have drawn on me even your contempt have been long since repented +of, while yours, compared to which mine fade into innocence, seem but to +have hardened into pride." + +Lord Hope smiled. + +"Of what crime does Mr. Hepworth Closs charge me?" + +"I make no special charge, Lord Hope; but there is an old woman in +America suffering the penalty of a crime which she never +committed--which you know she never committed." + +"The law decided otherwise, if I remember rightly," answered the earl, +in a quiet, calm voice. "But even if it did not, does that relate to the +question in hand?" + +"No, no, and I am to blame in mentioning it--Heaven knows I wish to +think the best! I admit, my lord, your prejudices against me would have +been just when we knew each other so well; but I was very young then and +can fairly claim to have worked out an honorable redemption from the +faults of my youth. Believe me, I have won more than a respectable +position among men; have wealth from my own exertions enough to satisfy +even your wishes. True, I have not the rank to match yours; but there +was a time when you thought it no disgrace to mate with my family." + +Lord Hope was moved out of his proud calm now. He lifted his hand with a +suddenness that was threatening, and cried out: + +"Peace, sir! I have heard enough of this!" + +"But I must remind you again that Lady Hope is my only sister, and in +these insults you degrade her." + +"Degrade her, when she is my wife!" + +These words were drawn out with proud emphasis that stung Hepworth like +a wasp. + +"My lord," he said, "I will bear much from you, because I once loved +you, but more from the fact that you are my sister's husband and _her_ +father; but I warn you not even by a tone to cast reproach or slur upon +your wife. She became such against my wishes and in spite of my protest. +That lady has all the elements of greatness within herself." + +"What right had you to wish or protest?" + +"The self-same right that you have to drive me from your daughter. You +did not heed my wishes, why expect me to prove more delicate?" + +"Because I can enforce what I wish, and you could not." + +"How?" + +"By asking Mr. Hepworth Closs to leave Oakhurst at once, and by +providing against all chance of his coming here again." + +Closs turned very white, and his hand clenched and unclenched itself +with passionate force. + +"My lord, this is a cruel insult, which I have not deserved!" + +All at once the earl turned, with some show of feeling, and looked +Hepworth steadily in the face. + +"Hepworth Closs, listen to me. If I seem cruel and unmanly, it is +because I wish to be kind. The hand which sweeps a moth from its +circling around a candle, must seem very cruel to the poor insect. I +tell you, fairly, Hepworth Closs, it is not so much pride of birth or +personal dislike that prompts me to deny my daughter to you. But she is +heiress in entail to the Carset title and Houghton Castle, a noble +title, without support, unless the old countess makes her heiress, by +will, of her personal estates. By marrying your sister, I mortally +offended this old lady. Rachael has been, from first to last, the +special object of her dislike. Lady Clara has added to this by refusing +to visit Houghton unless her stepmother is received there also. This +quarrel may throw one of the richest inheritances in England out of my +family, and all from my unfortunate marriage." + +"Your unfortunate marriage!" exclaimed Closs, hotly. + +"How could it be otherwise?" answered Lord Hope, sadly. + +There was something in Hope's voice that touched Hepworth Closs with +feelings akin to those he had felt for the proud young man years ago. + +"This was the language I used to my sister the night before she became +your wife," he said. + +"Oh, my God! if she had but listened--if she had but listened!" + +"Lord Hope! do I understand? Has your marriage with Rachael Closs come +to this?" + +"Hepworth, we will not discuss this subject. It is one which belongs +exclusively to Lady Hope and myself." + +"But she is my sister!" + +"Between a husband and wife no relative has claims." + +"Lord Hope, I was once your friend." + +"I have not forgotten it. Unfortunately for us both, you were. I do not +say this ungratefully. On the contrary, I am about to appeal to that old +friendship once more. You ask for my daughter. To give her to a brother +of Rachael Closs would be the bitterest insult I could offer the old +lady at Houghton. It would close our last hopes of a reconciliation. The +estates, in doubt now, would be eternally lost. I cannot afford this. +Oakhurst is strictly entailed; I am heavily in debt, so heavily, that we +are compelled to practise the most harassing economy. From me Clara will +inherit nothing; from her grandmother worse than nothing if she dies +offended with us. I am told that she is relenting--that she has been +heard to speak kindly of Clara. Can you ask me to insult her over again, +knowing all the wrong I have done her, all the ruin it would bring on my +child?" + +"What can I do?" exclaimed Closs, who felt the reason of this appeal. +"How can I act generously to you--fairly to her?" + +"Go away. She is young, volatile, capricious, but generous as the day. +Be open with her; tell her why you leave Oakhurst and how impossible it +is to return." + +"But there is one wild hope for me--the possibility of gaining this old +lady's consent." + +Lord Hope smiled in pity of the forlorn idea. + +"You may as well ask the stars of heaven to fall." + +"But it may chance that I can plead my cause with her." + +"Then your best argument will be that I have driven you ignominiously +from Oakhurst," said Lord Hope, with fine irony in his smile. "She will +forgive much to any man I am known to dislike." + +"My lord, I love your daughter so entirely, that it is impossible for me +to give up all hope. Leave me this one gleam, or, failing in that, give +me such chances as time may bring." + +Again Lord Hope answered with that keen smile. + +"I withhold nothing from you but my consent." + +"But, if Lady Carset gives hers?" + +"Then I can safely promise mine." + +Again the smile came, and pierced Hepworth like an arrow. + +"Now I will intrude here no longer," he said, taking his hat from the +ground where it had been lying. + +"It is better so, inhospitable as you may think me for saying it. Lady +Hope will be grieved, I know." + +"I am her only relative," said Closs, with deep feeling. + +"I know it; but we are all making sacrifices. I am, certainly, in +wishing you farewell." + +Hope reached out his hand. It was clear he wished Closs to go without +further leave-taking. Closs understood the motion. + +"I will not pain my sister with a farewell. Explain this as you please, +or say that I will write--unless that is prohibited. As for the young +lady, I shall never seek her again under your roof; but the time may +come when I shall assert the right which every man has to choose for +himself, and win the lady of his love, if he can. Meantime, Lady Clara +is free as air. Tell her so." + +With these words Hepworth Closs turned resolutely from the house in +which he had tasted pure happiness for the first time in his life, and +went away. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE WIFE AND THE DAUGHTER. + + +Lady Hope was in her own room when Clara came in, pale and breathless, +with news of her father's return. A cry broke from the woman, so +thrilling in its exquisite joy, that it won Clara even from a +remembrance of the harshness with which her lover had been received. In +the birth of her own love, she found intense sympathy for the intense +passion that seemed to consume her stepmother like a living fire. + +"Oh! mamma Rachael, do you love him so much, and is this love nothing +but a torment?" she said, kneeling down at the woman's feet, and trying +to draw that wild face down to hers. "He is so cruel, so cruel, I almost +hate him." + +Lady Hope pushed the girl from her. + +"What? Hate him?" + +"Then why don't he love you more?" + +"He does love me; how dare you question it?" + +The words were harsh, but Rachael's voice faltered in uttering them, and +the gloom of a hidden doubt broke into those great black eyes. Clara +saw the look, and her heart ached with sympathy. + +"Then why does he stay from us so long?" + +"Ah, why!" answered Rachael, and the two plaintive words sank deep into +that young heart. + +"And why does he treat Hepworth, your own brother, so cruelly?" + +"Has he done that? Oh, no, no!" + +"Yes, mamma Rachael. We both love him _so_ much; but he is very hard +with us just now. I thought he would love Hepworth for your sake." + +"Ah! I thought so too. It was my last dream." + +"And my first," said Clara, with girlish tears in her eyes. "He was very +angry--they were both angry. I think he meant to insult Hepworth and +drive him away, knowing how proud he is, and he will do it. Oh, mamma +Rachael, I am so miserable!" + +"Miserable!" cried Rachael, looking gloomily into that fair young face. +"Poor child! you have no idea what misery is. God forbid that you ever +should!" + +"Is not this misery? Papa against me, Hepworth looking so proud and +stormy. You. Oh! mamma, I feel for you so much. Indeed, you look more +unhappy than I am; but it is hard." + +"Hush, dear! That is your father's voice." + +"Yes, how low and cutting. I cannot stand it. He is coming this way. I +will go to my room." + +For the first time in her life, Lady Clara shrank from meeting her +father. + +"Do not leave me yet," said Rachael, passing swiftly toward the window. +"They are together still. I cannot see their faces, but they both stand +up sternly in the moonlight. What can they be saying?" + +"Something harsh, I know. Lord Hope, when he came up so still and +stern, did not seem like my father. His face looked like marble. He +would not kiss me, and--and put me aside, when I offered, as if I had +done something terribly wrong, in just getting naturally in love with +the most splendid fellow that ever lived. I should think he might +remember when he fell so desperately in love with you himself, and have +some mercy on a poor little girl." Here Clara seemed to catch a restless +infection from Rachael, and joined her in a quick, unequal walk up and +down the room, pausing now and then to dash the tears from her eyes, or +gaze in wonder at Lady Hope's face, which bore an expression she had +never seen in all its gloominess till then. + +All at once Rachael paused in her walk, and taking Clara in her arms, +looked at her with such earnest tenderness, that the girl hushed her +sobs to listen. + +"My darling, do you love him so much?" + +"Better than my father; better than you. Oh! forgive me, but it is +so--better than my own life. I think it is worship, not love, dearest +mamma." + +"Great heavens! what trouble I have brought upon us all! Oh why, why did +he come here!" cried Rachael, beginning to pace the floor again, +clasping her hands and tearing them apart, as if angry with herself. +"They were such friends once, and loved each other like brothers. How +could I think it would turn out like this? I so needed him--this one +brother; had such hope in his influence, but it is all over." + +"What is all over? You will not permit it? You will not let him be sent +away?" + +"How can I help it? What power or influence is left to me?" answered +Rachael, desperately. + +"Oh, mamma Rachael, will you fail me? You!" + +"Hush! he is coming. I hear his step on the terrace." + +How that dusky face lighted up. That woman trembled all over under the +sound of that man's tread. He was coming to her, there in the room, in +which they had once been so happy; coming to her, perhaps in anger. That +was nothing. Anger itself would be Heaven, compared to the cold +politeness that had sometimes almost frozen her to death. She turned to +Clara. + +"Go, my child. I will see your father alone." + +Clara went to her room. Through the window which looked out upon the +lawn, she saw Hepworth Closs come out from the shadow of the cedar, and +walk swiftly toward the avenue. By the proud lift of his head, and those +quick steps, that seemed to spurn the earth he trod upon, she knew that +he had parted from her father in anger, and threw up the window. + +"Hepworth! Hepworth! Stop! Stop! and tell me where you are going!" + +He did not hear her, the storm in his heart was too violent. He had been +driven forth from his sister's roof with a cool politeness that was +insulting. The commonest courtesies of life had been denied to him, by +the man who had once been his friend. He scarcely thought of Clara, +then, a sense of burning indignation swept everything else from his +mind. + +Clara leaned from the window, trembling with sudden apprehension. Was he +really going? Had her father treated him with indignity? Was he giving +her up without a struggle or a word of farewell? + +While she asked herself these questions, Closs disappeared among the +trees in the park, and was swallowed up in the black shadows. + +"He shall not go!" cried the girl, in wild excitement. "He shall not be +driven away by papa, or any one else! Where is my jacket? What has that +girl done with my hat? Ah! here, and here!" + +She huddled the shawl around her, tossed the little sailor's hat to her +head, and, opening the chamber door so swiftly that it made no noise, +darted down stairs, and, avoiding the principal entrance, reached the +lawn by leaping from one of the drawing-room windows, where she paused a +moment to draw breath. But no time was to be lost. At the rate Hepworth +was walking, he must now be well on his way to the lodge. The avenue +swept away from the house in a grand curve. She knew of a path through +the trees which would lead her straight to old Badger's lodge. It was +shadowy and lonesome, but what did she care for that? No deer ever +bounded down that path more lightly than Clara went. She did not stop to +think of propriety, or of her own object. Her heart told her that +Hepworth had been driven from the house, perhaps thinking that she would +sanction the outrage; for it was an outrage, even if her own father had +done it. He should not go away, believing it possible for her to prove +so base. + +On she went, eager, breathless, with the streamers floating out from her +hat, and her white sacque flying open, fairly racing through the +moonlight, like a frightened fairy. + +As she came in sight of the lodge, the clang of an iron gate falling +into position, brought a cry of dismay from her lips. He had reached the +highway. Dared she follow him there? + +Clara came out into the avenue, panting for breath. She could hear his +quick steps upon the road. How terribly fast he was walking toward the +village. Yes, he was surely going that way. + +Old Badger stood in the lodge door, shaded by a trailing drapery of ivy, +and saw the young lady standing there in the moonlight, wringing her +hands and absolutely crying. In his astonishment he addressed Jules +confidentially, as she lay on the stepping stone at his feet. + +"It is the young lady as sure as you live, old girl, and she's a +following that handsome fellow as just left a golden sovereign in my +hand, Jules. Something has happened up yonder, Jules. The master has +come back and found out what you and I knew all the time. If that +handsome brother of my lady hasn't got a ticket-of-leave, I lose my +guess; but what are we to do with the young lady, old girl? That is what +is a puzzling me just now." + +Jules arose, stretched herself, and threw out one paw as she settled +down again, when Badger broke out in a glow of admiration. + +"Right, Jules. In a matter where the sects are concerned, you are true +as a clock. I'll show myself; I'll help her." + +Jules gave a faint yelp, which brought Clara to the door. + +"Oh, Badger, you here! Go and call him back. Here is some money; run +like a deer; tell him I want to speak with him--must speak with him. +It's about Lady Hope; but no matter. Why don't you start, Badger? It's +half an hour since I first told you." + +But Badger did not start. He stood a little way from the door, examining +the money she had given him, by the moonlight, and muttering to himself; +when the impatient girl broke out again. + +"A shilling! Was it only a shilling I gave you? How provoking! I thought +it was gold. Well, start! start! and I'll make it a sovereign--two, +three--only bring him back!" + +Old Badger went off with a rush now. Ordering Jules to stay with the +young mistress and mind the gate, he made swift progress down the road. + +"I say, sir! I say! Halloo! I say!" + +Hepworth checked his rapid walk, and looked back. Badger came up with a +run, feeling that some extra exertion was necessary, when so much gold +lay in the question. + +"There is a person--well, a lady--a young lady--who wishes to have you +turn back, sir. She is waiting at the lodge, sir; and I promised to +bring you back, dead or alive, sir--dead or alive!" + +Hepworth felt his heart give a great leap. Was it possible that Clara +could have followed him? or was it Lady Hope? + +"A lady!" he said, "and at the lodge?" + +"A young lady--such as isn't commonly seen following young gents by +moonlight; but come, sir, she is waiting." + +Hepworth turned at once, and retraced his steps. Clara saw him +approaching the gate, and swinging it back, ran to meet him, with tears +still quivering on her anxious face. + +She passed Badger, who was resolved to earn his money at least by +discretion, and moved in great haste toward the lodge, never once +looking back, as in honor bound, he told Jules in his next confidential +conversation. + +"Oh, Hepworth, how cruel! how wicked! Tell me truly, were you going +without a word?" + +Clara had clasped both hands over her lover's arm, and was slowly +leading him back, with her face uplifted in sweet reproachfulness to +his, and drawing deep, long sighs of thanksgiving that she had him +there, chained by her linked hands. + +"I do not know. How can I tell? Your father has dismissed me from his +house." + +"He has? I thought as much; and thinking so, came after you--but only to +say that I love you dearly--ten times more since this has happened--and +nothing on earth shall ever make me marry any other person." + +Hepworth looked down into that generous face, and his own took a softer +expression in the moonlight. + +"Your father is against us," he said. "I think it must be open defiance, +or separation--at any rate, for a time." + +Clara's face clouded. She loved her father, and was a little afraid of +him as well; but that was nothing to the passionate attachment she felt +for Hepworth Closs. She would have defied the whole world rather than +give him up; but open disobedience was a terrible thing to her. All at +once she brightened. + +"Some day, you know, I shall be my own mistress. We can wait. I am so +young. When I am Countess of Carset, come and claim me. No one can stand +between us then." + +She spoke firmly, and with the dignity of deep feeling, standing upright +and looking bravely into his face, as if she were a peeress already, and +was ready to pledge all the honor of a long race of ancestors for the +faith that was in her. + +"Ah, if you were only the bright, handsome girl you seem, with no +dignity to keep up, no belongings but your own sweet self, how grateful +I should be! From this night, Clara, we would never part." + +"Oh, if it were! If I hadn't anything to expect! But, no! My old +grandmother will be sure to leave me everything she has, just out of +spite, when all I want on earth is my liberty, and the love that belongs +to me. How I should like to--" + +"To what, Clara?" + +"Nothing--only I was thinking how jolly it would be just to tie on my +hat, button my jacket, and go off with you to America, where people +can't die and leave you titles and things; but it is of no use thinking +of such a thing. It would break mamma Rachael's heart; and she needs me +so much." + +Hepworth caught his breath. The thought had been in his mind. But for +his sister, I think he would have proposed it. + +"Do not tempt me, darling. We cannot abandon her." + +"Oh, no," answered Clara, pouting a little, "I didn't mean anything of +the kind. Of course, we have got to part now; I know that." + +She clung to his arm more closely, and made him walk slower. Both their +faces grew pale and sad in the moonlight. She could not speak because of +the sobs that came swelling into her throat. He was silent from a bitter +sense of bereavement. After those few weeks of entire happiness, was he +to be driven into the cold world again, leaving the angel of his +paradise behind? + +They were drawing near the gate now. Hepworth would not pass into the +boundaries of a man who had wounded him so grievously, so he paused by +the park-wall, snatched her to his bosom, kissed her lips, her eyes, her +hair, blessing her with his soul, promising to find her again, to be +faithful, begging her to love him and no one else, until he broke away +from her and fled down the highway, dashing the tears from his eyes as +he went. + +She called after him. She ran a few paces with her arms extended, +entreating him to come back; but he would not hear. All his brave +manhood had been taxed to its utmost. He knew well enough that to go +back was to take the girl with him, and he was not selfish enough for +that. + +So poor Lady Clara watched him, till he passed quite away into the +shadows, with her back against the wall, and her hands hanging down +loose, as they had fallen after her last cry. Then she crept slowly back +through the gate, which Badger had left open, and away into the depths +of the park, crying as if her heart would break. + +Badger saw her through the diamond-shaped panes of the lodge-window, and +muttered: + +"Poor thing, she has forgot the gold; but never mind, it will come." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +HUSBAND AND WIFE. + + +Lady Hope stood in the middle of the room, breathless. The supreme joy +of her husband's presence drove every other feeling from her heart. She +forgot her brother, her step-child, everything, in the one thought that +he was near her. But, was it certain that he would come? How many +months, nay, years, had passed since he had entered that room, once so +dear to him that no other apartment in that spacious mansion seemed +pleasant? She had allowed nothing to be changed since those days. Year +by year those silken hangings and crimson cushions had lost their +brightness and grown threadbare; but he had pressed those cushions and +been shaded by the curtains, and that gave them a brightness and glory +to her which no stuffs of India or cloth of gold could replace. + +She knew that he was offended, and doubted. But would he come? His step +grew slow; he paused. Would he retreat at last, and leave her there, in +an agony of disappointment? + +No--after a moment's hesitation, the steps advanced. The very certainty +of his approach suffocated her. She had not deemed herself so weak. All +the strength left her frame. + +She sank down upon a couch near the window. The moonlight fell over her +like a veil of silver tissue, and through it she looked like the Rachael +Closs of New York. + +Lord Hope tore away the silvery veil with his presence, for the shadow +of his tall person fell across it, throwing the woman back into +darkness. + +But the light which he took from her slanted across his face, and +softened it back to youth. Rachael reached forth her arms. + +"Oh, Norton! have you come back again?" + +Her voice vibrated between passion and pathos. Her trembling limbs +rustled the silken garments around her. + +He stood looking at her, not sternly, but with grave sadness. It was +nearly two months since they had met, but he did not advance, or even +reach out his hand. Then she cried out, in a burst of bitter anguish: + +"Oh, Norton, will you not speak to me?" + +"Yes, Rachael," he said, very gently. "I came to speak with you." + +Lord Hope advanced through the window. No lights were burning, for in +her sadness Rachael had thought the moonbeams enough. + +She moved upon the couch, looking in his face with pathetic entreaty. + +He sat down after a moment's hesitation, and took her hand in his. + +Awhile before that hand had been cold as ice, but now a glow of feverish +joy warmed it, and her slender fingers clung around his with nervous +force. She was afraid to loosen her clasp, lest he should leave her +again. + +"Ah, Norton! you have been away so long, so long!" + +"Has that made you more unhappy, Rachael?" + +"More unhappy? God help me! have I any happiness beyond your presence?" + +"I sometimes think that we two might be less--" + +Lord Hope paused. The hand in his seemed turning to marble. + +"In mercy, do not say that, Norton! Surely you cannot return love like +mine with hate so cruel!" + +"We will not talk of hate, Rachael. It is an unseemly word." + +"But you are angry with me?" + +"No, the time has gone by when I can be angry with you, Rachael." + +"Oh! have some mercy upon me, Norton, and tell me how I have lost your +love--for you did love me." + +"God only knows how well!" answered the man, with a throe of bitter +passion breaking up the calm he had maintained. + +"Tell me, then--tell me again! It is so long since I have had a happy +thought! I will not be put off so! Now that you are here, in this room, +with my hand in yours, I will not let you go! Tell me, Norton--oh, tell +me why it is that you have changed so completely? This question haunts +me. I dream of it in the night; I think of it all day long. Answer me. +Though the truth cleave my heart, I would rather hear it! Why have you +ceased to love me? Why is it that you can leave me so?" + +"Rachael, I will answer you so far as this: I have not ceased to love +you." + +The woman uttered a cry, and fell down upon her knees at her husband's +feet, in a storm of wild and happy tears. He raised her up, bent forward +as if to kiss her, but drew back with a heavy sigh. She felt him recoil, +and the shudder which chilled him reached her also. + +"You love me, and yet shrink from my touch! Ah, me! what has dug this +gulf between us?" + +"It is the work of our own hands," he said, with strong emotion. "It is +your curse and mine that we must love each other, Rachael--love each +other, and yet be apart." + +"Apart! Oh! will there be no end--no season--" + +"Yes, Rachael, when we can both repent that we ever did love each other. +Then, perhaps, a merciful God may forgive us the great sin which has +been our happiness and our torment." + +"But you love me? You _do_ love me?" + +"A thousand times better than my own miserable life!" + +"And you speak of torment! Who shall ever dare say that word again to +Rachael Closs? When they do, I will answer, 'He loves me! he loves me!'" + +The woman sprang up, exulting. Her hands were clasped, her face was +radiant. It seemed impossible that unhappiness should ever visit her +again. + +"Poor woman! Poor, unhappy woman!" + +Hope took her hand in his, and drew her down to his side. She was +shaking like a leaf in the wind. For the moment, her joy seemed +complete. + +"I cannot believe it! Say again, 'Rachael, I love you.'" + +"Have I not said that it is your curse and mine?" + +"Oh, Norton! how cruel, with that sweet word sinking into my heart, +after pining and waiting for it so long! Do not withhold it from me, or +think of it as a curse." + +"Hush, Rachael! You are only exulting over Dead Sea fruit. It is all +ashes, ashes. Words that, up to this time, I had forbidden to my lips, +have been said, because of a terrible danger that threatens us. Rachael, +did you know of the letter Hepworth sent me?" + +Rachael was a brave woman, even in her faults, and would not deny +anything. + +"Yes, he wrote the letter here," she said. + +"And you sanctioned his pursuit of my daughter?" + +"Yes, Norton. I loved him; he was my only relative. That he might live +near me was the last forlorn hope of my life. Before you condemn me, +remember how few people exist in this world for me to love. I have no +friends. I was so cold, so dreary! There was nothing left to me but your +child and this one brother. How could I part with either of them? That +was to be utterly alone!" + +Lord Hope checked this pathetic plea. It shook his resolution, and that +with a vigor she could not understand. He looked her steadily in the +face. + +"Rachael Closs, could you have given up my child to that man?" + +Rachael fixed her wild eyes on the face turned upon her so sternly. + +"Why, why?" + +"Had you no thought of the ruin it would bring upon her?" + +"Ruin? Did you say ruin?" + +"Could you see that innocent girl's hand in his without thrills of +painful recollection?" + +"Why, he loves her; she loves him." + +"So much the more painful." + +"What do you mean?" + +Her lips were white now, and the teeth gleamed and chattered between +them. + +"Have you no dread that he will bring that one event perpetually before +us?" + +Rachael shook her head. + +"Does nothing tell you that he was mixed up in that tragedy?" + +"What should tell me of that? It was the crime of a miserable old +woman." + +"Still you understand nothing of that which is a continual pain to me." + +A burst of hysterical laughter answered him. The nerves of that woman +were undoubtedly giving way. + +"You are mocking me. It is only fiends who torment their victims. You +are my husband, and should know better!" + +"Rachael Closs, control yourself!" + +"I am not Rachael Closs!" cried the woman, fiercely. "You would not have +treated her so. It is Lady Hope you are putting to torture. Oh, Norton! +what have I done to you? What have I done to you that you should mock me +so?" + +"I wish to save my child--to save myself." + +"Well, is that all? She shall never speak to Hepworth again. Yes, what +is my brother, or anybody in the world, compared to one smile from my +husband?" + +"And you will help me to reconcile Clara to that which must be?" + +"I will do anything, everything that you wish, only do not leave me +again." + +"But I must sometimes go out." + +"And I cannot go with you. Rachael Closs is not good enough for your +high-born friends. Lady Carset has put her ban on your wife, and the +nobility of England accept it. But for this I might have been the +companion of your visits, the helpmate of your greatness--for I have the +power. I could have done so much, so much in this great world of yours, +but that old woman would not let me. It is cruel! it is cruel! You +would have loved me now as you did at first, but for her." + +Lord Hope took Rachael's hand in his. + +"Ah, Rachael!" he said, "if you could but understand the love which can +neither be cherished nor cast away, which pervades a whole life, only to +disturb it! Between you and me must ever come the shadow of a woman we +cannot talk of, but who stands eternally between us two. Even in the +first days of our passionate delirium I felt this viperous truth +creeping under the roses with which we madly hoped to smother it. The +thought grew and grew, like a parasite upon the heart. It clung to mine, +bound it down, made it powerless. Oh, would to God the memory of that +one night could be lifted from my soul! The presence of your brother +here has brought it back upon me with terrible force. But, thank God, he +is gone!" + +"Gone! What, my brother? Am I never to see him again?" + +"Not unless you wish to drive your husband from his own house. I will +not be reminded, by any one connected with that night, that it was the +mad passion of our love which drove that most unhappy woman from her +home, her country, and, at last, into her grave!" + +Rachael sat with her glittering eyes fastened on his face. She longed to +ask a question; but it seemed to freeze upon her lips. But, at last, she +spoke: + +"Do you repent that love, then?" + +"No! no! Would to God I had the power to repent! but I cannot, Rachael, +with you by me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE STORMY NIGHT AND SUNSHINY MORNING. + + +Lady Clara found her way into the house unnoticed, and stole back to her +own room, weary and heart-sick from the excitement she had passed +through. + +For more than an hour she sat by her window looking out upon the +moonlight which flooded the lawn, and the dense black shadows of the +trees beyond. + +The stillness gradually hushed her sobs into a sad calm, and, without +other light than that which came from the moon, she crept into her bed, +and lay there, as if buried in a snow-drift, cold and shivering from +exhausting emotions and exposure to the night air. + +She could not sleep, but lay thinking of the man who had been driven +from the house that night, wondering where he was, and when, upon the +earth, she would meet him. + +All at once she started up and uttered a faint cry. Some one had passed +swiftly through her door, and was approaching the bed. She saw the face, +as it crossed the window, and sank to the pillow again. + +"Mamma Rachael, is it you?" she gasped. + +Lady Hope sat down on the edge of the bed. She seemed deathly cold; but +there was a far-off look in her eyes, as the moonlight fell upon them, +which seemed unnatural to the girl. + +Clara put back the bed-clothes and reached out her arms; for Lady Hope +was in her night-dress, and her feet were uncovered. + +"Come into bed, mamma Rachael; you shiver so." + +Lady Hope took no heed, but arose slowly from the bed, and, going to a +dressing-table, poured some water from a ewer that stood there, and +began to wash her hands. + +Clara could see her in the moonlight, and sat up in the bed, afraid and +wondering. + +"Mamma, mamma Rachael," she faltered, terrified by the sound of her +voice, "why are you staying out in the cold like that?" + +Lady Hope shook the drops from her fingers, and leaving the table, began +to pace the floor. At last Clara sprang from the bed and took hold of +her. + +Every nerve in the woman's body seemed to quiver under that touch; she +uttered a shrill cry, and clung to the girl to save herself from +falling. + +"Come to the bed with me, mamma. Your hand is cold; it touches mine like +snow. That is right; put your arms around me. Poor, poor mamma! how your +heart struggles! There, there; the chill is going off. We will get each +other warm; for we love each other, you and I, mamma Rachael; nothing on +this earth can change that!" + +Rachael allowed herself to be taken to the bed; but she trembled +violently. + +"You are troubled about Hepworth; but I have promised--I do promise. +Papa, nor all the world to help him, could change me. Besides, there is +another thing; we both love him; that would make us cling together, if +nothing else," said Clara. + +"Ah, there it is--there it is! Hepworth is gone, and neither you nor I +must ever see him again!" answered Rachael. + +"But we will! He loves us. I will marry him some day, if I live." + +"Oh, no, no! That can never be! Never! never!" + +Rachael was fearfully agitated. Clara tore her form from those clinging +arms. + +"What! you?--you turned against us--you!" she exclaimed, pushing Rachael +back from her pillow, and sitting up in the moonlight. "Has my father +driven us all crazy?" + +"Hush, child, hush! I have been thinking of that. It seems to me that I +am mad already. Be kind; oh, be kind! Do not urge me on. To-night I have +had such thoughts!" + +The girl was frightened; for Rachael was bending over, and the fire of +her great black eyes seemed hot as it was terrible. + +"Great Heavens!" she cried, "what has my father done to you?" + +Rachael had exhausted herself. She lay down, panting for breath; her +lips were apart; the edges of her teeth were visible; she did not +answer. + +Clara forgot her own cause of offence, and laid her hand over those +wide-open, burning eyes. + +"Poor mamma Rachael! now try and sleep. I never saw you so nervous +before. Did you know it? you were walking in your sleep." + +The cool touch of that hand soothed the woman. Clara felt the eyelids +close under her palm; but a heavy pulse was beating in the temples, +which resisted all her gentle mesmerism for a long time; but, after a +while, the worn frame seemed to rest, and Clara sank down in weary +sleepiness by her side. + +When she awoke again Lady Hope was gone. It was the dark hour of the +morning; the moon had disappeared from the heavens; the shadows, in +diffusing themselves, spread out into general darkness. + +"Ah, I have had a weary dream," she murmured; "I have heard of such +things, but never had anything dark upon my sleep before. How real it +was! My father home, Hepworth gone, my mother in this bed, trembling, +moaning, and, worst of all, against me and him. Ah, it was a terrible +dream!" + +She turned upon her pillow, full of sleepy thankfulness, and the next +instant had deluded herself into a tranquil sleep. + +A rapid fall of hoofs upon the avenue shook the stillness. Nearer and +nearer they came; then a clang of the great bronze knocker at the +principal entrance awoke her thoroughly. + +The girl listened; her dream was fast taking shape, and she knew that it +was a reality. Had this untimely arrival anything to do with it? A knock +at her chamber-door, and her father's voice answered the question. + +She was to get up, and prepare for a journey at once; her maid was +packing already. + +What was it? What had happened? Lord Hope forgot that he had not told +her. The old Countess of Carset had sent for her. She must prepare to +start at once for Houghton. + +Clara sprang up, ready to offer battle to the old countess a second time +in behalf of her stepmother. + +While she was being dressed, Lord Hope stood in the corridor without, +reading the delicate, upright characters in which the old countess +clothed her thoughts. + + "MY LORD:--Circumstances have happened of late which convince me + that I have been hasty and unjust to your wife, and have taken + offense too readily from the independence exhibited by your + child, my grand-daughter. It is my desire to atone for this, as + the men and women of our house have ever atoned for injustice. + The infirmities of old age, and more than ordinary ill-health + forbid me to visit Oakhurst, which might, perhaps, be properly + expected of one who admits herself to have been in the wrong; + but, perhaps you and Lady Hope will permit Lady Clara to come to + me here a few weeks, in which time, I trust, she will learn to + know and love her grandmother. + + "Presuming upon your generosity, I have sent my steward and my + own maid, that she may have proper protection on her journey. + After my grand-daughter has been at Houghton long enough to feel + that it is to be her home in the future, I shall expect the + pleasure of a visit from you and Lady Hope. + + "LOUISA, Countess of Carset." + +Never, since the day in which he brought the first Lady Hope home, a +bride, had such intense satisfaction filled the earl's heart as this +letter brought him. + +Involved, as he was, with pecuniary difficulties, harassed about his +daughter, humiliated by the silent rejection by which the nobility in +the neighborhood had repudiated his wife for so many years, this +concession so nobly made by the old countess, was an opening of good +fortune which promised a solution of all these difficulties. It had, in +truth, lifted a heavy burden from his life. + +With the letter in his hand Lord Hope went to his wife's dressing-room, +where he found her, hollow-eyed, and so nervous that a faint cry broke +from her as he entered the room. + +She felt the loss of her brother terribly, notwithstanding what seemed +to be a ready concession to the harsh treatment he received, and her +sleep, as we know, had been restless and broken in the night. + +She was cold and shivering, though the weather was warm, and had +wrapped a shawl, full of richly-tinted colors, over her morning-dress, +and sat cowering under it like some newly-caught animal. + +Lord Hope felt that his inhospitable expulsion of her brother, and the +cruel conversation that had followed it, was the cause of this nervous +depression, and his heart smote him. With the letter open in his hand he +went up to her chair, and bending over it, kissed Rachael on the +forehead. + +A smile broke over those gloomy features; the heavy eyes lighted up; she +lifted her face to his. + +"Oh, you do love me--you do love me!" + +"My poor Rachael! how can you permit words that sprang out of the gloomy +memories which Hepworth brought to trouble you so? Come, smile again, +for I have good news for you--for us all." + +"Good news! Is Hepworth coming back?" + +"Forget Hepworth just now, and read that." + +Lady Hope took the letter and read it through. When she gave it back, +her face was radiant. + +"At last--at last!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Norton, this will lift me to my +proper place by your side. Now, now I will make you proud of me! These +patricians shall learn that all great gifts do not spring from +birth--that genius has a nobility which can match that given by kings." + +Rachael started up in her excitement, flung the shawl away, and stood a +priestess where she had just cowered like a wounded animal. + +"Now we shall be all the world to each other, and walk through this +proud life of yours, fairly mated. Great Heavens! after a night like the +last, who could have expected such a morning? But Clara, you will let +her go?" + +"She is preparing to go now." + +"My girl--my bright, beautiful girl! She has always been the angel in my +path. But for her, this might never have come. But we cannot give her +up--not entirely. You will not consent to that?" + +"If we do, it will be only for a time, Rachael. The countess is very +old." + +"Yes, it will not be for long, and we can trust Clara. I will go to her +now. She will need my help, and every minute she stays under this roof +is a grain of gold which I must not lose. Oh! Norton, this is glorious +news that you have brought me! What can have wrought this change in the +old countess? I am going to Clara now." + +As Lady Hope opened the door, Clara stood upon the threshold, ready for +her journey. She knew that this letter was the first that her father had +received from Lady Carset for years, and was curious to know its +meaning. She could not remember when Lady Carset's name had been spoken +in that house without bitterness, and was astonished to hear the +cheerful animation with which it was spoken now. + +"Am I really to go, papa? Do you wish it? Is mamma Rachael willing? Let +me read the letter, please." + +Lord Hope gave her the letter, and replied as she was reading it: + +"Yes, my child, it is but right. The old lady is your nearest female +relative." + +Here Clara reached out her hand to Lady Hope, but kept her eyes on the +letter, reading and listening at the same time. + +"And you think it best, mamma?" inquired Clara, folding the letter. +"What a delicate, stately hand the old lady writes! You don't object?" + +"Object, Clara! No, no. I long to part with you, for the first time in +my life." + +"In some things," said Lord Hope, "the old lady has been cruelly dealt +by. Say this from me, Clara. The concessions must not rest all on one +side." + +"Of course, papa; I will tell her, if you desire it. But why did she not +ask you and mamma at once? It is awful lonesome going to that grim old +castle by myself." + +"It is only for a few weeks," answered Rachael, hastily. "But, dear +child, you must not let this old lady stand between you and us. She may +have more to give, but no one on earth can ever love you like us." + +"Don't I know it? Is that the carriage? Dear me, how things are rushed +forward this morning! Am I all right, mamma Rachael? Kiss me once more. +What! tears in your eyes? I won't go a step if you don't stop crying! +What do I care for Lady Carset, a cross old thing, and old as the +hills!" + +"Clara, I hear the carriage." + +"So do I, papa; but what's the use of hurrying?" + +"I wish your grandmother to know that I hold no enmity by my promptness +in sending you." + +"Oh, is that it? Well, good-bye, mamma Rachael. One more +kiss--again--again! Now, good-bye in earnest." + +Lady Hope left the room to hide her tears. Clara followed her father to +the carriage. + +"Poor, poor mamma! How pale and ill she was last night! Oh, papa, do +kiss her good-bye for me just once again, when you go back." + +Lord Hope turned a smiling look upon the girl, and she added, half in +excuse: + +"It breaks my heart to leave her so." + +Lord Hope did not answer, but folded a cloak around his daughter, helped +her into the carriage, and took a seat himself. + +Margaret was already seated by the coachman. + +"I understand well enough that I am not to travel with my young lady on +her journey," she said; "but, so far as her way lies toward London, I am +going. My sister wants me there, and I do just as lief be in a tomb as +stay at Oakhurst when Lady Clara is away. So, as she is willing, I shall +just leave her at the junction, and go up to London. That I can do in +spite of the crabbed old thing at Houghton, who wants her at first all +to herself." + +This was said in confidence to the coachman, who muttered something +under his breath about feeling uncommonly lonesome when Mistress +Margaret was away from Oakhurst. + +Directly after this the carriage drew up at the station, where a +grim-looking woman of fifty stood ready to receive the young lady from +the hands of her father. + +It was not often that Lord Hope was known to exhibit any violent +emotion; but Clara felt that he gave way a little when she threw her +arms around his neck in parting--and Badger, after he opened the gate to +let his master pass through, observed to Jules that something out of the +common must be going on up yonder, for all night people had been going +in and out like ghosts, and the master seemed like another man. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +AFTER THE FAILURE. + + +When Caroline reached home, after that involuntary retreat from the +theatre, she went to her own room with Eliza, and falling upon the bed, +lay perfectly still, so exhausted and crushed, that she scarcely +breathed. She had disgraced herself, and she had seen _him_. + +Alas, alas! he had witnessed her defeat, her bitter humiliation! + +Why had she not told him before, that her mother was an actress, a +singer, of whose reputation he had heard; that her own destiny must be +guided by this woman, and could hardly have a higher aim than she had +already reached. He would think that she had deceived him, and she had, +but with no premeditation. She had honestly intended to tell him +everything, but the suddenness of their departure from Italy had +rendered all explanation impossible. What could she do but hide herself +forever from him and the whole world? She forgot the bursts of applause +that had followed the first effort of her voice, and sank everything +together in one sweep of bitter shame. + +"My darling! my poor darling!" + +It was Brown who had crept into her room, crest-fallen and drooping, +like a man stunned by some heavy blow. Caroline started up. + +"Oh! my friend! You are sorry for me, yet I have disappointed you so; my +heart aches! my heart aches! but what can I do?" + +"Never mind," answered the tender-hearted man. "It was the fright, stage +fright--a terrible thing; but it seldom comes twice. Why, that woman, +your mother I mean, broke down over and over again, but the parts were +so small, no one observed it enough to clap or hiss, while you sang like +an angel, up to the very minute you fainted. I never saw anything like +it." + +Caroline sank back to her pillow, moaning. She was still in her +theatrical costume, and its glitter sickened her. + +"Don't take on so," persisted the kind musician. "It was not a failure. +No one will consider it so. On the contrary, it can be made to tell, +and your next appearance will be an ovation." + +Caroline started to her elbow again. + +"My next appearance! and you say that! You! you! Oh! Mr. Brown, I did +not think you would turn against me!" + +"Turn against you, my child?" Tears trembled in the man's voice, and the +words quivered on his lips as he added: "My poor darling. Do you not +know that old Brown would die for you?" + +"Then keep me from the stage; snatch me from a life that I loathe. I +tell you, all this is against my nature. I have no genius to carry me +forward, no ambition, no hope. Oh! that is gone, quite." + +"But it is an honorable profession," faltered Brown, in his distress. +"Think how many noble geniuses have found immortality on the stage." + +"I know it, I know it well; but they were led that way, heart and soul, +while I have no wish for fame or anything that it could bring. What does +a woman want with immortality--above all, a poor young girl like me, +whose very heart trembles in her bosom, when a crowd of strange eyes are +turned upon her, as they were on me to-night?" + +"But you will soon get over that." + +"No. I never shall. This one night has broken up my life, and well nigh +killed me. Let what may come, I will starve rather than tread that stage +again." + +"Hush! dear, hush! This passion will make you worse." + +"But I mean it, Eliza, and I say it here and now, when you and Mr. +Brown, the only friends I have on earth, are standing by. Think for me, +Eliza, and you also, my kind, kind guardian!" + +"Ah, if I had the power," said Brown, answering Eliza's appealing look +with a mournful shake of the head; "but the madame will never give her +up." + +"She must," said Caroline, kindling with desperate opposition: "I am not +her slave. God does not give up the soul and conscience of a child to +her mother." + +"Especially one who never did a thing for her child, but left her for +others to bring up," broke in Eliza, uttering a bitter truth, in her +angry pity for the girl. "Mr. Brown, all that I have got to say is this: +you and I must stand by this young cretur, let her do what she will. She +is more our child than hers. I stand by that. If she don't want to put +on this splendiferous dress again, why it shall not come within a rod of +her. If her heart is set against singing on the stage, we are not the +people to see her dragged there against her will. You stand by me, I'll +stand by you, and we'll roll ourselves like a rock in that woman's way, +if she attempts to force our child into the theatre again." + +"But how can we oppose her? She has the power. We have not, at this +moment, five pounds among us." + +Eliza's face fell as if it had been suddenly unlocked. + +"No more we have, and in a strange country, too," she said, dolefully. + +Here Caroline joined in. + +"But I can teach. If I please all those people, surely I can teach." + +"Sure enough!" said Eliza, brightening a little. "What do you say to +that, Mr. Brown?" + +"We must take time. Perhaps there will be no cause for trouble. When it +comes in earnest, you shall not fight alone, Eliza. So comfort yourself, +my child. The old man would rather beg for bread on the highway than see +you forced to anything that is so distasteful. Now try and sleep." + +Brown bent down and smoothed the girl's hair with his hand. Then he +turned from her with tears in his eyes, and crept out of the room. + +Caroline followed him with wistful eyes until the door closed. Then she +turned to Eliza. + +"Oh! Eliza, do this one thing for me, if you can. Let, let no one come +in to-night. I can endure no more." + +"They'll have to knock me down and trample on me if they do, that is +all," answered the hand-maiden. "My gracious! How I wish we were in our +own little house again up in Sing-Sing." + +"Oh! if we were!" sighed the girl. "Why did we ever leave it?" + +"Because we were a couple of born fools, that's why!" answered the maid. +"Born fools! and I the biggest, the oldest, the most outrageous fool of +all! Wasn't we independent? Couldn't you have took scholars, and I +washing by the dozen? Hadn't we the sweetest little garden in that whole +town? such cabbages, such onions, and lettuce headed like cabbage, and +tender as--as flowers! Whenever I get sick over these French dishes, I +think of that garden, and the cow, and the shoat that knew me when I +came to the pen with corn in my apron, and gave a little grunt, as if +I'd been his sister. Then my heart turns back to the old home, like a +sunflower, and I say to myself, You perposterous old maid, you! what did +you let that poor young thing come from under that honest roof for? You +was old enough to know better, if she wasn't; but you had an idea of +seeing the world, of dressing up and being a lady's maid, of hearing +whole crowds of young men stamp and clap and whistle over that innocent +young cretur. You didn't think that she might faint dead away, and--and +be brought home heart-broken. Home, indeed! as if this box of gilding +could be a home to any American woman! It's perposterous!" + +Here Eliza broke off with a half-uttered word on her lips, for her +speech had brought the old home back so vividly to the heart-sick girl +that she was sobbing upon her pillow like a child. + +A little bustle down stairs, a knock at the door, and, as Eliza ran +forward, Olympia pushed it open and came in. + +She saw Caroline prostrate on the bed, with that delicate robe wrapped +around and crushed under her, and the lace shawl falling from the pillow +to the carpet, like a trail of frost. + +The sight urged her into one of those quick passions that sometimes +threw her whole household into consternation. + +"Heavens! what extravagance!" she cried. "Does the creature know that +lace like that is worth its weight in diamonds? A silk robe, too, which +could not be purchased out of Paris, tumbled up in a wad, and one mass +of wrinkles! I see! I see! the revenues of a duke would not meet such +extravagance! Get up! Get up, I say! and if you must make a goose of +yourself, do it at less cost!" + +"Hush, madam! she's sick! She's broken-hearted!" retorted Eliza, turning +fiercely red and planting herself before the shrinking girl. + +"Well, she must break her heart in something less costly than a French +dress worth thirty pounds, and point lace that cannot be got at any +price! Just get up, my young lady, and do your crying in less expensive +costume! The proper dress for tragedy is white muslin, but just now a +night-gown will do." + +Caroline arose without a word, and began to undress herself. She no +longer shrank or trembled, for the indignant blood rushed to the +surface, and pride gave her strength. Eliza took the robe as she cast it +off, and folded it with an emphatic sweep of her hand. + +"A pretty mess you have made of it," said Olympia, tossing the lace +aside with her foot, and tearing it on the buckle of her shoe, "with +your perverse obstinacy--broken up the most splendid debut I ever saw on +any stage, and making yourself and your failure the town's talk! if the +critics had not been my friends, the whole thing would have been utter +ruination; and here you are, with cheeks like flame, looking as haughty +as a duchess." + +"I am not haughty or perverse," said Caroline, wiping the hot tears from +her eyes, "but weary and ill." + +"Ill! with that color?" sneered Olympia. + +"It is fever," Eliza broke in. "Ten minutes ago she was white as the +pillow. You are making her worse and worse, I can tell you that." + +"And I can tell you that impudent tongue will lose you a good place +within the next ten minutes, if it is not bridled and well curbed. I +stand no nonsense from servants. Understand that!" + +Caroline cast an imploring glance on her maid, who dashed both hands +down upon the dress she was folding, and ground her teeth in silent +rage, as Olympia finished the threat with a little snap of her slender +fingers. + +"What was the matter with you? I have had no chance to ask, with your +countesses and duchesses swarming about, as if you had some +acquaintances that your own mother could not reach! What came over you? +I will know!" + +"I was faint and frightened," said Caroline, in a low voice. "The whole +thing broke me down." + +"But there was something else. I will know it!" + +Caroline was silent. + +"Will you speak, miss?" + +"I have nothing more to say. You could see how ill I was." + +"But not the cause; it is that I wish to understand." + +Caroline sat down on the side of her bed and remained silent, with her +eyes on the floor. She had no answer to give. + +"Will you tell the truth, or must I search it out? I was watching you; I +saw your eyes and the man whose glance struck you down." + +Caroline gave a start, and covered her face with both hands. + +"What have you in common with young Lord Hilton?" + +The hands dropped from that burning face, and two great, dilating eyes, +in which the tears stood, were turned on the angry woman. + +"Young Lord Hilton! I do not know him." + +The words came faintly from the girl's lips--she was bewildered. + +"Why did he drop his glass and bend over the box with that look in his +face, then? Why did you start and trample back on your train? Why did +you give him that piteous glance just as your eyes closed? The audience +might not have seen it, but I did, I did." + +"I--I do not understand," faltered the girl. + +"Do not understand, miss!" + +"How should I, not knowing the person you speak of?" + +"Don't lie to me, girl! I am an old bird, and have had my own flights +too often not to understand a look when I see it. You have met that man +before--I don't know where or how, but you have." + +"You speak of a person I never saw or heard of," answered the girl, +trembling with inward doubt; "how can I tell you anything about him?" + +Olympia almost believed her, and, for once, her acute penetration was +baffled; but a doubt remained, and she turned to Eliza. + +"If you know anything about this, tell me now; it will be better for her +and for you." + +"I haven't anything to tell, Mrs. Olympia; not a thing!" + +"Was any one admitted to the house near Florence?" + +"Yes, ma'am, there was." + +"Well, a young gentleman?" + +"Yes; one young un, and another, older." + +"Who were they?" + +"The man who taught her how to speak Italian and the music fellow." + +"Only those two?" + +"Not another soul came or went while we stayed in that house." + +"And she conversed with no one on the way?" + +"Not a soul." + +Olympia turned to go out. She was not convinced; having no truth in +herself she found no power of faith in others; but, for the time, the +blunt honesty of the servant and proud sincerity of the girl silenced +her, and she went out, muttering: + +"I shall get at the bottom of it yet." + +Then Caroline turned to Eliza: + +"Can it be? I saw no other." + +"I haven't a doubt of it," said Eliza. "I always mistrusted him for an +Englishman." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +LORD HILTON TAKES SUPPER WITH OLYMPIA. + + +She had fallen ill. The prima donna of a single hour was lying in +Olympia's bijou of a house, struggling with a nervous fever. The whole +town had been made aware of the mournful fact; for the manager had +spread the news broadcast through the journals, thus displacing +disappointment with such overwhelming sympathy as the distress of beauty +and genius is sure to excite. For more than a week, now, the prevailing +topic had been this young girl; first the promise of a brilliant debut, +then the momentary triumph and sudden breakdown; now came the news of +her illness, true, in so much that she was seriously ill, but +exaggerated into a romance which gave her out as dying with a shock of a +too sensitive nature. + +Olympia sang gloriously to crowded houses. In the romance woven around +this young girl her parentage had been hinted at, and the practiced +woman of the stage had managed to turn the public rumor into popularity +for herself. + +She had taken up the opera where Caroline had sunk down, and carried it +triumphantly forward, filling the world with admiration of herself and +sympathy for the girl. + +On the morning when Caroline's illness was made public, some young men +were seated in the window of a club-house, and one of them threw down +the Times with an impatient movement. + +"So we are not to have this new singer again to-morrow night or the +next," he said. "Here is Olympia's name in the bills, while the other is +ill with something on the brain or nerves." + +"All a sham, to enhance the public interest, I dare say," answered +another, taking up the journal. "There is nothing these musical people +will not do for popularity. But it really was not needed here; the girl +has beauty enough to carry her forward, even without her glorious voice. +For my part, I am all in a fever to see her again." + +A young man sat in this circle, apparently occupied by the panorama +drifting through the streets. As the conversation went on, the color +came and went in his face, and his eyes began to burn; but he said +nothing, while the others went on: + +"Who is the girl? what is her real name? Some say she is an American; +others, that she is Olympia's own daughter, to whom all names are alike; +but, then, where was the woman Olympia born? Now and then a word drops +from the pretty lips which is purely American; but then she has been all +over the world, and has gathered something from all nations, so that one +can never make a true guess about her." + +"Does this girl look like her?" inquired one of the young men, who had +not been at the opera last night. + +"No, not exactly," was the answer. "She is taller, more queenly, in +fact; quite a different style. This new girl is superb." + +"While Olympia is simply bewildering, changeable as the sky, erratic as +a comet. We all understand Olympia." + +The young man, who had kept silent till now, joined in the conversation, +but his voice was constrained, and a little husky. + +"Who is this woman, Olympia?" + +The other young men laughed at the question. + +"Who is Olympia? Why, the most bewitching, unprincipled, delightful bit +of wickedness that has been thrown on the world for years. Don't tell us +that you are to learn anything of Olympia at this time." + +"I have heard of her, and seen her too, but only as a singer. What I ask +is about her life, her principles, her character as a woman." + +"And you ask that of us, my dear fellow? What nonsense! Have we not said +that she is an actress?" + +"Well, what then? An actress may be well-principled, honest, honorable, +and modest, too, as any woman living. I asked if this woman, Olympia, +the patroness, mother, or what you will, of this new singer, is one of +these?" + +"Don't ask any of us to endorse or condemn Olympia. We know that she +gives the most delicious little suppers in the world, sings like a +siren, smiles like an angel, and gets more and more fascinating as she +grows older, as fruit ripens with age. No one ever thinks of asking her +how old she is, or where she was born. It is enough that her beauty is +in its summer, her voice perfect, and that she, who perhaps reigned over +our fathers, holds us as her slaves. As for honor, dignity, principle, +and all that, my dear fellow, who ever expects such things in a woman +like our Olympia?" + +"Yet she has had the training of this new singer." + +"Training? Why it is said that the girl is really her own daughter." + +"I heard you say as much," answered the young man, drily. + +Then another voice broke in. + +"You seem so much interested in these people, Hilton,--why not go and +see for yourself? I will introduce you." + +"When?" + +"To-night. The Olympia has a little supper after the opera." + +"But I thought the young lady was ill." + +"Oh! that will make no difference. Olympia is a woman to enjoy herself, +if Death sat next door. She will be certain to have her little supper. +Will you go? Is it an engagement? If so, I will send her a note." + +"Yes, I will go." + +That night Olympia held high festival at her pretty house, which +overlooked one of the loveliest parks in London. Among her guests was +young Lord Hilton, the grandson of one of the proudest old earls in the +kingdom. + +Olympia was delighted at the presence of this man, who had never before +been lured into her circle. + +She had another reason for her satisfaction. The look which had +disturbed her still preyed on her mind. She had a keen desire to learn +how far it had relation to the young girl who lay ill up-stairs. In +order, if possible, to inform herself, she selected the young man to sit +next her at table, and artfully led the conversation to the night of +Caroline's failure. + +"You were present," she said, "that night. Was ever success more +perfect, or failure more complete? It drove me wild!" + +"I was present," said Hilton, very quietly, for he felt her eyes upon +him with that slow, sidelong glance that has so much cunning in it, and +this put him on his guard. + +"She was coming out so magnificently," said Olympia, still vigilant, but +with the white lids drooping over her eyes, "when, all of a sudden, her +voice broke, and she fell. It must have been something in the audience." + +"Perhaps," said the young man; "but what? I was looking at her all the +time, and saw nothing. In fact, the house was very still. I have seldom +seen a crowd so breathless." + +Olympia turned one long glance on that face, and saw it was immovable in +all the strong, but finely-cut features. Her suspicions grew weaker now, +and she gave her attention more generally to the guests, who were +becoming a little impatient of the exclusive attention paid to Lord +Hilton; but the craft of this woman was as deep as her feelings were +superficial. She could not quite throw off the idea that, in some way, +this very person had been the cause of her defeat, and that his visit to +her house that night would end in some effort to obtain an interview +with the young creature who lay so ill up-stairs. + +But she was mistaken. Hilton asked no questions, made no effort to draw +her out, but drifted into the general conversation pleasantly enough, +until the supper was near its close, and the wines had begun to do their +work. + +Then the entertainment swept into an orgie; tongues were loosened, eyes +brightened and swam in moisture. + +Snatches of bacchanalian songs broke from the laughing lips of Olympia. + +She had been in a little awe of her new guest; but now her real nature +broke out. Her wit sparkled like the champagne with which her red lips +were continually moist; her eyes shone under the droop of those long +white lids. She grew confidential with the young noble, and was easily +led by the cool, versatile man, into conversation that she would have +stubbornly avoided earlier in the evening. In one of her bold snatches +of song she rounded off with a rollicking impromptu, which carried all +the richness and force of her voice with it. This threw the whole +company into a tumult of applause, but Hilton sat quietly and looked on, +with a smile of supreme contempt quivering about his lips. + +"Ha," said Olympia, filling his glass with her own hands, "you neither +drink nor care for my singing. It is only the youth and beauty of my +daughter that can move Lord Hilton." + +Her daughter! The face of the young man turned white, and his lips +closed sharply. He looked at the woman by his side, the flushed cheeks, +the soft, slumbrous eyes, with absolute repulsion. He hated the very +thought that the young creature he had found, like a bird, in that sweet +Italian home, could belong in anything to a woman like that. Still, she +had, in her reckless inadvertency, called her daughter, and though the +very idea drove the blood to his heart, it was only by a cold pallor +that the shock this one word had given to him was visible. + +"Your daughter is very beautiful," he said, in a low voice. + +"Did I call Caroline my daughter? Oh, well, it is no matter--the truth +will out sometime, though I would rather wait till her success is +assured. When she becomes famous, I shall glory in claiming her; but let +me warn you, it is a secret as yet. You will understand. One does not +care to own a girl as tall as that while the gloss is on one's hair. +Nothing but the most wonderful success will induce me to acknowledge her +before the world." + +"But if she is your child--" + +"I have said that she is my child; but it is a secret, and I did not +mean to talk about it. Tell me, now, did you discover no likeness?" + +"I did not observe." + +"Still, they think her so beautiful." + +Lord Hilton made no answer. The conversation had become irksome to him; +but some person at the table took the last word from Olympia's lips and +repeated it aloud. + +"Beautiful! You must be speaking of our new prima donna. In my opinion +she is perfect; but you, Lord Hilton, have only seen her from the +stage--can form no idea of her loveliness, or of her voice either. There +was nothing, the other night, that could compare with her singing at our +little supper here. Besides, her beauty, to be appreciated, must be +seen close. There is not a fault in her face or form, I can assure you." + +Lord Hilton's face flushed angrily, then a slow whiteness crept over it +again, and he bent his head, unable to speak. The task he had imposed on +himself had become terribly painful. + +Olympia was not particularly pleased with this high praise of another, +though all her ambitious hopes lay in the success of the person on whom +these encomiums were lavished. She began to shake up the sparkles in her +wine by swaying the glass to and fro with her hand, and a sullen frown +crept over her face. + +"She is obstinate as a mule," she muttered; "tall and proud as +Lucifer--not at all like me. But they will rave about her beauty, just +as if she were more likely to live than to die." + +"What did you say?" cried Lord Hilton, sharply; "die! die! Is there any +danger? Is she so ill?" + +Olympia lifted her sleepy eyelids and flashed a suspicious glance at +him. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed; "are you there! I thought so." + +"You are not answering me," was the cold reply. + +"You asked if there existed any danger, and I answer, yes. Did you think +we were practicing stage effects in the journals? My poor Caroline is +ill--very ill." + +"And what made her ill?" + +"What made her break down, after such glorious promise? Why, after she +sang before my friends here, as fresh as a lark, and drove them all so +wild that I, Olympia, was almost overlooked? There never were such +expectations; but see how it ended--a total failure, and brain fever." + +"Did you say brain fever?" + +The young man scarcely spoke above a breath. + +"Yes, it is on the brain, or the nerves, I am not quite sure which; but +the doctors look terribly grave when I ask them about her, and speak as +if she would die." + +"Would to God she might die!" exclaimed the young man, trembling from +head to foot with a burst of agitation that would not be suppressed +longer. + +"What--What?" exclaimed Olympia, starting back in affright. The glass +fell from her hold, and a rivulet of amber-hued wine flashed along the +snow of the table-cloth while she sat gazing upon the young lord. + +"Excuse me; I was thinking of something else," he said, with a strong +effort of self-control. "May I presume on your favor, and steal away, +now? The rest will not miss me, I think." + +Olympia nodded her head hastily. The spilled wine was dripping on her +dress, so she started up, and Lord Hilton withdrew while she was shaking +the drops from its silken folds, and creating general confusion by her +laughing outcries. + +Lord Hilton looked back as he crossed the passage, and shuddered at the +picture of riotous luxury that supper-table presented. + +"And she was among them, in a scene like that," he said, as the door +closed after him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +ON THE WAY TO HOUGHTON CASTLE. + + +At the junction of the railroad where Margaret changed cars for London, +a young man, who had just arrived by the train, took the seat left +vacant, and arranged himself comfortably for a protracted journey. Lady +Clara watched him with some interest, and more than once caught a glance +from his fine eyes as they wandered from the pages of his novel and +dwelt upon her own bright face. Clara had been left to her own devices +while preparing for her journey, and the antique attendant who had been +sent to protect her was grievously scandalized by the jaunty little +sailor's hat and double-breasted jacket which she had selected for her +travelling costume. But the woman had been bred to almost abject +subservience, and had no idea of venturing upon spoken criticism or +advice. She was greatly troubled, however, about the impression this +singular costume might produce on her old mistress, and felt really +shocked when she saw the half-puzzled, half-amused expression of their +fellow-passenger's face, as his eyes first encountered the future +countess. + +By-and-by the old woman fell into deeper consternation, for she began to +remember that handsome face, in spite of the brown beard that curved +like a bow over the upper lip, and swept down toward his bosom in soft, +silken waves that a child would long to bury its little hands in. + +"It is Lord Hilton, the grandson of the old earl," she muttered, in +silent consternation; "and to see her like this, after all the mistress +has been planning, is terrible to think of." + +The young man had been so much occupied with the younger and prettier +face that any regard for that of the old servant was impossible; but +after a while his eyes fell on those hard outlines, and he gave a start +of recognition which made the old lady move restlessly in her seat. + +"Why, Mrs. Judson, is it possible that I find you so far from home!" he +exclaimed. "What can possibly have come over the old lady that she is +willing to part with you for a journey long or short?" + +"My lady is not so well as we were when you left this neighborhood for +foreign parts, my lord. Indeed, I am much afraid you will find her +greatly altered. She is now almost entirely confined to her room." + +"I am sorry to hear that. Lady Carset is, after all, an aged woman; but +it would be mournful to see her broken down. Let me think. She is quite +as old, if not older, than my grandfather, is she not?" + +"There is not a year between them, I have heard my father say," answered +Judson, with a prim consciousness of the delicate subject they had +trenched upon; "not that I know of myself." + +"Certainly not. But my grandfather--it is some weeks since I heard of +him." + +"The earl is quite well, my lord. He was at the castle only last week, +and spent a long morning with my lady." + +"Indeed!" muttered the young man. "That probably accounts for my summons +home." + +"She had been uncommonly anxious for a long time, and at last sent for +him to come and see her." + +"Very natural. They are old friends." + +"Then, my lord, she sent me on this journey--not that I came alone. The +steward is on the train. My lady would not permit her grand-daughter to +travel with but one attendant." + +"Her grand-daughter?" + +"I beg pardon, my lord, but this young lady is Lord Hope's daughter." + +Hilton lifted his hat and met Lady Clara's look of smiling surprise with +a courteous bend of the head, but her quick eye caught the sudden glow +that swept his face, and wondered at it. She wondered still more when a +grave expression followed the blush; and, instead of making himself +agreeable, he opened the novel that lay on the seat, and seemed to be +occupied by its pages, though she remarked, with an inward chuckle, that +he never turned a page. + +After a while the young man laid down his book, wearily, and Clara saw +his chest heave slowly as he breathed a long, deep, but unconscious +sigh. + +"He is in trouble, like me," was her quick thought. "Perhaps his +grandfather is a hard, cruel old man, and drives everything he loves out +of doors, without caring how he may feel about it, or perhaps--" + +Clara might have gone on conjecturing all sorts of possibilities; but +that moment the train stopped at a small town, and close by the station +she saw an old woman, with a pile of crimson-cheeked peaches and some +pears on a table beside her. An exclamation broke from her, and she +leaned eagerly forward just as the carriage-door was unlocked. + +"Oh, how splendid! such peaches! such pears!" she exclaimed, feeling in +the pocket of her sacque for some loose money, which she usually carried +there. "Oh! Margaret--" + +Here she turned to the woman next her, and blushed with vexation when +she remembered that Margaret was no longer there to take her commands. + +"Dear me! I forgot. No matter. Oh, mercy! what have I done?" + +She had done nothing but what was most likely to obtain her object, for +Lord Hilton had pushed open the door, leaped out, and in a minute or two +returned with his hands full of the peaches and pears she had craved so. +She was blushing scarlet when he came back and dropped the luscious +fruit into her lap, as if they had been acquainted fifty years. + +"Oh, you are too kind! I did not mean--I did not expect; but please eat +some yourself. Here is a splendid one. Mrs. Judson, take pears or +peaches, just as you like--delicious!" + +The mellow sound of this last word was uttered as her white teeth sank +into the crimson side of a peach, and for the next minute she said +nothing, but gave herself up to a child-like ecstasy of enjoyment, for +the road was dusty, and this luxurious way of quenching her thirst was +far too sweet for words. Besides, her companions were just as pleasantly +employed. She saw the young man wiping a drop of amber juice from his +beard, and wondered where the Abigail found her self-command as she +watched her slowly peeling one of the finest pears with a silver +fruit-knife which she took from her traveling satchel. + +"Splendid, aint they?" she said, at length, leaning forward and tossing +a peach-stone out of the window, while she searched the golden and +crimson heap with her disengaged hand for another peach, mellow and +juicy as the last. "I had no idea anything on earth could be so +delightful. We had breakfast so early, and I do believe I was almost +hungry. Oh, how pleasant it must be when one is really famished!" + +Here Clara cast another peach-stone through the window, and began to +trifle with a pear, just as Judson cut a dainty slice from the fruit +she had been preparing. Clara laughed, and reached a handful of fruit +over to the gentleman who had made her a gift of the whole. He received +it cheerfully--in fact, it was quite impossible for any man under thirty +to have spent a half hour in that young girl's society without feeling +the heart in his bosom grow softer and warmer. + +"What a lovely day it is!" she said, tossing off her hat, and leaning +forward, that the wind might blow on her face, which at the moment had +all the sweet blooming freshness of a child's. "I wonder if the country +is as green and fresh as this, where we are going?" + +"Ah, I can answer you. It is far more beautiful. Houghton Castle is +among the hills. The park is like a forest, and in the valley you can +see a river, winding in and out like gleams of quicksilver. A grand old +place is Houghton Castle, let me answer you, Lady Clara." + +Clara shook her head, and drew back in her seat. + +"I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that the dear old lady could just +take the title and the castle with her." + +She seemed very much in earnest, and pulled the sailor's hat down over +her eyes, to conceal the tears, that were filling them with moisture. + +Lord Hilton was surprised. He had certainly intended to interest the +young lady by a description of the noble place that would some day be +hers. + +"Ah, wait till you have seen Houghton. It is one of the finest old +strongholds in the kingdom. The only wonder is that Cromwell, that +magnificent old hypocrite, happened to spare it. When Lady Carset stands +upon her own battlements, she can scarcely see the extent of her lands. +A very wealthy lady is the old countess." + +Clara all at once began to wonder how it happened that the man was +giving her so much knowledge about her own near relative. How did he +know that her information did not equal his own? + +"You live near Houghton, I suppose?" she said. + +"Yes; when the flag is up, we can see it plainly enough from my +grandfather's place." + +Clara brightened out of her momentary depression. If she were compelled +to stay long at Houghton, it would be pleasant to meet this handsome and +pleasant young man. How kind he had been about the fruit. With what +genial sunshine his eyes dwelt upon her, as he sought to interest her +about the place to which she was going. Judson was not so well pleased. +She had some doubts of the propriety of permitting these young persons +to drop into such familiar conversation, with no more impressive +introduction than the chance courtesies of a railroad car. + +True, she had known the young man when he was quite a child, and liked +him, as well as her prim habits and narrow channel of thought would +permit; but nothing in her experience had taught her how to act in an +emergency like that. + +The young people had given her no opportunity for reflection, but +plunged into an acquaintance at once. The whole thing troubled her +greatly, but what could she do? + +There they sat, face to face, eating peaches together, talking of the +scenery, laughing now and then, again and again half quarreling, as if a +dozen years had ripened the acquaintance between them. It quite took +away her appetite for the fruit, and she clasped her little silver +knife, with a helpless sigh, and dropping both hands into her lap, +wondered what on earth she could do, and of course did nothing. + +The young people forgot all about the prim Abigail, and went on with +their conversation; but after awhile a shade of sadness crept over both +those young faces. Their hearts wandered off into serious reveries, and +for a time they became unconscious of each other's presence. + +Clara was thinking of that night, which now seemed far, far away, but +was, in fact, scarcely twenty-four hours back in her life--of the words +that were spoken, the promises given, and sealed with kisses, which +seemed burning on her lips even yet. + +Oh! where was he now, the man whom she loved so entirely, and whose +humiliation made her heart ache, and burn with sorrow and wrath every +time she thought of it? Would he hold to his faith with her, after such +scornful treatment from her father? Where would he go? Where was he now? +He had been a wanderer always, and had found himself sufficient to +himself. + +After he saw her the first idea of rest and a permanent home had opened +new vistas of hope to him. He had found the one thing that had hitherto +been denied to his existence--found it only to be driven from the light +that had dawned upon him, like a trespassing dog. + +Clara's heart swelled as she thought of all this, and all at once the +prim Abigail was astonished out of all propriety by a burst of sobs from +the corner in which Clara had retreated. + +The young man looked up and came out of his own melancholy thoughts, +just as Mrs. Judson had drawn forth her smelling-bottle and was pressing +it upon the girl, who averted her face and sobbed out, piteously: + +"Oh! let me alone--please let me alone!" + +Judson retreated backward to her place in the opposite corner, while the +young man motioned her to remain quiet, and let the pretty creature sob +out her grief unmolested. + +At last Clara had wept her sudden burst of sorrow away, and became +conscious of her own strange conduct. She pushed back her hat, drew the +soft gauze streamers across her eyes, and burst into a sobbing laugh, +exquisitely childlike, but which Judson could not in the least +understand. + +"I'm afraid I am getting homesick," she said. "I never was so far from +Oakhurst before, and, until this morning, you know, I had never seen +either of your faces, but all that need not make such an absurd baby of +me." + +Mrs. Judson unfolded a fine pocket handkerchief and held it toward the +girl, with the most anxious look possible to imagine. + +"Wipe your eyes, dear young lady, wipe your eyes. We are coming to +Houghton, and I would not have you seen with that face for the world." + +"Yes," said the young man, looking out, "yonder is Houghton Castle." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +THE OLD COUNTESS. + + +"I will see her now, Judson." The old lady of Houghton came out from her +dressing-room as she said this. + +She had a little cap of gossamer lace and silver ribbon on that shaking +head, and tied a girdle of silken cord around the floating folds of her +cashmere morning robe, which would better have concealed the attenuated +figure underneath, had it been permitted to float loose, as it had done. +But the dainty old lady still felt a stir of feminine pride in her +toilet, and though the exertion took away all her strength, she had made +these pretty additions to her dress, rather than meet her grandchild, +for the first time, in the disarray of an invalid. + +"I will see her now, Judson." + +She repeated this, panting for breath, as she sank down to the couch in +her favorite tower-chamber, and took the delicate handkerchief of lace +and cambric, on which Judson had just dropped some pungent perfume. + +Judson left the room; directly the red curtain parted again, and behind +the grim waiting-maid came a young girl, flushed with excitement and +rosy with perfect health, but so strangely dressed that the old countess +uttered a little exclamation of surprise, mingled perhaps with a little +displeasure. The jaunty hat with its blue streamers, the double-breasted +jacket, glittering with buttons, took away her breath. + +Lady Clara hesitated a moment, took off her hat hurriedly, like a +naughty boy, and came forward with an easy step, as if she had been in a +forest, and the high heels of her pretty boots trampling down wood moss, +instead of the tangle of flowers in that sumptuous carpet. + +The old lady sat gazing on her full half a minute. The girl flushed +crimson under the steady look of those brown eyes, turned around and +gave her hat a toss to Judson, who let it fall in her astonishment at +the audacious act, and came forward, half-indignant, half-crying. + +"Grandmother!" + +As that fresh, young voice fell upon her, the old countess reached forth +her hand. + +"My child!" + +The old voice was faint, but kind. Lovely as that young creature was, +she brought sadness and disappointment with her. The prejudice of years +is not easily swept away from the mind of an aged woman, whatever her +strength of character may be. This girl was the step-daughter of the +governess she had so long detested, and she seemed to bring the +atmosphere of a hated place with her. Perhaps she had expected a more +stately bearing in her daughter's child. + +A chair had been drawn up to the couch by the thoughtful Judson, and the +countess made a gentle motion that her grand-daughter should occupy it. + +Clara sat down, feeling nervous and very miserable; for those eyes +followed her with mournful curiosity, which the high-spirited girl +mistook for criticism. + +"I dare say that I am not so handsome or so good as my poor mother was, +but she loved me dearly, everybody says that, and for her sake you might +be glad I am here, grandmother, especially as you sent for me." + +As Clara said this, tears swelled from those blue eyes that had been +slowly filling, and dropped to her cheeks like rain upon damask roses. +This appeal, so childlike in its passion, lifted the old countess out of +her seeming apathy. She arose, laid her hands on that young head and +kissed the flushed forehead. + +The moment Clara felt the touch of those tender lips, she threw both +arms around the shadowy old woman, and broke forth. + +"Oh, grandmother, grandmother, don't stop to think about it, but let me +love you! I want to so much, for without that I shall be awfully +homesick." + +The old lady's heart beat as it had not done for years. Never, since her +only child went forth from those proud walls a bride, had any one dared +to claim her love, or speak to her as one free soul speaks to another. +In the haughty isolation of her rank, she had almost forgotten that +equality could ever be claimed of her. The very audacity of this cry for +affection stirred the old lady's pride like a trumpet. + +"There speaks the Carset blood," she said, appealing to the grim +hand-maiden who stood by; "always ready to give and bold to claim just +rights. My grandchild is of the true stock, you see. God bless her and +love her as I will!" + +"There, now, that is very kind of you, grandmamma, and you are just the +dearest, sweetest and queenliest lady that ever made a poor girl happy, +when she was, in fact, homesick as death. The truth is, mamma Rachael +spoils me so completely with her great love, and--but, oh! I forgot you +can't bear mamma Rachael. Dear me! I am always getting into scrapes. +Does that belong to the Carset blood, I wonder?" + +The waiting-maid stood petrified when the old countess broke into a +soft, pleasant laugh, at what she deemed the insolent familiarity of +this speech. "Did you hear that?" she exclaimed, wiping the moisture +from her eyes, and increasing the vibrations of her head. + +"Who but a Carset would dare ask such questions? Getting into scrapes, +child; why there never was a family so reckless or so independent. That +is, I speak of the males, remember! the ladies of the house--but you +will see in the picture gallery, and judge for yourself. No commonplace +women can be found among the Carset ladies. Some of them, my child, have +intermarried with Royalty itself. You are the last of the line, Lady +Clara." + +Clara turned pale. She thought of Hepworth Closs, and how far he was +removed from royalty; but with no thought of faithlessness in her heart. +She was very sure that the next Lord of Houghton would wear neither +crown or coronet--but, like a wise girl, she sat still and said nothing. + +The old countess was very feeble. Notwithstanding the excitement, which +left a tremulous pink on her withered cheeks, the strength began to fail +from her limbs. Gathering up her feet upon the couch, she closed her +eyes. + +When she opened them again, Lady Clara was bending toward her with a +look of tender anxiety that went to the old lady's heart. A soft smile +stole over her lips, and she held out her hand. + +"Go to your room, my child." + +Clara stooped down and kissed that delicate mouth with her own blooming +lips. + +"Sleep well, grandmother," she whispered; "I will come back again +by-and-by, after I have seen the other ladies in the picture-gallery." + +Clara picked up her hat, and was going out on tip-toe, when Judson laid +a long, lean hand on her arm, and addressed her in one of those shrill +whispers, which penetrate more surely than words. + +"Don't wear that thing into my lady's presence again," she said. "Did +you see her eyes, when they first fell upon it?" + +"What, my poor little hat? Has grandmamma really taken a dislike to +that? I am so sorry." + +The old countess opened her eyes, and rose on one elbow among her +cushions. + +"Let the child alone, Judson. The hat is well enough, and she looked +very pretty in it." + +"Nobby, isn't it, grandmamma?" said Clara, tossing the hat to her head, +and shaking down the blue streamers; "and I'm so fond of it." + +"Judson," said the old countess, "do not attempt to judge for your +mistress at this time of day. No one but a Carset could wear a thing +like that, without looking vulgar; but you saw what an air she gave it." + +Judson was astounded. She had absolutely trembled, when that round hat +came into the room, in defiance of the faint protest which she had +ventured to make. + +"I was afraid, my lady, that a dress like that might set you against the +young lady." + +"Set me against my own grandchild, and she so unmistakably a Carset! I +am surprised, Judson." + +"I am sure there was no idea in my mind of giving offense. She is a +pretty young lady enough." + +"Pretty! Are you speaking of that charming young creature, with the air +of a duchess and the heart of a child, only to say that she is pretty?" + +"Did I say pretty, my lady, when I think her so beautiful?" + +"All the more beautiful, Judson, for not being so tall as some of the +ladies of our house. She owes nothing to size. Perhaps you have +remarked, Judson, that those of the purest Carset blood have never been +large women." + +A sweet, complacent smile quivered around those old lips, as the +countess settled back among her cushions. She, a petite creature, had +Carset blood in her veins from both parents, and in her youth she had +been distinguished among the most beautiful women of England. She was +thinking of those days, when those withered eyelids closed again, and +they followed her softly into her sleep, which the grim maid watched +with the faithfulness of a slave. + +Meantime Clara went into the long picture gallery, and there among a +crowd of statues, and deeply-toned pictures by the old masters, made the +acquaintance of her stately ancestors, and of the ladies who had one and +all been peeresses in their own right--an access of rank, prized almost +like a heritage of royalty by the old lady in the tower-chamber. + +No one had gone with the young heiress into the gallery, for, with her +childish wilfulness, she had preferred to go alone, and single out the +Carset ladies by their resemblance to the old countess. + +All at once she stopped before the picture of a lady, whose face struck +her with a sudden sense of recognition. She looked at it earnestly--the +golden brown hair, the downcast eyes, the flowing white dress. Across +the mind of that wondering girl, came the shadow of another woman upon +a white bed, with hair and eyes like those; but wide open, and to her +lips came two words, "My Mother!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS. + + +It often happens that a proud, austere person, so grounded in opinions +and prejudices as to be considered above and beyond ordinary influences, +will all at once, give heart and reason up to passionate or capricious +fondness for some individual--often a very child--and yield everything +to persuasion when reason is utterly rejected. + +Indeed, few people like to be convinced; but the strongest mind ever +bestowed on man or woman finds something gratifying to self-love in the +persuasive enticements of affection. + +This singular moral phenomenon astonished the neighbors and household of +Lady Carset when she gave herself up, with the abandon of a child, to +the caressing young creature, who had, it seemed, appeared in her home +to win her back from the very brink of the grave, and make the sunset of +her long life brighter with love than the dawn had been. + +There was nothing in the young girl which did not seem beautiful to the +old relative. Her originality, which made the well-trained servants +stare, seemed the perfection of piquant grace to one whose fastidious +tastes had been an example to the whole neighborhood. In her estimation +Lady Clara could do nothing which was not in itself loveliest and best. +The old lady had been so long without an object of affection, that her +love of this girl became almost a monomania. + +"I have an atonement to make," she would say to herself in excuse for +this extraordinary and most pleasant subjugation; "for years and years I +have driven this young creature from me because of what, I am almost +convinced, were unfounded suspicions against her father and that woman. +It is but just that I should accept my grandchild with generous +confidence; and she deserves it--she deserves it." + +After reasoning in this fashion awhile the repentant old lady would rack +her brain for some new device by which this bright creature, who had +come like a sunbeam into her house, might be persuaded never to leave it +again. It was not altogether the selfishness of affection that actuated +this honorable woman. It was hard to believe that a Carset could have +acted unjustly, or even be mistaken; but, once convinced of that, her +very pride insisted on a generous atonement. Never in her life had she +been so humiliated as when the sight of those diamonds convinced her of +the cruel charge which she had maintained for years against a person +innocent of the offence imputed to her. She remembered, with +compunction, how much harm she had done this woman, whose greatest fault +now seemed to be that Lord Hope had married her. + +Her own example had sufficed to exclude Lady Hope from the society to +which her husband's rank entitled her, and her open expressions of +dislike had cast a ban upon the stepmother, which had, to an extent, +reacted on her own grandchild. + +These thoughts troubled the proud old peeress a long time before she +gave them expression; but, one day, Clara sat by her, looking a little +sad, for, now that the excitement of her first coming was over, she +began to think of Hepworth Closs--to wonder where he was, and yearn for +some news of him to a degree that clouded her whole bright being like a +feeling of homesickness. + +"Poor child!" thought the old lady, while her soft, brown eyes dwelt +upon that downcast face, as it bent over a piece of embroidery in which +a cactus-flower formed the chief central glory; "how weary and troubled +she looks! No wonder, poor thing! half her time is spent here with a +stupid old woman, shut up so long from the world that she is but dull +company for any one. I wonder if the thing which is upon my mind would +really make her happy?" + +"Clara." + +The girl started. She had been so lost in thought that those bright eyes +had been watching her some minutes, while she unconsciously pursued her +work, and indulged in a reverie which was shadowed upon her features. + +"Clara, you have not told me much about your stepmother." + +"But I think of her; I was thinking of her then. Indeed, indeed, +grandmamma, I always must love mamma Rachael, for she has been +everything that is good and kind to me--I only wish you could understand +how kind. If I know anything it is because she taught me." + +"Among other things, perhaps she taught you to hate that cruel old Lady +Carset," said the countess, a little suspiciously. + +"No, grandmamma, no. She never said anything to make me dislike you; but +I did--it was terribly wicked; but how could I help it, loving her so, +and knowing that it was you that stood in the way of all she most +desired in life? Remember, grandmamma, I had never seen you, and I loved +her dearly. It was hard to see her overlooked and put down by people who +were not fit to buckle her shoes, all because you would not like her." + +"And you will always love her better than the cruel old lady?" + +"Cruel! How can you? There never was a sweeter, kinder, or more lovely +old darling in the world than you are! but then she is good, too, and so +unhappy at times, it almost breaks my heart to look in her face." + +"And you think I have made her so?" + +"I think you might make her very happy, if you only would, grandmamma." + +"Would that make you happy, little one?" + +The old lady reached out her little, withered hand, and patted Clara's +fingers, as they paused in her work, while she spoke. The girl's face +brightened. She seized the little hand between her rosy palms, and +pressed it to her lips. + +"Oh, grandmamma! can you mean it?" + +"I always mean to be just, Clara." + +"Then you will be very, very kind to her?" + +"Does your father love this woman?" + +"Love her? Oh, yes! but this thing has come a little between them. She +has grown shy of going out, while he must be in the world; and all her +life seems to vanish when he is away. Sometimes it makes my heart ache +to think how much she loves him." + +"But he loves you?" + +"Almost as much as mamma Rachael does. He was never cross to me but +once." + +"And then?" + +Clara turned pale, and took up her needle. + +"I would rather not talk about that just now. You might be more angry +than my father was." + +"It would be very difficult for me to get angry with you, little one." + +"But you would, if I were to be very obstinate, and insist on having my +own way about--about something--that--that--" + +The old lady's face grew very serious. She understood, these signs, and +they troubled her; but she was feeble, and shrank from any knowledge +that would bring excitement with it. + +"Some day we will talk of all that," she said, with a little weary +closing of the eyes. + +Clara drew a deep breath. See had been on the verge of making a +confidante of the old lady, and felt a sense of relief when the subject +was thus evaded. + +The countess opened her eyes again. + +"Clara," she said, "bring my writing-table here. We will not trouble +ourselves to ring for Judson." + +Clara dropped her embroidery, and brought the sofa-table, with all its +exquisite appointments for writing. The old lady sat upright on her +couch, took the pen, and began to write on the creamy note-paper her +grandchild had placed before her. Clara watched that slender hand as it +glided across the paper, leaving delicate, upright letters perfect as an +engraving, as it moved. When the paper was covered, she folded the +missive with dainty precision, selected an envelope, on which her +coronet was entangled in a monogram, and was about to seal it with a +ring, which she took from her finger; but recollecting herself, she drew +the letter out, and handed it to Clara, with a smile that kindled her +whole face. + +Clara read the letter, threw her arms around the old lady, and covered +her faces with kisses. + +"Oh, grandmamma, you are too good! Do you--do you really mean it? Ah, +this is happiness!" + +"You shall help me make out the invitations. There was a time when +Houghton had no empty chambers. It will go hard, my dear, if we cannot +find entertainment for your father and the lady he has married. On that +day, Clara, I will present you to the world as my grandchild and +heiress." + +"Not yet! oh, not yet! Wait till you know more of me." + +"Hush! hush! This is not my only object. If I have wronged your +stepmother, or neglected your father, the whole country shall see that a +Carset knows how to make reparation. Lady Hope, too, shall be presented +to my friends as an honored guest. This entertainment will be my last, +but they shall find that the old countess knows how to receive her +guests." + +"Grandmother, you are an--an--. You are just the sweetest old lady that +ever drew breath! If you were to live a thousand years, I should love +you better and better every day! To see you and Lady Hope together will +be splendid! And they are to stay at Houghton a month. By that time you +will love each other dearly." + +Clara took up her work again, but the needle flashed like a thread of +lightning in her unsteady fingers. She could not work after this +glorious news. + +The old lady smiled blandly, and sank down among her cushions, +exhausted. + +"Go out and take a walk in the park," she said, observing that Clara was +fluttering over her embroidery like a bird in its cage. "It will do you +good, and I will try to sleep a little." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +DOWN BY THE BROOK AMONG THE FERNS. + + +Clara put on her hat and wandered off into the park, as happy as a bird. + +She had found the dearest old fairy godmother. She saw a glorious light +breaking in upon the life of her stepmother, and out of all this +generous conduct in the old countess sprang a vague hope that she might +yet be won to sanction her marriage with the man of her choice. + +She took no heed of the way, but wandered on, treading the earth like a +sylph, and breaking into little snatches of song whenever the birds in +the branches put her in mind of it. She was descending into a little, +ferny hollow, with a brook creeping along the bottom, along which a +narrow footpath ran, when the crackle of a broken branch, and the quick +tread of a foot, made her pause and look at the opposite bank, down +which a young man was coming, with more swiftness than he seemed to +desire, for he only saved himself from a plunge in the brook by leaping +over it, with a bound that brought him to Clara's side. It was Lord +Hilton. + +"Forgive me, if I came near running you down," he said, with laughter in +his eyes, and taking off his hat; "it was neck or nothing with me, after +I once got one downward plunge. I inquired for you at the castle, and +they told me that you had just gone out of sight in this direction, so I +followed and am here." + +Clara held out her hand, with the sweet, joyous laugh of a pleased +child. She was very happy, just then, and he saw it in her eyes. + +"But you have been long in coming," she said. "I told grandmamma about +our journey together, and she has been expecting you at Houghton every +day." + +"And you?" + +"Of course, I have been dreadfully disappointed. Are you aware that it +is more than a fortnight since you bought those peaches for me?" + +"But you will approve my reasons for keeping away, when I tell you what +they are." + +"Perhaps--I doubt it; but tell me." + +"You will not be angry?" + +"No." + +"Not if I tell you the plain truth like an honest man?" + +"I love the truth. Why should it offend me?" + +"Lady Clara, I have almost resolved to make a confidante of you." + +Clara brushed some fallen leaves from a rock, near which they were +standing, and sat down, motioning him to take the vacant place by her +side. + +"There--now let us begin." + +"Do you guess why I did not come before, Lady Clara?" + +"No--I have not the least idea. Perhaps you did not like me, or were +shocked with my hat; poor thing, it is getting awfully shabby." + +"Shall I tell you?" + +"Of course; why not?" + +"Because the old gentleman over yonder and my lady at Houghton, had set +their hearts upon it." + +"Set their hearts upon it. How?" + +"They have decreed that I shall fall in love with you, and you with me, +at first sight." + +Clara stared at him a moment, with her widening blue eyes, and then +broke into a laugh that set all the birds about her to singing in a +joyous chorus. + +"What, you and I?" + +"Exactly." + +"But you have more sense. You could not be induced to oblige them. I +feel quite sure." + +"But why, pray? Am I so very stupid?" + +"No; but you are so very kind, and would not do anything so cruel." + +Lord Hilton laughed; he could not help it. + +"But why would it be cruel?" + +"Because--because it would get me into trouble. Grandmamma is a lovely +old angel, and to oblige her I would fall in love with fifty men if it +were possible, especially after what she has done to-day: but it is not +possible." + +"And the old gentleman at the opposite side of the valley is good as +gold, and I should like to oblige him; and sometimes I feel as if it +could be done, so far as I am concerned, but for one thing." + +"And what is that?" + +"Lady Clara, if I had not been fatally in love already, I should by this +time have adored you." + +The color came and went in the girl's face. She tore a handful of ferns +from the rock, and dropped them into the water at her feet; then she +lifted her eyes to the young man's face, with the innocent confidence of +a child. Her voice was low and timid as she spoke again; but the ring of +modest truth was there. + +"Lord Hilton, I am very young; but in what you have said, I can see that +you and I ought to understand each other. You love another person--I, +too, am beloved." + +A shade of disappointment swept the young man's features. He had not +wished this fair girl to care for him, yet the thought that it was +impossible brought a little annoyance with it. + +"And yourself?" + +"I have permitted a man to say he loved me, and did not rebuke him; +because every word he spoke made my heart leap." + +"But will the old countess consent?" + +"I thought so--I hoped so, till you startled me with this idea about +yourself. Oh! be firm, be firm in hating me. Don't leave the whole +battle to a poor little girl." + +"Perhaps I shall not feel all your earnestness, for there is no hope in +the future for me, with or without consent. I can never turn back to the +past, though I am not villain enough to lay a heart which contains the +image of another at any woman's feet, without giving her a full +knowledge of that which has gone before. The love which I confess to +you, Lady Clara, was put resolutely behind me before we met." + +Quick as thought a suspicion flashed through the girl's brain. She +turned her eyes full upon the handsome head and face of the young man, +and examined his features keenly. His hat was off; he was bending +earnestly toward her. + +"Lord Hilton, you sat in a box in the opera next to us on the night when +that young American singer broke down. I remember your head now. You +were leaning from the box when she fainted; her eyes were turned upon +you as she fell. She is the woman you love." + +"Say whom I loved, and Heaven knows I did love her; but she fled from me +without a word, to expose herself upon that stage. I thought her the +daughter of a respectable man, at least; when I am told in every +club-house, she is the nameless child of that woman, Olympia. I would +not believe it, till the actress confirmed the story with her own lips; +then I learned that her home was with this woman, and that she, a +creature I had believed innocent as the wild blossoms, had used her +glorious voice for the entertainment of her mother's Sunday evening +parties." + +Lady Clara grew pale, and her eyes began to flash. + +"You are doing great wrong to a noble and good young lady," she said, in +a clear, ringing voice, from which all laughter had gone out. "You are +unjust, cruel--wickedly cruel--both to yourself and her. I have no +patience with you!" + +"Do you know Caroline, then? But that is impossible." + +"Impossible--what? That I should know the daughter of Olympia? But I do +know her. There was a time, I honestly believe, when we were children +together, cared for by the same nurse. This I can assure you, Lord +Hilton: she was not brought up by the actress; never saw her, in truth, +until she was over sixteen years old, when the woman, hearing of her +genius and beauty, claimed her as a chattel rather than a child." + +"Are you sure of this, Lady Clara?" inquired the young man, greatly +disturbed. + +"I know it. The poor young lady, brought up with such delicate care, +educated as if she were one day to become a peeress of the land, took a +terrible dislike to the stage, and, so long as she dared, protested +against the life that ambitious actress had marked out for her. That +night you saw her she was forced upon the stage after praying upon her +knees to be spared. Her acting, from the first, was desperation. She saw +you, and it became despair; and you could doubt her--you could leave +her. Lord Hilton, I hate you!" + +"I begin to hate myself," said the young man in a low voice; "but even +now, what can I do? What power have I to wrest her from the influence of +that woman?" + +"What power? The power of honest and generous love. Ask her to marry +you." + +Lord Hilton answered with a faint, bitter laugh. + +"Ask her to marry me, and, with that act, proclaim myself a beggar! I +tell you, Lady Clara, there is not upon this earth a creature so +dependent as a nobleman with nothing but expectations. Were I to follow +your advice the doors of my home would be closed against me. I should +have a title, by courtesy, to offer my wife, and nothing more. She +would, perhaps, be compelled to go on the stage to support me--a poor +substitute for these two vast estates which these old people hope to +unite in us." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +HOW LADY CLARA GOT HER OWN WAY. + + +Lady Clara turned on the young nobleman with glowing anger. + +"Lord Hilton," she said, "it is the land they are thinking of; but an +earthquake may swallow it before I will sell a corner of my heart at +their price. I am only a girl, Lord Hilton, and, perhaps, this ancestral +grandeur seems less to me on that account; but the noblest possession +that can be given to me is liberty--liberty of heart, limb and +conscience--liberty to love and hate--though I do not hate any one very +much--but to love that which is splendid and good without regard to +anything else. The grandest thing upon the face of the earth, Lord +Hilton, is to own oneself. If I were a man no one should own me but the +woman I loved." + +Was the girl inspired? You would have thought so from the sparkle that +came into her eyes, like sunshine striking the dew in a violet--from +the quick, generous curve of her lips, and the flush of color that +rushed over her face. + +Lord Hilton looked at her with such admiration as would, perhaps, have +made obedience to the wishes of his family an easier thing than he +dreamed of; but he knew something of the world, and had, more than once, +searched the female hearts that came in his way, for the gratification +of vanity alone. He read the one before him on the instant. + +"The man you speak of is without these advantages," he said. "I +understand--they are a wall between you and him." + +"No. This morning my grandmother told me that I was to be her heiress; +but I entreated her to take time. Before she decides, I wish her to +judge of this man as he is, without prejudice or favor. Then she shall +know all, and if she is willing to endow us with her wealth, there never +was so grateful a girl as I shall be; but, if not, I will fall upon my +knees, kiss her dear old hand, thank her for what she has done, and go +away to America, where a man's talents and energies can work out +something that will answer very well for a patent of nobility." + +"And you will carry this out? give up the title?" + +"The title! Ah, that may be of value in America," answered Clara, with a +laugh full of good-natured scorn; "those things, they tell me, are at a +premium out yonder." + +"Brave girl! You shame me by this generous energy." + +"Shame you? not at all; only I happen to know that there is something +worth living for besides the things we hold so precious. A man, brave +enough to work out his own career, has taught me that real greatness is +not always hereditary. Ah! if you could only think so, too, Lord +Hilton, you would understand that there is nothing on earth so sweet as +the love for which we make sacrifices." + +"What a strange girl you are, Lady Clara! Up to this time you have +seemed to me only a very pretty and very capricious child--a charming +child, truly, but--" + +"There it is again," cried the girl falling back into her natural +manner; "everybody will insist on treating me like a child. Oh! how I +wish I was a little taller, like--like Caroline!" + +Lord Hilton started, and a flood of recollections came back upon +him--that soft Italian sky, a flight of vine-draped terraces, and, on +the steps, that tall, beautiful girl watching for him. In this picture +he forgot Olympia and everything that had repulsed him. + +"I shall never think of you as a child again, but as her friend--her +earnest, kind, noble friend!" + +"And so I am. Oh! if I were a man, and loved her--" + +"Well, what would you do in my place, supposing yourself a man, Lady +Clara?" + +"This is what I would do: The old gentleman over yonder has a generous +heart, I dare say. I would first make my peace with that noble girl. It +would not be easy, I can tell you, for she is proud as an empress; but +she would be forgiving in the end, and for that I should adore her. Then +I would take her by the hand, lead her up to that kind old nobleman over +yonder--for I dare say, he is like my blessed grandmother, proud as +Lucifer and kind as an angel--and I would just tell him the truth, lay +the whole case before him, and either take his blessing on two bowed +heads, or throw down my title, gather up all that honorably belonged to +me, and carry my youth, my knowledge, and my energies into a country +where no man would question whether my wife had Olympia's blood in her +veins or not. This is what I would do, Lord Hilton." + +"Lady Clara, I thank you." + +Lord Hilton reached out his hand, smiling, but there was moisture in his +eyes. + +"And you will do it?" + +"First, Lady Clara, I must have her forgiveness for doubting her--for +being a coward. Where is she now? Can you tell me?" + +"Ill, very ill, battling breathlessly with that woman, who still +persists on her reappearance. You can save her from it. Will you?" + +"No wonder you ask the question, Lady Clara, I have not deserved great +confidence. But one thing; these are strange confessions that we have +made to each other; let them rest inviolate between us. We shall be +friends. Let the world think us more, if it likes." + +"With all my heart. And now, good-by. I am going back to the castle." + +When Clara reached the castle she found a letter waiting for her. It was +from Margaret, who was still in London, at Olympia's house. + +Clara read this letter with a very thoughtful face, and went at once to +Lady Carset's room, with the letter in her pocket and painful anxiety in +her heart. + +Lady Carset had come out of her sleep, wonderfully refreshed and +cheerful. + +The effort which she had so generously made to make atonement for what +she considered the one mistake of her life, gave to her own heart a +feeling of exquisite rest. The company of her grandchild also had let a +whole burst of sunshine into that princely old castle, and its mistress +seemed to have grown young in its warmth and brightness. She had been +thinking of the girl ever since the sleep left her eyelids, and now, +when she came in, with her sweet face clouded, the idea that had been +floating in her brain took form. + +"You seem troubled, Clara," she said. "Did the great, wandering old park +frighten you with its loneliness? Sit down, darling, and we will talk of +something I have just been thinking of." + +Clara sat down on the foot of the couch, and taking the small feet of +her grandmother into her lap, began to smooth and caress them with her +hand. + +"I am an old, old woman, my darling, and not over strong, so it is +impossible for me to make a companion to you." + +"Oh, but I love you so much!" + +"I know, dear; but would you not like a companion of your own age--some +nice young lady, who could go with you into the park, share the pretty +phaeton, and help drive the ponies I have ordered for you, when I am +taking my rest here?" + +"Oh, grandmamma, who told you what was in my mind? how could you have +guessed it? Can I--may I? Grandmamma, I know the very person!" + +"She must be well-educated and well-bred." + +"She is a lady about my age, but handsomer." + +"I will not believe that, Clara," said the old lady, smiling. + +"But she is--taller, more queenly. You will like her so much! Besides, +she is in such trouble. I will tell you all about it, grandmamma." + +Then Lady Clara told Caroline's story; how she had been brought up by a +good man, believing herself his child, until he and his good wife died, +and, just as she grew into womanhood was claimed by the actress Olympia, +who was determined to force her upon the stage, from which she shrank +with a loathing that had made her ill. Lady Clara did not mention the +name of Daniel Yates, because it had made no impression upon her, if, +indeed, she had heard it; but she succeeded in interesting the old +countess, and it was decided that Caroline and the servant who had clung +to her so faithfully should be sent for. + +When Lady Clara left her grandmother's room, the face that had been so +clouded was radiant, for, after having all her anxieties swept away, as +it seemed by a miracle, she had ventured upon a positive request, which +made her breath come short as she made it. + +With some adroitness, and a talent that would have made her fortune on +the stage, she brought the subject round to Lady Hope, and from her to +the fact that she had an only brother, who had travelled in foreign +parts for years, but had just come back to England, and had been at +Oakhurst. + +The old lady listened with gentle attention, but did not divine Clara's +wishes by intuition as she had before. + +"He is mamma Rachael's only relative, and she loves him dearly," said +Clara. "I think she would always like to have him with her." + +Even this gentle hint did not arouse the old lady, who was falling back +into a pleasant lethargy, so common to aged persons. + +"You would like him yourself, grandmamma," continued Clara, getting +anxious; "he has seen so much, and talks so well; besides, he knows +everything about horses, and taught me so many things about managing +them." + +"Indeed!" said Lady Carset, arousing herself, for she had been a +splendid horsewoman in her time. "It would be a great comfort if we had +some one besides the groom to advise with about the ponies. Then, we +must have a couple of saddle horses for you and the American young lady. +Would this young gentleman--Is he young, Clara?" + +"Not very," answered Clara, blushing quietly, and drooping her head to +hide the fact, as the old lady took up her sentence again. + +"I suppose not. So, as your stepmother might be pleased, what objection +would there be to inviting this gentleman to the castle? When Lady Hope +comes, I would like to have as many of her friends here as possible. +Houghton will seem more like home to her. As for you, Clara, it will +always be your home, so we must try and make it pleasant. Write the +letter for me, child, and invite the gentleman here." + +It was this conversation that sent Lady Clara out of her grandmother's +room with that radiant face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THE QUARREL AND THE LETTER. + + +"Take your choice, young lady, take your choice! Either consent to have +your name on the bills for Monday night, or leave my house, bag and +baggage, one and all of you! Either obey me or go! I wash my hands of +the whole affair." + +Here Olympia rubbed one soft white hand over the other, and shook them +apart, as if she were already washing off the annoyance that proud girl +had given her. + +Caroline was deathly pale. She had grown thin and languid with the +illness that still hung about her. Around her enlarged eyes lay faint, +purplish shadows, that deepened their sad expression; but, with all her +weakness, a look of settled resolution lay on her face. + +"Be it so, then!" she said, with pathetic sadness. "If my own mother--" + +"Mother? Hush that! I don't believe a word of it! Brown may talk, and +swear that he never lost sight of you, but he needn't tell me! My +daughter! why don't you glory in the stage, then? Why don't you go down +on your knees and thank me for that voice? Don't dare to call me mother +till you can learn how to obey me!" + +"I cannot obey you in this. If you drive me out to perish in the street +I will not!" + +"Then into the street you go! Let Brown try his hand at earning a living +for you. It is more his duty than mine." + +Caroline turned a wild, wistful look on the woman as she said this; then +she moved a step toward her, and the tones of her voice, as they came +through her white lips, were mournful and stormy, like wind over snow. + +"What do you mean, madam? What is it that you insinuate?" + +"Only this," answered Olympia, with a malicious laugh. "As you are +resolved--as you never will be anything to me again, and are determined +to throw away all your advantages, I think the truth will bring down +your pride a little, and so mean to give it just for once. I really do +suppose that you are my daughter--else, where did you get the voice you +are giving to the wind? But, if you are, that man Brown is your father, +for he was my husband once." + +Caroline stood looking at the woman, white and still, her large eyes +widening, all her features in a tumult. Then she fell upon her knees, +covered her face with both hands, and cried out: + +"Oh, my God! is this good man my father? Are these the thrills of joy +that a child knows for its parent?" + +A man who had opened the door of Olympia's boudoir was arrested on the +threshold by these words. + +Olympia saw him and sank to a chair, laughing maliciously. + +"Ask him," she said, pointing to the man; "ask him. Don't look so +astonished, Brown. I have told her all about it, and you see how white +it has made her. She does not seem to relish you for a father much more +than she does the stage!" + +Caroline dashed the tears from her eyes, and arose, with a smile +breaking through the scattered moisture. + +"Not like him! He has always been kind, good, generous. I did not need +this to make me love him. Father, _my_ father! how many times I have +called you so, but this is real! Oh, God be thanked that you are my +father!" + +"Ask him how he intends to support you," broke in Olympia, washing her +hands over again in dumb show, and drawing in her breath till it hissed +through her white teeth, as if a snake had crept up from her bad heart. + +"I _will_ support her! God helping me, I will! Don't feel down-hearted, +my poor child. You shall not be ashamed of me. For your sake I will do +anything. I can go into an orchestra." + +"What! I ashamed of you, my father? Why, it gives us to each other. I +have something in this wide world to love!" + +Brown's eyes filled with tears. He was trembling violently. + +"Father, my dear father!" murmured Caroline, drawing close to him, with +a feeling that he was all the friend she had in the world, "do not look +so troubled. This gives me such joy that I cannot bear to see tears in +your eyes, my father." + +Brown did not speak; he had no power of voice, but stood, with her hands +in his, looking into her face in pathetic silence. + +Olympia arose. + +"It is a pretty scene, and well acted," she said; "but I am tired of +being sole audience. When you have settled upon anything, I shall have +the pleasure of bidding you farewell. I must go to rehearsal now. When I +come back, it will be convenient to have the house to myself. I give a +little supper this evening, and I remember you do not exactly approve of +my little suppers, and, for the world, would not shock the young lady! +Good morning, Caroline. Good morning, Brown. You see our pretty +experiment has failed, and we have got to part again. I think this time +will be forever!" + +Olympia swept out of the room and entered her carriage, looking like a +baffled fury. + +Then those two were left together, and for half an hour they sat, +looking at each other with sad, wistful eyes, talking of the past in +snatches, till slowly and sadly their minds turned to the future, and +that looked blank enough to them. What could they do? Olympia had never +been generous to her daughter or the agent. They had neither money nor +valuables. How were they to live, even for a week? + +"I can, perhaps, obtain a situation in some orchestra." + +Poor Brown spoke under his breath, for he knew well enough that Olympia +would never permit him to earn his bread in that way, so long as her +influence in the theatres could prevent it; but it was the only hopeful +idea he could think of, and so he suggested it with desponding +hesitation. But, to the young girl, there was encouragement even in +this. + +"And I can take pupils. You remember the young lady that came to me that +night in the dressing-room--Lord Hope's daughter?" + +"Remember her!" exclaimed Brown, brightening all over, "I should think +so! When she turned her face upon me and said, 'Don't be so anxious, +sir. She is better now,' I longed to fall down on my knees and worship +her!" + +Tears came into Caroline's eyes. Her nature was noble and full of +gratitude. She could endure wrong and cruelty without weeping, but +generous and kind actions melted her heart. + +"Ah, how good she was; we can trust her, my father." + +How falteringly, and with what pathos she used this grand old word now! +Before, she had done it in affectionate play, but now, a solemn feeling +of tenderness thrilled the syllables, as "father" dropped from her lips, +and made the heart swell in his bosom with a tremulous response. + +"She will speak to Lady Hope, and they will recommend pupils to us. Oh, +if we could only go back to Italy!" + +As this exclamation was on her lips, the servant in blue and silver came +through the door with a salver in his hand, on which lay a letter. The +seal and monogram had struck his eye, and he brought the missive in with +an excess of ceremony that would have been laughable at another time. He +brought the letter to Caroline. She tore it open, and an eager, almost +wild look of thankfulness swept over her face as she read it. + +"Oh, father, father! See what the good God has done for us!" + +The servant, who lingered in the room, was so astonished at hearing that +sacred name used with thanksgiving or reverence in Olympia's house, that +he dropped the silver tray and stood open-mouthed regarding the young +lady. + +"Read it! read it! Oh, this will be Heaven to us. Remark, please, you +are to come with me and Eliza. Let us start by the very next train." + +It was Lady Clara's letter, which, of course, contained an invitation +from the old countess. Clara had added a little hospitality of her own, +and suggested that Brown should come to Houghton for awhile, and give +her music lessons--she was getting so out of practice. As usual, the +girl had her way, and that letter was the result. But Brown's face grew +thoughtful as he read. + +"What is the matter?" inquired Caroline, anxiously. + +"But how are we to get there?" + +All the anxiety that made Brown's heart heavy under this good news, +broke out in these words. Caroline's face clouded, and her voice +faltered. + +"Let me call Eliza and Margaret; perhaps they can point out something." + +She rang the bell, and directly both the maids were informed of the +dilemma they were in. + +What was to be done? It was impossible to remain a day longer in +Olympia's house. The thought was intolerable. Margaret and Eliza stood +looking at each other in blank helplessness. What was to be done? All at +once Margaret gave her head a fling and brightened all over. + +"Never mind," she said, with one of her old coquettish gestures. "I may, +I may--who knows?" + +Without further explanation the girl went up-stairs, got out her most +becoming hat and feather--for she had never been restricted, like an +English servant, in such matters--wrapped a scarlet shawl over her +flounced dress, and, after practising a little before the mirror, came +down with a glittering parasol in her hand. + +"Eliza, just come here and see if my pannier is looped properly," she +said, giving that article a shake as she looked in at the door. + +Eliza came out of the room, grim as ever, and gave the pannier a +discontented jerk or two. + +"Now what are you up to?" she inquired, curtly, for she was sometimes a +little scandalized at her younger sister's coquettish airs. + +"Never you mind, only tell me one thing, honest. Look at me. Ain't I +about as good looking as I ever was? If I am, tell them to wait till I +come back." + +"Don't ask me!" was the curt answer. "Of course they'll wait, because +they can't help it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +MAGGIE CASEY MEETS HER OLD LOVER. + + +Margaret Casey called a cab, and ordering it to drive to Morley's, +Trafalgar Square, betook herself to rearranging her toilet. She +re-clasped a pair of heavy gold bracelets around her wrists--at any rate +there was enough of gold in them to make a dashing display--and settled +a splendid shawl pin to her own infinite content, then she shook out the +folds of her dress, and settled down to serious meditation. + +Certainly she did not appear much older than when her good looks had +been a temptation to Matthew Stacy, which came very near depriving +Harriet, the cook, of her pompous husband. Excitement had brought back +the youthful color to her face, and a spirit of benevolent mischief +kindled all the old coquettish fire in her eyes. Indeed, take her +altogether, the air of refinement, which she had obtained as a lady's +maid, and a certain style that she had, might well have made Mrs. +Matthew Stacy look about her when Margaret came out in force, such as +marked the dashing lady who descended from that cab, just lifting her +dress enough to reveal glimpses of a high-heeled boot, and an ankle +that Matthew Stacy recognized in an instant, for nothing so trim and +dainty had ever helped make a footprint in his matrimonial path, you may +be sure. He was standing on the steps at Morley's, with a white vest on +and his heavy chain glittering over it like a golden rivulet. + +"What! No! yes! On my soul I believe it _is_ Miss Maggie!" cried the +ex-alderman, stepping forward and reaching out his hand. "Miss Casey, I +am in ecstasies of--of--in short, I am glad to see you." + +Maggie bent till her pannier took the high Grecian curve as she opened +her parasol, then she gave him the tip end of her gloved fingers, and +said, with the sweetest lisp possible: + +"How do you do, Mr. Stacy? It is ages and ages since I have had the +honor of meeting you. How is Mrs. Stacy and the--and the--" + +"Thank you a thousand times, Miss Casey; but--but--in short, Mrs. Stacy +is the only person about whom you need inquire. There was +another--forgive the outburst of a father's feelings--but a little grave +in Greenwood, that long, tells the mournful story." + +Here Alderman Stacy measured off a half yard or so of space with his fat +hands, but found the effort too much for him, and drew forth his pocket +handkerchief. + +"Forgive me, but may you never know the feelings of a father who--who--" + +"How distressing!" said Margaret, waving her head to and fro, until her +eyes settled on a window of the hotel. + +"But do control yourself. I think that is Harriet--I beg pardon--Mrs. +Stacy, at the window, and your grief may remind her of her loss." + +"Mrs. Stacy! Mrs. Stacy!" faltered Matthew. "Miss Maggie, would you have +any objection to stepping a little this way? It is so unpleasant for a +young lady of your refinement to stand directly in front of a hotel +filled with gentlemen. Beauty like yours is sure to bring them to the +windows in swarms, as one may observe, and I--I have enough of the old +feeling left to be jealous, miserably jealous when any man dares to look +upon you." + +"But I come to call on your wife, Mr. Stacy." + +"She is not at home, I do assure you. She has been shopping since--since +day before yesterday." + +Margaret's eyes twinkled. + +"Then, perhaps, I had better go up, and wait for her?" + +Margaret was bright, but even here her old lover proved equal to the +occasion. + +"My dear Maggie--excuse me, Miss Casey--I do assure you my lady has +taken the parlor-key with her. She will be so disappointed at not seeing +you!" + +"It is unfortunate," said Maggie, playing with her parasol; "because I +was in hopes of having a few words with you, and that would be improper, +I fear, without her." + +"My dear Miss Maggie, not at all--not at all. You have no idea of the +quantities of women that prefer to see me alone. Indeed, sometimes I +think Mrs. Stacy is a little in the way. Just walk quietly along, +miss--not before the windows. Excuse my infirmity, but there are some +feelings that one never can throw off. Hold that elegant parasol before +that lovely face, and I will be with you in a twinkling. The park is not +far off. One moment, while I run up for my cane." + +Margaret allowed herself to be persuaded, for the last thing in her mind +had been to see Mrs. Stacy. Like those other ladies Matthew had boasted +of, she very much preferred to see him alone, and would have been +greatly annoyed had Harriet, in fact, appeared at the window. + +So, making a merit of her own wishes, she slanted her parasol toward the +house and sauntered down the street, while Matthew ran up-stairs, +panting for breath, and, entering his parlor, looked anxiously toward +the window. + +"Matthew, dear, is that you?" + +Matthew's foreboding heart revived. That mumbling term of endearment, +coming, as it were, through a mouthful of cotton wool, reassured him. He +stepped to the sleeping-room door, and found Mrs. Stacy, with her head +buried in the pillows and her feet thumping restlessly on the quilt. + +"What is the matter, my love?" + +"Oh, Stacy, dear, such a sudden take-down! My old neuralgia. Matthew! +Matthew! don't leave me! I feel as if I was just a goin'!" + +"Oh, nonsense, dear. All you want is plenty of quiet. A good, long sleep +would bring you around in no time. Just snuggle down in the pillows, and +take yourself off to sleep till I come back." + +"Are you going? and me like this? Oh, Matthew!" + +"You can't feel it more than I do, Harriet, dear; but I must go down to +the bankers with this bill of exchange. Ten thousand dollars isn't to be +carried round in a man's pocket safely. Besides, there is a special +messenger just come up from the bank; so I must go, you see. But it +breaks my heart to leave you so--indeed it does!" + +"Oh, if it's about money, I do not mind. That is a thing which must be +attended to. But Stacy, dear, don't let them keep you long; but go at +onst, and right back." + +"The moment those rich old fellows will let me off--the very moment, +dear!" cried the model husband, waving his hand airily toward the bed, +and taking up both hat and cane; "so try and sleep." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +JUST FIFTY POUNDS. + + +Mrs. Stacy, thus reminded of her own needs, began to moan softly among +her pillows, and called out to the walls and windows that she wished, if +that pain was going to keep on so, that she never had been born. If it +wasn't that she had the very best husband that ever drew breath, she +would just give up, and want to die; but for his sake she would try and +worry through. + +Stacy was far out of reach both of the moans and this conjugal tribute +to his goodness, for he had hastened to join that bank messenger who, +somehow, took the form of his old sweetheart, and shaded him now and +then with a coquettish bend of her parasol. + +"Found your cane," observed Maggie, glancing at the ponderous +gold-headed affair in the hand of her old lover. + +"Oh, yes; no trouble; had just stood it up in a corner of the parlor." + +Maggie laughed a little under the cover of her parasol, but kept a +discreet silence about the locked door until she was snugly seated in +the park, with Stacy crowded close to her side. + +"Ah," he said, heaving a sigh that lifted the white vest like a +snow-bank, "this is something like happiness! If you could only know +what your haughtiness has driven me to--but it is no use trying to make +you understand! Look at me, Miss Maggie! _Am_ I the same man that adored +you so? Don't answer. I am, I am, for--Harriet, forgive me, I love you +yet--I love you yet!" + +"But you left me, Mr. Stacy." + +"Rather say the furies driv me. I wasn't myself. It was another fellow +that woman married: the true man staid with you, and here he is, just +the same as ever, if you would only believe it--but you won't, you +won't!" + +"How can I believe it, Mr. Stacy, after abandoning me so?" + +"But not till you driv me to it--not till you had slapped my face with +that precious little hand." + +"Mr. Stacy, I--I'm glad you care for me a little, because I want a great +favor of you." + +Stacy sat upright in the iron seat, and pulled down his white vest with +a couple of jerks. + +"A favor, did you say?" + +"Yes, a great favor." + +"And what may its nature be, Miss Maggie?" + +"Mr. Stacy, you are a rich man." + +Stacy was troubled. To deny his wealth was a terrible sacrifice of +vanity--to admit it might be exposing himself to depredation. + +"Well, yes," he said at last, "I am rich. No one in New York would doubt +that; but over here one has such trouble in getting funds, you +understand. It was only this morning Mrs. Stacy wanted money for a +little shopping, as she called it; but I couldn't give it to her--upon +my soul I couldn't." + +"Then, it would be of no use to ask you for a loan of twenty-five +pounds, as I thought of doing." + +"A loan of twenty-five pounds, my dear Maggie! Five hundred pounds would +not be too much, if I were only in New York; but here in London, where +Alderman Stacy is not known, I could not raise even the miserable sum +you want--I could not, indeed." + +Maggie's eyes began to flash, for she understood the meanness of this +man, and despised it; but she thought of that anxious group in Olympia's +parlor, and resolved to have the money. + +"Still, considering everything, I think you will try to oblige me." + +"Don't ask me. It wounds my manhood to refuse; but let us talk of +something else--those dear old times--" + +"No," said Margaret, unlocking one of her bracelets, and closing it with +a vicious snap. "If you cannot let me have it, I will go to your wife." + +"My wife? You go to my wife! Why, she hates you like pison!" + +"And I am not very fond of her; but I want this money, and she will have +to give it me." + +Stacy pulled down his vest again, and broke into a mellow laugh. + +"Well, I _should_ like to see you try it on! What would you say to her, +Maggie?" + +"I would say: Mrs. Matthew Stacy, you and I were fellow-servants +together in New York, where the lady was murdered; and for some days, +you and I, and the person you have married, were left in charge of all +the valuable property that house had in it. One of those nights I went +away, leaving everything in its place. When I came back again the +wardrobes had been plundered, the bureaus broken open, the wine-cellar +pillaged." + +Matthew Stacy had been growing crimson while Maggie spoke. He put up a +hand to his throat, as if something were choking him, and tore open a +button or two of his vest; then he gasped out: + +"Miss Maggie, Miss Maggie, do you mean to insinuate that I or my wife +Harriet--" + +"I don't mean to insinuate anything, because what I say I know. You and +your wife took these things. I knew it at the time; I can prove it now." + +"Prove it fourteen years after?" + +"Some things do not wear out--jewelry and India shawls, for instance. I +was at the Opera not long since. My sister, who used to come and visit +me so often, is a little in that line, and I used to show her all the +shawls and splendid dresses our mistress used to have. Well, that night +at the Opera we both saw your wife, sitting by you, with the best shawl +the madam had, on her own shoulders. We knew it at a glimpse. There +isn't another just like it to be found in England or America. That +shawl, Matthew Stacy, is worth thousands of dollars, and your wife, +Harriet Long, the cook, was wearing it." + +"Margaret! Margaret Casey, you had better take care." + +"I have taken care. This woman had a gold-mounted opera-glass in her +hand that we both can swear to. Besides that, she had a little watch at +her side, set thick with diamonds. That watch she took to a jeweller to +be mended. It is in his hands yet. When I leave this seat, it will be my +first business to make sure that she never gets the watch again." + +"But it is fourteen years--time enough for anything to be outlawed." + +"I have asked about that. Crimes are not like debts--they cannot be +outlawed, Mr. Stacy." + +"And you could find it in your heart to hunt down an old sweetheart like +that, providing all you say is true? I wouldn't a believed it of you, +Maggie." + +"It seems to me that sweetheart just now refused to lend me twenty-five +pounds." + +"Refused! No, he did not refuse." + +Matthew caught his breath, and changed his wheedling tone all at once. A +new idea had struck him. + +"But, supposing what you say is true, there isn't any one in England to +prosecute--" + +"Yes, there is the lady's agent. He sat by you when we first saw the +shawl. Mr. Hepworth Closs." + +Matthew Stacy sprang to his feet, perfectly aghast. + +"And you have told him?" + +"Not yet; but I mean to!" + +"You mean to--" + +"Yes, I do!" + +"That is it--that is it--the self-same cretur that left the print of her +fingers on my cheek, and of herself on my heart. It is her who wishes to +cast me to the earth, and have me stamped on by the law. Oh, Maggie +Casey, Maggie Casey, I wouldn't have believed it of you!" + +"And I wouldn't have believed you capable of refusing me fifty pounds!" + +"Fifty pounds! It was twenty-five, Miss Margaret." + +"Yes; but I've changed my mind. One does not want to be refused a +miserable sum like that. I've doubled it." + +"But I did not refuse; I only wanted to put the subject off till we had +talked of old times--I didn't refuse you by any manner of means. You +hadn't told me anything about yourself--how you came here, and what you +were doing, or anything that an old lover's heart was panting to know." + +"Well, I will tell you now. I have been, ever since that time, in the +family of a nobleman, as a sort of half servant, half companion to his +daughter." + +"You don't say so! Then what on earth can you want of twenty-five +pounds?" + +"Fifty." + +"Well, fifty it is, then. Between us, that was all I hesitated about; +twenty-five pounds was such a pitiful sum for you to ask of me. You +didn't understand this noble feeling, and almost threatened me; but not +quite, and I'm glad of it, for Matthew Stacy is the last man on earth to +give up to a threat. I hope you will believe that, Miss Margaret." + +"Fifty pounds!" said Margaret, lifting a tuft of grass by the roots with +the point of her parasol. + +"Did I dispute its being fifty? Certainly not. Now just say how you will +take it--in gold or Bank of England notes?" + +"Notes will do." + +"I'm glad you said that, because I happen to have the notes about me," +answered the alderman, drawing out a plethoric note-case, and counting +the money with terrible reluctance. "Here we are; just the sum. Now tell +me, were you really in earnest about its being fifty?" + +"Just fifty," answered Margaret, counting the money on her lap; "just +fifty." + +Matthew heaved a grievous sigh, and stood up. + +"Now I suppose that little affair is settled forever?" he said, working +both hands about the head of his cane, while he eyed the girl askance. + +"I said fifty pounds, and fifty pounds it is," answered Margaret. "Now +let us be going." + +"But you mean to act fair?" + +"I mean to act fair, and return your money." + +"Oh, I don't mean that, I don't want that! It was the other affair; you +could not do anything so cruel." + +Margaret turned short round and faced the stout man, who was trembling, +abjectly, from head to foot. + +"Mr. Stacy, I have kept silent fifteen years and rather over. If I have +not spoken before, you may be certain I never shall. I wanted this money +very much, indeed, and shall repay it with less thankfulness because of +the mean way in which I forced it from you. Your wife may wear her shawl +and watch to the end, for any harm I mean her. Good morning, Mr. Stacy." + +Stacy stood just as she left him, thrusting his cane into the turf. + +"And she wouldn't have done it after all. What a confounded fool I have +made of myself! Two hundred and fifty dollars, and gold up to one-forty +at home, which makes another clean hundred. What a mercy it is she +didn't ask a thousand, though! She took the starch out of me, through +and through. I should have handed over anything she asked." + +As Stacy was walking from the park, now and then giving a punch to the +turf with his cane, in discontented abstraction, he nearly ran against a +man who had just passed the gate, and, looking up angrily, saw Hepworth +Closs. The poor craven turned white as he saw that face; but Hepworth +was in haste, and took no heed of his agitation. + +"You are just the man I most wanted," he said. + +"What--what--me? Is it me you wanted?" stammered Stacy, smitten with +abject terror. + +"Yes; you are an American, and will understand the value of American +bonds." + +"American bonds! Surely, Mr. Closs, you will at least give me a chance +of bail? I tell you it is all false! That creature isn't to be believed +under oath." + +"I have no idea what you mean," said Closs, a good deal puzzled; "but +you evidently do not understand me. I am about to leave England, and +have a monied trust to settle before I go. There is a reason why it is +inexpedient for me to act in person. I wish to pay the money, but give +no explanation. Will you act as my agent in this?" + +"Is--is it--that estate you are just settling up?" asked Stacy, below +his breath, for he felt as if the earth were about to swallow him. "Is +it that?" + +"I can give you no explanation. This money came into my hands years ago. +I invested it carefully--doubled it over and over again; but now I wish +to give up my trust. I have it here in American bonds, fifty thousand +dollars." + +"Fifty thousand!" + +"Just that. I wish you to take this to the young lady, to whom it +rightfully belongs, and place it in her own hands, with the simple +statement that it is hers. Will you oblige me in this?" + +"First tell me who the young lady is." + +"Lady Clara, the daughter of Lord Hope, of Oakhurst." + +"The daughter of a lord! My dear sir, I shall be too happy!" + +"But there is a condition. I do not wish the lady to guess where this +money comes from. You must be understood as the agent, who has invested +and increased it from a small property left in New York by a relative. +This will work you no harm, but, on the contrary, win for you favor and +gratitude from as noble a lady as ever lived." + +"Will it get an invitation to Oakhurst for myself and Mrs. Stacy? That +is a thing I should like to mention incidentally, to the Board of +Aldermen when they give me a public reception in the Governor's Room. +Will it bring about something of that kind?" + +"That I cannot tell. The young lady is not now at Oakhurst, but with her +grandmother, at Houghton Castle. It is there you will find her." + +"Houghton Castle! Why, that's the place I saw mentioned in the Court +Journal. There is to be tremendous doings at Houghton Castle before +long; a grand entertainment, to which all the grandees, far and near, +are invited. What if this fifty thousand dollars should get me and Mrs. +S. an invite? That would be a crusher." + +"It is possible," said Closs, controlling the fierce beating of his +heart. "Come to my hotel in the morning, early. I am anxious to get this +trust off my mind." + +Stacy promised, and the two men parted, the one elated, the other +doubtful, harassed, and painfully disappointed; but the very next day +after Matthew Stacy left London for Houghton, Hepworth Closs received a +letter, which put all ideas of a voyage to America out of his mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +OLYMPIA'S DEFEAT. + + +Olympia stood, panic-stricken, in her fantastic little boudoir, when she +reached home and found a note from Caroline, bidding her farewell, and +stating that, not being able to comply with her wishes, she had accepted +the other alternative, and left her house forever, in company with her +father and the old servant, who had been so faithful to her. The note +breathed of sadness and sorrow at the manner of her leaving, and, if +firm, was entirely respectful; but it said nothing of her plans, nor +told where she was going. + +Now, Olympia thought that she had provided against the possibility of a +choice between her cruel commands, by depriving both Caroline and her +father of all means by which they could leave her. She had gone out, +certain of the girl's forced submission, and came back to find her gone. +She crushed the note in her hand, flung it down and stamped upon it +furiously; for it seemed as if half a million of gold had melted down +into the bit of paper, which she could only trample under her feet in +impotent wrath. + +"The viper! the ingrate! the thing made of iron! Oh, if it were her! if +it were her! I would trample her through the floor! Where did she get +the money? He had nothing--she had nothing. I thought I had chained them +to me by their poverty; then I came home, so exhilarated by this great +offer from the manager--and she is gone! So beautiful! and such a voice! +Gone! gone! Oh, what a loss!" + +Here Olympia, who had never known what self-control was, flung herself +on a low, silken couch, heaped with cushions, like a divan, and began to +pound them with her little fists, and spurn them with the soiled white +satin slippers, in which she had been to rehearsal. This burst of +hysterical fury would have brought down the house had she plunged into +such naturalness on the stage. But she started up, and after snatching a +mosaic card-receiver from her footman, and dashing it against a marble +statuette of Venus coming from the bath, thus demolishing what little +drapery the poor thing was trying to make the most of, came partially to +herself and demanded what the fellow wanted. + +The footman, shivering under his blue and silver, pointed to a card +which lay on the carpet. + +"Why don't you pick it up?" cried Olympia, stamping her satin slipper +into a cluster of roses, that seemed to disappear from the carpet. + +The man took up the card and handed it to her, with a reverence so +humble that she longed to trample him down with the mock roses, and get +him out of her sight; but, as he towered above her a foot or two, the +process seemed difficult, so she ordered him out of the room, and looked +at the card. + +"Lord Hilton! Dear me!" + +Olympia made a dash through the silken curtains, ran into the hall, just +as Lord Hilton was leaving the door-step, and called him back. + +He followed her into the boudoir, telling her the reason of his visit as +he went. + +This inflamed her anew, and she turned upon him savagely, but with some +attempt at self-restraint. + +"You wished to see Caroline? the ingrate! the viper! the raven with a +nightingale's voice! You wish to see her? Why? This is singular. I +thought she was a stranger to you. No! Then, where did you meet?" + +"I have seen the young lady frequently in Italy. Will you please to have +her informed that I am here?" + +"Informed--I! Well, my lord, this is droll! No such person is in my +house. I could no longer tolerate her. She is gone." + +"What! Your daughter?" + +"My daughter! Did I ever say that? Ah, I remember--it was after one of +our little suppers, when one gets liberal! But this ingrate was no +daughter of mine, but my protege--something to fasten the heart on, as +one loves a Skye terrier. Her father was a poor man--very poor, almost +degraded, you understand--so, in my unfortunate munificence, I lifted +her out of her poverty, gave her some of my own genius, and took her to +my bosom, as Cleopatra took the asp; and she stung me, just in the same +way, villainous ingrate! This girl has treated me shamefully. I had made +_such_ an engagement for her--such concessions--carriage for herself, +dressing-maid always in attendance, a boudoir for her retirement, +private box, everything that a princess might ask; bills almost made +out, and when I come home, she is gone. Read that note, my lord; it lies +there at your feet. Read it, and tell me if you ever heard of such base +ingratitude." + +Lord Hilton took up the crumpled and trodden paper. His eyes eagerly ran +over its contents, and brightened as they read; while Olympia prowled +around her boudoir, like a newly-caged leopardess. + +"Read! read!" she said, "and then say if anything so ungrateful ever +lived. No, no, my lord, she is no child of mine. I wash my hands of +her--I wash my hands of her!" + +Here Olympia laved her white hands in the air, and went through a +process of dry washing in the heat of her promenade up and down the +room. + +"And have you no idea where the young lady has gone?" + +"An idea! How should I have ideas? You have read her letter. Well, that +is all." + +Lord Hilton folded the note, and softly closed his hand over it. + +"Then I will no longer trouble you, madam," he said, holding back the +curtain, while he bowed himself through the entrance. + +Olympia watched the crimson curtains close over him, standing, with some +effort at self-control, in the middle of the room. Then she broke into a +fresh paroxysm, shattered a few more ornaments by way of appeasing her +appetite for destruction, and plunged down among her cushions in a fit +of shrieking hysterics that brought the whole household around her. + +A knock at the door--another visitor--brought Olympia out of her fit, +and turned her general rage into spite. + +"Show them in--show everybody in! If they want to see how I bear it, let +the whole world come!" she cried, spreading her hands abroad. + +The man who went to the door obeyed her, and brought in an old woman, +whose anxious, tired face might have won sympathy from a stone. She +entered that glittering room without excitement or any appearance of +curiosity, and when Olympia, in coarse and spiteful irony, bade her sit +down in one of the easy-chairs, she took it quietly. + +"There is a young lady staying with you, madam, that I wish to see. I +think she is known by the name of Brown." + +"Brown? Brown? There is no such person here. How dare you come troubling +me about her, the ingrate, the asp, the--the--" + +"It may be that the young lady may still be called Yates. She bore that +name once." + +"Yates? Brown? Brown? Yates? I know nothing about them. Don't go on in +that fashion, questioning; for I won't hear it! Who are you that dares +come here with such names? I do not keep a lodging-house. I am Olympia!" + +"But there was a young lady here--the one I wish to see," said the old +woman, with calm persistence. + +"Well, and if there was?" + +"I have very urgent reasons for wishing to find her." + +"Well, perhaps you will, who knows? Needles have been found in haymows, +but I wasn't the person to pick them up, and it strikes me that you +won't be more fortunate." + +"But I must see this lady!" + +"If you can find her, certainly; but she is not here, and never is +likely to be again--the wretch--the viper!" + +"When did she leave here, madam?" + +"When--when? What is that to you? Am I come to the pass that I cannot +turn a viper into the street without being questioned by every old tramp +that prowls about? I tell you the creature you call Brown--" + +"Caroline Brown," said the old lady, gently. + +"Well, the creature you call Caroline Brown, then, has gone from my +house forever. I neither know nor care what has become of her." + +The old woman arose, and walked close to Olympia. + +"You have forgotten me, Olive Brown. It is a long time since you brought +that helpless little child to me." + +Olympia turned white, and, turning, fiercely ordered the servants from +the room. + +"Who are you? What are you?" she faltered. "What tempted you to call me +by that name, and they standing by?" + +"I am named Yates. Years ago you brought a child for me to care for." + +"Oh, it is the child again! I tell you, on my honor, she has left my +house, I do not know where she has gone." + +"Are you certain, madam?" + +"Certain! Yes--yes. She left my house only this morning." + +"Then I will go in search of her. Will this never end?" sighed Hannah +Yates. + +"Stop! stop!" cried Olympia. "Promise to say nothing of that name. +Promise!" + +"I am only wanting to find the young lady--not to harm any one." + +"But it would harm me if you told that. Brown! Brown! Think of Brown for +a stage name! Can't you understand that it would be death to me? Half my +popularity lies in the fact that no one can tell who or what I am. Now, +do be silent, that is a good old soul, if it is only for _her_ sake; for +you know, in spite of the way she has served me, everything I have or +make will go to my child in the end. I am ready to make it worth your +while to be quiet." + +Here Olympia took out a portemonnaie and unclasped it. The old woman put +the glittering thing aside with her hand. + +"I do not take money," she said. "All I want is to find her. If she is +gone, I must search farther." + +Then, with a meek bend of the head, Mrs. Yates left the room and the +house. + + * * * * * + +Lord Hilton went out of that house, relieved by the denial of Olympia +that Caroline was her daughter, but in other respects cruelly +disappointed. The greatest and most generous wish of his life was to +find the young girl, and atone for the cowardice which had made him +avoid her for a time. He had resolved that the fact that she was +Olympia's child should not prevent him acting this manly part; but when +that degradation was lifted from her by the woman's own words, his heart +was set free from an intolerable weight, and went back to its old love +with a happy rebound. He remained in London some days, spending the time +in vain efforts to learn something of the beautiful fugitive, and then +started back to the neighborhood of Houghton Castle, bitterly +disappointed. + +For some distance, after he entered the railroad carriage, Lord Hilton +was alone; but at the junction, where he had formerly met Lady Clara and +her maid, a gentleman and lady entered the carriage, and sat down +opposite him. There was something singular about the lady; her large, +black eyes illumined the whole face with a glow of proud triumph that +seemed to have uplifted her whole being. It was this brilliant seeming +of happiness which at first baffled Lord Hilton; for after the lady had +been seated awhile, she probably began to feel the restraints of a +stranger's presence, for a fit of thoughtful lassitude crept over her, +and her eyelids began to droop. + +He remembered the face, now. One night he had seen it at the opera, +leaning against the crimson lining of the box, paler by far than now; +but the beautiful outlines were the same, though that face had been +still and passive, while this was irradiated even in its rest. + +Turning his face from the lady, Lord Hilton encountered a face that he +knew in the tall and distinguished-looking man who accompanied her. + +"Lord Hope, this is a pleasure," he said, holding out his hand. "The +last I heard of you was in Scotland." + +"Yes, we found the shooting good, and staid longer than usual; but I +fancied you were down at the old place." + +"And so I was, but these railways send a man from one end of the +universe to another so rapidly that one does not know where to date +from. I have been up to London for a day or two, and am on my way back +again." + +Here Lady Hope lifted her slumberous eyelids, and was introduced. + +The sweet, alluring smile that we have seen on the face of Rachael Closs +had come back to it now. + +"I should almost have known Lord Hilton," she said, "from Lady Clara's +description. She was indeed fortunate in chancing upon you for a +travelling companion." + +"I have that great kindness to thank you for, Hilton," said Lord Hope. +"Clara's letters were full of your adventures on the road and at +Houghton. I did not know that you had left the neighborhood, though." + +"I think myself more than fortunate," said Hilton, addressing Lady Hope, +"in having the honor of introducing two such ladies to the castle, for I +take it you are going to Houghton." + +"Oh, yes, of course; it was impossible to refuse Lady Carset. We shall +be at the castle some time, I am glad to say." + +How her magnificent eyes flashed. The very bend of her head was regal, +as she thus announced a triumph she had been toiling for ever since she +had become Lord Hope's wife. + +The scorn of that old woman at Houghton, had been the bane of her +existence. Like an interdict of the Pope in olden times, it had kept her +apart from the people of her own rank, as an excommunication would have +done in past ages. But all this was removed. As it would seem by a +miracle, the bitter prejudices of that old lady had given way, and +through the broad doors of Houghton Castle, she was invited to take her +place among the peeresses of the land. + +This had brought back the fire and bloom into Lady Hope's life, and when +Lord Hilton leaned out, as he had done with Lady Clara, and exclaimed, +"There is Houghton," a glorious smile broke over her features. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +THE FAMILY MEETING AT HOUGHTON. + + +The train which took Caroline and her party down to Houghton, reached +their destination just as the sun was setting over the glorious old +trees of the park, and trembling in golden brightness in the ivy that +clung to those twin towers. + +Scarcely had they left the train, when a basket-carriage came dashing up +to the platform, and a young lady sprang out, tossing her reins to a +dainty little tiger, who sat behind, erect and decorous, knowing himself +to be an object of general attention. + +"So you are really here. I am so glad to find you! All right, this +way--jump in; don't be afraid, the ponies are gentle as gentle can be. +Here we are, never mind the others. There is a carriage on the way for +them; but, of course, I got here first; always do. Give me the reins, +Joe--now for it." + +The little carriage wheeled around, and Lady Clara looked back, nodding +to Brown, as her ponies took the road in full speed. + +"Nice old fellow, isn't he? I am so glad to get him here, for I am going +back on my music terribly." + +"Did you know he is my father?" said Caroline, in a gentle voice. + +"No!" + +"He is, indeed. I never learned it till yesterday; but it does not seem +strange, for no father was ever more gentle or kind than he has been +since the first day I knew him." + +"And Olympia--she is your mother, no doubt?" + +"Yes; she is my mother." + +"All right, we needn't talk of her! it isn't of the least consequence. +You must not speak so sadly. I dare say she is a good enough person; but +you don't know how to manage her. For my part, I rather like her; but +the old gentleman is just lovely! I am glad he _is_ your father; because +he can take care of us so properly, and grandmamma will like it, I know. +I have got you a chamber next to mine. Our dressing-rooms open into each +other, and they are both near grandmamma's apartments. Dear old lady, +she is just the kindest, sweetest, loveliest mite of a woman you ever +saw; like a darling old fairy. Won't you love her?" + +They drove along now for some distance in silence; but as they mounted +to the uplands, where Houghton stood, Caroline began to take a lively +interest in the scenery, which was both grand and beautiful in that +region. Away toward the horizon, at the upper end of the valley, was +some large building, whose gray walls and oriel windows were just now +burning in the golden fires of a magnificent sunset. + +"What place is that?" said Clara, repeating the question her companion +had asked, "Oh, that is Keath Hall, and may some day belong to Lord +Hilton, a friend of ours." + +Caroline felt her breath taken away, she had no power to speak, while +Lady Clara sat smiling pleasantly to herself. The poor girl felt like +springing out of the carriage, and fleeing to the uttermost parts of the +earth, rather than be in the neighborhood with a man who had scorned her +so. + +"Lord Hilton is not there now," said Clara, with the innocent quietness +of a kitten; "something has taken him to London or Italy, I believe; but +he is very pleasant, and I like him well enough to be sorry about his +going." + +Caroline breathed again; but her face was very sorrowful and her heart +heavy, during the rest of the drive. + +The size and splendor of that vast building almost terrified the girl, +who had been brought up in that little cedar cottage. She gave no +indication of this in her manner, but walked by the side of her friend +through that spacious hall, with its bronze statues, suits of armor and +bossed shields, as if no meaner roof had ever sheltered her. + +"Come," said Clara, as the young traveller took off her tiny hat, and +began to smooth the hair back from her temples. "I am so impatient to +have grandmamma see you. That will do--that will do. Come, now." + +The two girls went out together, Clara leading the way, and directly +stood in the dim light of Lady Carset's chamber. + +"Grandmamma, I have brought my friend to pay her respects," said Clara; +"only to pay her respects, for, of course, she is famished; but I felt +how glad you would be, and brought her directly up here." + +The old countess arose from her chair, and came forward holding out her +hand. She did, indeed, seem like a fairy godmother, with that soft lace +quivering over her snow-white hair, and those great diamonds blazing on +her tiny hands. + +"I am glad to see you, Miss--Miss--" + +"Miss Brown, grandmamma." + +"Oh, indeed! well, I am very glad to welcome you, Miss Brown. They tell +me you have a fine voice. I should like to hear it some day, when you +are not tired." + +"If my voice will give you pleasure, lady, I shall, for the first time +in my life, be grateful for it," said Caroline, so impressed by this +sweet old lady's kindness, that she longed to throw both arms about her. + +"What, what? I did not hear distinctly. Oh, it is the voice they tell me +of, which thrills the heart with its sweetness; was not that what you +said of it, Clara? No wonder people like it. I do." + +The old lady still held Caroline's hand--her delicate fingers clung to +it, with the loving tenacity of a child. She looked up to the beautiful +face with eager, wistful curiosity; but the light always came dimly into +that chamber, and its rich draperies of lace and brocade threw their +shadows over Caroline; besides, those old eyes were dim with age, or she +might have been troubled that such dangerous beauty should come into her +house in the form of a dependant. As it was, she allowed the two girls +to depart, without dreaming that a more beautiful woman than her +grandchild had almost been put upon a level with her. + +Two or three days after this, Lord and Lady Hope arrived at the castle, +and the old countess, for the first time, saw the woman who wore the +coronet which had once belonged to her child. It was beautiful to see +that proud lady--for now you could decide that she had been very +proud--preparing herself to receive this woman, whom she had hated and +wronged so grievously. She stood up in her tower-room when Rachael +entered it, her black satin dress trailing far out upon the floor, the +yellow old lace fastened over her bosom with a cluster of diamonds, and +a handkerchief of delicate lace in her hand. + +There was a little more motion of the head than usual, and that was all +the evidence she gave of extraordinary emotion. + +Lady Hope came to the door, leaning on the arm of her husband; but, on +the threshold, she abandoned his support, and came forward by his side, +apparently calm and self-possessed; but a proud fire shone in those +black eyes, which would not be quenched. + +"I have sent for you, Lady Hope, because I thought that the most open +and honorable way of acknowledging the wrong I have done you, and of +asking your forgiveness." + +The old countess folded her arms over her bosom, and bent, in her proud +humility, before that beautiful woman whom she could never, never love. + +Rachael Closs forced back the triumph that swelled haughtily in her +bosom, for the old lady's acknowledgment fired her heart like burning +incense; but she bowed her head, as if she had committed the fault, and +turning to her husband, appealed to him: + +"I cannot--I have no language in which to say how this kindness +overwhelms me. Pray tell her from this hour I forget that she has not +always thought so kindly of me as I have deserved." + +Lord Hope was greatly agitated. The keen eyes of that old lady, as they +turned upon his face, troubled him. His very lips were white as he +attempted to open them, not to utter the elegant speech suggested by his +wife, for his heart seemed to break forth in a single sentence: + +"Countess, have the justice to blame me if any wrong has been done to +you or yours. As for this lady, no more devoted mother ever lived than +she has been to your daughter's child!" + +A burst of sobs arose from the other side of the room, and Lady Clara +came forward, her face wet with tears, her mouth quivering. + +"Indeed, indeed she has! Oh, grandmamma, do _love_ her, because she has +been so good to me and everybody else!" + +Lady Carset reached forth her hand gently, and with delicate cordiality; +but there was no yearning of the heart there, such as had marked her +reception of that young girl. + +Lady Hope cared very little for this. She had attained the great aim of +her life in this recognition; anything like warmth of affection would +have been as irksome to her as it was impossible to the old countess. +She took the little hand, pressed her lips upon it, and retreated from +the room, keeping her face toward the old lady, as if she were retiring +from the presence of a queen. + +The old countess stood up bravely, and bent her delicate person with the +exquisite grace of a lady of the olden time, as her guests disappeared. +The moment they were gone she turned to seek her couch; but her limbs +lost their strength, her feet became entangled in the satin train, and +she would have fallen to the carpet but for Lady Clara, who sprang +forward and held her up. + +"Dear me, how you tremble! Oh, grandmamma, don't! I never saw you cry +before. It breaks my heart!" + +The poor old lady was trembling in all her limbs, and crying like a +child. It had been a hard cross for her feebleness to take up when she +admitted that man and woman to her presence. It seemed as if her own +dead child had stood between them, and with shadowy arms striven to push +them apart. + +"I have done no more than my duty," she said, with a piteous smile. "It +was hard, very hard. Still a Carset must not allow any wrong to go +unatoned for, and about those diamonds I did wrong her." + +Clara did not speak. She was frightened by the agitation into which this +scene had thrown the old lady, and only besought her to rest; but +strong, nervous excitement is not so easily pacified. The countess +conquered her tears, but the couch shook under her nervous trembling. +Then Clara ran to her own apartments, and came back to an adjoining room +with Caroline, whose voice had a power of soothing which even excitement +could not resist. + +"Begin to sing--something low and sweet," she whispered. "I will leave +the door ajar." + +Then Clara stole back to her grandmother, and directly a soft strain of +music stole into the room, almost unnoticed at first, like the perfume +of flowers, but growing into harmonies so full and swelling, that the +whole atmosphere seemed flooded with it. + +The old countess listened; the faint breath paused upon her lips, her +eyelids began to quiver, and her little withered hands stole up to her +bosom and rested there in a tremulous clasp. + +"It is a heavenly voice. My child is not angry with me. Oh! how sweetly +she tells me so! how sweet--how sweet!" + +And so she fell asleep after awhile--all the trembling gone, all the +pain swept from those delicate features. Then Caroline came in and sat +down by Lady Clara, smiling over the gentle work she had done. The old +lady opened her eyes once, and, reaching out her hand to Caroline, who +sat nearest, murmured: + +"You are not offended with me, child?" + +"She takes you for me," whispered Clara, "and is dreaming, I think. Let +us be very still." + +So the two girls sat together, and guarded the gentle slumber into which +the old countess had fallen, with loving solicitude. She seemed to feel +their loving presence even in sleep, for a heavenly smile stole over her +face, and occasionally she whispered as if answering some pleasant voice +that came stealing through her dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +DOWN AMONG THE FERNS AGAIN. + + +Lady Carset had extended numerous invitations to her old friends, and it +was understood that Lady Hope would represent the head of the house and +do the honors. This compliment was partly in atonement for the wrong +that had been done Rachael Closs, and partly from the infirmities of +extreme old age, which rendered it even dangerous for the old countess +to entertain her guests in person. + +For the first time in her life, Lady Hope was in her true element. The +weight of an intolerable restraint had been lifted from her. She was +mistress of one of the most splendid establishments in all England, not +even for a time, for would it not descend unbroken to a step-daughter +who worshipped her? Was not the will which settled this already made, +and she as good as mistress there during her whole life? She had thought +Oakhurst a noble possession, but it dwindled into insignificance when +compared with the splendor of Houghton Castle. Very seldom in the world +had the ambition of an aspiring woman been so suddenly and completely +gratified. It had been all like a dream to her, but now she felt the +reality, with an exultation of spirit that took ten years from her +person, and a weird burden from her heart. This great happiness sprang +out of two grand passions--love and ambition. + +The first was gratified in this--Lord Hope was a changed man--a shadow +had been swept from his path--hidden shame had changed to unchecked +pride. The woman he had married, because of an overpowering love, was +now in a position to fascinate society with her beauty, and win its +homage with her genius. They had come out from the shadow and were in +the broad sunshine. + +All his old fondness returned; she could tell it by the elasticity of +his step, by the proud uplifting of his head, by the very tones of his +voice. + +She had thirsted for greatness, and it was hers. She had pined for the +old love, and it had come back to her. No wonder the carriage of this +woman was lofty, and her voice full of music. No wonder that the rich +coloring of her youth returned, and her eyes took back their velvety +softness. + +At this period Rachael Closs was at the pinnacle of her hopes. She could +scarcely understand that this lofty position had not always belonged to +her. To dispense almost regal hospitality came to her as the most +natural thing on earth, and as each day brought some noble guest to the +castle, she received them with more finished grace and a deeper +consciousness of power. + +Of course, at this time, Lady Clara was most frequently with her +stepmother, for the old countess would have it so, and Caroline took her +place very frequently in the tower room, where she felt herself to be +more than welcome. Indeed, the old lady seemed almost as fond of her as +she was of the bright, generous heiress. Caroline would not consent to +mingle with the gay crowd which kept up a brilliant carnival all day +long in the park, in the vast drawing-room, everywhere, except in that +one old tower where the countess spent her quiet life. At the grand +festival she had resolved to come forth and do the honors of her own +castle, but until then she contented herself by receiving her guests, +and then pleasantly turning them over to the splendid woman who filled +her place with such consummate ability. + +This arrangement threw Caroline almost constantly into the seclusion of +the tower apartments, and it so chanced that she had not once met Lady +Hope, who was, in fact, unconscious of her presence in the castle. + +Clara remembered, with some trepidation, the rebuke which had been given +her, regarding her liking for this girl, and, not caring to provoke a +repetition, did not mention the fact of her residence at Houghton. Thus +it chanced that neither Lord Hope or his wife knew of the independent +step their daughter had taken. + +Lady Clara had evidently something on her mind one day, for she gave up +a ride to the hunt, a thing she had set her heart upon, and came after +Caroline to take a long walk in the park with her. Caroline went gladly, +for her heart was aching under its broken hopes, and as the excitement +connected with her new home died out, a sense of bereavement and +desolation came back. She was, indeed, very wretched, and Lady Clara saw +it. Perhaps this was the reason she took her protege out for that +pleasant walk in the park. + +When the two girls reached that hollow through which the brook ran, and +where the ferns grew, Clara became suddenly conscious that Caroline must +be tired. + +Perhaps she was. Caroline, in her listlessness, did not care to ask +herself about it, but sat down on a fragment of rock, as Clara directed +her, and fell to watching the brook with her sad eyes, as it crept +through the ferns and gurgled over the pebbles at her feet. + +Meantime Clara had wandered quietly up the hollow, and disappeared in +search of something which grew a little way off, she said. So Caroline +was not to move till she came back, unless she wished to be lost +utterly. + +Caroline liked the solitude, and the cool ripple of the brook soothed +her. She was rather sorry when a footstep on the forest turf heralded +the return of her friend; but she looked up with a welcoming smile, and +saw Lord Hilton, her Italian teacher--the man who had told her more than +once that he loved her better than his own life! + +She did not cry out, or rise from her hard seat, but sat still, looking +at him in mournful quietness. What was he, what could he ever be, to +her? A nobleman of the realm, and the Olympia's daughter! + +He came down the bank and seated himself by her side. + +"Caroline, have you no welcome to give me?" + +She looked at him with a gleam of excitement in the sadness of her eyes. + +"You know who I am, and I, alas! know that you are Lord Hilton," she +said, with a touch of pathetic pride. "How can I welcome you?" + +"Have you, then, ceased to love me, Caroline?" + +Her pale face flushed, her eyes kindled. + +"Is this a question to ask me?" + +"Yes--because I have never ceased to love you, and never shall." + +"Not when you are certain that I am the daughter of--of--an actress?" + +"Not if you were the daughter of fifty actresses, Caroline! I have been +searching for you, in London, everywhere. More than once I inquired at +Olympia's door." + +"You!" + +"Indeed I did; but she would give me no information." + +"She could not. I left no word." + +"And now that I have found you, Caroline?" + +"My name is Brown, Lord Hilton. I am, in truth, the daughter of that +good man whom you supposed my father." + +"And of Olympia?" + +"Yes, they were married and--and divorced before she became celebrated +and took the name of Olympia." + +Caroline said all this with a feeling of self-torture that took all the +color from her face. The love of Lord Hilton seemed an impossibility to +her, and she gave him the hard truth, under which her heart was +writhing, without a reservation of pride or delicacy. + +"It is of very little consequence whose daughter you are," said the +young man, tenderly, "so long as I love you, and am, with God's +blessing, resolved to make you my wife." + +"Resolved to make me your wife!" + +The words came one by one from her lips, in measured sadness. She knew +the thing to be impossible, and uttered the words as if she had buried +some beloved object, and was mourning over it. + +"I repeat it, Caroline. There is no change in my love--no change in my +determination. All that I felt for you in our sweet Italian life lives +with me yet." + +Caroline turned her eyes full upon him. An expression of pain broke +through their mournfulness. + +"It was impossible!" + +That was all she said; but he knew how much agony the words had cost by +the whiteness of her lips. + +"But why," he pleaded, "if we love each other, for you love me yet?" + +"Yes, I love you!" + +Hilton threw his arms around her, and kissed her cold face in a +transport of thankfulness. + +"Then, why not? We were betrothed in Italy, when I believed you Mr. +Brown's daughter, as I do now." + +"But I did not know that you were an English nobleman, and heir to a +large estate." + +"Is that a crime, Caroline? Besides, you need not trouble yourself about +the estate. When I ask you in marriage, that is given up." + +She turned to him suddenly, and held out her hands. + +"Are you, indeed, ready to give up so much for me?" + +"I am ready to give up everything but my honor," was his reply. + +"I am only a poor girl, with no honor to hold but my own; but you shall +not find me less generous than you are." + +He kissed her hands in passionate gratitude. + +"Ah, darling, I knew--I knew that it must end so." + +She forced her hands from his clasp. + +"You misunderstand me. I love you better than myself! better than my +life! Do believe it! And for that reason we part, now and forever! I +could not live through another hour like this!" + +"Caroline!" + +"I know it is hard; my own heart is pleading against it. But there is +something which forbids me to listen." + +"Caroline, I will not permit this! It is unnatural, cruel!" + +"I know it! I know it! Still it is our destiny. Nothing that has been +said, or can be said, will change the fact of your birth and mine. Do +not, I implore you, press this matter farther. It is hard to fight +against my own heart and you. Spare me and let me go!" + +Caroline arose and absolutely fled from the man she loved. He did not +attempt to detain her, but walked away slowly, half offended--but more +resolved on making her his wife than ever. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +OUT AMONG THE TREES. + + +Not far from the glen, loitering up and down a secluded forest-path, +Caroline met Lady Clara, and, by her side, the young man whom she had +met that night at Olympia's supper party. This took her by surprise, and +she turned into another path, where a sheltered garden seat invited her +to rest. + +Lady Clara had not seen her companion, and was too much occupied for any +thought regarding her. She was talking earnestly to Hepworth Closs, who +had refused Lady Carset's invitation to take up his quarters at the +castle, but was staying at the public house down in the village, until +after the festival, at which Clara still refused to be introduced as +sole heiress of the broad domain on which they stood. + +"Let us be patient," she said. "I cannot distress this kind old lady +while she is so disturbed and so feeble. Let things take their course +till she is strong enough to endure this additional agitation. She was +greatly pleased with you that morning when you called. By degrees she +will learn to like you; and when she finds that Lord Hilton has no idea +of joining the estates by a marriage with her heiress--a thing which I +know she has at heart, but she has, as yet, only given me warning by +most delicate insinuations--your proposal will not disturb her so much." + +Hepworth Closs had learned the great lessons of patience, and loved the +young girl by his side too sincerely for any protest against what was, +in fact, a necessary delay; so he answered her kindly; + +"So long as we are not entirely separated, Clara, I can bear anything, +even your father's hostility, which, after all, is but natural." + +"But that, too, will be swept away by grandmamma's consent; and I am +sure she loves me so much that, with patience, that may be obtained. +Besides, there is your sister, eager for your interests and pining for +your society." + +"Poor Rachael! How does she bear the honors heaped upon her up yonder." + +"Like an empress. Indeed, I never saw her really happy before. My father +has all at once taken to adoring her. No wonder! Happiness has made her +so grandly beautiful, so dashingly brilliant in all she says and does. +The new duke, who has just come down, is so taken with her that he +scarcely leaves her side." + +"I am glad of that," exclaimed Closs. "If ever a woman was born to +control society, it is Rachael. Does she know I am here?" + +"I have not told her yet. It will be time enough when all this tumult +about the heirship has abated. And perhaps it will be best to let papa +find it out in some natural way, when he will, I hope, be anxious to +recognize you as Lady Carset's guest, and make atonement for his +harshness at Oakhurst." + +"What a wise little diplomat you have become, Clara!" + +"Yes, I think so. It is just beginning to dawn on me that rash action is +the worst kind of selfishness; how, just by a little kindness and a +great deal of love, I, a harem-scarem girl, who never stopped to think +in my life before, have reconciled an old family feud of fifteen years +standing, brought Lady Hope triumphantly to Houghton, and swept ever so +many cares out of my father's way, besides all the little pleasantness +that my coming has given to the old countess. I wouldn't boast in this +way to any one else, Hepworth; but these things make me proud and +happy, so I tell them to you, as I whisper it to myself. When I first +came here, it was with the resolution of appealing to grandmamma against +Lord Hope's opposition to us, and, if she went against me, to throw up +everything, and set them all at defiance. But one must have a hard +nature to attempt such harsh measures with that sweet old lady. It would +break my heart to leave her--wound my conscience to give her a moment's +pain. As for her title and her wealth, I tell you, honestly, they are +encumbrances I do not want. A thousand times, rather, would I have her +consent, with that of my father, and freedom to go with you where we +pleased. I want no greatness or power for myself, unless it comes +through the man I love; but for you, Hepworth, I am ambitious, and would +rather a thousand times go to America, and share the honors which your +own genius would be sure to win, as plain Mrs. Closs, than stay here as +mistress of Houghton, a countess in my own right, and you only +recognized as the husband of Lady Carset." + +The hot color came and went in her lover's face as Clara spoke out the +thoughts that haunted her about the future--his own thoughts expressed +through her girlish lips. He turned suddenly, took her hands, and kissed +them both with passionate warmth. + +"Oh, if they would but give you up with nothing but this glorious +freedom, I should not have another wish on earth; but they are about to +bury you so deep beneath their wealth and titles that I may not be able +to find my love when I ask for her." + +Clara smiled. + +"You shall never ask for me that I will not come. There is not in all +England wealth or honors enough to buy me out of your reach. Only let us +wait patiently a little while longer." + +"Sweet child! generous woman! Jacob never served more faithfully for his +love than I am willing to wait for mine. Only this, we must not be kept +apart." + +"We will not be kept apart. Our souls belong to each other. No person on +earth shall enthrall them." + +"Then I am content; all the more because I know what utter desolation +absence is. Ah, Clara, it seemed like an opening from Paradise when you +wrote me to come here! Heaven knows where I should have been now but for +that blessed note!" + +"But you are here, safe and well, for which the good God be thanked! +Everything has happened without disappointment to any one, unless it may +be Caroline's mother, the handsome Olympia. She is furious, Lord Hilton +tells me. I am a little sorry for that poor woman. Of course, she wasn't +just as she should be to Caroline, but I can't help liking her, after +all. There that dear girl sits, like patience on a monument, waiting for +me. I wonder what has become of Lord Hilton?" + +Here Lady Clara and her lover separated; she joined her friend, whose +garments were visible through the green of the leaves, and he walked +toward the village, very happy, notwithstanding the uncertainty of his +affairs. + +As Hepworth entered his room at the inn, he was accosted with boisterous +familiarity by Mr. Stacy, the New York alderman, who expressed the +broadest astonishment at his presence there, and was anxious to know if +it would break up his own mission to the castle. + +Hepworth reassured him on this point, and gave some additional +directions, which the alderman accepted with nods and chuckles of +self-sufficiency, that were a little repulsive to the younger and more +refined man. + +"I understand Matthew Stacy is to be 'A Number One' in the whole +business--sole agent of her mother's trust; by-the-way, who was her +mother?" + +There was a shrewd twinkle in Stacy's eye as he asked this, which +Hepworth comprehended and met at once. + +"Her mother was the first Lady Hope, the only daughter of Lady Carset, +up there at the castle. She died in America while travelling there with +her husband, about fifteen years ago." + +All this was plain and simple. The alderman drew a deep breath, and the +shrewd twinkle went out of his eyes. + +"To tell the truth," he said, "I was thinking of that poor murdered +lady, Mrs. Hurst. You know there was a little girl at the inquest that +would have been about the age of this young lady; for I took a peep into +the peerages, after you opened this matter, and I thought possibly that +Mrs. Hurst and Lady Hope might be--you understand?" + +"What! Identical! Did you mean that?" + +"Well, no, not exactly identical--she was respectable enough--but the +same person." + +"But you forgot, Mr. Stacy, telling me that the young lady who appeared +as a singer in the opera that night was that very child." + +"By Jingo! you are right! I did that same. Of course--of course. What +was I thinking of? How she did sing, too; ten thousand mocking birds in +her throat, all piping away at once. What was I thinking of? Now, Mr. +Closs, while I'm gone--for I mean to strike while the iron is hot--just +have the goodness to look in on Mrs. S., she will feel it a compliment, +being a trifle homesick and lonesome down here. But tell her to keep a +stiff upper lip; there isn't many ladies, not even your barronessers and +duchessers, that shall outshine her at the grand party up yonder." + +"The grand party!" repeated Hepworth, in amazement. "Are you invited +there?" + +"Not just yet, but of course I mean to be. One good turn deserves +another, Mr. Hepworth--I beg pardon--Mr. Closs, and if I take this pile +up to Castle Houghton, it is no more than fair that the young lady gives +me an invite for myself and Mrs. S. Turn about is fair play, all the +world over, Mr. Closs, and I don't mean to lose my chances. Some men +would ask money for all this, but I am ready to put up with an invite. +Mrs. S. has set her heart on it. Ask her to let you see that red velvet +dress that she got made on purpose, and the panier. Don't, by any means, +forget to ask her to show you the panier; it's tremendous, I tell you." + +Mr. Stacy stood for a moment longer, shaking the links of his gold chain +up and down in one hand, as if he had something else to say, but not +remembering what it was, he disappeared, and was soon driving, in the +best carriage he could obtain, toward Houghton Castle. + +Lady Clara was in her own room scolding, persuading, and comforting +Caroline, when a card was brought to her, and she read, with +astonishment, the name of "Matthew Stacy, Esq., Ex-Alderman, New York." + +"Who is this person?" she inquired. + +"Haven't the least hidea, my lady; he asked for yer leddyship, and +would, on no account, see any one else, yer leddyship." + +"Where is he now?" + +"In the small drawing-room, yer leddyship." + +Clara went down, excited by the painful curiosity which always disturbed +her when she met any person from America. What could he want? + +Alderman Stacy arose as she entered the room where he was sitting, and +made three profound bows in the different stages of her advance from the +door, then he sat down in a light chair. The delicate India carving +began to creak under his weight, and he sprang to his feet again, +looking over his shoulder at the combination of azure silk and lace-like +ebony in awkward consternation. Then he took another chair, all cushions +and softness, in which he sank down luxuriously, and began to fidget +with his chain. + +"You are from New York, Mr. Stacy--I think it was on your card?" said +Clara, commencing the conversation. + +"Yes, exactly, my--my lady--Empire State; besides that I have a little +business with you--pleasant business, I may undertake to say; money, my +dear young lady. Money always is pleasant. What ancient poet is it that +says, 'money makes the mare go?' which means, I take it, that it drives +men and women--I mean gentlemen and ladies--just alike. So I call it +pleasant news, when I tell your ladyship that I have got a pile of it +for you--American bonds, payable in gold." + +"Money for me--for me?" + +"No wonder you are surprised. The amount was an astonisher for me when I +came to reckon it up. At first it was a mere nothing, only a few +thousand, but gold, in my hands, grows, grows, grows, and now, my dear +young lady, that little heap left by your lamented mother--you +understand--" + +"Left by my mother, and for me?" + +"Yes, your lamented mother, the first Lady Hope, a lovely woman, but +delicate, very delicate; carried off by consumption at last. Well, just +before her death she sent for me--we were great friends, you know. Being +alderman, in fact, president of the board, I had an opportunity to offer +her some municipal civilities, such as the use of the Governor's room to +receive her friends in, and the freedom of the city. I assure you she +had the broadest liberty to ride where she pleased, especially in the +Central Park. Then we took her to the institutions, and she had a lovely +dinner on Blackwell's Island, for I was hand in glove with the +commissioners. I don't tell these things to boast of 'em only to explain +how she came to trust me as her executioner--I beg pardon--her executor, +and send for me just as her spirit was taking flight." + +"Oh! please tell me of that--of her--I do not care about the money," +cried Clara, interrupting this pompous tissue of falsehoods, with tears +in her eyes. "You saw her, you talked with her?" + +"Often and often." + +"Oh, tell me!" + +"Not just now, young lady. Business is business, and we must not get +things mixed. Some other time, after your great party, for instance, I +shall be too happy, for Mrs. Stacy and I shall stay in the village, till +after that august occasion; but now I come on business, nothing short, +and I am in a hurry to get these ten thousand pounds American +gold-bearing bonds off my stomach--I beg pardon--conscience. Here, my +lady, is the pile of bonds. Every one will bring the tin when its +wanted, no mistake about that." + +Here Mr. Stacy laid a package of bonds in Lady Clara's lap, and stood +with a beaming face, regarding her puzzled look, as she examined them. + +"And these are worth ten thousand pounds?" she said. + +"Exactly." + +"And left to me without reservation or condition, by my mother?" + +"Exactly. 'My dear friend,' said she, 'you will find somewhere about +three thousand pounds in the bank. That money I leave in your hands, for +I have faith in you, Stacy. That money is sure to grow, and when my +daughter, Clara, gets to be about eighteen or so, pay it and the +increase over to her in my name; tell her to keep it for her own +independent use; to say nothing to Lord Hope or his wife--I mean if he +should marry again--but to use it just as she pleases, without regard to +her grandmother or any one else.' These were the directions your mother +left with the money, and I hope you will make sure to abide by them, my +lady." + +"I will remember every word you have said," answered Clara, whose face +was beginning to brighten under a new idea, and the bonds were becoming +very precious to her. "But is there nothing I can do in return for this +kindness?" + +"I expected this. That was just what she said, 'My friend,' says she, +'there will be no such thing as paying you in specie for the service you +will do my child; but she will be a lady of rank, Mr. Stacy, and as such +will know how to return your kindness, and entertain you with the best. +Though dukes and princes should be her guests, she will have pride and +glory in introducing her mother's faithful friend to them all. Yes, him +and that splendid woman, who is your wife, the friend of my bosom,' says +she; 'and if you ever go to England, be sure to take your wife along, +then you'll have a chance to learn what British hospitality is in the +walls of Houghton Castle, my own birthplace.'" + +"My mother has promised nothing in my power to perform which shall not +be done," said Clara, a good deal puzzled by all that she heard, and +quite at a loss to judge of the social status of her visitor. But the +great fact remained--her mother had trusted him; he had brought her a +large sum of money, which nothing but the most honorable integrity would +have prevented him keeping for his own benefit. The man who could so +faithfully render back an important trust, must be worthy even of her +grandmother's hospitality. + +The moment Mr. Stacy had bowed and stumbled himself from the room, Clara +ran to Lady Carset, and obtained an invitation for M. Stacy, Esq., and +lady, to the entertainment which was now close at hand. With that +invitation, went a large package directed to Hepworth Closs, in which a +letter was enclosed, requesting him to take such legal steps in her +behalf as would secure the amount contained in the American bonds to Mr. +Brown, the father of her dear friend, Caroline. "I know that she would +refuse the independence for herself and her father, if I were to press +it upon her; indeed, she has already done so, when I only hinted at the +matter; but when it is secured irrevocably to her father, she must +submit to being made comfortable in spite of herself. The money is mine +to use exactly as I please, and this is my pleasure. Pray help me to +carry it out. There is no need of consulting that dear old man, Brown, +whose welfare I seek quite as earnestly as I do that of his daughter; +for he is just the sweetest and dearest character I ever knew, and I +would give the world to see his blessed old face, when he first +discovers that he is a rich man. Tell me all about it. Be very careful +and delicate in your management of this business, and say nothing until +you have put it out of your power or mine to revoke what will make me +the happier in the giving than they can be in receiving. When we meet I +will tell you how this money came to be mine; but before then, I trust +it will be in the possession of another. What do I want of American +bonds? I think it would offend my dear old fairy-grandmother if I took +them, and I know you will approve what I am doing." + +Closs read the letter with a smile of pleasure; but when he took up the +bonds again, his face clouded. + +"Can I never wash my hands of that poor lady's money," he said. "Do what +I can, it will come back to me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +THE BALL AT HOUGHTON. + + +The night arrived at last in which Lady Carset was to do the honors of +her own castle, and receive the highest and brightest of the land in +person. A range of boudoirs and saloons, connected with the state +drawing-room, were thrown together, and united in one splendid vista by +silken draperies and hot-house plants, which formed noble wreaths and +arches over each entrance, filling room after room with brightness and +fragrance. + +The conservatories had been stripped that night, that their treasures of +rare exotics might brighten the splendor of those rooms, and soften the +ancestral grandeur of the vast entrance hall. They wound in massive +wreaths around the carved balustrades of that broad oaken +staircase--were duplicated over and over again in the height and breadth +of those noble mirrors. They formed a blooming border around the oaken +floors, black with age and bright with polish, of the dancing-rooms. The +gilded orchestras were interlaced with them, and, in every group of +plants or clustering wreath, jets of gas twinkled out like stars, +casting tremulous shadows from the leaves, and lending a richer color to +the blossoms. + +When the first carriage load of guests came sweeping across the stone +terrace, Lady Carset left her dressing-room, and, leaning on the arm of +Lord Hope, took her place in the central drawing-room, with gentle +dignity, and stood, with the gaslight quivering around her, touching up +the richness of her purple garments with golden ripples of light, and +striking out rainbows from the great Carset diamonds, which held, and +gathered up the woven moonlight of her lace shawl on those dainty, +sloping shoulders and delicate bust, which had not known such ornaments +for years. A ripple of these noble jewels ran through the soft waves of +her hair, and held the tuft of Marchant feathers and lappets of gossamer +lace back from her left temple, whence they floated off gently into the +snow of her hair, scarcely whiter than it was. A lovelier representative +of the grandest aristocracy on earth, or a more dainty lady of the olden +times, had never, since its foundation, done the honors of Houghton +Castle. But the sweet old lady was already forced to exert all her +strength, that nothing should fall short of the old hospitality on this +the last fete she ever expected to give. + +Lady Clara had followed her, half dancing, half floating down that broad +staircase, jerking blossoms from the plants as she went, and forming +them into a tiny bouquet for her grandmother. Her dress was just one +cloud of silvery whiteness. A little cluster of moss rose buds on the +left shoulder, and another in her belt, were all the ornaments she wore. +She had insisted, with almost passionate vehemence, that no mention of +her heirship should be made that night, and the old lady consented with +reluctance, but appeased her own impatience by a grand festival to all +her tenants and retainers in the park, where nothing had been omitted +which, in feudal times, was considered proper when the heirship of +Houghton was proclaimed. Still, in words, the old lady had kept +honorable silence, and no one, even from the grandeur of the +entertainment, had a right to more than guess that the general heirship +was settled on Lord Hope's daughter. + +In fact, this entertainment was ostensibly given to Lord and Lady Hope, +and the old countess had taken up the sparkling weight of all those +Carset jewels, that all the world might know that they had come back +honorably into her own possession. It was a splendid and most delicate +way of acknowledging herself in the wrong. + +Before the guests had commenced to arrive in any numbers, Lady Hope came +floating into the state drawing-room, with a noble cactus flower +sweeping backwards from the left side of her head, and resting upon the +massive braids of her hair, which curved upwards like a helmet, from her +neck almost to the forehead. Chains of large rubies encircled her neck +and arms, harmonizing with the cactus blossom, but forming a bold +contrast to the amber silk of her dress, which swept far back upon the +polished floor, and took the light as birds of Paradise fling off +sunshine from their plumage. A beautiful and right queenly personage was +Rachael Closs that night, as she moved across the floor and took her +place by the little countess, who looked up and smiled gently when she +saw that Lord Hope's wife appeared in the old family rubies, which she +had presented to her that morning. + +One bright glance at Clara, another of sparkling triumph at Lord Hope, +and Rachael gave herself up to the brilliant duties that lay before her. +This night was to be the crowning success of her life. + +The guests swept through the great entrance, and into the drawing-room +now, in crowds and groups. Music sounded from half a dozen gilded +orchestras, and the oaken floors of that old castle began to tremble +under the feet of many dancers, as they kept time to the music, and sent +out a soft undertone of conversation. + +Lord Hope opened the ball with the elite of the elite. Lord Hilton led +Lady Clara into the same set, at which the old countess nodded her head +and smiled. She observed that the young nobleman bent his head, and +looking in the bright face of her grandchild, was talking earnestly to +her, at which the dear old lady smiled again, and put up her fan, that +no one might observe how pleased she was. + +This was what Hilton was saying: + +"And she would not come down, fearing to meet me? This is hard, Lady +Clara!" + +"No," answered the girl, reaching out her hand for a ladies' chain, and +breaking from it in haste. "It is not altogether that; she says that it +is impossible to be of us--that her birth forbids it, and any attempt at +equality could only end in humiliation. I cannot persuade her out of +this idea: entreat as I would, she refused utterly to come down. Then I +got grandmamma to urge it, and she did it beautifully, but it was no +use; and there the poor darling sits all alone, hearing the music and +our voices, as prisoners in their cells listen to bird songs through +windows in the walls. It is cruel! Why can't people be born all alike, +and go up and down according to their own merits, I wonder?" + +"That is an American idea. You must have picked it up there in your +infancy, Lady Clara." + +"I should not wonder. Some day I mean to go back there and see what +social equality is like." + +"Oh, you will find no place on earth where your title will be of so much +value, Lady Clara," said Hilton, laughing. + +"Well, that is because the Americans respect history, and associate us +with the great deeds of mutual ancestors. It is the romance of tradition +that interests them; for they are great readers, these Americans, and +know more of us, as a people, than we do of ourselves. We represent the +warriors and the statesmen which they have clothed in the poetry of +great deeds. If the nobility of this day disappoints them it is our own +fault. When they learn that our greatness consists only in titles, we +shall have little homage merely for them." + +"What a strange little creature you are!" + +"Yes, rather. It is our turn now." + +After a little there was another long pause in the dance. Then Hilton +went back to the subject nearest to his heart. + +"You could not possibly persuade her to come down--not here, but into +some of the less public rooms?" he said. + +"Impossible. She would not think of it." + +"Cruel!" + +"Yes, I think so; but then, I would do exactly the same thing." + +"What makes you start so, Clara?" + +"Don't you see? There is Mr. Closs going up to grandmamma, and papa +standing close by her. Why, Lord Hope is speaking to him! How good! how +kind! They are both smiling; now, now, do look on mamma Rachael's +face--she sees them, and happiness makes her splendid! He is coming this +way. Understand now, I shall dance with him just as often as I can, and +you are to help me if I get into any trouble. Thank Heaven, this set is +over!" + +"You are complimentary," laughed Lord Hilton. + +"So I am; but you don't mind it. Here he is. Let me introduce you before +he takes me off. Lord Hilton, Mr. Closs." + +The next moment Clara was whirling through the room, with Hepworth +Closs' arm around her waist, and her hand on his shoulder. She kept her +word, and spent half her evening with him, managing to escape +observation as much as possible, and thus secured a few hours of supreme +happiness. + +Lord Hope had received his brother-in-law with gentlemanly ease. How +could he help it, not being master at Houghton? + +Besides, he was disposed to cast off all responsibility with regard to +his daughter's choice of a husband, and leave everything to the judgment +and pride of the old countess, who happened to like Closs, and was not +aware how much of that evening he spent with her grandchild. + +Rachael was in ecstasies. She loved her brother dearly, and his apparent +reconciliation with her husband lifted the last cloud from her heart. It +seemed to her that night as if she had nothing to wish for. + +The old countess stood to her post bravely, until after the supper-rooms +had been thrown open and the gay crowds had passed in and out again; but +when the dancing had recommenced and the conversation around her grew +brilliant and a little confusing, she turned suddenly pale, and would +have fallen, but that Lady Clara, who stood near, sprang forward and +threw both arms around her. + +"She is better; she can walk now. I will go with her," cried the excited +young creature. "Papa, you shall help her up-stairs, then I will take +care of her," she added, seeing how helpless the old lady was. + +Lord Hope almost carried the old lady up-stairs. Then Clara called aloud +for Caroline Brown, who came out from her chamber, and, between them, +they led the old countess into the tower-room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +THE OLD WOMAN WANDERS BACK AGAIN. + + +Old Mrs. Yates had left the railroad station two miles back, and was +walking wearily along the high road toward the village, which lay, as it +were, at the feet of Houghton Castle, like a spaniel crouching at the +foot of its mistress. At the station and all along the road she had +observed an unusual commotion. Carriages in an unprecedented number were +waiting for special trains, which came in more than once that day for +Houghton Castle. + +All the vehicles in the neighborhood were in motion, dashing to and from +the village inns, the castle, and a neighboring town, where +accommodations for a great access of people could be obtained. + +Hannah Yates was more than once nearly run over and driven back to the +banks of the highway by those flying vehicles, where she stood +half-terrified, half-curious, looking after them in wistful +astonishment. + +What could this tumultuous movement mean? Was it a wedding--but of whom? +A funeral--the old countess? + +No, no! Destiny could not be so cruel. Besides, there was no such eager +driving or smiling faces when the head of that castle was taken from its +broad portals to the family vault. It must be some festival, and she was +yet in time. + +At an abrupt curve of the road the old woman came suddenly upon a full +view of the castle. It was all ablaze with lights, and rose up from the +embosoming trees like some enchanted palace upon which a tempest of +stars had rained down in all their heavenly brightness. The broad +facade which connected the tower was flooded with noonday light, and she +could discover groups of people moving to and fro on the stone terrace +in front, rendered so small by the distance that they seemed unreal and +fairy-like. Down to the verge of the park and upward, curving through +the woods, she could trace the chestnut avenue by wreaths of colored +lanterns that blazed from tree to tree like mammoth jewels chaining them +together. Now and then a carriage broke to view, sweeping along the +macadamized avenue, clearly revealed by the light that fell around it. + +Never in her life had the old woman seen such splendid commotion about +that stately building, yet she could remember many a festive scene in +its old walls, when crowned princes had been entertained there with a +degree of splendor scarcely exceeded in their own palaces. + +As the old woman stood gazing upon this scene, a countryman, passing +along the highway, paused near her to get a sight of the castle. + +"What is going on up yonder?" inquired the woman, drawing toward him and +speaking in his own broad dialect. + +"What is't at yon castle? An' who mon you be that donna know that the +oud lady up at Houghton is giving a grand blow-out to her gran'child, +Lord Hope's daughter, an' to Lady Hope, as people thought she would +never abide in her sight?" + +"And is Lord and Lady Hope at the castle?" + +"Aye, an' the young lady, too--her that the oud countess is o'er fond +of; but the young 'un is a right comely lass, an' the oud 'un might go +furder and fare worse." + +Mrs. Yates gathered the woolen shawl she had travelled in about her, and +went hastily down the bank on which she had been standing, so excited +that all the weakness of age seemed to have been suddenly swept from +her. + +She had intended to sleep in the village that night; now she bent her +steps resolutely toward the castle. + +As she came out of the chestnut avenue, keeping upon the turf and among +the shadows, all of the glory of that illumination broke upon her. + +The broad terrace, flooded with light--a fountain, directly in front, +shooting up a column of liquid crystal thirty feet or more, where it +branched off, like a tree of quivering ice swayed gracefully in the +wind, and broke up in a storm of drops that rained downward, flashing +and glittering through that golden atmosphere to their source again. + +Above this rose those grand old towers, garlanded with colored lamps +that wound in and out of the clinging ivy in great wreaths and chains of +tinted fire, which harmonized with the quivering foliage, and flooded +the fountain, the terrace, and all the neighboring trees with a soft +atmosphere of golden green. + +Here and there the gray old stonework of the towers broke through, +revealing glimpses of the giant strength which lay hidden underneath; +and over the right hand tower, from a flag-staff turned around and +around with star-like lights, the broad, red banner, with which the +Carsets had for centuries defied their enemies and welcomed their +friends, floated slowly out upon the night wind. + +Hannah Yates saw all this, and knew, by the music which thrilled the air +around her, that the revel, whatever it was, had commenced; for a sound +of pleasant voices and sweet laughter came through the open windows, and +from the depths of the park--where an ox had been roasted whole that +day, and wine and beer had flowed freely as the waters of the +fountain--came subdued sounds of a waning festival, which had been +given to the tenantry and villagers. The gaiety of the castle was +answered back from the park, and harmonized by that of the working +people who tilled all the broad lands around it. + +When the old woman heard these answering sounds she felt that an heiress +to all this greatness was acknowledged that night, for when lords +gathered in the castle, and tenants in the park, it was usually to +acknowledge the rights of a coming heir, and she could not believe that +all this had been done in honor of Lady Hope. + +Hannah Yates lost all the unnatural strength that had brought her among +this splendor. She knew that it was scarcely possible that she could +speak with Lady Carset that night, if she could, indeed, gain admittance +to the castle; but she went around to a back entrance, and so made her +way, unseen, to the tower-chamber, which opened into Lady Carset's +dressing-room. There she sat down and waited, hour after hour, until at +last the door opened, and the old countess came in, walking feebly +between two young girls, one of whom she had never seen before, but the +other made the sinking heart leap in her bosom. + +When the old countess entered, the lights in her room were shaded, but +they struck those masses of jewels in the snowy whiteness of her hair +and upon her bosom with a brilliancy that revealed the gray pallor of +that aged face with painful distinctness. + +Hannah Yates arose from the shaded place in which she was sitting, and +came forward to support her old mistress. + +The countess looked up, and a faint smile flickered across her face. + +"Ah! Yates, is it you?" + +Mrs. Yates made no answer, but took that frail form in her arms and +carried it to the couch. + +"Take them off! take them off! They are heavy, ah, so heavy!" + +The old lady put a waving hand to her head, indicating that it was the +diamonds that troubled her. + +Mrs. Yates, who had performed this office many a time before, unclasped +the jewels and laid them on a sofa-table close by, then she removed the +burning stones from that oppressed bosom, and unclasped them from the +slender arms, while her mistress lay struggling for breath, with her +eyes fixed on that kind old face with a look of touching helplessness. + +"Give me water," she whispered. + +Caroline ran for a goblet of water, and held it to those white lips. The +countess drank a swallow and then called out: + +"Wine! wine!" + +Wine was brought, and she drank a little. + +"Go, my child," she whispered, seeing how anxious and pale Clara +appeared, in spite of the cloudy softness of her dress. "Go to your room +and get some rest. Ah, me! how all this wearies, wearies!" + +The two girls hesitated. There was something in that sweet old face that +kept them spellbound. The old lady saw it, and reaching forth her hand, +drew them, one after the other, down to her lips, and kissed them. + +"Good-night, good-night!" + +How softly those gentle words fell from her lips. With what yearning +fondness her eyes followed those young creatures as they went +reluctantly from the room, looking back in wistful sorrow, as they left +her in the care of Yates. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +LADY HOPE IN THE CASTLE. + + +Lady Clara had been dancing, talking and receiving such homage as would +have satisfied the ambition of a princess. She had managed to snatch +time to exchange many a sweet word and bright look with her lover, and +would have been happy in delicious weariness, but for the sudden +indisposition which had fallen upon her grandmother. As it was she could +hardly realize anything, but gave way to intense weariness, and almost +fell asleep as Margaret was undressing her. + +But Caroline had been alone all the evening, within hearing of the +laughter, the music, and feeling the very tread of the dancers in every +nerve. She was young, ardent, and naturally felt a craving wish for the +amusement she had resolutely denied herself; now, less than ever, could +she feel a desire for sleep. Instead of seeking her room she wandered +off to a wing of the castle, in which the picture gallery stretched its +silent range of dead shadows, and tried to throw off the unaccountable +excitement that possessed her, by walking up and down the long gallery. + +The late moon was shining through the windows, and a crowd of dimly +outlined figures, in armor or sweeping garments, looked down upon her +from the walls. + +Why this strange spirit of unrest had sent her to that gallery she could +not have told, but it was there still, urging her on and on, she could +not tell where, but walked swiftly up and down, up and down, as if +striving to weary herself in a desire for the slumber that seemed to +have fallen upon every human being in the castle. + +As she was walking thus wildly, a footstep, not her own, disturbed her. +She stopped to listen--made sure that it was some one advancing, and +drew slowly back toward the wall, hoping to shelter herself among the +low-hanging pictures. + +The moonlight, from a neighboring window, lay full upon her as she +retreated across the room, with her face turned down the gallery, and +her breath hushed in fear. She saw, coming toward her, now in shadow, +now in broader light, a lady, in garments of rustling silk, sweeping far +back on the oaken floor, and gleaming duskily, amber-hued in the +imperfect light of a small silver lamp which she carried in her hand--a +beautiful lady, with rubies on her neck and in her hair. The lamplight, +for a moment, concentrated on a face whose weariness was overborne by +slumbering triumph, which poised her head like that of a newly crowned +empress. + +Caroline stood for the moment fascinated, then made a swift retreat, for +she saw those great, black eyes turned full upon her, and fled in a +panic. + +A shriek--the crash of a falling lamp, and a mass of dusky drapery +huddled together on the floor, brought the girl out of her covert. +Something must have happened--the lady had hurt herself--perhaps could +not arise from want of help. She went down the gallery, passing first +one window then another, taking the moonlight from each, when the fallen +lady uttered another cry, sprang to her feet and fled down the gallery, +leaving her lamp overturned, with the wick still burning. + +Caroline took up the lamp, and placing it on a bracket, left the +gallery, vexed with herself for the fright she had occasioned this +strange lady by wandering about so heedlessly in the dark. Still she +could not sleep, but went to her own room and sat waiting there for the +morning to dawn. + +Perhaps an hour after Caroline left the picture gallery, a figure +clothed in white from head to foot, came through an end door, walking +firmly through the darkness, and touching the floor with the noiseless +tread of her naked feet. She walked straight to the silver lamp and took +it from the bracket. Now her face was revealed. It was Lady Hope. + +She held the lamp before her, and moved on very slowly, looking ahead +through the darkness with those wide open, staring eyes. + +After that, when all the fires of that vivid illumination had burned out +in the park, and were quenched in the castle, a bright star seemed +wandering up and down the vast building; now at one window, then at +another, lighting it up with fitful gleams, then leaving it in darkness, +and appearing again in some far off casement. + +Once or twice the form of a woman in white cast its cloudy outline +across the plate glass of an unshuttered window; but no person was in +the park to observe her, and she wandered on with a lamp in her firm +hand, which brightened over the pallid outlines of her face, and kindled +up her night drapery like sunshine over drifted snow. Up and down along +the corridors, and through the long drawing-room, the figure swept, +carrying her lamp, and moving noiselessly over the floor with her white, +naked feet. + +Upon that unconscious face a look of deep pain had stamped itself in +place of haughty triumph, and the wide open black eyes had a far-off +look, as if their glance could penetrate the walls and the very sky +beyond. + +On and on the woman wandered, till she came to a closed door in one of +the corridors. Here she paused, laid her right hand on the silver knob, +and turned it so noiselessly that, when the door opened, it seemed like +the action of a ghost. + +The room was darkened from even the faint light of the stars by sweeping +draperies of silk, which glowed out redly as the lamp light fell upon it +in flashes, as if suddenly drenched with wine. + +A high ebony bedstead stood in the centre of this noble room, canopied +half way over, and draped like the windows, so that a red gleam fell +upon the whiteness of the counterpane as the light of that lamp fell +upon it. + +A man lay profoundly sleeping on this bed--a handsome, middle-aged man, +whose thick brown beard showed soft gleams of silver in it, and whose +hair, though waving and bright, was growing thin on the top of his head. + +The man appeared to sleep heavily, and a smile lay on his lips; but a +look of habitual care had written itself on his forehead, and his mouth +was surrounded by stern, hard lines, that seemed graven there with +steel. + +The woman stood by this sleeping man, gazing on him with the far-off +look of a ghost. She turned at last, and set the light down on a +console, where it fell less distinctly on the pillow where that head was +lying. Then she crept back and sat down on the side of the bed, so close +to the unconscious sleeper that her shadow fell across him. Slowly, as +if she had been touching a serpent, her hand crept stealthily toward +that which lay in the supine carelessness of sleep on the white +counterpane. She touched it at last, but started back. A blood-red stain +from the curtain fell across it as her bending form let the light stream +through the silk. + +The woman drew back and passed her left hand quickly over that which had +touched the sleeping man. Again and again she rubbed one hand over the +other, muttering to herself. + +Then a look of passionate distress came to that dark face, and, going to +a marble table, on which a silver bowl and pitcher stood, she poured +some water into the bowl, and plunged the hand with which she had +touched that sleeping man into it. The splash of the water aroused him, +and its icy coldness shocked the woman out of her unnatural sleep. She +turned around wildly, with the water dripping from her hands--turned to +find herself in her husband's chamber, with his astonished eyes fixed +upon her as he sat up in bed. + +"Rachael!" + +She did not answer him, but stood gazing around the room in wild +bewilderment. How came she standing there? By what spirit of love or +hate had she been sent to that silver basin? + +"Rachael, is anything wrong? Are you ill?" + +The woman began to shiver. Perhaps the ice cold water had chilled her. + +She looked down upon her hands as if the red shadow haunted her yet, but +all she saw were drops of pure water rolling down her slender fingers, +and falling one by one to the floor. + +"I do not know!" she answered, in cold bewilderment. "Something drove me +out from the bed, and sent me wandering, wandering, wandering! But how I +came here, alas! Norton, I cannot tell you." + +Rachael shivered all over as she spoke, and, as if drawn that way by +some unseen force, came close to Lord Hope's bed, and sat down upon it. + +"Oh, I am so cold--so dreary cold!" + +An eider down quilt lay across the foot of the bed. Lord Hope reached +forward and folded it around her, very gently, murmuring: + +"My poor wife! poor Rachael! You have been dreaming." + +"No; it was not all dreaming, Norton. I did see--no matter what; but it +was something that terrified me out of all the joy and glory of this +night. I must have been fearfully worn out to sleep after that; but the +lamp, which I left behind me, is burning there, and my hands were in the +cold water, trying to wash themselves, when you awoke me. I must have +been in that fearful picture gallery again." + +"You have courage to go there at all, Rachael!" + +"I got there without knowing it. The rooms have been so changed I lost +my way, and took the wrong corridor, and there I saw--" + +"_Her_ picture." + +"Was it that? Oh! was it only that?" + +"It is there--her picture--life size; and so like that I would not look +on it for the world." + +"But what carried me there, Norton? On this night, too, when I have been +honored, as your wife should be for the first time! when her mother has +taken me by the hand and lifted the cloud from my name! Ah, Norton! +Norton! it was glory to me when I saw your eyes kindle, and answer back +to mine, as the noblest of the land crowded round to do me homage. Then +I knew that the old love was perfect yet. Oh, Destiny is cruel, that it +will not let me have one perfect day!" + +"After all, it was but a picture. Why allow it to distress you so?" + +Lord Hope took her hands in his. She did not shrink from his touch now, +as she had in her abnormal sleep; but he felt her palms growing warm, +and saw the light coming back to her eyes, where it had seemed frozen at +first. + +"And you love me? I was sure of it to-night. That was my chiefest glory. +Lacking that, what would the homage of all the world be to Rachael +Closs? I was thinking this, when _that_ seemed to start up before me, +and whispering to myself, 'He loves me! he loves me! he loves me!' like +a young girl; for I have seemed very young to-night. Why not? A glorious +life lies before us. You will now step more fearlessly forward, and take +your place among the great men of the earth,--while I--I will be +anything; charm stones, work miracles, to win popularity and lay it at +your feet. + +"Say that you love me once more, Norton, and then I will creep back to +my pillow, the proudest and happiest woman on earth--for, after all, it +was only a picture!" + +Rachael Closs had hardly done speaking when a cry of distress rang +through the neighboring corridor, the door of Lord Hope's chamber was +flung open, and a pallid face looked in. + +"Come--come at once! My lady is dying!" + +Round to other rooms came that cry of terror, arousing those two +girls--the one from her sleep, the other from her mournful vigil--and +drawing the family together, in pale groups, into the tower-chamber. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER. + + +The old countess was not dying, but dead. Hannah Yates, who had watched +her faithfully, did not know when the last faint breath left her lips; +but she became conscious of a solemn stillness which settled upon the +room, and bending forward, saw that soft gray shadows had crept over +that gentle face, up to the hair of silky snow, and down to the slender +throat, till it was lost in the purple splendor of that festive robe. + +There she lay, tranquil as a sleeping child, with a calm, holy smile +breaking through the shadows, and her little hands meekly folded over +the gossamer lace on her bosom. + +Upon a marble table close by lay the jewels she had worn--a glittering +and neglected heap of fire, which gave out more light than the shaded +lamps that threw their beams brightly on them, and shed tender moonlight +on that lovely old face. + +The family were slowly gathering in that death-chamber, where Clara and +Caroline were clinging together in bitter grief, and old Mrs. Yates was +kneeling with her face buried in the purple of her mistress' robe. + +Lord Hope came in at last, followed by Lady Hope, who, even in that +solemn place, could not suppress her pride as her eyes fell on Lady +Clara, whom she recognized as the heiress of all that gentle lady had +left. But Lady Clara saw nothing of this. The poor girl was weeping out +her passionate sorrow in the arms of her friend, who bent over her with +such tender sympathy that her face was almost concealed. + +As Lord Hope advanced toward the death-couch, old Mrs. Yates arose and +stood before him. When he had last seen her she was an old woman, but in +the prime of her strength; now her shoulders stooped, her hair was +entirely white, and she faltered in her walk. He reached out his hand to +her. She did not appear to observe it, but said to him, in a quiet +voice: + +"My lord, I am glad to find you here. God has so ordered it that I was +too late for her. She could not hear what I had to say, but you must +listen in her stead." + +"At the proper time, Hannah; but we must not talk of worldly things in +this presence." + +Lord Hope bent his head reverently toward the pale form upon the couch, +and the old woman also bowed down her face meekly, as she had learned to +bow her head in prison; but she answered, with gentle firmness: + +"No--that which I have to say must be told now, and in her dead +presence. Since God has forbidden me to bring doubt and sorrow on her +last moments I thank Him for it, but you must listen." + +"Not now--not now," answered Hope, quickly. He was disturbed by the +sight of this old woman, whom he had believed to be buried for life in +an American prison; but he had learned the great art of self-control, +and gave no indication of the shock her presence in that room gave him. + +His first impulse was to get Lady Hope out of the apartment. She had +never seen Mrs. Yates, but he was fearful that some mention of her name +might renew the nervous agitation from which she had but just recovered. + +"Come with me, Rachael," he said, in a low voice. "I will take you to +our room, for this is a painful sight. Then I will return, alone, to +hear what this person has to say." + +Lady Hope was willing to leave a scene which filled her with gloom. + +Whispering to Clara that she would come back and watch with her when the +old woman was gone, she twisted a corner of the black lace shawl, which +covered her head, around her throat, and went away, glad to escape that +strange old woman, against whom she had taken one of those sudden +antipathies which were common to her. + +"Dear me! I look almost as deathly as she does, with all these shadows +on my face," said Lady Hope, as she stood before the mirror in her +dressing-room, and unwound the black lace from her head. + +She was correct. What with fatigue, and the black shadows flung by her +shawl, the best friends of this proud woman would have recognized her +with difficulty. + +She turned for her husband's answer, but found that he had left her at +the door. All rest was broken up for her now; in fact, it was almost +morning; so she began to pace the room to and fro, thinking, with +exultation, of the honors and wealth that had poured in upon her family +by that gentle old lady's death. + +Meantime Lord Hope had gone back to the death-chamber, where Mrs. Yates +and the two young ladies were waiting. + +The old woman arose from her knees when he came in. + +"That which I have to say, Lord Hope, relates to you, first of all, now +that my dear old mistress is gone. When the first Lady Hope came to +America, her little girl, then between two and three years of age, was +placed in my son's family, and under my charge, as her mother had been +when a child. She had reasons, which you will understand, for wishing +the child to pass as the daughter of my son; so we gave her his name, +and she was known everywhere as my grandchild. + +"We had another little girl, about the same age, the daughter of Mrs. +Brown, an actress; fair, like your child, and very pretty. This child, +Caroline Brown, was almost given to us; for, after the first year, we +never saw her mother, or received anything from her. One night I +received a note asking me to come down to one of the theatres, and meet +a person who had business with me. There was no name to the note; but I +supposed it must be from Mrs. Brown, and went. But no person was there +to meet me, and I went home disappointed. That night Lady Hope died." + +Lord Hope, who had been anxious and restless, drew a deep breath; for he +understood, by the slow caution of the old woman's speech, that she +meant to reveal nothing which his anxious and listening daughter might +not hear. + +"My lady left a letter behind her, with some money, and the Carset +diamonds, which she charged me to deliver, with my own hands, here at +the castle. + +"She had fears about her daughter--anxieties, which I need not +explain--and besought me to keep the little girl; to educate her, and +conceal her identity until she was eighteen years old, when I, or my +son, should take her back to England, and allow her to choose her own +way of life. + +"I had talked this matter over with my lady, and gave her a solemn +promise to protect her child, and the honor of her name, with my life, +if that were needed. The very night of her death Lady Hope gave all the +papers necessary to the recognition of her child to my son. He brought +them home, and, while the children were asleep, we two pledged ourselves +to protect your child from everything that her mother feared, and to +secure for her all that she hoped. + +"My lord, we kept our oaths. He died, broken-hearted, under the terrible +burden which we took on ourselves that night. I lived, carrying it with +me, till my shoulders are bowed, and my hair white with old age. + +"The next day, while _she_ lay dead, a fire broke out in the house where +we lived. Our rooms were high up; the flames and smoke mounted so +suddenly that it was impossible for us to escape by the stairs. The two +little girls had crept into a corner of the room, and sat crying there, +with the fire and smoke rolling toward them. I had secured the box, in +which were Lady Hope's jewels and papers, and swung it over my +shoulders, then snatched up your child." + +Here the two girls, who stood, pale and trembling, by the window, +uttered a simultaneous cry. + +"I remember! I remember!" they said, each to the other, then clung +together and listened. + +The old woman scarcely heeded this interruption. + +Lord Hope looked toward the window, so bewildered that he could neither +see nor hear anything distinctly. + +Mrs. Yates went on: + +"I called on Daniel's wife to bring the other child. Firemen and +citizens were climbing the ladders and leaping in at the windows. One +man sprang into the room and out again, while I waited for my turn. He +had something in his arms huddled up like a bundle--pushed me aside and +took my place on the ladder. Then Daniel's wife came to me, wringing her +hands and crying. She could not find the child. + +"But I had the one most precious to me in my arms. The flames drove me +forward, and I let myself down on the ladder. Your child was safe. I +know now that the man who pushed me from the window saved little +Caroline Brown and brought her to you. She has since been known as your +daughter. I saw her in your arms on board the steamer. Last night she +was recognized as grand-daughter of Lady Carset." + +"But the other--my own child?" + +"I had no means of telling you the truth at the time, and, after that, +would not do it. The child, I knew, would be a safeguard to little +Clara. You would not inquire for her while supposing her in your own +possession. But we took one precaution--that of giving her the name of +Caroline, which was sure to prevent inquiry. After that she was known +as Caroline Yates, and, until my son's death, thought herself his child. +I never lived with them after that, but saw her from time to time, +though she never noticed me or knew of the interest I took in her; but, +year by year, I saw her grow up, until my son died. Then I lost all +knowledge of her. + +"One day I was free to look for this dear child, and went to the cottage +where my son's will had secured her a home. It was empty. She had gone +away with some singing woman and a person named Brown, who had been her +music-teacher. + +"The woman had claimed to be her mother, and was known on the stage as +Olympia." + +"Go on! go on!" exclaimed Lord Hope; "I am listening." + +The two girls in the window were listening also. As they understood this +story more and more clearly, their arms tightened around each other and +a look of unutterable affection beamed upon their faces; but that of the +girl known as Lady Clara glowed with a look of generous self-abnegation, +while her companion was troubled, and almost sad. + +"Go on! go on!" + +"I left America at once on learning this, bringing Lady Hope's papers +and Lady Carset's jewels with me. Olympia was in England, and, no doubt, +your daughter was with her. First I came here, and gave up the trust +that had become a heavy, heavy burden. Then I went in search of my young +lady. The time had come when she might claim her title and her rights, +without violating her mother's directions. After much search, I found +Olympia's house, and inquired for the person known as her daughter. She +told me herself, and with bitter anger, that she had no daughter. I +knew the woman, and attempted to make her comprehend that I wished to +find the young lady for her own good; but this flung her into a passion +of rage, and she ordered me from the house. Then followed an attempt to +bribe me. Still I kept up the search, and at last traced the girl they +called Caroline Brown to this neighborhood." + +"To this neighborhood!" exclaimed Lord Hope. "Where? where?" + +"My lord, up to this time you have only the word of an old woman, who +has suffered under great reproach for all this. I know that the identity +of a nobleman's child and the transfer of a great inheritance cannot be +so proven. But here is the letter, which Lady Hope gave to me, and +another that she wrote to you on the day of her death. Poor, poor lady! +She was very sad that morning, and would undertake the letter at once. +God seemed to warn her of what would happen in the next twenty-four +hours." + +Lord Hope took the papers which the old woman handed to him, and there, +in the presence of the dead, gathered a confirmation of all Mrs. Yates +had told him. + +The paper had grown yellow since it was blotted with the tears of a +woman he had once loved. No wonder it shook his hand as he read. + +"And this girl, my daughter, where is she?" he cried, with a passionate +outburst of grief. + +The girl known as Lady Clara came out from the shadows of the window +curtains, and made an effort to draw Caroline with her; but she shrank +back and stood alone, trembling violently. + +"Papa!" + +"Oh, my poor, poor child! How will you bear this?" cried Lord Hope. + +"Trust me, dear, dear papa--for I will call you so. Nothing can break +my heart, if you and mamma Rachael will love me yet; for the rest, I am +glad, so glad, that I am no longer a lady, and am left without a guinea. +This is to be really free!" + +"Ah, poor child, how can we ever part with you?" + +"Your own daughter will not begrudge me a little love; and, after all, I +do belong to mamma Rachael more than she ever can. That is something. +Besides, it is from me that you must take your daughter, for I brought +her here. Ask her if I did not." + +The young girl was smiling, but tears stood in her eyes, and her lips +quivered as she spoke. + +"Come with me, father, and I will give you to her. It is hard, but I +will." + +She led Lord Hope across the room, drew back the curtain, and let in the +soft gray light of that early dawn upon the trembling young creature who +stood there. + +Lord Hope shook in all his limbs when he saw that face. The eyes full of +tears seemed to reproach him as _hers_ had on that fatal night. + +He reached out his arms, with a convulsive heaving of the chest, and +faltered out: + +"Forgive me! forgive me! for I have bitterly repented." + +He did not kiss her--he dared not even touch her forehead in that solemn +presence; but he laid one hand on her head, rested his own upon it, +asking that forgiveness of God which her heart gave, but could only +express by pathetic silence. + +Then the old woman came up to the window, and stood there, waiting. + +When Lord Hope fell back against the window-frame, strengthless from +excess of feeling, she laid a hand upon the girl's shoulder, and, +turning her face gently to the light, gazed upon it with tender +scrutiny. Then she said, talking to herself: + +"It is her face! It is her face!" + +"And you are Daniel Yates' mother. How I shall love you! Oh, how I loved +him!" + +Then the old woman's face began to quiver, and her large gray eyes +filled with the slow tears old age gives out with such pain. + +"Yes, child, you must love me a little for your mother's sake." + +"And for the sake of that good man, your son, who was a father to me. +How often he has told me that, if there was anything grand or good in +him, it came from the best mother that ever lived! 'Some day,' he once +said, 'God may be merciful and let you know her. Then remember that she +has nothing left but you.' I do remember it, and no child ever loved a +grandmother better than I will love you." + +The old woman lifted up her head from the gentle embrace thus offered +her, and turned to her dead mistress. + +A smile, soft as that hovering about that cold mouth, came to her lips +and eyes. + +"God is very good to me. Are the angels telling you of it, my old +mistress, that you smile so?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +THE NEMESIS. + + +The last tender words were still lingering on the lips of Mrs. Yates, +when the door opened and Lady Hope stood upon the threshold. + +She had become restless beyond self-control in her own room, and came +back to the death-chamber, wondering what detained her husband there so +long. She had thrown the lace shawl from her head entirely; but it fell +around her shoulders, shading her bare white arms and beautiful neck, +which the amber-hued dress would otherwise have left uncovered. Framed +in the doorway she made an imperial picture. + +"My lord," she said, advancing to her husband, "what detains you here so +long?" + +Old Mrs. Yates stepped forward with a scared, wild look; a gleam of +anger or fear, bright as fire, and fierce as a martyr's faith, shot into +her eyes and broadened there. She came close to Lady Hope, facing her, +and laid one hand heavily on her arm. + +The haughty woman drew back, and would have shaken the hand from her +arm, but it clung there with a grip of steel. + +"Lord Hope, is this woman your wife?" + +"His wife! Yes, old woman, I am his wife," cried Rachael, pale with +indignation; "but who authorized you to ask?" + +The old woman did not heed her scornfulness, but turned her eyes upon +Lord Hope, whose face was already white with vague terror. + +"Is she your wife--the woman who was called Rachael Closs?" + +"It is Lady Hope, my wife. Why do you ask?" + +"_Because it was this woman who murdered your first wife, Lady Carset's +daughter!_" + +More than the stillness of death settled upon that room. The two girls +hushed their sobs, and clung closer together in awful silence. The man +and the woman, on whom these words had fallen like a rock hurled from +some great high stood living and human, but struck into marble by a +single blow. The man could not move; the woman did not seem to breathe. +Hannah Yates went on, her voice low, but ringing out clear and +distinctly like a funeral knell: + +"On the twenty-first of June, now more than fifteen years ago, I saw +you, Lord Hope, come out of a house in Forty-third Street, in New York. + +"You know the house, and can never forget who lived in it. That day I +had carried your child to see its mother, and left word at home for my +son, Daniel Yates, to go after her; for I had business with a woman at +one of the theatres, and was not sure of coming back in time. The woman +I expected to see was not there; but it took me a long time to walk +back, and it was about ten o'clock when I reached the house in +Forty-third Street. Thinking it possible that Daniel might not have come +home from his work till late, I was crossing the street to go in and +inquire about the child, when the front door opened, and you came down +the steps, with a fierce, angry air, such as I had seen many a time on +this side the water. I knew that your presence in that house could have +no peaceful meaning, and went over. I had a latch-key, and did not need +to ring. + +"The hall was dark--everything was still below; but a sound of weeping +and moans of distress came from my lady's chamber. I went up and found +her in the dark, lying across her bed, trembling dreadfully. She +shrieked when I bent over her, and it was not till I got a light that +she would be satisfied that it was only me. Then she sat up, and, in a +rapid way, told me that you had been there after the child, and would +have it but that the little creature had crept away and could not be +found anywhere in the house. She must have got into the street, and you +would find her, or she might be lost. She begged me to go at once and +look for the child, and wanted to go with me; but I would not let her +do that. I took her arms from my neck--for, in her joy at seeing the old +woman, she had flung them there--made her lie down on the bed, and went +away, promising to come back if I did not find the child; but, if I did, +it was to be carried to my own house, as she was afraid to trust it near +her. With this understanding I left her to search for the little girl. + +"She may have crept down to the basement door and be hiding under the +steps, I thought. Of course, the little thing would be afraid to go out +into the streets. So the first thing I did was to run down into the +area. In my haste I had left the door ajar, and bethought myself to go +back and shut it, but while I was searching the area a woman ran up the +steps and, pushing the door open, went into the house. + +"At first I thought it was one of the servants, for they all appeared to +be out, but she had on a striped India shawl, such as ladies wore in +travelling, and a straw bonnet, from which the veil had blown back. +These were not things worn by servants; besides, her air and walk +convinced me that this woman was of another class. As she entered the +door I saw her face for a single moment, but long enough to show me that +I had never seen it before. + +"The child was not in the area. I rang the basement bell, meaning to +question the servants, but no one answered it. Then I hesitated where to +go next, and as I stood in the shadow of the steps thinking the matter +over, this same woman came through the door, shut it without noise, and +ran down to the pavement. I saw her face clearly then, for the street +lamp was bright. It was that of the woman by your side, Lord Hope." + +Rachael Closs turned a pallid face upon her husband. + +"Will you permit this woman to go on? Is this hideous lie a thing for +my husband to encourage by his silence? Who is this audacious woman?" + +Lord Hope attempted to speak, but his white lips seemed frozen together. + +"I am Hannah Yates, the nurse of that murdered lady; the woman who has +given fourteen years of her life, rather than have scandal fall on the +husband her foster-child loved, or the awful truth reach her dear old +mistress, who died, thank God, without knowing it." + +"And you listen, my lord, to this woman, a confessed murderer, and, no +doubt, an escaped convict?" + +"He _must_ listen, and he must believe! How did I know that he was in my +lady's house that night, and the moment of his leaving it? How did I +know the very words he used in attempting to force the child from her? +No human being but himself and the poor lady, whose lips were cold +within an hour, knew of anything that passed between the husband and +wife the last time they ever met on earth." + +"But you might have overheard--no doubt were listening--if my lord was +indeed in that place at all. This is no evidence, even if a woman, +convicted by her own confession of a crime she now seeks to cast upon +another, could bear witness." + +Rachael Closs spoke out clearly now, and her eyes, shining with the +ferocity of a wild animal at bay, turned full upon the old woman who +accused her. + +The old woman put a hand into her bosom and drew out a small poniard. +Rachael Closs gave a sharp gasp, and snatched at the poniard, but the +old woman held it firmly. + +"Lord Hope, this has been in your hands a hundred times. When did you +part with it? To what person did you give it? Your crest is on the +handle; her blood rusts the blade." + +Lord Hope lifted both hands to conceal the horror that was on his face, +to shut out the weapon from his sight. + +"Oh! my God! my God! spare me more of this!" + +The proud noble was shaking from head to foot. The veins swelled purple +on his forehead. The sight of that slender weapon swept away his last +doubt. Lady Hope shrank back from his side, but watched him keenly in +her agony of guilt and dread. Her proud figure withered down, her +features were locked and hard, but out of their pallor her great eyes +shone with terrible brilliancy. Her husband's hands dropped at last, and +he turned a look of such despairing anguish upon her that a cry broke +from her lips. + +"You--you condemn me?" + +Lord Hope turned from her, shuddering. + +"You know! you know!" + +He remembered giving her this poniard on the very day of her crime. He +had been in the habit of carrying it with him when travelling, and +though sharp as a viper's tongue, it, with the daintily enamelled +sheath, was a pretty table ornament, and she had begged it of him for a +paper cutter. He had seen the sheath since, but never the poniard, and +now the sight of it was a blow through the heart. + +"I picked it up by her bed that morning, after the murder. There is a +person in the castle who saw me take it from the place where it had +fallen. If any one here doubts me, let them ask a person called Margaret +Casey--let them ask her." + +That moment the door of the room opened, and Hepworth Closs stood on the +threshold. He had been informed of Lady Carset's illness, just as he was +leaving the castle, and came back only to hear that she was gone. The +scene upon which he looked was something worse than a death-chamber. + +"Ask him if he did not see this poniard in her room while she lay +unburied in the house." + +Rachael turned her eyes upon her brother--those great, pleading eyes, +which were fast taking an expression of pathetic agony, like those of a +hunted doe. + +"And you--and you!" she said, with a cry of pain that thrilled the heart +of her wretched husband. "Has all the world turned against me? Old +woman, what have I ever done to you that you should hunt me down so?" + +Hepworth Closs came forward and threw an arm around his sister's waist. + +"What is it, Rachael? Who is hunting you down?" he said, tenderly. "No +one shall hurt you while I am near." + +She turned, threw her arms around his neck, and covered his face with +passionate kisses. Then she turned to Lord Hope, held out her pale hands +imploringly; and cried out in pathetic anguish: + +"Oh, do not believe it! Do not believe it!" + +But Lord Hope stepped back, and turned away his face. She knew that this +motion was her doom. + +"Let me look at the poniard," she said, with unnatural gentleness. "I +have a right to examine the proofs brought against me." + +Hannah Yates gave her the dagger. She looked at it earnestly a moment, +laid one hand upon her heart, as if its beating stifled her, then lifted +the other and struck. + +"Now, my husband, will you kiss me? I have given them blood for blood, +life for life!" + +She fell in a heap at her husband's feet, and while death glazed over +her eyes, reached up her arms to him. + +He fell upon his knees, forgetting everything but the one dreadful fact +that she was his wife, and dying. His face drooped to hers, for the lips +were moving, and her eyes turned upon him with pathetic anxiety. + +"It was love for you that led me to it--only that--Oh, believe--beli--" + +"I do! I do!" he cried out, in fearful anguish. "God forgive me, and +have mercy on you!" + +She struggled, lifted up her arms, drew his lips close to hers, and over +them floated the last icy breath that Rachael Closs ever drew. + +Then the young girl, who had loved this woman better than anything on +earth, sank to the floor, and took that pale head in her lap, moaning +over it piteously. + +"My poor mamma! my darling mother! Speak to me! Open your eyes! It is +Clara--your own, own child! Her eyelids close--her lips are falling +apart! Oh! my God, is she dead?" + +She looked piteously in the face of Hepworth Closs, who had knelt by her +side, and asked this question over and over again: + +"Is she dead? Oh, tell me, is she dead?" + +Hepworth Closs bent down, and touched his lips to the cold forehead of +his sister; then he lifted Clara from the floor, and half led her, half +carried her, from the room. + +Then Lord Hope stood up and turned, with a shudder, to the old woman, +who had been to him and his a fearful Nemesis. + +"Hannah Yates," he said, "you have suffered much, concealed much, and, +from your own confession, are not without sin." + +"True, true," murmured the old woman. "I have sinned grievously." + +"Therefore, you should have shown more mercy to this unhappy woman. But +the suffering and the wrong was done to shield this girl from what you +thought an evil influence, and save from reproach two noble houses, to +which she belongs--for her face tells me that your story is true. Spare +the memory of this most unfortunate, if sinful woman. Spare the high +name and noble pride of the old countess, who beseeches you--her very +face seems to change as I speak--for silence and forgetfulness. That +which you have done in love, continue in mercy. Let this miserable +scene, with all that led to it, rest in sacred silence among us. The +persons who have suffered most are now before a tribunal where no +evidence of yours is wanted. Look on your old mistress," he continued, +pointing toward the death couch, "and let her sweet face plead with you. +Had she lived--" + +"Had she lived," said the old woman, "I should not have spoken. Death +itself would not have wrung from me one word of what her daughter +suffered. But the woman who murdered her came suddenly before me. It was +a power beyond my poor will that made me speak; but hereafter no word of +this shall ever pass my lips. No evil story of suffering or bloodshed +shall ever go forth about a lady of Houghton while I can prevent it." + +Lord Hope bent his head, and made an effort to thank her, but he could +not speak. + +"Leave me now," said the old woman. "Let no servants come near these +apartments, save two that can be trusted here with me. Some one send +Margaret Casey and Eliza, her sister, here. Now leave me, Lord Hope, and +you, Lady Carset. You can trust the old woman alone with these two." + +Before noon, that day, it was known in all the country around that the +old countess, Lady Carset, lay in funeral state in the royal +guest-chamber at Houghton Castle, for the long red flag was floating +half-way down its staff, and a hatchment hung in mournful gorgeousness +over the principal entrance between those two massive towers. + +But farther than the flag could be seen, and swift as the wind that +stirred it, went the strange story that the beautiful Lady Hope had been +seized with a violent hemorrhage of the lungs while standing by the +death couch of the old countess, and had died before help could be +obtained. + +After this, another wild rumor took wing. The young lady who had been +some weeks at the castle was only an adopted daughter of Lord Hope, and, +consequently could not become heiress of Houghton under the will or by +entail. The daughter and heiress was at the castle, stricken down with +grief at the double loss that had fallen upon her since her arrival from +abroad, where she had been educated. With a feeling of delicacy that did +her honor she had declined to appear as the acknowledged heiress at the +festival given to Lady Hope, feeling that it might interfere with her +grandmother's independent action with regard to the vast property at her +disposal, if she allowed herself to be proclaimed thus early as the +chosen heiress, which she now undoubtedly was. The will had been read, +and, with the exception of a considerable legacy to Caroline Brown, the +adopted daughter, and provisions for the servants, young Lady Carset +came in for everything. + +Alderman Stacy took this story back to America, and described his +reception at Houghton Castle with such glowing colors--when the +assembled board were at supper one night, in a pleasant, social +way--that one of the fathers proposed forthwith to draw up a resolution +of thanks to young Lady Carset for the hospitality extended to their +illustrious compeer, and forward it, with "the liberty of the city, +under the great seal of New York." At the next meeting of the board this +resolution was carried unanimously--in fact, with acclamation. + +Months went by, twelve or more, and then the trees around that grand old +stronghold blazed out with lights again. Two fountains shot their liquid +brightness over the stone terrace, at which the people from far and near +came to drink. One sent up crystal, and rained down diamonds, as it had +done that night when the old countess died. The other, being of wine, +shot up a column of luminous red into the air, and came down in a storm +of rubies. + +The people, who caught the red drops on their lips, and dipped the +sparkling liquid up with silver ladles, knew that a double wedding was +going on in the castle, and clamored loudly for a sight of their lady +and her bridegroom. + +After a little, the windows along the facade of the building were thrown +back, and a gay throng poured itself into a broad balcony, that +projected a little over the stone terrace, where the wine was flowing, +and the eager people crowding forward for the first look. + +Foremost came Lord Hilton, leading Clara--Lady Carset--by the hand. Then +Hepworth Closs stepped forth, and on his arm a bright, sparkling little +figure, in a cloud of gauzy silk, and crowned with white roses, who +smiled and kissed her hand to the crowd, while her little feet kept +time, and almost danced, to the music, which broke from terrace and +covert as the bridal party appeared. + +Standing a little back, near one of the windows, stood two gentlemen, +one very old and stricken in years, who leaned heavily on his cane, and +looked smilingly down upon the multitude swaying in front of the castle; +and well he might, for two of the finest estates in England had been +joined that day, and from horizon to horizon stretched the united lands +which the children of his grandson would inherit. + +The other gentleman, standing there with the sad, worn face was Lord +Hope, who leaned heavily against the window-frame, and looked afar off +over the heads of the multitude wearily, wearily, as if the days of +marrying and giving in marriage were all a blank to him. When the young +bride, who had given up her name, title and fortune willingly to +another, came up to him at the window, she laid her hand tenderly on his +arm, whispering: + +"Farewell, father, farewell! I am not the less your child because of the +blue blood, for she cannot love you better than I do. Will you not shake +hands with my husband, father?" + +Lord Hope lifted his heavy eyes to Hepworth Closs, saw the features of +another, whom no one ever mentioned now, in that face, flung both arms +about the bridegroom, shaking from head to foot with tearless sobs. + +A little while after a carriage drove from Houghton to the station, and +in two days a steamer sailed with Hepworth Closs and his wife, with that +kind and faithful man, her father, for New York. + +Just as they were about to sail, an old woman came quietly into the +second-class cabin, paid her passage, and rested there, never coming on +deck till the steamer landed. Then she gathered up her effects in a +carpet-bag and went ashore. + +That night a fire blazed on the hearth at Cedar Cottage, and the +dilapidated furniture in the various rooms was arranged in the kitchen. + +About six months after, this old woman was found dead upon an iron +bedstead up-stairs, and the neighbors held a consultation about burying +her at the expense of the town; but, on searching the rooms, plenty of +English gold was found to have kept her comfortable for years. Then some +one remembered that a convict, discharged from the prison not many years +ago, was said to be the mother of Daniel Yates, a good man and excellent +citizen, and they decided to bury the poor old convict by his side. + +There is a very prosperous firm in New York, which has stood the shock +of gold corners, and railway crashes, with the firm resistance of heavy +capital and business integrity. It is the firm of Closs & Brown. + +The younger member is an active, shrewd, generous man, full of +resources, and capable of wonderful combinations. + +The other superintends the in-door business, and makes himself very +useful, in a quiet sort of way, in keeping things straight--no +unimportant position in a business house, let me assure you. + +As for Caroline--Mrs. Hepworth Closs--you may see her, any fine day, +dashing faster than the law allows, along the avenues of Central Park, +holding a pair of white ponies well in hand, while she chats and laughs +with her husband, glorying in him, and exulting in the freedom which she +gained in losing a grand title and estate. + + +THE END. + + + + + MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS' WORKS. + + Each Work is complete in one volume, 12mo. + + THE OLD COUNTESS; OR, THE TWO PROPOSALS. + LORD HOPE'S CHOICE. + THE REIGNING BELLE. + A NOBLE WOMAN. + MARRIED IN HASTE. + WIVES AND WIDOWS; OR, THE BROKEN LIFE. + THE REJECTED WIFE. + THE GOLD BRICK. + THE CURSE OF GOLD. + THE HEIRESS. + FASHION AND FAMINE. + PALACES AND PRISONS. + THE OLD HOMESTEAD. + SILENT STRUGGLES. + MARY DERWENT. + THE WIFE'S SECRET. + THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS. + RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY. + MABEL'S MISTAKE. + DOUBLY FALSE. + + Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth; or $1.50 in Paper Cover. + + Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any or all + of the above books will be sent to any one, to any place, postage + pre-paid, on receipt of their price by the Publishers, + + T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, + 306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Old Countess; or, The Two Proposals, by +Ann S. 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