“New York Weekly” Series BT GEORGIE SHl^LDON. i AUTHOR OP t'OUSAKEN EARL WAYNE>S riOnrL[T\y> **L0ST~-A rEARLE,» EU., Etc. DII.MNGHAM. PUBLISHER. SUOCESSOH TO O. W. CARLETON & CO., a>T3±3w Mrs. Mary J. Holmes* Novels Over a MILLIO IM Sold. THE NEW BOOK MARBUERITE JUST OUX. “As a writer of domestic stories, which are extremely interesting without being extravagant, Mrs. Mary J. Holmes is unrivalled. Her characters are true to life, many of them are quaint, and all are so admirably delineated, that their conduct and peculiarities make an enduring impression upon the readers memory. . The following is a list of Mary J. Holmes’ Novels. TEMPEST AND SUN- DAISY THORNTON. ETHELYN’S MIS- SHINE. CHATEAU D OR. TAKE. ENGLISH ORPHANS. OUEENIE HETHER- MILLBANK. HOMESTEAD ON THE TON.. EDNA BROWNING. HILLSIDE. DARKNESS AND WEST LAWN. ’LENA RIVERS. DAYLIGHT. MILDRED. MEADOW BROOK. HUGH WORTHING- FORREST HOUSE. TON. MADELINE. CAMERON PRIDE. CHRISTMAS STORIES ROSE MATHER. BESSIE’S FORTUNE. GRETCHEN. MARGUERITE (New). DORA DEANE. COUSIN MAUDE. MARIAN GREY. EDITH LYLE. All handsomely printed and bound in clotli, sold everywhere, and sent by mail, postage free, on receipt of price ($1.50), by G. W. DILLINGHAM, PublisheiV, 3iiccessor to G. W. CARLETON & COMPANY ( 33 WEST 23rd STREET, NEW YORK, ^ BROWNIE’S TRIUMPH A Novel. BY MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON. But lovers an essence of the sonl, Which sinks not wilk this chain of Which throbs beyond the chill control Of withering pain or pale decay. Thomas Moom* NEW YORK; C. JV. Dillingham, Publisher^ Successor to G. W. Carleton & Co. LONDON : S. LOW, SON & CO. 3MPCCCLXXXVIL Snter^d according to Act of Congrecs, in the year ISSl^ By Street & Smith, in the Office of Librarian of Congress at Washington j^BlainCIS S. FRANCIS S. STREET,^ SMITH, > Proprietore cmd P%dfHsh§r$ OP THE NEW YORK WEEKLY, Tam [JBADINO Story amd Sketch Pafbr ov im ▲Mr CONTENTS CHAPTER. TAG^ I. — An Encounter - 9 II. — Brownie’s Thoughts 20 m. — T he Aunt’s Story 27 IV. — The Legacy of Jewels 36 V.— Laying Down Life’s Burden 49 VI. — Staked and Lost 5^ VII. —Love Had Conquered Pride • 70 VIIL— Earning Her Own Living... 79 IX. — An Adventure 93 X. — Change of Occupation 102 XI. — Brownie at the Coolidge Mansion 114 XII. — Adrian Dredmond 125 XIII. — Dressing for the Opera 134 XIV. — A Scene 146 XV. — Isabel’s Discovery ...... 157 XVI. — A Terrible Accusation.. 167 XVII. — Declaration of Love 185 XVIII.— Jealousy 196 XIX. — An Unsucccssful Search 206 XXf—A Startling Racognition 31S CONTENTS. CHAPTER. PAGE. XXL — That Voice! 230 XXIL — Chickens Come Home to Roost!’* 241 XXIII. — A Leap for Life 253 XXIV. — Taken by Storm 264 XXV. — Retrospective 275 XXVI.— A Little Matter of Business 286 XXVII. — “And You Will Be My Wife?” 297 XXVIII. --“She Is Not Beneath Me!” 303 XXIX.— “How Came You Here?” 317 XXX. — Entrapped 327 XXXI.— “I Will Dare Anything!” 338 XXXII.— Brownie’s Strange Visitor 352 XXXIII.— Herbert Randal 367 XXXIV.— Brownie Liberated 377 XXXV. — Consternation of the Coolidges 383 XXXVI.— Lady Dunforth’s Visit 392 XXXVII. — Brownie’s Little Charge 401 XXX Vni. — Another Revelation 412 XXXIX.— The Cynosure of All Eyes. 420 XL.— Burying the Hatchet * 429 XLL— The Impending Storm 435 XLII. — “ Where is My Brother ?”c ^ . . . : . c. c . » . . . 449 XLIII.— Would He Forgive Her?” - 455 XLIV,— Aspasia Cooudge.. ♦••.‘•a. • 4^4 BBOWNIE’S TRIUMPH CHAPTER I. AN ENCOUNTER. ^‘Brownie I Brownie Douglas, wait a moment/' Time — three o'clock in the afternoon of the 5th of Septem- ber, 1876. Place — vestibule of the Memorial Hall, at the ‘‘World's Cen^ tennial Exposition," Philadelphia, when all the world did litc-» rally flock to behold the great sights in that cify of brotherly love. The speaker of the above sentence wa« a young lady of about twenty, tall, slender, and of aristocratic bearing. The person addressed was a bright little fairy, who looked not over sixteen, yet who in reality was two years older. She had been resting and looking at that massive statue of Washington which stands so proudly prominent there in the spacious vestibule — that grand entrance to a glorious world of art, with its royal arches and colossal pillars with their elegant carvings ; its medallioned roof, its mosaic floor, and bewilder- 1 ( AN ENCOUNTBk, ing passages, replete with all the art and beautj which the heart or ingenuity of man could suggest. She turned quickly toward the aristocratic-looking lady who had spoken. "^What is it, Aspasia.? I have been waiting for you. Where h2.ytyou been?'' she asked, brightly. '^Oh, this is you, then? I thought that young lady just passing out was you — these linen dusters deceive one so. " ^'You look heated and weary; will you not sit down and rest?" asked Brownie Douglas, regarding the flushed face of her friend with an amused look in her dark, bright eyes. She appeared so comically distressed. ‘‘No, I do not care to sit down; but you do rush round so from one thing to another, that I cannot keep you in sight. I’ve lost my handkerchief, one of my gloves won't stay but- toned, my train will get down under my feet, and my fan and parasol are a nuisance, " was the fretful reply. The young damsel could not have been more despairing if she had had a half dozen children to look after, and every one had been lost in the labyrinth of passages. “What a catalogue of griefs, Aspasia," laughed Miae Doug- las, musically; then she added, kindly: “Here, I will button the refractory glove ; there, that will stay, I know. Now for the fan, let me have it ; my pocket in my underskirt is deep, and it will be perfectly safe. Here is a handkerchief to relieve your present necessities. I always carry an extra one in case of an emergency. Now I will take your parasol, and that will leave you free to manage the troublesome train. " “Thank you; you always manage everything so nicely, and AN ENCOUNTER. 1 1 you never seem to be troubled with anything. How does it happen, I wonder.?^’' asked Miss Aspasia, heaving a sigh of re- lief at being once more set right and relieved of her burdens. ^Hdl tell you, Asia; I don't believe in too many ‘fixings' when one is out to enjoy one's seif. I abominate a train except in a drawing-room, and I should never see anything if I had so many things on me to look after as you have," replied the young girl, with a roguish glance over her companion's elabo^ rate toilet. And sure enough there was never a greater contrast than be- tween those two young ladies. One tall, fair, and languid, and dressed in the height of fash- ion; covered with jewels, laces, flowers, and furbelows, not to mention a three-quarters-of-a-yard train, which, with the other fixings referred to, demanded so much of her attention, that she could enjoy nothing of the wonders and beauties around her. The other, petite and dainty; her glossy brown hair simply coiled at the back of her small head, which was crowned with a hat of dark straw, trimmed with a wreath of scarlet berries and shining dark green leaves. Her half-fitting linen ulster pro- tected, v/hile it did not wholly conceal her rich though simple dress of black silk, which just cleared the floor, and did not hide the “two mites of feet, " encased in their tiny French boots. A pair of gray silk gloves covered her little hands, and a sim- ple linen collar was fastened at her delicate throat by a richly- carved spray of coral, her only visible ornament. She was quick and graceful in her movements. Her bright, restless brown eyes took in everything about her at a glance. 12 AN ENCOUNTER. and were full of fun and merriment, while the glow •f perfect health shone on either cheek and upon her ruby lips. "‘Are you ready to go on now.?'' she asked her friend, as she saw the frown upon her brow fade out, at being once more set in moving order. ^^Yes; and you are a jewel, Brownie. There ! Oh, dear Miss Douglas, who was about moving on, turned again at this cry of woe, and immediately a ripple of musical, irrepressi- ble laughter broke from her scarlet lips. There stood her friend in the act of gathering up her volume inoLis train, while directly behind her stood an unmistakable countryman, with one huge foot planted firmly upon the ruf- fles and plaitings of the beautiful skirt, securely pinning it to the floor, and making it optional with Miss Aspasia, either to go on and leave behind her that (to her) very important appen- dage, or wait until that herculean member should be removed. The luckless, though innocent cause of this uncomfortable state of affairs, was gazing with wide eyes, and open mouth, at the figure of an Indian upon the trail opposite him, and wholly unconscious of the strong attachment which bound him to the fashionable belle. ‘'I beg your pardon," said Miss Douglas, hastening to the rescue, ''but will you please lift your foot?" "Eh ? What? Oh, ya-as," ejaculated the clumsy, but good- natured fellow, who was instantly frightened at finding himself growing in such a garden of finery ; and he immediately stum- bled off, as awkwardly as he had blundered on, while Miss Aspasia Huntington was once more at liberty. "I declare, miss," apologized the six-footer, blushing to the AlSt ENCOUNTER. n roots of his hair, but I never saw so many wimmen a losin their clo's off before. I hain’t ben nowhere to-day but some- body’s dress has ben tumblin' off on 'em, and I’ve stepped on't." He moved a step or two away, still looking ruefully an4 apologetically at Miss Huntington ; then he added, a t^dnkle of fun gleaming in his eyes : ‘‘I sh’d hev a fit if 'twur me, and I’m tamal glad I wur born to a pair o' breeches. " ^iss Huntington colored angrily, and murmured something about '^such insufferable insolence,” whereupon the irrepressi- ble countryman offered a piece of friendly advice. ‘'Grandm’th’r 'd tell ye to sew it on stronger to the bindin' — . put on a button and make a hutton-hoU, That’s her way, and i don’t believe she ever lost her petticoat in her life, ” Having delivered himself of these pithy remarks, he moved away, lifting up and setting down his huge feet cautiously, and keeping constant watch over them lest some other unfortunate female should be ‘‘losin’ her clo’s off,” and he step on them. At this instant a suppressed laugh greeted Miss Brownie’s ear. Looking up, she caught two pairs of mirth-gleaming eyes fixed upon herself and her unfortunate companion. Two young men were standing near, and had been amused witnesses of the comical scene just described. On being discovered, one of them lifted his hat and bowed low to Miss Douglas, who flushed a rosy red as she returned it, and who would instantly have burst into gleeful laughter had it not been for doing violence to her companion's feelings. As it was, however, she linked her arm in Miss Huntington's 14 AN ENCOUNTER, and turned quickly away, but not before she had caught the look of unmistakable admiration with which the other gentle" man regarded her. “Who is she?’^ he asked eagerly of his companion, after he had watched her out of sight “That full-rigged craft, with all her sail crowded on, is Miss Aspasia Huntington, a Baltimore belle and heiress “And the other?’" interrupted the first speaker, somewhat impatiently. He cared nothing for that doll with her finery. “Is — hold on to your ears, my boy — Miss Mehetabel Doug- las, of Philadelphia,” was the startling announcement, accom- panied with a smile of amusement “Thunder !” “’Tis rather an imposing cognomen for such a dainty piece of flesh and blood, I admit” “Her parents ought to be choked for giving her such a name.” “They are already defunct, and, I believe, in no way respon- sible for the obnoxious appellation.” “ How so ?” ‘ ‘ Her father died before she was born, and her mother at her birth ; so the poor little waif fell to the tender mercies of -a maiden great-aunt on her father’s side, who immediately had her christened for herself, and proceeded forthwith to bring her up, after her own ideas, to inherit her million of money. ” “But the other one called her Brownie?” “Yes; no one could 'Mehetabel’ that sprite. Her nurse AN ENCOUNTER. IS called her Brownie from the first, on account of her eyes, hair, and skin, for she was very dark as a child. '' ‘‘Showed her good taste — the name just suits her,'' muttered the first speaker, absently. “The little elf liked the pet name so well herself that she , would never allow any one to call her anything else. I believe since she has grown up her schoolmates and a few of her gen- tlemen acquaintances, who do not feel familiar enough to ad- dress her so fi-eely, shorten the obnoxious old maid title into ‘Meta.'" “You seem to know all about her." “Yes, my sisters are intimate with, and very fond of her. As for myself, I always thought her a bewitching little fairy." “She has the sweetest and brightest face in the world," was the enthusiastic reply. “Ah, ha! Hard hit, aren't you, Dredmond ?" “So hard that I should like another of the same kind. Will fou introduce me?” “Certainly, the first opportunity." “You say the old aunt is rich ?” ‘ ‘ Imm^isely, and very aristocratic, too. " “Aristocratic, is she? The little one herself seems to be simple enough ; she put on no aii*s. How civilly she spoke to that countryman." “Oh, yes ; she treats the rich and the poor alike. She ha* been very kind to some poor working girls whom I know, and yet she has a thus-far-and-no-farther way with her, when the occasion requires, which even j/our high blood could not over- come." AN ENCOUNTER, i6 “There's fun in her, though; how her bright face dimpled and gleamed when that clown stood ballast for Miss Hunting- ton. ” “Ha, ha! I'd give a five-dollar note for a picture of that scene to show my sisters. They are forever being pulled up short in their career by having their trains stepped on ; and I'd like them to see how ridiculous they look," replied Gordon, with twinkling eyes. “Evidently the fellow has not been accustomed to such elon- gations, since he thought the /wimmin were all losin' their clo's off,"' said Dredmond, with a chuckle* “No; but there was a good deal of sense in what he told them about the button and button-hole arrangement." “Egad! there was." “And as to being ‘born to a pair o' breeches,' I can sympa^ thize fully with him there — eh, Dredmond ?" “Yes, indeed. Douglas, I believe, was the name of the lit- tle one, was it not?" “Yes." “It is a good one with us." “A good one ! I guess it is, my boy. Why, Miss Mehet- abel, the elder, claims to be a direct descendant from the Scot- tish nobility." “Aha! is that so?" “Yes, indeed; but I warn you if you go there not to bring up the subject of genealogy, for once started upon that topic, there is no whoa until she brings up with an ancient queen. " “Pshaw! you are talking gammon now," returned theyoui^ man, impatiently. AN ENCOUNTER. 17 Indeed I am not. I have seen the genealogical tree, and I assure you she has as good blood flowing in her veins slsj^ou have, notwithstanding she has been an inhabitant of plebeian America for nearly half a century.” ^‘Well, well, Gordon, we won't quarrel labout their ancestry, there is beauty enough there, let alone blue blood.” ‘‘Yes. But I think we have discussed the subject sufficient** 4y. Shall we go over to Machinery Hall now ?” “Anywhere you choose ; but stop ! What have we here?” Adrian Dredmond stooped and picked up the shining some- thing upon which he had almost stepped as they turned to leave the place. It proved to be a costly cuflf-button of black enamel and gold. Upon the face of it was a large D., studded with brilliants, while a tiny row of the same precious stones was set around the edge. Turning it over, the young man discovered the woFd “Brownie” engraven in finest letters on the back. “‘Ye gods and little fishes,' Gordon! I've found a treas- ure !” and he held it up to view. “Egad I that is so. That must have cost a cool hundred,^ exclaimed Gordon, examining it critically, then added : “You are in luck, my boy. It is a good omen to find something be- longing to one whom you admire. ” “Is nr “Yes ; but I suppose torture would not compel you to give it up until you can put it into the owner's own little hands,” and the young man laughed. i8 AN ENCOUNTER, ''You are right for once/' returned Dredmond, lightly, although with heightened color. " It will give me a good excuse for seeking an introduc- tion," he added, as he carefully tucked the button into his vest pocket. Again Gordon laughed. ‘ ' Mark my words, Dredmond, something unusual will come of your finding that trinket." "What makes you think so "I don't know — it is a sudden impression, perhaps, but I believe it will have an influence on your future." "You are superstitious," replied Dredmond, with a little scornful curl of his handsome lips. . "If it should result in your carrying Miss Brownie Douglas off to the old country with you, there would be a buzzing about your ears, I can tell you ; for not a few have their eye fixed already upon the dainty elf with her golden pile in prospect. " "Are you among the number, Gordon.?" asked his friend, with a keen glance at the young man. "Not I, my boy; my star shines from another quarter, Gordon replied, laughingly, though growing red in the fece with the acknowledgement ' ' I think then, my friend, you are getting up a little romance upon your own account, and without much of a foundation to begin with. If you were interested I should not wonder, but as there is no jealousy in the matter it seems a little singular that you should jump at conclusions thus. I fear, Gordon, I shall have to set you down as a masculine match-maker." "Call me what you like, but I confess that I think yon and AN ENCOUNTER, I# tkat little fairy would suit each other wonderfully well. She is just the right kind of a little woman to make a '' ‘'Hush, my boy; do not reveal any secrets here,"" inter- rupted Adrian Dredmond, looking anxiously around. "Well, well, come on then to Machinery Hall ; but, Dred- mond, I think you are over modest about some matters."' "It is a failing which will never harm anybody," the young man replied, smiling ; then linking arms in a friendly way with his companion, they wended their way to view that wonder of modern achievements, the Corliss engine, and those countless «ther inventions of the human brain. 20 BROWNIE^ S TMOlBSim, CHAPTER IL BROWNIES THOUGHTS. Fair reader, do not elevate your aristocratic proboscis, nor curl your pretty lips in scorn, at the homely name of my hero- ine, for Mehetabel Douglas she is, and Mehetabel she must re- main until the end of the chapter, although in all probability her final cognomen will emerge into some other before we get through with her. If the appellation is too offensive, you are privileged to soften it down to Miss Meta, as her gentlemen ac- quaintances do, and she will never refuse to answer to the name of Brownie, which, on the whole, suits her better than anything else. In a luxurious apartment of a modern house on Chestnut street, two hours after the incidents related in our first chapter. Miss Mehetabel Douglas, the senior, might have been seen sit- ting in a comfortable easy-^^hair, while Brownie sat upon an ot- toman at her feet The former was a worn sin of about sixty-five years of age, with a delicate, high-bred surrounded by bands of soft, sil- very hair. She had dark-gray eyes, which always had a look in them as of some hop>e suddenly crushed out of her life, while a patient, gentle expressio*^ Sovered about her thin, aristocratic lips. BROWNIE^ S THOUGHTS, 21 Brownie had just been reading to her from ' ^ Patience Strong's Outings, " and now they were talking it over together. ‘‘She is what I call a lovely old maid, and — you're another, aujatie, " Brownie said, with a fond glance up into the dear old lady's face. “You always have something sweet to say to me, dear," Miss Douglas replied, laying her hand softly upon the glossy head. Yet the smile on her lips grew suddenly tremulous and sad, as some far-away memory seemed for the instant to return to her. “Why is it, I wonder," pursued Brownie, reflectively, ‘‘that so much sport is made of old maids ?" “I suppose because the theory prevails, that every old maid has failed to catch a husband, and is therefore a fit subject for ridicule," Miss Mehetabel returned, a little gleam of amuse- ment lighting up her sad eyes. “What an absurd idea!" exclaimed the young girl, the bright color flaming into her cheeks, her eyes sparkling with indigna- tion, and making her look like some gorgeous tropical flower in that beautiful room. “Why," she added, “Patience Strong would have made such a lovely wife for some good, noble man ; and I don't believe but that there were plenty who wanted her. How beautiful she would have made a home, and how she would have helped her husband, with her deep, strong, sensi- ble way of looking uppn life ! I wish everybody wouM read her ‘Outings,' and try and profit by what they would Uarn from it." BROWNIE^ S THOUGHTS. ^2 "‘Yes, it is beautifully written, and would do any one good/' answered Miss Douglas. I sometimes think the world is all going wrong," contin- ued Brownie, with an expression of perplexity in her bright eyes. ‘'Why so, dear?" “Here I know any number of people, who are no more fit to be wives and mothers than so many children ; and yet every one has managed to secure a husband, while there are plenty f>f ‘old maids' in the world, so patiently living out their lonely iives, who would make such strong, helpful wives, such wise and tender mothers. " “You ought to write a book upon the subject. Brownie, and set the world right," and Miss Mehetabel laughed outright now. “ You're laughing at me, auntie, but I think it is dreadful — so many precious, tender little souls coming into the world to be neglected by their mothers ; and so many true, noble hus- bands plodding on their lonely way, while their wives fritter away their time on fashion and fashionable pleasures." “But, dear, do you suppose the fault is all in the women?" asked the old lady, to draw her out still further, and tenderly scanning the flushed, earnest face. “Perhaps not, auntie. I don't know much about the men anyway, but I do believe if the women were less selfish and more gentle and loving, there would be fewer bad men in the world." “That is true, dear, in one sense — selfish motiiers make self* jfih children, and so the world goes on. " BROWNIE'S THOUGHTS, n •‘Now, auntie, fou would have made such a splendid wife for Some good man ; and you ought to have had at least a dozen children. What a charming household it would have been, for you would have governed so wisely and so well. I don't believe nature ever intended you for an old maid. A spasm of pain contracted the old lady’s brow, but she re- plied, quietly : ‘ ^ Perhaps not ; yet there is, doubtless, some wise reason for it. What would have become of you, dear, if I had had a large femiiy of my own ?” ‘'Oh, I should have only made up the baker's dozen, and it seems such a pity that so much native talent should all be lav- ished upon one poor little waif like me,” Brownie said, with a little laugh. "If I had had the number you assign me, dear, and they had all proved the blessing to me that you have been, I fea^ it would have been too much happiness for one human being ; and yet The old lady did not conclude her sentence, but heaved a deep sigh, while unshed tears stood in her beautiful eyes. "Auntie, why were you an old maid I don’t understand it — it must have been no one’s fault but your own.” "My own fault. Brownie! You don’t know— child, you don’t know,” cried Miss Mehetabel, sharply, while a deep, dry sob, that was almost a groan, burst from her lips. Brownie was startled at her deep emotion. She had spoken lightly, and with no thought that she was probing an old wound. She sprang up quickly, and, seeing the feir old fece above 24 BROWNIE'S THOUGHTS, her almost convulsed with agony, she twined her arms about her neck, saying, remorsefully : ''Auntie, dear, forgive me! Have I touched sonae hidden spring of sorrow ? I would not have wounded you so for the world." She laid the aged face upon her bosom, and smoothed the silvery hair with a tender hand, while her bright, sweet face grew clouded and anxious. There was an unbroken silence in that room for many min- utes. Miss Mehetabel was too agitated to speak, and struggled hard to regain her self-control, and when at length she had in a measure succeeded, she became absorbed in some engrossing memory or reflections, while the loving girl bending over her would not disturb her, lest the wild burst of sorrow should re- turn. At last the old lady looked up into her face with a mournful smile, and her aged lips trembled with the question : "Dear child, would you like to read a sad page in an old woman's history " No, dear auntie, do not talk of anything that gives you pain. Forgive me for speaking in a way that should recall anything to distress you," said the young girl, sadly. "Yon did not think to pain me, and I am glad now that the conversation has taken this turn, for I would like you to know something of what my past has been. " ' ‘ Let us wait until some other time — you are tired and ought to rest now," pleaded Brownie, recoiling from a revelation which she believed would be painful BRO WNIE ’ 6 * THOUGHTS, 25 ‘‘No, Brownie, something prompts me to tell you now, and I will obey the call. The book of my life is almost written, love, and it will do me no harm to review it once more before it is closed forever. I have borne my sorrow alone for forty-five years, and it seems as if it would do me good to breathe it to some one who would give me sympathy, and remember it ten- derly when I am gone.'' Brownie's little hand fluttered dov/n upon Miss Mehetabel's lips, and the tears sprang to her eyes. She could not bear to hear her talk thus. “Where is Aspasia.?^" the old lady asked, presently. “She is in her room. She had so much to carry around to- day at the exposition that she is wearied out, and is taking a nap to refresh herself," and Brownie laughed at the remem- brance of Miss Huntington's misfortunes. “She does rig herself out abominably. I am glad you are more simple in your taste, my dear ; you will get along through the world more comfortably and happily for it. " “I suppose Aspasia thinks there is no other way by which she can show her wealth, auntie. " “Nonsense, child; the true lady, accustomed to luxury, will be recognized anywhere in the plainest dress ; and you, d^ar — though I say it myself — can better afford to make a fash- ion-figure of yourself than Aspasia Huntington, notwithstand- ing she is called an heiress," and Miss Mehetabel's eye lighted with a gleam of pride at the announcement. “But I do not care for fashion or style as she does, auntie ; besides, I think it a foolish way of spending money," Brownie answered, thoughtfully. 26 BRO WNTE THOUGHTS, shall have no fear that my fortune will be wasted ; you will be very rich, Brownie, when I am gone. I have made my will, and you are to have everything. Ah ! had she but known the legacy which she would leave the young girl, she would not have spoken so confidently of the future. ‘ ^ Let us not talk about it, auntie ; I don't like you to speak about going away from me. I should be desolate without you, if I had ever so much money," and the bright face wore a look %f pain. Miss Douglas drew the shining head down to her, and kissed the sweet lips. '‘Well, well, so be it, though it must come sootier or later; / but we will talk no more of it now. You are very precious to me, darling, and your love has been the only brightness of my life for the past eighteen years, " she said, softly. ' ' Go lock the door," she added, after a moment, "so that we may be uninterrupted ; then draw a chair beside me, and I'll tell you how I came to be an old maid. It may be a lesson that will do you good. " Brownie glided softly to the door and turned the key. Then she drew a low rocker and seated herself beside Miss Douglas, while a feeling of solemnity took possession of her, as she real- ized that a hidden page of life was about to be turned back for ber to read. THE AUNT'S STORY. CHAPTER III. THE aunt's story. ‘‘You mnow irfeo the Douglases are?’' began Miss Meheta* bel, bracing hemlf up, with a look of pride. “Oh, yes; you have always given me to understand that they belonged to a very honorable race. " “An honorable race indeed ! Why, child, they are the de- scendants of a queen I — a Scottish queen ! Lady Margaret Douglas was the daughter of Queen Margaret Tudor, and back to her we can trace our ancestry. Never forget it, child — never forget that you are descended in a direct line from the royalty of Scotland." One could judge something of what Miss Douglas had been in youth, as she sat there inspired with the pride of her race — her form drawn proudly erect, her eyes glowing with the fire of twenty rather than sixty, and the flush of conscious dignity upon her fair old face. Her delicate, flexible features were all lighted up with the remembrance of her youthful days, and of former glory, when in the old country she was known and ac- knowledged as the “descendant of a queen P' She must have been very stately and very beautiful ! Brownie did not reply to her last remark, for it was a hobby with her proud kinswoman, and once thoroughly started on the 28 THE AUNT'S STORY. subject, she knew the family tree would have to be brought out, and the wearisome task of tracing the Douglas race for three long centuries would have to be rehearsed. So she wisely held her peace. ‘"Yes, the descendant of a queen!'' she repeated; '‘and many of our ancestors intermarried with the English nobility, so that to-day, Brownie Douglas, there runs no better blood in any veins than in yours and mine. "Before I left the old country, dear, I mingled with the proudest circles of the land. I was presented at court, and du- ring a brilliant London season I was introduced to the young Lord of Dunforth, son of the Fifth Lord of Firth. "His first name was Royal — they called him Roy-^and he was rightly named, for he was fit to be a king 1 "From the first hour of our meeting we loved each other, and we were betrothed, by the consent and approval of both his friends and my own, after an acquaintance of six months. " "You, auntie, betrothed to a real, live lord 1 How roman- tic I" exclaimed Brownie, excitedly, and deeply interested in the event. "Yes, a real, live lord," repeated Miss Dpuglas, smiling; "but then lords are no more than any other men, excepting their title. Our marriage was to be delayed for a year, until Roy should complete his course at Oxford, when he would come in possession of a fine estate in Essex. "Brownie, the good book tells us, 'Thou shalt have no other gods but Me ;' but I disobeyed that command. I worshiped Royal, Lord of Dunforth, with all the strength of my nature—’ and no Douglas ever possessed a weak ©ne, I can tell you. THE AUNT'S STORY. 29 '^We exchanged letters frequently, and the words he penned were like a feast to my soul. I have them now, every one, and they are all that I have left of the love, the glorious love, which I once fondly hoped would brighten ,n>.y life to its end. ” The old lady became so agitated that she could not go on, as all the blighted hopes of her youth eame crowding up before her. She bowed her white head upon her withered hands, her body swayed to and fro hke a c^'ckcn reed, while great tears coursed their way ove^ her pale cheeks and dropped between her fingers.' Brownie wept in fympathy^ and with her dainty handker- chief she wiped pearly drops, one by one, as they fell. ‘‘Don't try to toll me any more, auntie," she pleaded, in distress, fearing that the excitement would make the old lady sick. “Yes, yes; it will lighten the burden, and I shall not break down again, " and she straightened herself resolutely. “ During the past few days I have been living over all those bright days, together with the bitter agony that follow^ed, and Bay heart will burst unless I relieve it," she added. ‘ ‘ In the same circle in which we moved, there was a very handsome girl, by the of Lady Helen Capel. She be- longed to a very wealthy and honorable family, and it was said that before Lord Dunforth was introduced to me he used to pay some attention to her. From the very first of my ac- quaintance with him she evinced an intense dislike tow^ard me. “Report said that she wanted to win him for herself, and I THE AUNT^S STORY. 30 believe in my heart that was why she was so hauglity and dis^ agreeable whenever we met. ‘"Lord Dnnforth finished his course at Oxford with great honor to himself, and preparations were bugun for our mar- riage, which was appointed to take place just before the Christ- mas holidays. ‘'One evening we attended a ball given by Helen Capei's aunt, Lady Ruxley. “On entering the ball-room I had given my card to Roy to fill out such sets as he wished for himself and then as others were introduced to me, they put their names in the blanks that were left. “Once I noticed Helen Capel in earnest conversation with her brother, and that every now and then they turned their glance upon me. Still, at the moment, I gave the circum- stance no thought Afterward I knew why it was. “Soon after, Charles Capel came up with a handsome but rather rakish-looking gentleman, whom he introduced as the Count de Lussan. Roy had left me for a few minutes to speak to some one he knew, or what followed never would have hap- pened. “The stranger immediately requested the pleasure of danc- ing with me, and I innocently assented, never for a moment dreaming that any one would be preSeht in Lady Ruxley 's rooms with whom it would not be proper for me to dance. ‘ ‘ I gave him my card, and he put his name down against a waltz, while a peculiar smile curled his lips. “ Not many minutes after Helen Capel sauntered toward me, sat down by my side. THE AUNT'S STORY. 31 **¥ot the first time in her life she was gracious to me, and, bearing her no ill-will, I chatted freely with her for quite a while. ^Have you danced much?' she asked, holding out her hand for my cord. i ‘‘ ‘Several times,* I returned, with a smile, as I gave it up to her. “She ran her eyes hastily over the names, and I could see her scowl every time she read Roy's. Then suddenly looking up, she exclaimed, aghast : “‘Why, Miss Douglas, will his lordship permit you to dance with the Count de Lussan ?* “The form of the question nettled me exceedingly, and I re- plied, somewhat haughtily : “ ‘His lordship will permit me to dance with whomsoever I choose, MissCapel.* * ‘ She laughed a silvery, wicked laugh, and fixing her bold black eyes upon me, said, in an exasperated way : “ ‘Pardon me. Miss Douglas, but I do not believe Lord Dun- forth, who is very arbitrary when once his will is aroused, will permit his betrothed to dance with any one who bears the reputation which Count de Lussan bears. * “‘But your own brother introduced me to him, Miss Capel !* I exclaimed, indignantly. ‘ ‘ ‘ Charles ? Tm astonished at him ; but I presume the count asked him, and he did not like to refuse. Why, he is a noto- rious blackleg, and how he ever gained admission here, is more than I can tell.' was startled at this intelligence, but I would not show it 32 THE AUNHS STORY. before her, nor yield one iota ; and looking up at that moment, I saw Lord Dunforth and Count de Lussan both approaching me. ‘"Miss Capel remained by my side, evidently desirous of see- ing the little game played out. ‘'The count reached me first, and bowing low', offered me his arm, saying his turn had come. “I glanced nervously into my lover's face as I hesitatingly took the count's arm, fearing that all was not right, and my heart stood still, as I noted its expression of blank dismay and stern displeasure. “He hastened forward, and taking my card, hastily scanned the names upon it, and his brow grew dark with wrath, as he read Count de Lussan's against a waltz. “Bowing haughtily to my companion, he said, with com- pressed lips : “ ‘Excuse me, but I must ask you to release this lady from her promise to dance with you.' “ The count's eyes flashed fire, and his face grew crimson, as he answered, coldly : “ ‘I cannot do so, my lord, except at the lady's own re- quest. ' “ ‘She does request it through me— by my desire,' replied Lord Dunforth, sternly. “‘Miss Douglas, do you command me to release you.?’ asked the count, turning to me with that same disagreeable smile upon his lips that I seen there when he had written his name against the waltz. “ ‘Tell him yes, Meta. *1 cannot allow it, and will give ycm THE AUNT'S STORY. 33 my reasons the first opportunity, ' whispered my lover, in plead- ing tones, in my ear. ‘‘I was on the point of yielding. Oh, why was I so blind that I did not.?* I had half withdrawn my hand from the count's arm, when I heard a low, mocking laugh near by. Glancing up, I saw Helen Capel watching every motion, catching every word and tone, a smile of mocking triumph on her handsome face. ‘‘In an instant I remembered my boast to her, that ‘Lord Dunforth would permit me to dance with whomsoever I chose/ and in that fatal moment I resolved to show her my power over him ; that I had a will of my own. “Lifting my head a trifle haughtily, I said : “‘My lord, I have promised Count de Lussan that I will waltz with him, and I cannot break my word. ' “ ‘Meta, Meta, don't do it !' he begged, in a whisper. “ ‘I must !' I answered, coldly. “ ‘I command you not !' he said, in a tone which the count caught, and curled his lip in scorn. ‘H bowed coldly, all the antagonism in my nature aroused by his command, then turning to my companion, I said : “ ‘The music is inspiriting, count I am ready,' and encir- cling my waist with his^^rm, he whirled me into the midst of the giddy dancers. “I had always loved to waltz ; but, oh ! how I have hated it since then. And this is the reason, dear, why I would never allow you to learn. It is not decent for young girls to be en- circled in the arms of men of whom they know nothing. “The count was one of the finest dancers I have ever seen; 34 THE AUNT^S STORY. he was like a feather upon the floor. That waltz was the vei^ poetry of motion to me — I forgot everything ; I forgot with whom I was dancing, I forgot my lover's displeasure, and re- membered nothing but that airy, circling round and round un- til the music suddenly ceased. ! ‘‘Then I became aware of strange, surprised glances follow- ing us ; whispered words of censure greeted' my ears, and a tremor of uneasiness took possession of me, which merged into absolute terror when I reached the spot where Lord Dunforth still stood. “ He was like a piece of statuary, his noble brow overcast, and his fine lips white and set as if in pain. “ Count de Lussan released me, thanking me for the great pleasure I had given him, and then moved away. ‘ My lover did not speak one word to me until the music struck up again, and the attention of the people around us was attracted in other directions. “ He stood motionless, his hand appearing to rest carelessly upon the back of the chair in which I sat ; but I could feel it tremble with the mighty power which moved him, and I felt congealed to ice. I was to have danced with him that set, but he did not ask me, and when at length he bent over me, and whispered in my ear, his words did not serve to reassure me. “ ‘Will you oblige me by withdrawing from the company?' he asked. “ I arose at once and took his arm. “ He led me directly to the dressing-room. ‘‘ ‘ I will wait for you while you get your wraps,' he said. ‘Oh, Roy, what have I done?' I exclaimed, in deep di®* THE AUNT^S STORY, 35 tress at his coldness, my heart thrilling with a terrible pain. ‘You have disgraced yourself and me — the Count de Lus- san is the lowest blackleg in London.' “Imagine, if you can, how those stern, cruel words pierced me. All the more, because I had been told before I had com- mitted myself, concerning the character of the man with whom I had made myself so notorious. And I had done this dread- ful thing just for the sake of showing a vicious girl that I had a will of my own. And novV, when all too late, I realized that it had been but a cunning plot between Helen Capel and her brother to ruin me. I afterward discovered that she had gained an entrance for the Count de Lussan to her aunt's ball, and they had arranged between them to tempt me into this indis- cretion, knowing full well that Lord Dunforth would not tole- rate anything .of the kind. ‘ ‘ I lifted my eyes and searched my lover's face after those, to me, words of doom. It was as inflexible as marble, not a gleam of love, kindness, or forgiveness. He was like a stern judge pronouncing sentence upon me, and the thought burst like lightning upon me, searing my very soul — “I had lost him forever! and throv/ing out my hands to- ward him, I sank with a low moan of agony at his feet before he could even put forth an arm to save me." 36 THE LEGACY OF JEWELS. CHAPTER IV. THE LEGACY OF JEWELS. falling, my head struck against the base of a pillar, cuV ting a severe gash in my forehead, which, with the blow, nearly cost me my life — there is the sear now, dear.” The old lady lifted the silvery hair from her forehead, reveal- ! ing a white seam about an inch in length. Brownie reached over and pressed her red lips upon it The ' act nearly unnerved Miss Mehetabel again. 1 was taken to a room in the house,” she went on, ‘‘put to bed, and a physician sent for, but it was hours before I recovered : consciousness, and the doctor said I had had a marvelous es- | cape. i “It was several days before I was able to sit up, for the shock of the fall had affected my whole system, and all this time Lord j Dunforth had not been near me. At least, so Lady Ruxley^ said when I inquired for him. My heart cried out after him.; I longed with a mighty longing to have him forgive me, and take me back into his great, strong love again. Surely, I rea- < soned, he will not allow one error, especially when he under-; stands how it happened, to ruin our whole future; he musi forgive me — I would plead so eloquently that he would not be| able to resist me. I THE LEGACY OF JEWELS. 37 lay for days listening, trying to catch the echo of his footsteps, and once or twice I fancied I heard it, and the deep, rich tones of his voice, asking some eager question. Then the sound would die away, and I thought my ears and my longing heart had deceived me, for he never came, and I was too proud and hurt to send for him. ‘'At last one day my maid brought me in a little note. saw and recognized the handwriting as soon as she opened Ihe door. “ ‘Give it to me, quick V I cried, my heart bounding at the sight of it “With trembling fingers I tore it open and read these cold, formal words : “ ‘Will Miss Douglas kindly favor me with an interview, if she is strong enough to endure it ? and oblige “‘Royal Dunforth.' “I nearly shrieked at the icy words — my nerves were still unstrung, and they hurt me as nothing else had ever done be- fore. “Was he coming to blame me — to charge me with the dfs* grace I had brought upon him and myself, and then cast me off forever ? Had I sinned past all forgiveness ? I asked mysdf again and again. “Ah, no, it could not be — he musf forgive me; he wouW overlook that one night's error, and take me back into his deep, strong love again. I could not live without it. I could not breathe without the sunshine of his presence. I would throw ; myself at his feet, and sue for pardon as a condemned criminal* « would plead for his Ufa. 38 THE LEGACY OF JEWELS. I seized a pencil and wrote ; ** ‘Yes, come at once, if you can forgive your repentant “ ‘ Meta/ ‘‘I folded and enclosed it in an envelope, without sealing it, and giving it to the maid, told her to carry it down to Lord Dun- forth, who, she said, was awaiting an answer. “ I did wrong to send him a written reply. I ought to have gone to him, even if I had been obliged to crawl upon my hands and knees to do so ; but I was weak — I had not yet left my room, was able only to sit up for an hour or two at a time, and I thought, of course, he could come to me. I never dreamed of treachery. '' “Treachery, auntie I” exclaimed Brownie, who was intensely interested in the sad tale. “Ah, treachery, child, as you will soon see, and I might have known it, too, had my wits been about me. “The maid came back almost immediately. “ I looked up in surprise as she entered. “ ‘Why ^re you back so soon?' I demanded. “ ‘I met Miss Helen on the stairs,' she answered, ‘and she told me Lord Dunforth was in the drawing-room, and she would take the note in to him.' “ I could not say anything, but I did not like it even then ; I did not like Helen Capel to be the bearer of any me^ge from me to my lover. I liked her far less since the ball than I had ever done before, for I believed she had tried to make all this trouble for me. I had refused to see her during my sickness, although she had called a number of times, and had also sent me beautiful flowers. THE LEGACY OF JEWELS. 39 lay two hours, listening for my .loved one’s elastic tread on the stairs. I had not a doubt but that he would obey my message and come to me. But at last I heard gay voices in the hall, then his deep, rich tones gravely saying ‘good-morn- ing’ to some one, after which came the sound of closing doors, and I knew he had gone. “With a heart like lead, I bade the maid go down and ask Miss Capel if she had given Lord Dunforth my message. “She came back saying that Miss Capel said, ‘Certainly, she had given his lordship the message.’ “Then it came to me that I had made a condition in my note — I had said if he could forgive me, to come to me. “ He could not forgive me, therefore he would not come, and, without even a word of farewell, he had left me forever. “ I cannot tell you all that I suffered. Brownie. I know I raved against the injustice of Heaven in permitting such sorrow to come upon me, and in shutting out the light of my life from me. I cursed Helen Capel, her brother, and the Count de Lussan for their part in the drama ; but most of all, I cursed myself for having allowed myself to become their dupe. “I insisted at once upon returning to my own home, where I was again prostrated, and for another long month lay sick and weak, and praying to die ; and thus my wedding-day passed. Oh, who can tell the blackness of despair wLich came over me as that day came and went. I was to have been a happy wife, proud and blessed in the love of a noble man. Instead, I was a heart-broken girl, wailing out my life in loneliness. A home- less beggar in the street was not more wretched than I. “Another month went by, and I was at length thought able 40 THE LEGACY OF JEWELS, to ride out ; and one day my father took me out to Richmond' Park, where we spent an hour or two driving about. ‘‘On our return, when about two miles from the city, I saw Lord Dunforth's elegant carriage, with its span of black horses, approaching. He was driving himself, and a lady whom I did not know sat by his side. “With my brain on fire, and my heart quivering with pain, I sat like a statue, watching his every movement, noting his every expression. “He was so busily engaged in conversation with the strange lady that he did not notice whom he was about to meet until we were almost opposite them, then, glancing up, he caught my eyes fixed upon him. “ He gave a sudden start, which I could see shook his whole frame, while an expression of pain passed over his features. His face grew pale as my own, and he leaned forward with an eager look in his eyes, as if about to speak. Oh, if I had only smiled, if I had but spoken one word, all would have been well even then ; but I did not, and drawing himself erect again, he inclined his head with haughty grace, and was gone. “I did not realize what my own manner toward him had been. I only was conscious that he, my belSved, was near — that I was looking upon his face and into those dear eyes once more. I could not move, I could not speak, and some dis- tance was between us before I realized that I had given him the cut direct — had only looked with a fixed stare in his face, conse- quently had no right to expect anything more than the haughty bow which he had given me, and which had again crushed my heart. THE LEGACY OF JEWELS, 41 '‘Many times I longed to write kim a line, begging him to come to me, if only for an hour, that I might hear him say he forgave me ; many times I had the pen in my hand to do so, but pride whispered, 'you are sick and feeble, it is his place to come to you, not yours to beg his presence and so w^, who to-day might have been united and loving, were parted for- ever. "My parents decided soon after to take me abroad, as the physician said my health would never improve unless I had some cliange, and we set -^ail for the United States early in May. "In July, after our arrival here, they both sickened and died very suddenly, and I was left al(5ne a stranger in a strange country. "I could not return to England, where I had suffered and lost so much, and I could not remain here alone. According- ly, I wrote my brother, begging him to take his family and come to me. I had often heard him say he would like to live in America. I commissioned him to settle the estate, as far as I was concerned, to the best of his ability, and bring me the proceeds when he came. "To my great comfort, he consented to my request, and in October arrived in New York with his wife and child — their son, who was your father. Brownie. "We decided to make our home in this city, having spent some time in traveling, and finding no other place we liked so well ; and here they lived until God called them, and here I have lived ever since. Five years after our arrival we heard that Lord Dunforth 4 ^ THE LEGACY OF JEWELS. had married Helen CapeFs cousin, Lady Leonie Herford, and hist three months later I learned that but for Miss CapeTs ir*ach ery I might have been his wife . '' '‘Oh, auntie I only just three months after his marriage!* exclaimed Brownie, in deep distress. "Yes, dear, those three months were all that stood between me and my future happiness ; but what matters it if it had been but a day, or an hour even, if it were that much too late? " I found out that Miss Capel never gave that note of mine to Lord Dunforth, but told him instead that I utterly refused to see him then and ever after. "When he met me driving afterward, and I did not even recognize him, but sat so cold and indifferent, he was confirmed in the truth of her statement. I was told that it was a terrible blow to him, for he loved me, and would have made me his wife notwithstanding all that had passed. He left England al- most immediately after we sailed for America, and did not re- turn until about a year before his marriage.” "Who told you all this, auntie?” "A friend of his lordship told my brother, who met him while he was traveling in this country. He did not know the truth of the matter regarding the note I sent, until brother told him, and I do not suppose Lord Dunforth knows to this day of Helen CapeFs treachery, or that she was the cause of our separation. "Now, darling,” concluded Miss Mehetabel, with a little tremulous smile which was sadder than tears, "you know the reason why I am an old maid/* THE LEGACY OF JEWELS. 43 ''Auntie, auniie^ it is the saddest story I ever heard in my life, ” sobbed Brownie, as she kisstd her trembling hands. "Yes, dear, it is the saddest life that ever was lived,” wailed the old lady, wringing her hands. "I have loved to idolatry for forty-five years, and to know that the love of a noble man, the bliss of a perfect home, the love of precious children, the sound of pattering feet and blithesome voices, might all have been mine, but for that proud, willful act of my life, is almost more than I have been able to bear. ” "Dearest, don't let it break you down so,” cried the young girl, as this wild wave of anguish swept over Miss Mehetabel, making a child of the stately, the grave, and dignified old lady. Brownie wound her arms about her neck, and drew the white head upon her bosom, kissing away her tears, and murmuring soothing words to quiet her. "The fountains of life are breaking up, my pet,” she said, when at length she had succeeded in regaining something of her usual composure, "or I should never have yielded thus to my grief before another. But I have had no ray of sunlight in all these forty- five years but you, my darling. I believe God sent you to save me from going mad with the fire which was consuming my brain. He took your father and mother, and gave you to me — made you first my burden, then my blessing, to save me and make me realize that life still held some duties, if no joys.” "Did Miss Capel ever marry?” Brownie asked. "Yes, the year following Lord Dunforth's marriage ; but I have forgotten the name of her husband.” 44 THE LEGACY OF JEWELS, *'If you had discovered her treachery before his marriage would you have sought a reconciliation ^'Certainly, dear, for I know that he loved me with a lore as true and strong as my own for him, and this makes me think to caution you, never to let pride stand in the way of your hap- piness. If I had hushed the voice of pride, and written his lordship to come to me, when I so longed to do so, all would have been well even then.'' believe I should have tried’ it, had I been in your place, auntie," said the young girl, thoughtfully. ‘'You think you would now, knowing all the circumstances. I know you are a bright, winsome darling, but you are a Doug- las, notwithstanding, and have their proud spirit, which is as set as the 'eternal hills,' but I beg of you, do not ever allow it to ruin your happiness. If you do wrong, it can never harm you to say 'forgive me.' If there ever comes a misunderstanding, which a word can set right, speak it, though it galls you to the soul, "said Miss Mehetabel, earnestly. " I should like to have known Lord Dunforth, auntie — I mean I should like to see the man whom you would choose," the young girl said, musingly, and not heeding the advice just given. In after months she remembered it. A look of keen pain swept over the old lady's face, but she bad fully recovered her self-possession now. "Go and bring me a little ebony box, dear, which you will find in the third drawer of my dressing-case," she said. Brownie arose to obey, and soon returned, bringing a beau- liful casket about twelve inches square and eight deep. It was THE LEGACY OF JEWELS. 45 inlaid with pearl and gold, in lovely designs, and was quite heavy for anything so small. Miss Mehetabel took a delicate chain from her neck, to which was attached a tiny golden key. Her hand shook as with the palsy, as she inserted the key in its lock. ‘^This has not been opened for forty years, my child, and I feel as if I were about to look upon the dead, '' she said, in a voice that shook, despite her efforts to control it. Don't open it now, then. Aunt Meta. I cannot bear you to live over this sorrow for me," Brownie answered, a feeling of awe stealing over her at Miss MehetabeFs words. ‘ ^ I will look once more before I die, dear, and I wish to tell you about these things, which are to be yours when I am gone." She turned the key as she spoke, and lifted the jeweled cover, and Brownie uttered a cry of delight at the sight which greeted her eyes. There,, upon their blue velvet bed, gleamed such jewels as she had never seen before. In the center lay a beautiful diamond necklace, with ear- pendants to match. Then there was a coral and diamond cross, with a hair ornament, in the shape of a butterfly, to match. A tiara composed of pearls, opals, and diamonds, with a cross for the neck. Rings of pearls, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds; one, a large pearl, surrounded by six small, pure diamonds, Miss Mehetabel took up tenderly in her hand. ‘"This," she said, while her lip quivered, ‘'Lord Dunforth put upon my finger when he told me of his love. It has nevei 46 THE LEGACY OF yElYELS. been there since that day, when I believed he went away me forever of his own accord. These other jewels were given me in honor of my approaching marriage, but I have never worn any of them, excepting this coral and diamond cross which Royal gave me, and which I wore to that ball, where I lost everything dear in life. I have no use for them, and hence- forth they are all yours, dear, to do as you like with — if ever you feel that you can wear them for my sake, I wish you to do so." ‘^Oh, auntie, they seem too preclofts for me to wear; they seem like something sacred to me," the young girl said, rever- ently, while her eyes lingered upon their beauty. ‘‘Then you will prize them all the more, dear, and I am glad that it is so — ^you will never wear them lightly, and they will never grow valueless to you. You have the cuff-buttons already which Lord Dunforth gave me at the same time with the coral cross. “Are those — did you give them to me.?" stammered Brownie, feeling that she had almost been sacrilegious in wearing any- thing so precious, and not know it. “Yes, dear, they were the only articles of his giving which I ever permitted myself to wear, and then only a few times. So, feeling that they ought to do somebody some good, I had them marked for you for your last birthday." “I shall never wear them again without feeling that they are tenfold more precious than ever before," the young girl said, with starting tears. She little knew that even then one of them was lost She THE LEGACY OF JEWELS. 47 had removed her linen ulster upon returning home, and left her cuffs hanging in it Mias Mehetabel now lifted the velvet bed, and laid it with all its glittering wealth upon the table near which she sat Be- neath it lay a locket of blue enamel and gold, studded with diamonds; a little bunch of dried flowers, a crumpled card, and a pair of soiled white kid gloves. These,” Miss Mehetabel said, touching the flowers, “ I wore in my hair that night, fastened with the butterfly ; and these are the gloves — they bear the last touch of his hand. This is the card on which the Count de Lussan wrote his name. ” She took up the locket with a tender touch. ‘ ‘ This contains the face of the one man on earth to me. Open it, dear — I cannot” Brownie took it, the great tears rolling over her flushed cheeks. It seemed so inexpressibly sad, and as if she too were about to look upon the face of the dead. She pressed the spring and it flew open. From one ride of it there gazed up at her the dark, noble face of a man about twenty-five years of age; It was indeed a kingly &ce (rightly named Royal), having a broad, thoughtful brow, surmounted by curling masses of dark hair. Eyes deep and fathomless as a forest lake, a nose straight and aristocratic, and lips upon which firmness and gentleness blended, while from his decided chin fell a full, silken, curling beard. The fiiir girl gazed upon it for several moments in silence, Umi heaving a deep sigh, she said, softly : 48 THE LEGACY OF JEWELS. He was grand, auntie 1'^ A tremulous smile quivered on Miss Mehetabers lips at this tribute to her old-time lover, and she held out her hand for the locket Brownie gently laid it on her palm, then, rising, she went to the window and looked out, to hide her tears and give the old lady an opportunity to gaze, unobserved, upon that face, which she had not seen, only as it was stamped upon her heart, for forty-five weary years. When at length she heard her shut it with a sigh that was almost a groan, she came back and stood silently by her side, while she replaced the jewels, locked the casket, and clasped the chain with its golden key again on her neck. ‘‘Put it away,^' she said, with white lips, “and when I am dead come and get this chain and key, and wear it around your own neck as long as you live. Little did that fond old lady dream of the pain and shame which that legacy of jewels would bring upon the fair girl whonj she so loved. Brownie returned the box to its place, wondering if anything so wondrous sad as the story to which she had just listened would ever come to mar her future. “Now go, dear, and dress for tea — I am tired and would rest a while; when the bell rings I will come down,” Miss Mehet- abel said, trying to smile as cheerfully as if they had be«n hav- ing only a social chat, and her heart-strings had not been strained to their utmost tension. Brownie carefully drew down the window-shades, then kissing n«* aunt softly upon her withered cheek, noisdeasly withdrew. LAYINC DOWN" LIFERS BURDEN. 4^ CHAPTER V. LAYING DOWN LIFfi's BURDEN. Suppe? tiffin came. Brownie and Miss Aspasia Huntington, in their fresh, crisp muslins, with bright eyes and faces, descended to the dining- room, where a tempting little tea was laid for three. The Sevres china contrasted daintily with the crimson cloth ; the cut-glass goblets and fruit-dishes, with their silver covers, gleamed like diamonds, and the polished silver service gave an added air of elegance to the richly-spread board. Where is auntie.? Has she not come down yet?'' Brownie asked of the dignified waiter. ^‘No, miss," was the courteous reply. ‘‘Ah, here she comes," continued the young girl, hastening forward to lead Miss Mehetabel to her seat “Are you feding ill, auntie? You are looking pale," she added, anxiously, noticing the wax-like appearance of her face. She did, indeed, look uncommonly white, and somewhat wan. I “No, dear, I feel as well as usual," smiled the old lady; and immediately she began a lively chat with Miss Aspasia, for she saw that Brownie feared that their afternoon's conference had been too much for her feeble strength. She exerted herself to the utmost to make the hour pass 50 LAYING DOWN LIFERS MUFBEN. pleasantly. She told stories of her early youth — droll little ad- ventures which had happened to her as a girl — and which soon set them both laughing heartily; and for the once, the stately dame seemed to forget her years, threw off her stateliness, and became almost a girl again herself. They lingered long over their cozy tea, little dreaming that they would never sit thus together again ; and Brownie, in the loneliness and desolateness which followed, often looked bach to this hour, and dwelt fondly upon the memory of it. The western sun streamed in through the large bay-window,^ lighting up the rich room and the elegantly-laid table; touch- ing the bright heads of those young girls — the one so golden^ the other so richly brown— caressing them in their beauty, ac» if they had been some choice lovely flowers. It rested softly upon the aged face and silvery locks of Miss Mehetabel ; and, as Brownie looked up and noticed it, and the happy content shining from her mild eyes and resting on her smiling lips-- from which every trace of pain had now vanished — it seemed to her almost as if an angel had opened the gates of Paradise, just to let down a ray of glory, as if in holy benediction upon her, before she should go out into the great unknown. Ever afterward, when she thought of her dear aunt — mother, ,as she sometimes called her — this hour, the happy light in those kind eyes, the sweet smile upon her lips, always returned Xo her ; and she knew then that the sting which had poisoned all her ^ had ceased its smarting, that all pain was over, and her rest was at hand. After tea they all went out upon the veranda, which over- Woked a charming spot, half garden, half lawn. LAYING DOWN LIFE'S BURDEN, 51 Brownie, after seeing Miss Douglas in a comfortable arm- chair, with a hassock at her feet, threw herself into the ham- mock, and swung lazily back and forth, while the more stately Aspasia gracefully arranged herself and her lengthy skirts upon a rustic scat near Miss MehetabeL A half hour passed in pleasant conversation, when Brownie, chancing to glance at her aunt, saw that she had grown very pale again, and her lips had a bluish tinge, which she had never seen upon them before. She got out of the hammock, and coming up behind her, bent down, until her bright cheek rested against the aged one. Auntie,"' she said, ‘‘it is getting chilly and damp out here ; let us go in. " “Very well, dear;" and rising, she allowed her to lead her into the house. “Shall we ^o into the drawing-room, or up into your bou- doir.?^" Brownie asked, lingering in the hall. “Come up into my room; it is more cozy there," she an- swered. Up the grand staircase they went, and a chill of fear settled upon the heart of that young girl, as she noted how slowly Miss Douglas moved, and how heavily she leaned upon her arm. Something very unusual for the self-reliant Miss Mehet- abel. After she was comfortably seated again. Brownie brought her % glass of wine. “Drink this, auntie," she said. “What is the matter with you, darling?" questioned Miss Mehetabel, looking up into the anxious face above her. 52 LAYING DOWN LIFE^iS BURDEN You do not look quite well, auntie, and I am afraid you have taken cold/' ‘^No, I think not; I feel perfectly well, and almost young again, to have two such bright, lively girls about me. But I will drink the wine to please you, it will only serve to make me more merry/' And she swallowed the rich old port, with a fond glance and smile at the lovely girl. What a blessing you are to me, darling 1 You have been my sunbeam all your life. Remember that always, will you, dear?" she added, as she handed the glass back to her. Brownie for answer stooped and kissed her, yet her heart ached strangely at the fond words ; they seemed like the fare- well of some one about to die. Ah, if she could have known that coming events were but casting their shadows before I Another half-hour passed, and Miss Douglas said she would retire, and they might go down into the drawing-room and amuse themselves. At this moment the hall-bell rang, and soon after the foot- man brought up two cards upon a salver. ‘‘Anna Gordon and her brother," Brownie said, after read- ing the names upon them. “Well, dear, go right down, and send up Martha to attend to me," commanded Miss Douglas. “No, auntie; I want the pleasure of putting you to bed my- self to-night. Aspasia is well acquainted with them — let her go down, and I will come when I have tucked you up." In vain Miss Mehetabel protested, but Brownie was playfully willful, and refused to go for Martha ; and so Miss Huntington LAYING DOWN LIFERS BURDEN 53 finally departed to entertain the visitors, wondering inwardly at her friend's devotion to ‘'that old maid.'' With tender, loving hands, the young girl assisted her to dis- robe, brought forth the snowy robe dt nuit^ with its delicate lacG at the neck and wrists, and the dainty cap, which she insisted must be tied in the pretty bow, even if she was going to bed and there was no one to see it She shook up the soft pillow to make it lighter still, and smoothed the wrinkles out of the counterpane, and then drew a little stand with a glass of water and a tiny silver bell upon it, so- that she need not get up if she wanted anything. She then turned down the gas just as she knew she liked it, and flitted hither and thither putting away the clothes she had just taken off, and arranging them conveniently for morning. She lingered tenderly over them, just as if she was impressed she should never do it again. Finally all was done to her mind, and she turned again to- ward the bed to get her good-night kiss. Miss Mehetabel lay very quiet, with her eyes closed, a smile upon her lips, and, in the dim light, with her snowy surround- ings, she looked like scftne beautiful saint in repose. “Auntie must have been tired indeed, if she could fall asleep so soon, " said Brownie to herself, as she drew near. “Auntie, good-night. If you are comfortable now, I will go down," she said, softly, disliking to disturb her, and yet not wishing to go without her customary caress. She bent over and touched her lips to the placid forehead. Still the old lady did not move. 54 LAYING DOWN LIFERS BURDEN Brownie started, and looked more closely. What did this solemn silence mean ? “Auntie, I am going now. Kiss me, please," Brownie said, aloud, a note of fear in her voice, and her rosy lips met thoaa smiling, motionless ones. With a smothered cry of terror, the fair girl elarted back. They had given back no answering caress — they were rigid as marble ! The eyelids rested upon the pale cheeks, the silvery hair lay smooth upon the waxen brow, the delicate hands were clasped peacefully upon her motionless bosom, and she seemed like one who had only fallen into a deep sleep, but — she was dead 1 In a moment she had passed, without pain or knowledge, from life's sorrow and wearinais into the great unknown future ; the gate of Paradise, which had seemed to Brownie at the tea- table to have swung apart just enough to let a litiU of Heaven's glory down upon her, had now opened wide, and she had passed through its portals into the full glory of the celestial city, and the great burden which for forty-five years had crushed her kind and loving heart was rolled away at last. Brownie, after that one smothered cry, stood for a moment motionless as Miss Douglas herself. She did not scream or faint. A terrible weight of pain clutched at her heart as the fearful conviction of the truth flashed upon her when she touched those rigid lips, and a great and solemn awe stole over her. But her dear one had stepped from earth to Heaven so quietlv; so peacefully, and she seemed so beautiful lying there in ht® spotless night robes, with her clasped hands and lingering smile, LAYING DOWN LIFERS BURDEF 55 ihere was no terror about it, and Brownie would no more ^ disturbed that holy stillness than she would have disturbed the house of God. ' With swift, noiseless steps, but ashen cheek, she glided from tlie room to call assistance, but met Martha just coming in. Martha, go and tell Mrs. Grim wood to come here at once, and then send James for Dr. Sargeant. Do not lose a mo- ment,'' she said, in low tones, but with white, shaking lips. ‘‘What is it. Miss Brownie?" asked the servant, anxiously. “I don't know really^ Martha, but go — goT Then, with no sense of fear, she turned back into that cham- ber of death, and stood silently by the dear “aunt-mother," who had for so long filled the places of both father and mother to her. She knew now she was dead; she knew Dr. Sargeant, or any one else, could do nothing for her ; they could not piece again the broken golden thread of life, nor give back to her the tender care and love which the good Father had seen fit to take from her. And a sense of her great loneliness was beginning to creep over her. The housekeeper now came quickly in, alarmed by the mes- iage which Martha had taken to her. Brownie turned and met her, but she was so calm and col- lected that the woman was half reassured. “Is anything the matter. Miss Meta?" she asked, with an anxious glance at the still figure in the bed. “Do not be alarmed, Mrs. Grimwood, and do not let there be any confusion, but I am afraid auntie has gone home. " The woman had strong nerves, and had looked upon death 5 ^ LAYING DOWN LIFERS BURDEN. many times, but she regarded the quiet girl as she made this startling statement with utter amazement. Then, in an instant, she was beside Miss Douglas' couch. One glance was sufficient ; she knew that the old lady had indeed gone home. ‘‘Miss Meta," she said, sadly, and turning to her, “it is true, and I have been looking for it in just this way for a long time. But to think you should have been here all alone with her — ^you, so young, and having never looked on death before I" and overcome with sympathy for the lonely girl, she gathered her close in her arms, and began to cry softly over her. A hard, dry sob came shudderingly up from Brownie's aching heart “She was my father and mother both, and I loved her so,” she said, but no tears fell from her burning eyes. The shock had benumbed her into this false calm, and she seemed to have no power to weep. “Come away, dear, this is no place for you,” said Mrs. Grim- wood, gently trying to force her from the spot “Oh, no, I cannot go away and leave her. Dr. Sargeant will be here presently, and I wish to see him. Does she not look lovely, Mrs. Grimwood ?” and she touched the silvery hair with the tips of her rosy fingers. The woman did not reply, except by a look of wonder, and at that moment the doctor came bustling in, while the servants began to gather about the door, having learned from Martha that something was wrong. Dr. Sargeant, as a matter of form, went up to the bed, felt fer the pulse, and placed his hand above the motionless heart, LAYING DOWN LIFERS BURDEN 57 but his quick eye had told him all the moment he entered the room. He, too, had long expected it. Yes, she was dead, he said, but she had died without a pang, from disease of the heart. ^‘She only went to sleep Just as usual. Miss Brownie, and awoke in Heaven,"' he said, gently, with his kind eyes fixed upon the girl's pale, solemn face ; and she heard the words with a sense of comfort which surprised even herself. am so glad," she answered, simply, and in such a touch- ing, self-forgetful way, that it almost made the strong man weep for her. ‘‘ Glad !" he repeated, laying his hand on her shoulder. Yes ; you say it came upon her like a peaceful sleep, in- stead of the usual way, if so, it was for her the blessedness of death, after the bitterness of life, I am glad for her, but I shall be so lonely. Oh, auntie !" It came to her now in all its cruel force, and she had no strength to resist when the good doctor half carried her from the room, and laid her upon her own bed, crushed and heart- broken. 58 &TAKR3 AN^ LOST. CHAPTER VI. STAKED AND LOST. How the next few days passed Brownie never knew. She had a dim idea of having had interviews with the under- taker, the clergyman, the florist, and others, pertaining to the last sad ceremonies for the dead. She had submitted to the dressmaker to have her mourning made, and had answered innumerable questions from Mrs. Grimwood and the servants ; but it all seemed like a dream — a horrible nightmare, which, holding her in its clutch, made the earth to seem desolate, the sun to give no light, the flowers to lose their brightness and fragrance, and her hitherto happy ex- istence appear almost a blank. One thing she remembered doing with her own little hands, and had experienced a sad pleasure in the simple service. In ordering the rare and costly flewers which were to deco^ rate the house, she had included a quantity of heliotrope and tuberoses — the flowers which Miss Mehetabel had always loved best on account of their purity and fragrance. These she wove into a lovely star, and laid it upon the elegant casket above the pukeless breast, and then placed a few of the feirest and sweetest in the white clasped hands, which would STAKED AND LOST 59 nevt ^cst with their fond and gentle touch upon her head again It was all over at last. There were no near relatives, only some distant cousins, and these, knowing they had no claim upon the old lady’s money, did not deem it worth their while to come to the funeral. So Brownie and Aspasia, who had proved herself a real comfort in these days of trial, sat alone, excepting the servants and a few intimate acquaintances, in those great somber rooms, whik those last sad words were spoken above the dead. And then they carried her forth to her last long home, and laid her beside those other dear ones, who had been gone so many years. It seemed to Brownie as if she were almost the only one liv- ing — as if all the w^orld had died and were buried, when she returned to that great house in all its lonely splendor. ‘‘Oh, Aspasia,’’ she cried, throwing herself into Miss Hunt- ington’s arms, with her first wild burst of tears, “what shall I do? I have nobody in the world now to love me.” “Don’t talk so, darling,” she said, her own tears flowing in sympathy. “I love you better than any one else in the world, and I will never forsake you. ” She little knew how soon her words would be put to the test. “I know you love me, dear, but you cannot stay with me; you will soon go home, where you have a fond father and moth- er, brothers and sisters, while I have no one. I have no object in life, Aspasia, now that auntie is gone,” and again the terr-^^i^t of grief rushed forth. 6o STAKED AND LOST Miss Huntington made her lie down, and soothed her as she would a child. With her own dainty hands she removed her boots, brought a soft pair of slippers and put them on, then bathed her head, and worked over her until she grew calm i again. She proposed taking her back with her to Belmont Park, the name of her father's estate, telling her she should stay just as long as she liked, and that she would never get lonely there. Their conversation was at length interrupted by a servant coming to tell them that Miss Douglas' presence was required in the library to listen to the reading of the will. The summons made the poor girl's grief burst forth afresh. ‘^Oh, auntie, auntie!" she sobbed, ^^your money will be nothing to me without you — gold without love is worthless." Poor Brownie! she did not know what v/as coming upon her. ‘‘You will go down with me, Aspasia," she said, holding out her hand to her friend as she arose to obey the request. “Certainly, dear, if you wish," was the kind reply, and th© two friends descended to the library, to find Miss Mehetabel's lawyer, the family doctor, and clergyman awaiting their appear- ance. Brownie greeted them with a graceful inclination of her head, then seated herself to await their business. Reverend Mr. Ashley approached and took her hand. “My dear Miss Douglas," he said, and his voice shook with .sympathy as he looked into her sad face, “it was your aunt's request that her will be read immediately after the funeral cer- emonies, and as our good friend, the doctor, and myself were STAKED AND LOST 6l witnesses to that document, were invited to be present at the reading of it. ” Brownie bowed. She could not speak, for the tears were choking her so. What was wealth to her in her lonely condition. She knew everything was willed to her, for Miss Mehetabel had told her so, but her generous little heart recoiled from having so much, when there was no one but herself on whom to lavish it. Mr. Ashley retired to a seat, and signified to Mr. Conrad, the lawyer, that they were ready to listen. He took up the legal-looking document from the table, near which he was sitting, and began to read. Everything, as she had expected, was given to Brownie, ex- cepting a legacy of five hundred dollars to each of the trusty servants, who had been with her so many years. All the plate, the house, with its elegant furnishings, the stables, with its fine horses and carriages, were hers, and she privileged to choose whom she liked to manage her affairs i»- the future. There was a long silence after the lawyer ceased reading. Brownie sat listless, and gazing absently out of the window, and feeling so strange and lonely, as if some great burden had suddenly fallen upon her. ^^Ahem! ah — Miss Douglas — will you kindly give me your attention for a few moments asked Mr. Conrad, breaking in upon her reverie, and speaking with great embarrassment She started violently. 9z STAKED AND LOST. « '‘Yes, sir; I beg your pardon for seeming inattentive> she said, and the color leaped into her face for a moment. She waited a few moments, but he seemed suddenly to have become as absent-minded as she had been. She glanced up at him, and was amazed at his appearance, while the doctor and Mr. Ashley exchanged wondering glances. Mr. Conrad was an elderly man of about sixty ; his hair was gray, and his face was wrinkled, but it was a noble face withal. At this moment it seemed to be convulsed with pain. His lips were drawn into a tight line across his teeth, and were almost livid, while the cords stood out hard and knotted upon his forehead, and the hand which held the will trembled visibly. Brownie forgot herself instantly when she saw his evident suffering. “Mr. Conrad, are you ill.? Let me call James to get you something,'' she exclaimed, half rising to ring the bell. “No, Miss Douglas, keep your seat. My illness is of the mind, not of the body," he replied, in tones of deepest pain. Then, quickly rising, he went over and stood before her, with bowed head, and hands clenched, as if he were struggling with some terrible emotion. “Miss Brownie," he continued, speaking very gently and humbly, “I have a very humiliating confession to make. I pray you, when you have heard it, to judge me as kindly as you can, and whatever you do with me to meet the claims of justice, if you will o^y say on your own part that you forgive an old man, it will Uke the heaviest burden of my life from my heart” STAKED AND LOST. 63 The youM|^ f^ivl regarded him with wonder. She could not understand what this proud, self-reliant man, vrho for many years had had charge of all her aunt's affairs, could mean by speaking in this humble, broken way to her. The innocent, confiding look in her large, liquid eyes seemed t© pierce him afresh. ^ ‘‘You wonder at my words," he went on, “and yet you look trustingly upon me ; but it will not be quite so when I tell you that I have betrayed that trust. " “Betrayed my trust!" she repeated, not comprehending his words. “Yes, betrayed your trust, betrayed your aunt's trust, and played the villain of the deep>est dye. Miss Douglas, I have made a beggar of you f* Had a ball of lightning exploded in their midst there could not have been greater consternation than three of the number present expressed. Mr. Conrad had intimated to the doctor and clergyman that he had an unpleasant disclosure to make, but they had not been prepared for anything quite so astounding as this. “Conrad, man, are you mad .?" exclaimed Dr. Sargeant. “Surely, my friend, you do not mean anything so bad as you have stated," said the kind-hearted clergyman, in grave t©ae«. “A beggar!" cried Miss Huntington, she alone taking in the full sense of the word, and appalled at her friend's calamity. And now came the grand struggle between that young lady's aristocratic notions and her genuine love for Brownie* Which would conquer ? ^4 STAKED AND LOST. But Brownie herself sat very quiet, with her little handi clasped idly in her lap. She had heard his words, and she knew what they meant — the lo^ of home, friends, and all the comforts to which she had been accustomed ever since she could remember; yet what did it amount to, compared with the loss of her only loved one? ‘‘Did you understand me. Miss Douglas?” asked Mr. Con- rad, somewhat impatiently, and wondering at her apathy, while he did not heed the questions of the others. “Yes; you said I — I should not have any property,” she replied, avoiding the harsh words he had used. “Good God I how indifferent you are; I said I had made you a heggar. Not a pauper in the streets has less than you will have when the debts are all paid,” he cried, sinking into a chair by her side, the sweat rolling off his face. “Yes, yes, I know what you mean,” Brownie said, arousing herself when she saw how distressed he appeared, then added : “But please, Mr. Conrad, do not look so — do not feel so badly about it. I know auntie trusted you fully, and I am sure it was something you could not help ; I dare say I shall not mind it so very much when I get used to it, ” she concluded, gently. The stricken lawyer groaned aloud. He had been prepared for tears, and sobs, and censure ; and here the noble girl was forgetting all her own wrong, and striving to comfort him for his share in it It made him writhe in torture. Brownie's tender heart could not see him suffer thus without deep sym- pathy. She forget all about her own sorrow. She had known and STAKED AND LOST. 65 respected the old gentleman from her earliest remembrance. He had always noticed her as a child, and ever had a kind word to give her when he came upon business to her aunt, and she had grown to feel toward him as if he were almost one of the family. She now arose, and gliding to his side, laid her little hand upon his shoulder. ‘‘Dear Mr. Conrad, will you plea^se explain this disagreeable affair to me .? I see it is trouliling you very much. I do not understand much about business, but I will listen attentively, and try to comprehend. “God bless you, dear child, for your goodness to me,'^ he said, taking her hand in one of his, while he wiped his moist brow with the other. “I do not deserve it from you. Yes, I will explain at once, and have this dreadful burden off my mind; it has nearly crushed me for years. You know, dear, that I have had the care of your aunt's property for the last forty years — in fact, nearly ever since she came to this city to live. " “Yes, sir.'' “Well, for thirty years I was faithful to my trust — I would no more have touched a penny of her money to appropriate it unlawfully than I would have cut my right hand off. Had any one told me then that to-day I should ht a thief ^ I would have felled him to the ground and spurned him with my foot. But we cannot tell what we will do under certain temptations. Ten years ago a dear friend of mine died, leaving his only child in my care, together with a property of fifty thousand dollars. I invested it in what I believed to be a sound concern, but in less than a year it failed, and my friend's child was penniless. " STAICED AND LOST, ‘'How sorry I am/' was Brownies simple comment, and deeply interested in the lawyer's tale. He smiled bitterly, but clasping her hand more firmly, went on : “I then did something which was not right, but which I thought must succeed, and everything would be all right again. I felt that I was entirely to blame for the loss of my ward's property, and that I was in duty bound to replace it. I had no ready funds of my own, but I knew that your aunt, with her vast wealth, would not miss fifty thousand dollars for a little while, and I resolved to use it — speculate in what prom- ised to be a very successful operation, hoping thus to win back a portion at least of what I had lost for my ward. I staked it and Iosif’ “Ah!" ejaculated the clergyman, with a sorrowful shake of the head. “Whew 1" whistled the doctor. “Horrid man!" breathed Miss Huntington, under her breath. But Brownie only nestled a step nearer the poor man's side. “Driven desperate by this unfortunate circumstance," he went on, with a deep sigh, “I grew reckless, and invested a hundred thousand more of Miss Douglas' money, but again I lost. Then a bank where I had invested a very large amount of her funds suddenly suspended payment ; but hoping that all would come out right by and by, I kept all knowledge of the difficulty from her. You know that the old lady loved the good things of this life, and was not at all careful of the dol- lars ; and she need not have been, had 1 been faithful. Bat I STAKED AiW LOST. 6 ^ continued to speculate with what ready money I could get hold of, and, with her annual expenditure, her thousands have melt- ed into hundreds; and to-day, when she thought you would inherit at least a million, I have to tell you, that if I pay the debts and the legacies to the servants, there will not remain sufficient to feed you for a year. Yes, Miss Douglas, in the worst sense of the word, I have made you a beggar. I, who always prided myself upon my integrity and my incorruptibil- ity, have forfeited my character for probity and honesty, and stand here before you a criminal worthy to^ suffer the extent of the law.'' He paused for a moment, but as no one spoke, he con- . tinned : ‘‘This is my confession; and now I surrender myself into your hands, to do with me as you will. I do not offer any ex- cuse for my fault — it was wrong from beginning to end. I had no right whatever to touch a penny of your aunt's money. I was deeply distressed at the loss of my ward's property, but I ought to have stopped there. However, having once failed of success in using Miss Douglas' money, I kept on, hoping, in my desperation, that some favorable turn in fortune's wheel would enable me to replace everything." There was an awkward silence when the old man concluded. Dr. Sargeant and Mr. Ashley were horror-struck at the reve- lation. It had been deeply humiliating to the old and respected law- yer to make this confession in the presence of these witnesses, but the time had come wher the state of affairs could no loiv ger be concealed. The property was all gone, and Miss Doug- 68 STAKED AND LOST. las" death necessitated a settlement of some kind, and it would have to come out that her niece and reputed heiress was penni- less. The house and everything would have to be sold to pay the outstanding debts, and she who had been cradled in the lap of luxury from her earliest infancy, must now go forth into the cold world, to buffet with its storms and bitterness alone. Brownie’s face was very grave as he concluded, and all but the lawyer were watching her anxiously, to see how she would bear the news. She had bent her whole mind to the recital, and compre-* bended all which must follow. She knew what it meant to be poor, for she had seen many poor girls toiling for their daily bread, and her kind and gentle heart had prompted her to aid and comfort not a few on their toilsome way heretofore. She began already to realize the care that had thus suddenly fallen upon her. She knew that henceforth she must work with her hands for the bread which she ate ; and during the lawyer’s Kory she had changed from the gay and light-hearted girl to the grave and thoughtful woman. But still her first thought was for others. ‘‘I am so glad auntie did not know of this be — before she died,” she said, her lips quivering as she uttered those last words. Mr. Conrad looked up with an expression of bewilderment. ‘Tt would have mad^ her so unhappy, you know, cn my ac- count,” Brownie explained. The lawyer’s head fell upon his breast again, ‘‘What will you do with me?” he asked, wearily. STAKED AND LOST 69 '^What will I do with you, Mr. Conrad.? I do not think I clearly understand what you mean,” she answered, with a troubled expression on her sweet face. ‘‘You know that the law takes care of people who do as I have done. The crime of embezzlement is no light one.” “Oh, dear Mr. Conrad, do not speak so! You meant to commit no crime ; you only wished to right some one else's wrong. It was not, perhaps, just the right thing to do with- out auntie’s knowledge, but I can do nothing with you, only “Only?” the lawyer asked, raising his haggard face, and eagerly reading the lovely flushed one at his side. “ Only to be very, very sorry for you, my friend,” she said, softly, and with a little quivering smile. Mr. Conrad looked upon her as if she had been an angel — wonder, reverence, awe, all expressed upon his countenance. Then, with a deep groan, the strong man bowed his head and wept the bitterest tears he had ever shed in his life. He could have borne to hear the felon’s doom pronounced upon him with the face of a stole ; but this sublime pity and forgiveness caused him to forget his mannood, and made a child •f him. 70 LOVE HAD CONQUERED PRIDE. CHAPTER VIL LOVE HAD CONQUERED PRIDE. Dr. Sargeant now came forward, saying : ‘^Miss Douglas, do you realize how serious this matter is? Have you considered what your position will b© in the world henceforth Y' He did not like to have the lawyer let off so easily. realize, doctor, that I am no longer an heiress to great wealth, as every one has thus far supposed — that there is no longer a life of idleness and pleasure for me. On the contrary, I must go out into the world and work for my living,"' Brownie replied, lifting her grave eyes to the doctor's face, while there was a touch of dignity in her manner which he had never seen before. He glanced compassionately at the little hand, with its pretty pink fingers, which hung among the folds of her dress, and sighed. It seemed a hard lot for this delicate girl, who had never known aught of hardship, and whose every wish had thus far been gratified. “Mr. Conrad," he continued, turning to the lawyer, “this is a very grave matter. How do your own affairs stand ?" “Much the same as Miss Douglas'. I have nothing in the LOVE HAD CONQUERED PRIDE. 71 world except what I earn from day to day. If I had money of my own, do you suppose I would have touched any one else’s he asked, a flash of indignation kindling his eyes, and his fin5 |brm for a moment becoming erect. “Pardon me. No. But who is this ward of yours?'' “Miss Emily Elliot." “Where is she now?" “In my own family. She has never known of her loss; V have provided for her every need and want by the labor of my own hands. I never intend that she shall know of it while J live — if I am taken away it will have to come out. “And, Miss Douglas," turning eagerly to Brownie, “if you do not utterly hate me for the trouble which I have brought upon you, will you, too, come to my home and let me provide the comforts of life for you ? I can easily do that ; I have no, one but my wife and Miss Elliot, and my business will give me enough to support you all comfortably." “It is well thought of, Mr, Conrad," said Mr. Ashley, ap. provingly. He, also, could not bear the idea of that young girl working for her living or going out into the cold world uncared for. “Oh, Mr. Ashley, and you, doctor, you can never know the suffering which this thing has brought upon me," Mr. Conrad continued, rising, and pacing the floor nervously. “I thought I was an honorable man — I am an honorable man at heart now, but my zeal to do well by my friend's child, my zeal that no one should suffer who had placed their interests in my keep- ing, has led me to commit a wrong for which I can never atone. 72 LOVE HAD CONQUERED PRIDE. Had it not been that others were dependent upon me, my life would have paid the forfeit years ago.” The clergyman went up to him and took him by the hand. My friend, do not grieve thus despairingly over what you eannot now help. ^ I am deeply pained at what you have told us, but my respect for your moral character is not diminished. It has been a mistake of the head, not of the heart; and I should not hesitate, if it were necessary or expedient, to place my own interests in your keeping to-day. ” *‘God bless you !” returned Mr. Conrad, deeply affected. ‘‘No, you feel your error too deeply ever to be guilty of the same again. ” “If that bank only had not suspended payment. Miss Doug- las might still have had a competence; but everything has seemed to be against me. But, Miss Brownie,” he added, turning again to the sorrowful girl, “you have not yet answered my question. Will you come to me and let me take care of you “No, dear friend; you have enough upon your mind and heart now, and I cannot add to your burdens. ” “It will not. I pray you, give me the satisfaction of doing this much toward averting the consequences of my wrong,” he pleaded, earnestly. “My dear,” interposed the clergyman, impressively, “I ad- vise you, by all means, to accept Mr. Conrad's hospitality and protection. You are very young, and not at all fitted to do bat- tle with the world. It will never do for you to tiy and support yourself; you are entirely ignorant of the ways of the world. ” “Mr. Ashley, there are hundreds, yes, thousands, as young LOr£ HAD CONQUERED PRIDE. 73 and even more delicate than I, wh® not only support them- selves, but assist in maintaining their father and mother, broth- ers and sisters,"' returned Brownie. ‘‘I do not claim to be of finer clay than my unfortunate sisters. " ‘‘But they have been brought up to it/" interposed Mr. Conrad. “Some of them have, and some have not God has given me health; and, thanks to my aunt, who took infinite pains with me, I have an excellent education; and, gentlemen, I really feel competent to take care of myself,"" the young girl re- turned, proudly, yet with a more cheerful look than she had worn since Miss Mehetabers death. “But it would give Mr. Conrad infinite satisfaction, I know, to think he was saving you, in a measure, from the cruel con- sequences of his act, "' said Dr. Sargeant. “I appreciate Mr. Conrad s kindness, and am truly grateful to him, but I should do violence to my own feelings if I allowed myself to be dependent upon any one"s bounty while I have health and strength, "" and her delicate &ce flushed to her very brow as she said it. In vain they pleaded and urged, both the clergyman and the doctor offering her a home with them, if she would not go with Mr. Conrad. She remained firm, and they were filled with ad- miration at the strength of character which she displayed. “ I will try for a while,"" she said, seeing how bitterly disap- pointed Mr. Conrad was ; “and if I fail, I shall know where to come for a home."' “You are not strong;, you will break down under it,'' h^ said, gloomily. 74 LOVE HAD CONQUERED PRIDE. “ I think not/' was the cheerful response. have always gympathized with these poor girls, and now I shall know, by actual experience, what their life is. I feel, dear friends, that this is a lesson in life, through which God intends to teach me, and work out for me some great good.” ‘^What will you do?” the lawyer asked, while great tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks. ‘‘I do not know yet; I shall have to consider that point a while. ” \ Then, after a few minute's thought, and pitying his distress, she added : ‘‘At all events, whatever I undertake, if I fail, I promise you I will not refuse the home you offer me ; and if I need a friend I shall always know where to find him. ” She held out her hand to him with a sweet, winning smile, and again the strong man broke down, weeping like a child, and there was not a dry eye in the room excepting her own. “What a foolish set we are !” exclaimed the doctor, after a vigorous blowing of the nose. “This young lady shames us all. Succeed ? Of course she'll succeed, and I say God bless her — she is an honor to the name which she bears.” Brownie felt prouder at the good doctor's compliment, than •he had ever felt in her life before. “ I will be an honor to the name,” she thought to herself, and her eye grew brighter, and her form more proudly erect with the resolve. After a few more casual remarks the gentlemen took their de- parture, and the two girls were once more alone, “Brownie Douglas, you surely did not mean what you told LOVE HAD CONQUERED PMDE. 75 Mr. Conrad exclaimed Aspasia Huntington, the moment the door closed after them. told him quite a number of things ; to what in particular do you refer ‘‘Why, working for your own living, to be sure.'' “Certainly, I meant it ; there remains nothing else forme to do." ’ “But Mr. Conrad offered to relieve you from all anxiety about your future. Why did you not accept his offer “ What ! and degrade myself by becoming dependent on his bounty, when he already has more than his heart and hands full } Never !" exclaimed the young girl, indignantly, her cheeks flushing a vivid crimson. “ I’m sure it is no more than your right, after his wronging you out of your fortune as he has," returned Aspasia, with a pout. “The poor man meant me no wrong, and would replace every penny of it to-day, if he could do so by forfeiting every- thing he holds dear in life, and I bear him no ill-will But while I have nothing legally my own, and have health and ability, I will never be dependent upon any one but myself '' Brownie said, haughtily. . “But you will lose caste." “Perhaps; but I shall not lose my character nor my self- respect," was the very quiet though cold reply. “ Your friends will forsake you." “They are not worthy the name, then, nor a regret," and the delicati^ curled with infinite scorn, yet there was LOVE HAD CONQUERED PRIDE, the feintest perceptible quiver upon them, and a wistful look in the dark, beautiful eyes. Would Aspasia go with the rest ? Do you not care if you lose them ?" Aspasia asked, eagerly, have had many kind and dear ones, but if they have loved my prospective fortune more than they have loved me, the sooner I find it out the better. At all events, this calamity, if it can be so termed, will show me the true and the false."' ‘‘And you will not feel degraded to go out and earn your pittance, perhaps a dollar a day, with your own hands.?" “No. My hands may grow hard and rough with the toil, but my heart will be the same. It cannot take from me my dignity, nor harm my intellect. How, then, will it degrade me, Aspasia.?" “There are those who will consider it a degradation, " re- turned Miss Huntington, evasively. “ How will it move you to find that those who have always courted your favor will shun you in the future .?" A smile of contempt swept over Miss Douglas" beautifui fece. “I should be more grieved over their shallow folly thaa for my own misfortune,"" she said, in a voice of scorn. “ Brownie Douglas, you are a splendid girl, and I love you a thousand times more at this moment than I ever did in my life before. I am prouder of you as a friend, prouder of you with- out a penny to-day, than I was yesterday when I thought you vorth a million !" exclaimed Miss Huntington, impulsively, as ihe threw her arms around her friend and embraced her fer- vently* LOVE HAD CONQUERED PRIDE, 77 This broke Brownie down completely, and she sobbed wiidlj^ for a few minutes. ‘‘Dear Asia,'" she said, at length, wiping her tears, “I thought surely, when you were talking about caste and the deg- redation of toil, that you were speaking your own thoughts. We have loved each other so well, that the idea of losing your friendship was veiy painful to me. " “Forgive me if I for the moment pained you. I have read of people being above such feelings upon the loss of all their earthly goods, but I never believed it, and I was testing you. I truly prize you more in your misfortune than I ever did before. You have taught me a lesson to-day which I shall not soon for- get. Your example toward the poor and unfortunate has always troubled my conscience, and henceforth I shall shorten my trains and extend my charities." “ I am glad to hear you say this, Asia,, for you have the means at your command to do great good," replied Brownie, her face now radiant at this proof of true friendship. Love had conquered pride ! “Well, but Fm afraid the lesson will not be lasting if you do not follow it up with others, and so, my darling, I am going to propose that you go home to stay with me. No, you needn't refuse," she continued, putting her hand playfully over Brownie's lips, “on the score of being dependent, for you know papa has plenty, and would never feel it in the world. He would be de- lighted, for he has always admired you intensely." “Aspasia, I know it will hurt you deeply to have me refuse this kindness, but indeed it cannot be, dear. My mind has been made up from the first to earn my bread ‘ by the sweat of 78 LOVE HAD CONQUERED PRIPE. my brow/ and nothing can change it,” Brownie answered, de» cidedly. '‘Will you not come if papa insists upon it ?” “No, dear.” •'But if he desires you to come as a companion and a h«lp lo me ?” urged Aspasia, earnestly. Brownie laughed aloud at the idea, in spite of her sadness. “A companion, Aspasia, when your home is already full !” “Well, but you know Jennie is soon to be married, and Lina needs some one to look after her French and music. You would be just the one, and we would have such delightful times ^gether.” “It w^ould be all a mere form. I know I should not be re- ceived or treated as a governess or companion in your father's house, and I should live a life of idleness and pleasure as much as heretofore. No ; I have said I will work, and work I will! and if all my friends prove themselves as true as you have, 1 shall only be so much the happier, ” was the firm reply. Miss Huntington knew it would be useless to say more, and tuere the matter rested for the present EARNING HEi^ OH^N LIVING. 79 CHAPTER VIIL EARNING HER OWN LIVING. It blipame noised abroad that Miss Meta Douglas, the bvjress, wa« no more than any other common mortal, since her wealth had taken to itself wings and flown away. She had been obliged to descend from the golden pedestal on rhich she had been elevated for so long, and was, therefore, treated accordingly. But with the "'spirit of heroes'" strong within her, she took no notice of it, other than to curl her pretty lips with scorn, and then went on the even tenor of her way. Her greatest trial was that the dear old home, with all its precious furnishings, around which so many tender associations clustered^ must go under the auctioneer s hammer. It seemed as if her heart must break, when, as the last day before the sale came, she went from room to room to take a feirewell view of everything, and gather up the few precious treasures which Mr. Conrad had told her she was at liberty to take. Asposia had proved herself a friend indeed during her friend's trial. She had insisted upon remaining with her until everything was over, and donning a simple calico dress, minus either ruffle or train, she superintended with her own fair hands the packing So EARNING HER OWN LIVING. ©f valuable books, statuettes, bronzes, and ornaments, which she knew were so dear to Brownie's tender heart. And when, at length, the last day arrived, early in the morn- ing, before even the servants were astir, she had slipped down stairs, and, moving noiselessly from room to room, had tacked a card bearing the words ‘‘sold" upon several of the finest paint- ings, which she knew Miss Mehetabel had highly prized, from the fact of their having been brought over from the old country. Her father had given her permission and carte blanche to per- form this delicate service for her friend. But it was all over at last. Eveiything was sold, and the house was left bare and deso- late. Aspasia had gone, and Brownie was alone. The debts were all paid, also the bequests to the servants, which Brownie had insisted upon, although strongly urged to invest the money for herself. “No," she said, decidedly; “auntie wished them to have it — they have been very faithful, and I desire her wishes to be strictly adhered to." Accordingly, Mr. Conrad was obliged to do her bidding, and then, with a sigh of despair, placed two hundred dollars, all that remained of a fortune of a million, in her little handa “Why, I feel quite rich 1" she exclaimed, merrily, as, after counting it over, she looked up and saw his quivering lip. With a mighty effort he swallowed the sobs which nearly broke forth, and managed to say ; “Now, dear child, you will come home with me for a while. Mrs. Conrad desires it, and Emily is lonely/ JSARNING HER ©JVN LIVING. 8l ‘‘Thank you, dear Mr. Conrad, I cannot, as I have promised to be in New York to-morrow morning,"' she answered, with an air of business which would have amused him had not his heart been so full. “In New York to-morrow morning T" he ejaculated, in as- tonishment. “Yes, I have an engagement there.” “An engagement? May I ask of what nature?” and he felt hurt that she had not consulted him regarding her movements for the future. “Certainly. I saw an advertisement a week ago for one hundred girls to work on fancy straws. I have always been be- witched over fancy straw work, so I wrote, asking for a situa- tion.” “ My child, why did you not consult with me ?” “ Because, my friend, I know that you are already nearly dis- tracted, and I was resolved to begin to depend upon myself at once. Yesterday I received a letter, telling me to come on immediately, and I telegraphed that I would arrive to-morrow morning.” “But you have no friends there, and where will you make it your home ?” he asked, in dismay, yet admiring the resiolution •xpressed in her bright eye and flushed face. “There is a boarding-house connected with the establishment for the accommodation of those who work in the factory, and I shall board there for the present.” She spoke hurriedly ; the prospect was not a pleasant one, even to her sanguine heart “ Miss Douglas, this is the height of folly. You working in 82 EARNING HER OWN LIVING. a straw factory, and boarding in a third-class boarding-house I What do you suppose your aunt would say r asked the lawyer, in despair. "'Mr. Conrad, I do not believe it would be very wrong in me to say that I am very glad auntie is not here to know any- thing about it. There was a good deal of sorrow in her life, and it is a relief to me that she went home before this thing came upon us,” Brownie answered, solemnly, yet with lips that quivered painfully. "But,” she added, after a moment’s fight- ing with herself for self-control, "I am young and strong, and I can bear this, since it is sent upon me. However, we will not talk any more about it, please, since my mind is made up. I will write you, and let you know of my safe arrival, and I shall be happy to hear from you occasionally, if you can spare the time. It would seem as if I had some one in the world to care for me a little ; and, Mr. Conrad, it is just a little hard to break away so suddenly from the old life and the old friends.” A little hard ! Did he not know it ? Did he not feel it ? He was heart- rick. His whole soul rebelled against the cruel fate which willed it so, and against his own rash wickedness which had brought her to it. And then to see how she clung to him as to almost the only friend she had ! — it touched him to the core. "Write to you, child } Indeed I will, and anything else in the world that you will let me do for you. And, Miss Doug- las, I shall strain every effort in your behalf, and just as fest as I can accumulate anything I shall invest it in some safe place to your account. Once more — can you forgive me for bring- ing you to this T' he sobbed, wringing her hand. EARNING HER OWN LIVING, 83 ‘^Surely I can, my friend, and let us try to feel that a higher power than that of earth ordained this,'^ she answered, sweetly. ** Let us feel that there is a lesson in this trial for us both.” He bade her farewell as she took her seat in the train that Was to bear her away, .feeling worse than any condemned crim- inal who had been sentenced to hard labor for life. It nearly drove him wild that she would not let him care for her — that she must go forth unprotected into the world to earn the bread she ate, and he was utterly powerless to prevent it. >|c :|c >({ . Never was there a more lonely or heart-sick girl than Brownie Douglas when she entered the office of Ware & Coolidge the next morning, and presented her card, and the letter she had received from them engaging her to come into their employ^ She had arrived in New York late the night previous, and taken a room at a hotel where she had once stopped with Miss Douglas ; but the loneliness of her situation had driven sleep from her eyes, and this in itself had not prepared her to en- counter the cold stare of strangers. ‘‘Do you wish to see any one, miss?” asked a clerk^ as she entered the office, and bestowing a bold stare of admiration upon her lovely face. “I wish to see Mr. Coolidge, if you please,” Brownie an- swered, with cold dignity, yet a hot flush arose to her cheek at his look and manner. “Ah, yes, certainly. Walk this way,” and the dandy led her into an inner office, where a man of about forty-five sat reading hi* paper. 84 EARNING HER OWN LIVING, ‘‘Mr. Coolidge, a young lady to see you, sir,'' the young man said, and, with another insolent stare, bowed himself out. The gentleman immediately came forward, and Brownie gave him her card and the letter. “Ah, yes. Miss Meta Douglas," he said, pleasantly, reading the name, while his quick eye ran over her dainty figure from head to foot, taking in her beauty and expensive apparel at a glance. “You understand the business, I suppose. What de- partment would you prefer to work in ?" “No, sir, I know nothing whatever about the business; I have come to learn, " she answered, frankly and simply. The gentleman gave her a look of surprise, then a smile of amusement curled his lips. He was quick to see that she knew nothing of the rough ways of the world — that' she had been born and bred to better things. Her quiet, dignified, yet graceful manner, her rich dress, her whole appearance, bespoke the refined and polished lady, and he comprehended her situation at once. “ My dear young lady," he said, a trifle embarrassed, “there is some mistake about this. We never employ any but expe- rienced hands. The fall work is coming on rapidly, and we need those who can go right into it without any showing or teaching. Did not the advertisement say ‘none but expe- rienced hands need apply V " “Yes, sir," Brownie replied, with a sinking heart; “but I thought it might be only a mere form ; and as I am very quick to learn anything, and necessity has suddenly compelled me to labor for my living, I thought I would apply for the easiest work I could find." EARNING HER OWN LIVING. 85 '‘D© you think straw-sewing easy work?'' Mr. Cooiidge 3»ked, with a genial smile, and deeply interested in the fair stranger. always thought it very pretty work, and judged it easy,^’ she answered, naively. ''Have you relatives living in New York?" Mr. Cooiidge asked, thoughtfully. "I have no relatives, excepting very distant ones," and the sad tones touched him. "Excuse me for asking the question," he added, courteous- ly, "but I feared if you remained with us, the accommodations in the boarding-house might not be pleasant ior you, and I hoped you had some other place to which to go. " Too well he knew of the meager fare, the close, hot rooms, and hard beds which were provided for the factory help. "Thank you," Brownie answered, quietly, "but if you kindly consent to my staying, the boarding-house will dr well for me as for the others whom you employ." He regarded her keenly for a moment, hardly f mowing whether she intended any reflections upon the firm I^gardii^ the accommodations which they had provided for help, or whether she was indifferent concerning the mat^*. But she stood there so quiet and lady-like, so uncop^ous that iier words had been a sharp reproof, that he was reassured. He knew from her appearance that she had never labored a day in her life. He knew, also, that notliing but the sternest necessity could have driven one like her to manual toil, and his really kind heart was interested, and f t h« C0uld do for her. 86 EAl^NING HER OWN LIVING. ‘‘Miss Douglas, I think I will give you a trial and see what you can do, although it is not our custom to employ green hands. If you will allow me to be the judge of what you will learn the most readily, I will show you to that department at •nee. " “Certainly, and thank you.^ The brown eyes brightened, the sad, tired face brightened up ^ into new beauty. He saw it, and was glad he had broken over the rules for her sake. “Come this way, then." He opened a door opposite the one by which she had en- tered the office, and led her into a long room where a hundred firls sat at tables, their hands flying back and forth upon the hats and bonnets, as if their very existence depended upon the number of stitches which they could set in a minute ; as it did, poor things ! “This is the wiring room," explained Mr. Coolidge, “and I think you could learn to do this work more easily than any other ; you are not strong enough to run a machine, and your fingers are too tender to finish off the tips, " and he glanced at the delicate hands from which she had drawn her gloves. “Machines! Are hats and bonnets made by machinery .?" »he exclaimed, in surprise. “ Yes," and he smiled at her ignorance, then asked ; “ Do you think you would like to work here ?" Surely here was a new departure. Whoever knew of the proud and aristocratic W. W. Coolidge asking an applicant if she would lik^ to work here or there be- EARmNG HER OWN LIVING, 87 fore? It was usually ‘'give her machine No. 43/ or ‘‘send her up to the finishing room/' or "put her to wiring." But the gentlenaan recognized his equal in Miss Douglas, And involuntarily treated her accordingly. ‘‘Yes/' Brownie answered, ‘‘and I think I can learn veiy readily. " Her quick eyes had been watching every movement of the girls near which they stood, and she felt as if she could almost wire a hat without any assistance. She was soon undeceived, k however. ‘‘I presume you do not care to begin to-day?" Mr. Coolidge -emarked, after a few moments. “Yes, sir, please, if it is convenient; I should like to learn immediately. I have no place to go, except to a hotel, and I should get very homesick to remain there all day, " Brownie ex- plained, nervously. She preferred doing anything rather than remaining alone with her own sad thoughts. She tried to be brave, but there were hours when it seemed as if she could not bear her lot. “Very well. Miss Walton, please come here b. moment," Mr. Coolidge called to the overseer of the room. She came at his bidding. A tall, angular, sour-visaged woman, who had been in the establishment for years, and her face grew darker yet when her eyes fell upon the delicate beauty of the young girl standing by her employer's side. She had always hated everything that was bright or beautiful, probably because it made her own deficiency in that respect so apparent. 88 EARNING HER OWN LIVING, ^^Miss Walton/^ continued Mr. Coolidge, ^'this is Miss Douglas, and I wish you to assign her a pleasant seat in the hall, and teach her to wire hats,'*^ Teach her I I thought no inexperienced hands were wanted here V exclaimed the woman, measuring the young girl with her keen eyes, and speaking in an impatient tone. ‘'That was what I said, Miss Walton. I desire you to teach her to wire hats. Please give her some work right 2i^2iyT Mr. Coolidge spoke in a quiet, authoritative way, which there was no gainsaying, and he had specified hats, because he knew they were much easier to do than bonnets. Without replying to him, Miss Walton told Brownie to fol- low her, and, with a grateful smile and bow to her employer, she obeyed. She was led to a seat in a quiet corner of the hall, where Miss Walton, sitting down beside her, took up a hat, and with- out speaking once during the operation, wired it with rapid fingers. Brownie watching intently meanwhile. ‘‘Can you do it?’' she asked, curtly, when she had finished. “I can try,” the young girl answered, with a little sigh, long- ing to ask a few questions, yet not possessing the courage to do %o of the forbidding-looking personage at her side. And now the wearisome, lonely task of earning her own liv- ing was begun. Her heart ached with a sense of utter desolation as she sat there, vainly trying to imitate Miss WaltonV example of wiring a hat She felt more utterly alone among those hundred girls thjn EARNING HER OWN LIVING. 89 she had done the night before in her quiet room at the hotel. She knew that many curious eyes were watching her every movement, and this of itself did not serve to make her work any easier. She knew she was very awkward, and she knew she must appear to great disadvantage before those experienced wirers, who had been in the service, doubtless, for many years. The wire hurt her delicate fingers, the needle, instead of go- ing to its appointed place, often slipped and pierced their rosy tips, and the crimson drops would ooze forth, causing her to lay aside her work and wrap the wounded members in her handkerchief until they ceased to bleed, lest they should stain the hat. One sad-looking girl on her left, had, without appearing to do so, been watching her ineffectual efforts with a great deal of sympathy. When at length, after running her needle half its length under her finger-nail. Brownie laid down her work in despair, she turned kindly toward her and said, with a smile : ‘‘The work is new to you, isn't it?” “Yes,'' Brownie replied, looking up at the sweet tones, and much comforted by them ; “and I am afraid I shall never learn. I am so awkward. " “ Oh, yes, you will. We were all so at the beginning." “Were you ? Then I'll try again," she said, brightening in- stantly. It was a real comfort to her to know that she was not quite such a goose as she had thought herself, after all. “ Perhaps if I show you how to hold the hat, and just how 90 EARNING HER OWN LIVING. to set the needle, you would get on faster,'' said the strange girl, laying down her work, and holding out her own hand (oi Brownie's. “Thank you. If you will, I shall be grateful. I watcheo" Miss Walton carefully, but could not seem to get her way oi holding it." “Miss Walton does not like the trouble of teaching anj one, " returned the other, coldly. “Now," she continued, “take the hat like this, between your finger and thumb, so ; then with your finger try to steady the wire in its place. There, that is just right. Now put your needle through on the under side of the wire, slip the hat along, and take a long stitch ; no — that is too short ; you will never earn anything if you take such little stitches,'^ concluded the girl, smiling again. “But Miss Walton told me to be 'very particular ' said Brownie, surprised at the fearfully long stitch which she was told to take. “I know ; she tells us all to be ^very particular,' but when a few stitches will answer the purpose as well as a good many, wo* do not hesitate to avail ourselves of the fact. " “You are very kind to show me, and I think I shall do nicely now." Brownie worked on more hopefully after this, and found that she could now make the refractory wire lay in its place, and knowing just how to hold the work, the needle no longer slipped into her fingers. “I do not think you will have any more trouble, and every EARNING HER OWN LIVING, 91 you do, you will find the next one will come easier,'' her companion said, after watching her a few moments, and giving her a little more advice. It was even so. She was very quick in her motions, and apt to learn, and after a.while she found she could wire a hat in ten minutes, when at first it had taken her more than double that time. But tb:e confinement — the close, hot room, the noise of dis- tant machinery, and incessant chatter of the girls around her, began to wear upon her. Her head throbbed and ached, as did also her arms and back, from their unaccustomed work, and she grew so tired and nervous that it seemed to her when night came as if her brain were turned. Wearily a^ sorrowfully she wended her way back to the hotel where she had stopped the night before, and threw her- self upon her l^d, too thoroughly worn out to even heed the demands of hunger. She lay there a long time weeping and sobbing, longing for one soft touch of the ‘Vanished hand" upon her aching head, and the soothing sound of that ‘Woice whioil was still." She almost prayed in her loneliness that the good Father would remove her too from the weary cares of earth, as He had done her only friend. But her strong spirit conquered at last, and, rising, she bathed her face and head, re-arranged her toilet, put on her hat again, and went down to the office to settle her bill at tho hotel. 92 EARNING HER OWN LIVING. Notwithstanding her loneliness on the night of her arrival, after the noise and din of the day, she would gladly have re- mained in that quiet room, but she knew her purse would not permit of it ; so, after paying the clerk, she ordered a carriage and proceeded to the factory boarding-house, which was to be her home for the present jL/V adve^^tvre. 93 CHAPTER IX. AK ADVENTURE. The days passed slowly by, and Brownie became more and more accustomed to her work. Before the week was out, she found, by diligent application, that she could earn seventy-five cents a day, and during the next week her earnings gradually crept up to a dollar a day. She became quite hopeful after this, for her nature was naturally buoyant, and she was one who would not readily give up an undertaking, for the spirit of the Douglas was strong within her. She began to feel very independent, too, and she really en- joyed the feeling that she was able to take care of herself. To be sure, her earnings at the most were only six dollars a week. Three and a half of these were paid out for her board and lodging, and another dollar for washing, leaving her only a dollar and a half for other needs. But she still had the two hundred dollars which she had re- ceived from Mr. Conrad, and her wardrobe was amply supplied for a year or two, so that she had no fears but that she could live, at least until some better position should be offered her. She hoped in time to find a situation as teacher. Had it not been for that dreadful boarding-house; with its 94 AJ\r ADVENTURE, noise, Its small, close rooms, and its ill-cooked fare, she would have been comparatively content, for she had made the ac- quaintance of one or two young girls who were refined and in- telligent like herself, and who, too, had been suddenly reduced from affluence to poverty. But a change was about to come to Brownie, which was to influence her whole future. This little episode of three weeks in a straw factory was but the stepping-stone to a year so fraught with changes and trial, that many times after she sighed for the noise and discomfort with the independence of those few days when she toiled so hard for her pittance, and she would gladly have returned to the quiet and seclusion of her close little room in the ill-ap- pointed boarding-house. Mattie Burnham was the name of the young girl who had been so kind to Brownie on that first day of her life in the fac- tory, and soon, by her gentleness and refinement, won a warm place in her heart. Both of the young girls were extremely fond of reading. One evening they issued forth, arm in arm, and wended their way to a public library to exchange their books, and to look over the new periodicals in the reading-room connected with it. They exchanged their books, and then proceeding to the reading-room, seated themselves in a cozy corner, and were soon deeply interested in the various reading matter which lay scattered about upon the tables. They read for an hour or more, then Mattie, suddenly glancing up at the clock, asked : “ Meta, do you know what time it is V AN adventure. 9 !' absently. ''It is half-past eight.'' "Is it?' and Brownies eager eyes were not even raised from her book ; she scarce heeded what her friend was saying. ' "What have you there that is so interesting?" demanded Mattie, after watching her in silence for a few minutes. "It is a little French story, and so intensely interesting C Must we go home now ?" and Brownie looked up wistfully at the clock. "Yes, it is about time. We shall be locked out if we do not get in before ten, you know. " "Oh, well, there is time enough, then. I must read just a little more. I will read aloud, for I know you will like it, the story is so beautifully told. Do you understand French ?" " No." "Well, no matter, I will translate it as I go along;" and Brownie began and read for ten minutes as fast as her tongue could fly, Mattie soon becoming as deeply interested as her- self. She at length stopped, with a sigh. "Well, I suppose I must leave it; and they will not allow us to take any of these books away," she said, regretfully. "It is beautiful, Meta; but, before we go, just read me a little in French. I should like to hear you." Brownie laughed, and glad of any excuse to return to the book, began to read aloud in a spirited, piquant manner. "Dear, dear, what a chatter ! I should certainly take you to be a Frenchwoman yourself," interrupted Mattie, at length. 96 AAT ADVENTURE, adding ; is not half so interesting to me, though, as when you translated it,” She arose as she spoke, and Brownie, with another wistful look at the entrancing pages, reluctantly laid the book down and followed her example. They were suddenly arrested, however, by a pleasant voice, saying : ‘‘One moment, if you please, young ladies.” They stopped and looked around. An old gentleman was sitting just a little back of where Brownie had sat, and he had been a very attentive listener while she was reading so glibly from the French romance. She had not dreamed of having another listener. He was a venerable, genial-looking man, with flowing white hair and beard, and he wore gold-bowed spectacles, through which his clear blue eyes beamed kindly upon them. “Pardon me,” he said, courteously rising and addressing Brownie, “but I wished to ask if you are a teacher of French ?” “No, sir,” replied the young girl, blushing, as she thus be- came aware that he had been listening to her. “I only read for my own profit and amusement.” “Your accent is remarkably pure. Pardon me again, but where were you instructed in the language ?” “In Philadelphia, sir. I had a teacher who was a native, and who never allowed his class, after they once understood the language, to utter a word in any other tongue during the hours for recitation.” An excellent plan, young lady. Now, if it would not tax AN ADVENTURE. 97 j'our patience too far, will you kindly read me two or three more sentences in French from this book ?” Tne old gentleman took up the book she had but just laid aside, and held it out to her. Brownie bowed gracefully, wondering what his object could be in thus testing her powers, as she took the book and began reading again fluently. ‘‘Thank you,'' he said, after a few minutes, during which time he had been intently reading the face of the beautiful girl before him. He then immediately asked her a question in French. She smiled brightly, and answered it on the instant. He asked another, and soon they were in a lively contro- versy, which was like Choctaw to poor Mattie, who was anxious to get home. “ Do you speak any other language ? Can you speak Ital- ian?" piacere,'' Brownie responded, in liquid tones, which, be- ing interpreted, means “at pleasure." “And German?" “I will not say I can speak it as fluently as the others, although I understand it, and can read at sight in the lan- guage. But its guttural tones never had that attraction for me that the more musical languages of Italy and France have.'' “Are you musical?" demanded the old man, abruptly, after a few moments' thought “Yes, sir, I am passionately fond of musw," returned Brownie, becoming somewhat embarrassed at beinu^ so closely questioned. 98 AN ADVENTURE. ‘'I fear you think I am very presuming, my young friend/ he said, noticing her confusion, ''but I have a very particular reason for asking you these questions ; and now, if you care to humor an old man, will you come into the music-room yonder and let me hear you play a little T* Brownie had ached to get hold of a piano ever since leaving her dear old home, yet she shrank from displaying her accom- plishments in so public a place. Still the old gentleman was so courteous, and seemed so really interested in her, that she disliked to refuse him, and bowing assent, she beckoned to Mattie, and followed him to the music-room. To her intense relief, she found it was empty, and sitting down at the piano, she began lightly running her rosy fingers over the white keys. The tones of the instrument inspired her in a moment, and she soon lost all thought of self and her listeners in her intense enjoyment of the sounds which her soul so loved to hear. " Sing something, Meta,'' whispered Mattie, who had stood by in wondering surprise at her friend 's accomplishments, and had only waited for a pause to make her request. Without a demur, she moderated her touch into an accona- paniment, and sang that beautiful little song "Your Mission," the words of which had been running in her head ever since she had first entered that disagreeable factory. She sang the first verses beautifully, but the third was too much for her, and ere the second line was finished she broke down utterly, and bowing her head upon the piano, she had to let the bitter tears have their way. Aisr AID VENTURE, 99 It was a song which Miss Mehstabel had dearly loved, and many times during the past year, when they had been sitting in the twilight together, she had sung it to her. It brought back to her so many tender memories of the dear past, which she now believed would be the brightest and best part of her life, that for the time it seemed as if her heart must break with its regretful grief. It was only for a while, however. She remembered that she was in the presence of a stranger, and almost as suddenly as she had broken down, she recovered herself, and, rising from the piano-stool, she signified to Mattie her desire to return home. Upon the first outbreak of her grief, the old gentleman had retired to the farther side of the room, that his presence need not embarrass her. He now came forward, and she saw that his own eyes were shining with tears. He held out his hand to her, and there was a note of tender- ness in his voice as he said : ‘‘My young friend, forgive me for taxing your patience and good nature to such an extent, and allow me to say that you have given me more pleasure during this half hour than I have experienced this many a day. Brownie gave him her hand, and while holding it, he asked : “And now will you allow me just one more question V She bowed, wondering what was coming next. “ I do not know what your circumstances may be,'' he said, with a little embarrassment, “but could you be persuaded to teach?" loo AJ\r ADVENTURE. ’ Yes, sir, if I could feel satisfied that I was competent to fill the position offered me,'' Brownie replied, frankly, her heart bounding at the thought of being released from her present un- promising surroundings. It had been her desire to teach from the firsts but no opportunity had offered, and she had resolved to secure the first situation of whatever nature,, if honorable, that she could obtain. ‘‘lam happy to hear it," returned the old man. “You ought to be a teacher of languages and music. Your advan- tages must have been of a very high order, and I compliment you upon your evident improvement of them. Now, if you will kindly give me your name and address, I will endeavor to call upon you at an early date, and talk with you further re- garding the matter." Brownie did as requested, and did not fail to notice his start of surprise when she mentioned her connection with the firm of Ware & Coolidge, nor the contraction of his finely-shaped brows which followed it. He then presented his card to her, after which he lifted hia hat, and bowed to both girls as if they had been the most aris- tocratic ladies in the land, and then left them. Brownie looked at the card. It bore the name of Wm. H. Alcott, M. D. Wondering what object Wm. H. Alcott, M. D., could have in view regarding her, she carefully put the little bit of paste- board in her pocket-book, and then the two young girls has- tened home, arriving there just as their landlady was about locking the doors for the night. “You're late," she said, grimly, and with a suspicious look AN ADVENTURE, lOI into Brownie's beautiful face, she added : don’t believe in girls o’ your age walking the streets at this time o’ night. I only advertise to take respectable boarders. ” Brownie’s proud spirit boi ed at these insulting words, but she did not deign to notice them further than by lifting her proud head a trifle more haughtily, as she swept up the stairs to her own room, followed by the more subdued and tremb- ling Matti«, 102 CHANGE OF OCCUPATION , CHAPTER X. CHANGE OF OCCUPATION. The next day but one, while Brownie was trying heir utmost to do her allotted task and get out of the factory an hour ear- lier, that she might slip down to the reading-room and finish that little French romance in which she had been so deeply in- terested, Misa Walton came to her and told her, in her grim, curt way, that she was wanted in the office. Somewhat disturbed by this unexpected summons, she laid aside her work, removed her dainty white apron, then, with heightened color, but a dignified mien, she bent her steps to- ward the room where she had been received upon her arrival, and which she had not entered since. Upon opening the door, she was surprised to find sitting, in confidential communication with Mr. Coolidge, Mr. Alcott, the gentleman whose acquaintance she had made in the read- ing-room two evenings previous. She bowed slightly to him, and then turned to Mr. Coolidge, who had arisen as she entered, and now greeted her in court- eous tones. ‘'My father-in-law, Mr. Alcott, Miss Douglas,"' he said, bj way of introduction, and Brownie now understood his start o/ surprise when she gave him her address. €HANGE OF OCCUPATION’. 103 seated, Miss Douglas, if you please,'' her employer con- tinued, placing a chair for her. She sat down and folded her little hands in her lap. Both gentlemen noticed her lady-like and self-possessed demeanor, and inwardly commented upon it. ‘'Miss Douglas, Mr. Alcott has done nothing but rehearse your accomplishments since his meeting with you night before last," said Mr. Coolidge, with an affable smile. Brownie bowed again, the delicate tint deepening in her cheek at this compliment. “If what he says is true," the gentleman continued, “and I have no doubt it is, since he is amply qualified to judge, this factory is no place for you. " Brownie blushed a vivid crimson now. Was she to be turned away on account of her little knowl- edge } “One cannot always control ones circumstances, sir," she said, quietly. “True; I understand you. Miss Douglas. But it may be in the power of others to control them for you in a measure. Now, I have a proposal to make to you. If I understood Mr. Alcott correctly, you would like to teach “Indeed I should like it very much, sir." “Very well. My family contemplate going abroad in about one week ; the steamer sails the tenth, I believe. We have been trying for several weeks to find some person competent to superintend the education of my two younger daughters, and act as a sort of companion and interpreter for them during thefr 104 CHANGE OF OCCUPATION travels. Now, will you accept this position and accompany us to Europe V '‘How long do you contemplate remaining abroad.?’' Brownie asked, after a few moments spent in thought, and greatly sur- prised at this offer. "A year, at least; probably longer, if the girls and their mother enjoy it. ” " How old are your daughters, Mr. Coolidge T' "Viola is sixteen, Alma is fourteen. I have another who is twenty, but I believe she considers her education completed ; although I think she said something about studying the lan- guages a little more while she is abroad. ” "Have the young ladies completed any course' as yet.?” Brownie asked, wishing to know something of their attain- ments before deciding. "No, I regret to say, they have not. Their mother was un- willing they should attend any public institution, so they have had private teachers, and I am afraid they have not improved their advantages as they should have done.” "Indeed they have not!” exclaimed Mr. Alcott, excitedly. "They have behaved shamefully about it, and are a couple of ignoramuses.” Brownie laughed as he said this, then asked : "And do you think, sir, that I am capable of instructing them, if older and wiser teacher’s have failed .?” "Young lady, when you were reading French to me the other evening, I was not impressed wholly by your pronunciation. No, there was a ring of decision in your tones, there was a look of character and firmness in your face, that told me you would CHAmE OF OCCUPATION. log not fail to make a first-class teacher, said the old gentleman, with emphasis. '‘Your very youthfulness may help you to win where the others have failed. And, as I told you, it is not altogether an instructress that we want, but a refined and genial companion, and an interpreter also, for none of the family are able to con- verse fluently in foreign languages, '' said Mr. Coolidge. Sixteen and fourteen ! They were trying ages — ^just the time when girls loved fun and frolic better than anything else in the world. Was she competent to take charge of them and direct their studies .? She had deemed herself as scarcely more than a child until her aunt died ; since then she seemed to have added ten years to her life, and hardly four weeks had elapsed. It was a hard question to decide. She longed to accept the position, she longed to go abroad and visit those old countries so fraught with interest, poetry, and romance, and where her aunt had lived and suffered so much. Then the opportunity for storing her own mind, and improving her accent and accomplishments, would be a rich one. But the responsibility! Would it be right for her to assume it. Would she be able to influence these young girls aright.? "Mr. Coolidge, '' she said, when she had thought of all these things, "I will tell you frankly that I would like this position, which you are so kind to offer me, more than I can express ^ but I am only eighteen years of age myself, and I d(j not really feel like deciding whether I am eonipetent to direct the educa- tcS mAmjE OP OCCUPATION. lion of yuVL^ Jaughters or not. The other duties, I think, I could fulfill satisfactorily.'.' ‘‘ Have you ever completed a regular course of study?" asked Mr. Alcott. ‘^Yes, sir, a thorough course. I graduated from the high fechool before I was sixteen, and I have since taken a two years’ classical course," replied Brownie. ‘'You’ll do, then," said the old man, with a contented nod of his head. He was very much interested in the beautiful girl. My principal reason for hesitating is, that I have never had any experience in teaching, and could only follow the example of my own teachers, as far as I can remember it. " “You are very truthful and frank, at all events, " remarked Mr. Coolidge, smilingly, “I should not presume to accept this position, sir, by placing toyself in a false position," replied Brownie, gravely. “I think with my father-in-law, that you will do, and I feel confident that you will prove faithful to your trust. Shall we consider the bargain closed ?" asked her employer, giving her a jlance of admiration. He was more and more astonished at the fact of a lady of ker cuture and refinement being reduced to the necessity of working in a straw factory for a dollar a day. “ Mr. Coolidge — I — really — " stammered the young girl. She, too, was astonished that he should desire to close the bargain, without making any inquiries regarding her character or antecedents, and yet she did not know how to broach the subject CHANGE OF OCCUPATION 107 ^'Ah, I beg your pardon, Miss Douglas,'’ and the man of business looked utterly confused for a moment, ‘‘it was an oversight entirely that I did not mention what salary you would receive. Would four hundred a year and expenses meet your acceptance ?" “Make it five, William," interrupted Mr. Alcott, adding: “With those harum-scarum girls it will be none too much ; there will be plenty of little knick-knacks that she will want to bring away from the old country, and an extra hundred will be none too much. " “Well, call it five hundred and expenses, then," said Mr. Coolidge. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I had not thought of the sal- ary which I should receive. I was upon the point of saying that — you know nothing about me personally — whether I am, morally, one whom you would wish to receive into your family. I expected you W'ould require references," Brownie said, with dignity. Mr. Coolidge leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily, while Mr. Alcott beamed satisfaction at her over his gold-bowed spectacles. He recognized the true coin there. “ Really, Miss Douglas," said the former, “you have shown yourself wiser than I in this matter. That is a question which ought, according to the etiquette of the nineteenth century, tc have been settled in the first place." ‘ ‘ The very fact of her speaking of the matter herself is refers ence enough for me," said Mr. Alcott, sotto voce. “Howevet," continued her employer, “I suppose Mrs, CHANGE OF eCCUPATI9N io8 Coolidge would be better pleased to have that matter satisfac* torily settled. What reference can you give us, Miss Douglas?” ‘‘That is where I feared there might arise an objection,” re- plied Brownie, with a sad smile, then added; “ I have only one friend in the world to whom I feel at liberty just now to refer you ; he is in Philadelphia — Mr. Arthur Conrad.'' “What! Arthur Conrad, Esq., the noted lawyer of that city ?” exclaimed Mr. Alcott, with great interest. “Yes, sir. He has known me all my life, and I think I may trust him to speak a good word for me to you.” “That will be sufficient. Miss Douglas,” said the old man, with a smile. “ Arthur Conrad was a classmate of mine years and years ago ; he was a splendid fellow, too. I know all about him, and if he knows all about you, we shall not quarrel ovei further references.” “I will write to him this afternoon,” said Mr. Coolidge, “and we shall probably hear in a day or two from him. Then, as this is a mere matter of form, shall we consider that you are engaged to us, and for the salary I have named ?” “Yes, sir; and I thank you for your courtesy, and for the confidence which you have shown to me, an utter stranger. I assure you I will do my utmost to prove myself worthy of the trust you have placed in my hands. ” Brownie arose as she spoke, and he saw that tears stood in her grave, beautiful eyes. Then, bowing to both gentlemen, she returned to her work. Two, three, four, five days slipped rapidly by, and Brownie < heard nothing more from Mr. Coolidge. T She began to be anxious, for she expected that he would CHAmE OF OCCUPATION'. tof tainly let her know at once upon hearing from Mr. Conrad, and surely he had plenty of time to answer this letter of in- quiry. Saturday night came, and it was the 8th of October. On Monday the family would sail for Europe, and she hardly knew what to do. She disliked to seek her employer in his office and question him regarding his movements. She felt that it was his place to seek her, and acquaint her with his desires concerning herself. What if she should be disappointed after all 1 As she was removing her apron and putting her table in order, and thinking very soberly of these things, she saw Miss Walton hastening toward her, a smile of satisfaction gleaming upon her face. ®'Miss Douglas,’' she said, loud' enough for several of the other girls to hear, “Mr. Coolidge wishes you to come to the office again ; he wishes to settle with you. Now, it was considered quite a disgrace for any one to be called upon to “settle" before the season was over, and Brownie became at once the cynosure of all eyes in her neigh- borhood. She understood it, and she knew that Miss Walton had said it aloud purposely to attract attention to her, and mortify her. She had seemed to possess an especial spite against her ever since Mr. Coolidge had given his command in that authorita- tive way of his, that she should give her a pleasant seat and teach her to wire hats. She had never before been ordered to do anything contrary to the rules, and it galled her excessively to think that she must no CHANGE OF OCCUPATION', submit to do it for this chit of a girl, as she called Brownie, hi speaking of the matter to another overseer. But Brownie never winced at all. She knew she was mis- tress of the situation. She very demurely untied the thread from her waist, piled her hats evenly, sat her chair up close to the table, and then turning innocently to Miss Walton, said : ‘'This has been a very pleasant place to work in. Miss Wal- ton, and I hope the next occupant will enjoy it as much as I have. ” ‘^‘Ahem ! you're going to leave, then, are you?" demanded the woman, somewhat puzzled by the young girls collected manner, yet feeling a sort of grim satisfaction that she was going away. “ Yes ; you said Mr. Coolidge wished to settle with me, did you not?" “That was what I said, Miss Douglas; I always intend t® speak loud enough to be heard," she snapped. Then she added, with a sneer : “ Perhaps don't mind it, but it never has been considered any credif to anybody to be called to 'settle' right in the middle of the season, 2in^you hain't been here but three weeks. Pretty feces don't amount to much." Brownie could not resist firing her little shot after this spite- ful speech, for she saw that several of the girls were regarding her suspiciously, and liatening eagerly to the conversation. “Yes, Miss Walton," she said, in her clear, sweet tones, “I know it would not be pleasant to have to settle for having done anything wrong. But I have been expecting some such mes- CHAMGE OF OCCUPA TION'. in sage as this for several days. I suppose I sail for Europe with Mr. Coolidge and his family on Monday/' This created quite a sensation, as Brownie knew it would, and she would never have spoken of it so publicly, had not Miss Walton s insulting speech driven her to it She could not be disgraced before these young girls. She did not con- sider it generous ever to boast of prosperity in the presence of others less fortunate. “Europe ! YouT ejaculated the astonished dame, her face flushing an angry crimson, as she saw how her spite was turned against herself. “Yes, and I am anticipating the trip very much/' “Um — I suppose, then, you go as a servant—perhaps as a nursery maid," snapped the woman, vindictively. “Mr. Coolidge has no young children who need a nurse, I believe, and as to going as a servant — well, maybe I am. I go as instructress in French and German to the young ladies," re- turned Brownie, serenely, as she brushed the threads from her dress. “Yes, and she can read French faster than any of us can read English, I can tell you," said Mattie Burnham, taking a hand in the contest, and indignant to see her friend so in- sulted. “French, indeed! I don't believe she knows a word of French any more than I do. It's only a high-sounding story she has made up. Whoever heard of a girl educated up to that notch a working in a straw factory .? I tell you, girls, / don't believe in her at all ; she's just been pulling the wool over |rour eyes all along, and nobody but me has been keen enough 1 I 2 CHANGE OF OCCUPATION. to see through her. Even the boss knuckled to her pretty face^ and made me break over the rules to teach her, and I, for one, am glad she's got to go.” The angry woman darted glances of fire at the unoffending girl, while some of the young ladies, with whom the fair stranger had been a favorite, murmured, indignantly : ''Shame, shame. Miss Walton !” "Shame, shame, /say, upon those who put on so many fine airs. I always did hate a pretty face; you never can trust them. Humph ! French and German 1 I don't believe one word of it 1” est dun bon natural, Mademoiselle Walton,^' said Brownie in perfect French, with a little laugh, though a spot of indignant red began to burn upon her own cheek ; but she possessed too much natural refinement to retaliate in an unlady- like manner. Yet she could not resist giving the virago a little taste of her accomplishments. She then turned to the girls, and added, kindly : "Good-by, my friends, I may never see you again, but I wish you all success in life. '\Au revoir. Mademoiselle Walton. Je ne vous ferai pas de reproches . '' With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and a charming little courtesy to the overseer, she nodded her head in kindly fare- well to her companions, and with her eyes bright as stars, her cheeks like roses from the excitement of the moment, th^ ♦“That bespeaks a good disposition, Miss Walton.’* t“ Adieu, Miss Walton ; I shall cast upon you no reproaches," CHANGE OF OCCUPATION lovelj girl swept with all the grace imaginable from the room, leaving the irate overseer boiling with rage over the unknown sounds she had heard, and the girls laughing at her expense. “Deliver me from such gibberish,'' sniffed Miss Walton, contemptuously, and trying to hide her chagrin. “Ha! ha I I told you she could rattle it off. Don't you wish you only knew what she said, Miss Walton.?" asked Mattie Burnham, maliciously, as she, too, left the room, yet feeling sad at heart that she was to lose the friend whom she was learx^ ing to iov«. 114 BROWNIE AT THE COOLWQE MANSIC^. CHAPTER XL BROWNIE AT THE COOLIDGE MANSION, Mr. Coolidge glanced up with a smile of welcome, as Brownie, more beautiful than ever with the excitement of hef little encounter with Miss Walton, entered the office. ‘^Miss Walton said you wished to see me, sir,’’ she said, simply. ‘‘Yes, Miss Douglas, as we sail. on Monday, I thought best to close your account with the firm to-night.” “You have heard from Mr. Conrad, then, I suppose,” she said, taking it for granted, while her face became radiant with hope. She so longed to go abroad with the Coolidges. Mr. Coolidge shook his head. “ No, Miss Douglas, I have not. I wrote immediately, but, receiving no reply, after waiting three days, I telegraphed, and his clerk returned word to-day that he had left town for a week. ” Brownie’s countenance fell, and she grew very pale. All her bright hopes crumbled to dust, and nothing remained for her but to plod wearily along day by day. “I am very sorry,” she said, regretfully. “Of course, it is settled that I am not to go with you.” BROWNIE AT THE COOLIDGE MANSION. 115 not?'' he asked, quickly, adding: ‘'You jump at conclusions, do you not? I told you, I believe, that, as we sailed on Monday, I wished to close your account to-night That does not look much like no/ goings does it ?" She had forgotten his words, and her face lighted a trifle at this ; but she asked : "But would you be justified, sir, in taking me without a recommendation ?" "I think so, and I think you are over-sensitive upon that point. I never met a governess before without a recommenda- tion who did not try to pass the circumstance over as lightly as possible," returned the gentleman, with an amused smile. She colored vividly red at his words. They seemed to her almost like an insinuation that all was not right with her. "I only desire that you and Mrs. Coolidge should be en- tirely satisfied," she said, with proud dignity. " Miss Douglas," he said, fixing a keen look upon her face, "I told you, when we first talked this matter over, that I con- sidered it a mere form. I have been fully satisfied from the first that you are a lady, and amply qualified for the position I offer you. Now, if you will assure me that there has been nothing in your life, morally speaking, which would debar you from entering my family, I can rest satisfied, and there will be time enough in the future to write to Mr. Conrad. " Anything in her life, morally speaking 1 A little smile of scorn curled her red lips, and the color leaped again to her very brow ; but she lifted her clear, truth- ful eyes to his, and he was answered, even before she saM, with conscious pride : Il6 BROWNIE AT THE COOLIDGE MANSION “There is nothing, there has been nothing in my life which any one could question.” “ I knew it,” he answered ; “and now I have a request to make, and that is, that you will allow me to send my carriage for you this evening. There remains only about a day and a half before we sail, and my family would like to become soma what acquainted with you beforehand. ” Brownie shrank from this ordeal, but she knew it must come sooner or later, and the quicker it was over with the better for all parties. “Very well, sir,” she answered. ' “At what time shall I send for you ?” “An hour will give me ample time to make all needful pre- parations for the change. ” “It is five o'clock now. Then at six precisely the carriage shall call for you. We dine at half-past, when you will meet my family. Now, about this account ; it is not a very largej one, Miss Douglas,” he said, smiling, and turning to the books. After a moment, he continued, with some hesitation ; “Allow me to give you a check on account. You may widi to make some purchases before leaving New York.” Brownie drew herself up like a little princess. ' ' If you will please pay me what I have earned, sir, it will be all I require, thank you.” “Whew!” was the gentleman's internal comment; “ om pretty employee has some spirit.” He ran his eye quickly over the figures, and then paid he< ^ROlVmE AT THE COOUDGE MANSION, just sixteen dollars and a half, the amount of her earnings for three weeks and two days. ‘ ‘ Thank you ; that is correct, she said, after counting it ; then, with a bow, she withdrew, a strange feeling of pride and independence in her heart that for three weeks she had sup- ported herself by the labor of her own hands. True, it would take about fourteen of it to pay for her board and washing, leaving her only two dollars and fifty cents sur- plus. But if she could do this at the very outset, she had no fear of the future, if God gave her health and strength. And just at this moment the future looked very bright to her. She was to receive five hundred dollars a year, and she smiled to think how large the sum looked tc her now, besides her ex- penses and the opportunity of a year of travel in charming Europe. She had been quite a traveler in her own country, having spent her long vacations in visiting different points of interest with Miss Mehetabel, so that she was well prepared to speak of “Columbia's'^ fair scenes, and compare them with the oM^r if not grander views of other countries. Brownie arrived at the Coolidge mansion in season to be troduced to the family before dinner was served. She did not feel particularly drawn toward either Mrs. Coob idge or her eldest daughter. They were evidently worldlings, and received her with an ail of superiority and patronage that was intensely galling to our proud-spirited little Douglas. Ii8 J^ROWmE AT THE COOLIDGE MANSIOH. The younger girls, Viola and Alma, were more simple and affectionate, and although somewhat hoidenish, yet she felt assured that they had kind hearts, and promised herself some pleasure with them. After dinner the whole family repaired to the drawing-room, and the girls being anxious to know what the new governess could do, desired to hear her play and sing. She gratified them, playing and singing for an hour, then tempting them from the piano, she made herself so sweet and engaging that they were charmed with her, while even Mrs. Coolidge and Miss Isabel relaxed their haughtiness somewhat, though they both considered her too pretty and polished for the latter's interest. She wished no rival in the way at present. '‘If only Wilbur will not lose his senses and fall in love with her at first sight, " Isabel said to her mother, when they had withdrawn to Mrs. Coolidge's boudoir to discuss Brownie's merits. "Never fear, dear ; Wilbur knows we would never tolerate a wife for him unless she was his equal in society," replied the matron, complacently. " But you know that sometimes young men fall in love with a pretty face, and become entangled before they know it.'' Miss Isabel was evidently very jealous of Brownie's beauty and accomplishments. She had not been at all pleased that her father should en- gage a governess without consulting her own and her mother's pleasure. This feeling was shared by Mrs. Ceelidge, but she had SROWmE AT THE COOLIDGE MAMSIOH. tig learned wisdom from long experience, and did not openly oppose her liege lord’s authority upon any matter. I think you are worrying about nothing,'^ she said, in reply ’ to her daughter. ‘‘ Fm sure I can’t see anything so very bcau- Itiful about Miss Douglas/’ and she cast a proud look at her own fashionable darling. ‘ ‘ Where are your eyes, mamma was the impatient reply. “ Her features are perfect ; she has the loveliest complexion and color I have ever seen in any face ; her hands and feet are at least two sizes smaller than either mine or Viola’s, and her form just dainty enough to suit a fastidious young man like Wilbur.” ‘‘Really, Isabel, you must have spent considerable time in- specting the new governess to serve up such a catalogue of her charms,” remarked Mrs. Coolidge, contemptuously, adding : “Perhaps you are afraid she may attract others, and interfere with your own prospects. ” “She may ; who knows replied the envious girl. “Well, if you really think there is danger, I will try and per- suade your father to get rid of her even now. But I am of the ©pinion that you have exaggerated her good looks ; I see noth- ing so very noticeable about her, and I’m sure she dresses plainly enough to suit anybody. She does not wear a single ornament — nothing but those soft ruches at her neck and wrists. ” “Her dress is all right, but hers is a style of beauty that does not need dress to set it off. She would look lovely in anything. But it would never do to think of sending her away now. Papa is bewitched with her, and I do believe fi 120 BROWmE AT THE C60LIDGE MANSION. grandpa was a young man he would fall in love with her him- self ; he has done nothing but sound her praises ever since he met her in the reading-room/' Pshaw ! Isabel, how extremely foolish you are ; do try and get such nonsense out of your head. But I promise I will take care that Wilbur does not see much of her, nor any other young gentleman whom we may meet abroad," said Mrs. Coolidge, resolutely. She had no notion of allowing any one to interfere with het son's or daughter's interests in life. ‘‘ If you can only put that resolution in force she may prove very useful t6 us, after all. Her accent is every bit as pure as Monsieur Renaud's, and I must confess that her music is per- fectly bewildering. She will save all need of music-masters ol teachers in the languages, which will be quite an item ; it has cost me more than her salary every year for my music and French," said Isabel. ''True, dear, and she will also be very valuable as an inter- preter in our shopping and sight-seeing expeditions abroad. But to turn to more agreeable things. I want you, Isabel, to do your utmost to make a brilliant match while we are in Europe. With your father's purse, your face, figure, and apn pearance, I think you ought to win somebody worth having." I bope I may, mamma ; I should really enjoy being 'lady' somebody," and the vain girl got up and sailed over to the full- length mirror to survey herself. It was rather an attractive figure which looked back at her. She was tall, and had a queenly carriage. Her complexion was very fair, and she had flaxen hair, which was dressed in th« BROWNIE AT THE COOLIDGE MANSION. 12 * height of style. Her eyes were pale blue, and her features rather small and delicate. Her manners, when she chose, were quite fascinating, and she had been quite a favorite in society for a year ; but she lacked the character and freshness with which Brownie's every feature and movement were replete. Is it not time for Wilbur to come, mamma she asked, as, • satisfied with the survey of herself, she turned from the glass. ‘‘ Yes ; he ought to have been here an hour ago,'" answered Mrs. Coolidge, glancing at her watch. Scarce were the words uttered when the door-hell gave forth a clamorous peal ; another moment, and there was a manly step on the stair, a deep, rich voice called ‘‘Mother, Isabel,'' then the door swung open, and the only son and heir was re- ceived with open arms and joyous exclamations of greeting. Wilbur Coolidge was an exceedingly handsome young man of twenty-two years, with a face that challenged all criticism — bright, careless, defiant, full of humor, and possessing a gleam of poetry — a face that girls judge instantly and always admire. He had a frank, clear eye of deepest blue, brown hair tinged with gold, a smiling mouth, from which, when he spoke, there gleamed two rows of white, handsome teeth. Yet it was a mouth one could not quite trust — there was something wanting which made one feel that he lacked depth, that there was no great chivalry in his nature, no grand treasure of manly truth, no touch of heroism in his soul. There were few women who would have read him thus critically, yet Brownie did at a glance, when, descending the stairs arm in arm with his sister Isabel, they met face to face, and she was obliged to present him to ben 122 BROWNIE AT THE COOLWGE MANSION. My brother. Miss Douglas/' she said, briefly and coldly, and with a haughty lifting of her head. Miss Douglas greeted him with' quiet politeness, and passed on ; but not before she had caught his stare of surprise and look of admiration as his eyes for a moment rested on her face, then swept her dainty form from head to foot. ‘‘And who is Miss Douglas.?" he asked, after they had passed beyond her hearing. “Oh, she is a young person whom grandpa came across in one of the public libraries, and persuaded papa to secure as governess to the girls, " Miss Isabel answered, with a yawn. “ Governess 1 Young person, indeed! Why, if I ever saw the mark of the true and cultured lady in any one, I do in her," he replied, with enthusiasm. Nonsense, Wilbur I I hope you do not allow your head to be turned by every pretty face you chance to meet. " “ Not I, " and the young man tossed his head, with a gay laugh. “But this Miss Douglas is something more than pretty. Hers is a face which, if a man learned to love, he would gladly, Jacob-like, serve twice seven years for the sake of making its owner his wife." This was said partly to tease his sister, for he well knew her weak points ; yet, it must confessed, he had been startled by Brownie's wondrous beauty. ■ “Pshaw! Wilbur, I shall get entirely out of patience with you if you run on like that ; and let me warn you beforehand, if mamma discovers you ^"*e ‘sweet' on the governess, it will prove most disastrous to poor girl's prospects, for she will p€St ber off without any ^ miony. " BROWNIE AT THE COOLIDGE MANSION 123 The frown upon Isabel Coolidge's brow as she said this was >uiything but attractive. The young man saw at once that it would not do to betray too much interest in the beautiful governess, and he deter- mined to govern himself accordingly, so, with another light laugh, he said : “Don't be disturbed, sister mine. We men, I admit, have nn eye for the beautiful, be it in princess or maid. I suppose I may admire Miss Douglas from a distance, as one would admire a picture, with no thought of possessing it. By the way, to change the subject, what is father going to do with the horses while we are away “Send them up to the farm, I believe." “When do they go.^^" “Monday morning, I think." ‘ ‘ Let us go out to the stable, then, and take a farewell look atthem," proposed Wilbur, cunningly. “Not I, thank you ! I've no notion of being perfumed with tiie scent of the stable if any one should call. You can go if you choose, and I will wait for you in the drawing-room. '' The young man gladly availed himself of the permission, laughing meanwhile in his sleeve that his artifice had succeeded so well. He did not particularly enjoy a tek-a-tete with the friv- olous girl. He knew well enough that his fastidious sister would not accompany him to the stable, and he longed to be by himself, that he might feast upon the remembrance of that lovely face, which had flashed like a gleam from Paradise upon him. ia the loveliest girl I have ever met, and I wfill see more 1 124 BROWNIE AT THE COOLIDGE MANSION. of her, Isabel and the maternal to the contrary notwithstand- ing,'' was his mental resolve, as he paced absently back and forth in the stable, wholly unconscious of his stated object in visiting the place. At the end of a half hour he returned to the house, hoping to catch another glimpse of the object of his musings ; but Viola mentioned that she had gone to her room for the night. He heaved a sigh of regret, and then turned to make him- self agreeable to some callers who had dropped in to bid the femily farewell and wish them a prosperous voyage to the old countiy. 4 I ADRIAN DREDMOND, 125 CHAPTER XIL ADRIAN DREDMON©. The day of sailing came at last. A* good deal of confusion prevailed in getting the family, with their endless supply of luggage, from the Coolidge man- sion to the steamer ; and in the midst of it all, Wilbur man- aged several times to escape the argus eyes of his watchful mother and jealous sister, and get a word with Brownie. He would know if all her trunks and boxes had been attended to ; if she had forgotten anything, and if she was sure she had made all needful provision for herself against sea-sickness, and a number of other useless questions. Every hour in her presence only served to enthrall him more hopelessly. He never wearied of looking upon her bright face, nor of listening to the sweet tones of her voice. She wove a sweet spell about him. ^ .Miss Douglas, however, responded very quietly, and with some dignity, whenever he addressed her. She was observing enough to perceive that his attentions to her were anything but acceptable to the Coolidge family ; so, without appearing to do so, she avoided him, and devoted her- self to her young charges, Viola and Alma. But a little incident occurred, just as they were going aboard 126 ADRIAN’ VREDMVNp. the Steamer, which was to influence the young girl's^ whole after life. Brownie was the kst to step aboard, excepting Wilbur, and not paying strict heed to her steps, she caught her foot in a coil of rope, stumbled, and would have fallen had she not hem quickly caught and upheld by a strong arm. The shock was so severe that, overcome with dizziness, she lay almost uricom scions for a moment in the stranger s clasp. ‘'Has she fainted asked Wilbur Coolidge, in anxious tones, he sprang forward, too late to render service. “I think not. It was only the shock; she will rally in a moment,'' were the words which Brownie, on coming to her- self, heard in such d«ep, rich tones, that she was conscious of a sudden thrill running through her whole frame. She opened her eyesj. and found herself looking up into a •^ce that was strange, yet familiar. For one instant her eyef> met his, and their souls met through that glance. Then, with a vivid blush of shame staining her fair cheek, as she realized she was being held in the arms of a stranger. Brownie gently disenf^ged herself, and tried to stand alone. “Brownie Douglas!" the stranger murmured, in wondering surprise, and as if the words were Screed from him by some previous memory. As she caught them the color again flew to her face, and he, seeing her embarrassment, hastened to say : “I beg your pardon, but my surprise made me forget myself Will you take my arm and allow me to condii under any circumstances. I ‘‘How does she happen to be here, I wonder.?" he muttered, ! with a far-away look out over the waters. “I know she left- Philadelphia soon after her aurit's death, " he continued, “and'j though Gordon tried hard to find where she had gone, he could ^ not. She faded out of the fashionable world in which she used ! to move as completely and suddenly as a fallen star drops out ' of existence. I'm glad now I did not leave the button with him, as he wished me to do ; no. I'll give it to her with my own hands, or I will keep it forever." He walked absently to the side ofv the steamer, and stood looking into the turbid waters beneath ; and not long after two ladies drew near, and he overheard the following conversation “Mamma, I tell you we shall have trouble with that gov-- erness as sure as the w^rld. " * I ADRIAN- DREDMOND. '‘I hope not/' replied the elder lady, wHh a troubled look. ‘'Wilbur is over head and ears in love with her already, and it will be just like her to lead him on for the sake of gaining a good position in the world," and the young lady's tone was ex- ceedingly disagreeable. “Well, it cannot be helped now; you must make yourself so interesting and agreeable that he will prefer your society to that of any one else; you must monopolize him during the voyage, and when we are once settled. I will see that she does not have any spare time to flirt.'' “Talk about her having a fall," continued Isabel Coolidge, indignantly. “Alma saw the whole proceeding, and says it was nothing but a stumble. She said a gentleman caught her, and saved her from going to the floor, and she lay back in his arms as helplessly and gracefully as any heroine in a novel. " “I have not much doubt that she is artful, and would not scruple to take advantage of Wilbur's weakness for pretty faces, notwithstanding she appears so meek and demure." “Meek and demure, mamma! Why, she is anything but that She has the manners and bearing of a little queen 1" in- terrupted Miss Coolidge. “Well, but she is very quiet, and does not appear to be seek- ing his attentions ; but, as I said before, we cannot help it now ; ail we can do is to watch them closely." “Never fear but that we can do that with our sharp eyes ; and with you and I both on the lookout, I reckon we can manage them," laughed the young lady. “Yes; and if we find any indications of anything serious mpon Wilbur's part, I will find some excuse for shipping her 132 ADRIAN DREDMOND. off our hands as soon as we land. I will not have my son's prospects ruined by a poverty-stricken governess," replied the haughty woman, sternly. They moved away from the place where they had been stand- ing, and the young Englishman resumed his pacings, a smile of ineffable scorn curling his fine lips. ‘'A poverty-strickan governess indeed !" he muttered between his teeth ; ‘'and I would not have her prospects for future hap- piness ruined by the son of such a woman ! Poor child !" and his face softened into tenderness; “then she has been reduced to that cruel necessity, and she will have a hard time of it if left to the tender mercies of those two. At all events," he con- tinued, “I will manage some way to gat acquainted with her before the voyage is ended, and return her cuff-button. I shall miss it, too, for it has lain so long in its place that it seems like a precious talisman." He took it from the pocket of his vest as he spoke — that beautiful little trifle of black enamel and gold, with its spark- ling initial in the center, inclosed in its brilliant circle. He turned it over, and read the tiny letters engraved on the back. “Brownie!" he murmured. “I could not help speaking her name as I held her m my arms; and how beautiful she looked when the lovely color leaped into her face as she heard it. Never mind, when I put this into her own little hands, I will explain it all." He replaced the button in his pocket, with a deep sigh, and then turned his attention to the steamer, as she cast off hei moorings and began to move out into the mighty dee^p. ADRIAN DREDMOND. The reader has doubtless recognized in the stranger the per- son of Adrian Dredmond, one of the young men who stood in the vestibule of the Art Gallery at Philadelphia on the day when Miss Huntington met with such a series of accidents to her elaborate toilet. t He had come from the old country to attend the world's wonderful exposition, and was now returning — but more of him hereafter. U4 DRESSING FOR THE OPERA, CHAPTER XIII. DRESSING FOR THE OPERA, The passage proved to be an exceedingly rough dtie. The Coolidge family were all confined to their state-roomi with that much-dreaded enemy, sea-sickness, excepting Mr. Coolidge, Wilbur, and Viola. The two former attended to the wants of the wife and sisters, while Viola devoted herself faithfully to Miss Douglas. Viola Coolidge was at heart a gentle and loving girl, resem- bling her brother somewhat in looks, and possessing his sunny, good-natured temperament. During her attendance upon Brownie, who was so patient and grateful for every little service, she became deeply attached to her, and henceforth the young governess had a brave little champion in all the trials and difficulties which beset her path. Brownie suffered more than any of the party, not being able to leave her state-room during all the voyage. ♦ Upon their arrival at Liverpool, she was so weak and wan that Mr. Coolidge and Wilbur were obliged to bear her in their arms from the boat to the carriage which was to convey them to their hotel, much to the annoyance and disgust of Isabel and her mother. Adrian Dredmond had waited in vain for the opportunity h« DRESSING E(%R THE OPERA. 135 jhad so desired. He had not once seen Brownie during the •voyage. He managed to scrape acquaintance with Viola one day when she came on deck to breathe the fresh air, and not a day passed thereafter but that he sought her out, and made in- quiries concerning her charge. He also saw much of Wilbur Coolidge, and came to like the careless, good-natured fellow right well. But they never once exchanged a word regarding the object which constantly occupied the thoughts of both. As by tacit consent, they avoided all mention of Brownie — some instinctive feeling seeming to warn them that it would not be a congenial topic to talk upon. Adrian stood by when they carried her to the carriage, and a feeling of pain smote his heart as he saw her wan face and sunken eyes. cannot give it to her now, but I will seek an opportunity. I will see her again, ’' he breathed to himself. They lifted her into the carriage, shut the door, and drove away. Brownie Douglas — the name is as sweet as she looks — good-by, my Brownie; we shall meet again," he murmured; and, with a deep tenderness in his heart for her, Adrian Dred- mond went his own way. From Liverpool, the Coolidges, after a few days of rest, went to London, where they proposed establishing their headquar- ters for three or four months, while they made excursions about the country. Her^ they took a house in the neighborhood of Regents 136 DRESSING FOR THE OPERA, Park, and, to Isabers delight, entered at once upon the gaye- ties of the season. Brownie's heart is stirred with various emotions as she finds herself thus settled among the very scenes of her aunt's former life. Here Miss Mehetabel lived when she was a girl ; here she was wooed and won ; here she had lived that short, bright year, loving and beloved, and which was followed by a life-time of mourning and sadness. She wondered if Lord Dunforth were still living, and if it ^ would be her lot while abroad to meet him. She hoped so ; • and she was confident that she should recognize him, from the picture which was now in her possession, even though so many years had passed, and he was an old man of over sixty. ^ Of course, she never expected to meet him as an equal, or I even speak to him; but she longed for just one look into his face, to see if he had fulfilled the promise of his early man- ; hood, and to assure herself that he was the noble, high-minded ; knight which her little romantic heart had pictured him from Miss Mehetabel's description. ; During the first hours of the day Miss Douglas and her pupils dived deep into the mystic lore ; and so charming did she make their studies, and so interested did she appear in everything pertaining to^ their welfare, that, to their credit be it said, they applied themselves with the utmost diligence to their tasks, and soon gave promise of becoming quite proficient. The afternoons were devoted to sight-seeing and riding, the . evenings to receiving company, attending drawing-rooms, th^ | opera, or the theater, | DRESSING FOR THE OPERA. 137 One morning Wilbur came home in considerable excitement, awd throwing some tickets upon the table, said : ‘‘There, mother, are some tickets for her Majesty's Opera, and I want every member of this family to attend, for there are wonderful attractions to-night. " “How so?” “Titiens, Kellogg, Berttini, Nilsson, and others are adver- tised; and it will be a treat which one does not often get," he replied. “Then, of course, we must all go, and the girls will be de- lighted that you remembered them, for they are not often allowed to appear in company, you know, " she said, smiling, “And Miss Douglas, too, mother; I procured a ticket for her," he added. Mrs. Coolidge demurred at this. “But Miss Douglas is in deep mourning; it would not be suitable for her to appear with us in her black garments," she said. “Pshaw! she can wear something else for once. It is a shame to debar her from such a luxury ; any one can see that she is passionately fond of music, and / should feel mean to take all the others and leave her behind," he returned, indig- nantly. Mrs. Coolidge thought a moment, and finally assented. She well knew that too much opposition often whetted pas- sion, and she had no desire to provoke Wilbur into being a champion for the governess, and accordingly gave her consent. He met Brownie in the hall a few moments afterward, and told her of the arrangement for the evening. PJ^^SS/Ara FOR THE dPRR^^ Her face lighted with pleasure. It was long since she had attended an opera. She loved it, and the thought of listening once more to the entrancing strains of those great artists filled her with delight ^‘You will go, Brown — Miss Douglas ?"' he asked, nearly forgetting himself He never thought of her now excepting as ‘‘Brownie,'' and no one but himself knew how very dear the fair girl was be- coming to him day by day. “Thank you. I should enjoy it very much, if it will not conflict with any arrangements Mrs. Coolidge may have made," she said. “It will not I have just been talking with her about it; and. Miss Douglas — " he contined, hesitatingly. ‘^Well?" she answered, looking up with an encouraging smile. “Please, if I may be so bold as to make the request, wear something not quite so somber as this," and he just touched the black dress. Her face grew very sad and her eyes filled with tears. Miss Douglas had been dead just two months, and the thought of gay attire seemed unsuitable to her. “Forgive me if I pain you, but I would like to see you for once as bright as the others," the young man added, and then passed on. She knew her black dress would not be suitable for the opera, and yet she hesitated about changing it for two reasons. Her own feelings rebelled against it, ad if were doing a wrong to Miss MehetabeL DRESSING FOR THE OPERA, 139 ^'And yet/^ she said, thinking it over, ''I know auntie would not wish me to deprive myself of the pleasure of attending the opera, and I know, also, she would not like me to appear in such a place in black.” The other reason was the fear of displeasing Mrs. Coolidge if she made any change. But that matter was settled for her by that lady herself. She came to her room during the day, repeating the invitatiojn which Wilbur had given her, and concluded by saying : ‘‘Miss Douglas, have you not something a little more appro- priate that you could wear.? This black is hardly the thing.” “I have several nice dresses w^hich I used to w^ear upon such occasions, but I fear they are hardly suitable for my position now,” Brownie replied, with heightened color, for the first time alluding to the change in her circumstances. “Ah!” said the matron, in surprise, and pleased with this evidence of the governess' modesty; then she added, patron- izingly: “You have seen better days, I presume.?” “Yes, madam.” “Well, I leave the matter to your own judgment, only do not wear black, nor white, for Alma will wear that. Indeed,” she added, after a moment's thought, “if you have 2. nice dress. Miss Douglas, wear it, for, as we are all going together, I do not care how nicely our party appears, ” and with this affable expression, the lady withdrew, leaving Brownie to con the mat- ter over in her own mind. An amused smile curled her lips at the expression “if yoti have 2, nice dress,” and w^hen the door closed after Mrs. Coo^ idge, she laughed outright. 140 DRESSING FOR THE OPERA. Evidently she thought if the governess had seen better days they could not have been very remarkable ones. She crossed the room, and opened the trunk in which she had packed the richer portion of her clothing, and took out her evening dresses. The decision was a difficult matter, and it was more than an hour before she could make up her mind which one of those beautiful garments it would do to wear. She had no desire to outshine Miss Isabel. But that young lady, with all her love for show and fashion, had nothing more elegant than Brownie's own wardrobe con- tained. She at length fixed upon a delicate maize-colored silk, trimmed with puffings of soft illusion, and ruffles of fine thread lace. She had only worn it once, and it was as fresh as if it had never been put on. i The fichu of illusion and thread lace, the tinted gloves, the beautiful point lace handkerchief, and elegantly-carved pearl- handled fan, all lay at the bottom of the box just as she had left them when she had last worn them. When the hour came for dressing, she arrayed herself with « throbbing heart. Her eyes grew bright with anticipation, her cheeks rosy with excitement. Involuntarily she found herself humming snatches from dif- ferent operas, and for the time she felt almost like the gay young girl she had been less than three mondis ago. JbJiESSmG FOE THE OPERA. I4J SW had nearly completed her toilet, when Viola came sweep^ ing in, lovely in blue silk and white tulle. In her hands she carried a most exquisite bouquet of flowers. She stood breathless on the threshold as she caught sight of Brownie. “Miss Douglas,” she at length exclaimed, “how perfectly lovely you are I” ‘‘Thank you, Viola ; but you are altogether too enthusiastic in your compliments,'' Brownie returned, with a smile. Yet, as she glanced into the mirror, she grew suddenly coni scious, and blushed with a sense of her own beauty. Her hair was drawn away from her broad, low forehead, an(J knotted gracefully at the back of her small head. Her beautiful neck gleamed through the misty fichu, and he\ rounded arms were only half concealed by the fall of delicatf lace from her sleeves. The dress was cut en train, making her slight figure lool( taller, and, with the proud poise of her head, almost regal. She wore a finely-wrought chain of gold about her neck^ from which was suspended the beautiful coral cross, set wit^ brilliants, which her aunt had given her at the same time sha gave her the other contents of the casket. The butterfly hair ornament to match she had fastened ife her glossy hair, and it sparkled and gleamed with her every movement Her lip had quivered, and the tears had started to her eyes when she took them from their velvet bed, for it broqght vividly to her mind that last sad interview with her aunt 142 DRESSING FOR THE OFERAi Auntie/' she said, as she softly touched her lips to them, *‘you told me to wear them; I have nothing that will look half so well with this dress, and my heart is full of love for you to-night. ” She surely was lovely, as Viola said. ‘‘Fm afraid your mamma will think me too fine,*^ she said, half regretfully, and struck by the young girl’s words. ''But,’’ she added, ''this is the simplest thing I have, un- less I wear white, and your mamma said Alma was to dress in white. " ‘'Miss Douglas, who — what are you ?" Viola asked, an ex- pression of perplexity on her young face. "My dear, must I repeat my dreadful name.?^ I am Mehet*- rabel Douglas, and a poor governess, ” Brownie said, gayly. "I know that, of course; but haven’t you been a fine lady rat some time in your life.f^” demanded the young girl, iitipa** tiently. "That depends altogether upon what you mean by the term 'fine lady,’ Viola.” "Why, one who has everything rich and elegant, and who goes among fashionable people.” Brownie smiled at this definition of the term, but she re- plied, gravely, and a little sadly : ‘ ‘ My dear, you have been so kind to me, I will gratify you in this, only please remember that I do not care to have it spoken of again. A year ago— yes, and much less— my pros- pects in life were as bright as your own are now. But death and misfortune took everything from me, and I was obliged ter do something for my own support.” DRESSING FOR THE OPERA, 143 '•Did you live in an elegant house, and have servants, horses, carriages r , ^^Yes." ‘'Have you always had these things until now?'' [ "Yes, dear." "Then you are every bit as good as we are, and it's a shame that you are not treated as an equal," burst from Viola's lips, indignantly, as she remembered all Isabel's sneers about "the governess," and her mother’s scathing remarks regarding "that person, Miss Douglas." "Hush, Viola!" Brownie said, quietly, yet again smiling at the child’s naive remark. "Shall I tell you what my idea of a fine lady is?" * "Yes, do," Viola said, eagerly. "In the first place, it is to be always kind and courteous to every one ; to respect one’s self, so that one would never do a mean or cruel act ; and never to triumph over or hold one's self above others who may be less fortunate in life. " "That’s it ! that’s it 1 I only wish mamma and Isabel could hear you. They think they are fine ladies, but, dear Miss Douglas, I'd rather be one after your standard, and I will!” and the impulsive girl threw her arms around Brownie's neck tnd kissed her heartily. Brownie was afraid she had made a mistake in speaking thus. She had not the least thought of casting any reflections when she spoke. She thought it wise now to change the subject, and asked ; "Where did you get such lovely flowers, dear?" DRESSING FOR THE OPERA. U4 '"Oh, I nearly forgot! Wilbur sent them to you, with hi^ compliments, '' Viola said, apologetically, as she gave them to her. Miss Douglas colored a vivid crimson. She did not like to take gifts from him, knowing the feelings of Mrs. Coolidge and Isabel ; and, at the same time, she did not like to wound him by refusing them. So she compromised the matter by dividing them. “They are very beautiful, dear, and it is very kind of your brother to remember me. But there are so many of them, let me fasten this spray in your hair.'" She took the loveliest cluster of white moss-rose buds from the bouquet. “There, see for yourself. Is is not an improvement.?" she asked, as her deft fingers wove it among Viola's golden braids. “Thank you," the young girl said, her face beaming with pleasure, as she caught the reflection of a fair, innocent face, surrounded by massive coils of luxuriant hair, among which the buds, with their green leaves, nestled lovingly. ' ^ But you have given me the prettiest you had. Miss Doug- las," she added, regretfully. “And why shouldn't I, dear.? I have not forgotten who wa% so kind and faithful to a poor, sick, useless little body when we were crossing the ocean," Brownie playfully replied, as she ki^d the flushed cheek. She then selected a few flowers for herself, and telling Viola that she was ready, they both descended to the drawing-room. A hush of expectation followed their entrance. Isabel's eagle eye took in at one sweeping glance the simple 3RESSING FOR THE OPERA, 1^5 elegance of the governess' toilet, and her astonishment was plainly visible as she noticed those two almost priceless orna- ments which she wore upon her bosom and in her hair. Really, Miss Douglas, you have bloomed, haven't you ?*" she said, sarcastically. ‘^Indeed, Miss Douglas, I did not expect to see you quite so radiant, " said Mrs. Coolidge, in the same tones, and wonder- ing where under the sun her governess got such elegant jewels. Brownie blushed deeply at Isabel's insult, but did not notice her remark, except by a little lifting of her proud head. To Mrs. Coolidge, however, she said, courteously : '^Do I not meet your approbation, madam? If not, anj change you may choose to suggest I will gladly make. " ‘‘They'll spoil all her pleasure, the vixens," was Wilbur's in Ward comment, as his eyes gloated upon her wonderful beauty^ and gleamed with a stronger ray of love than he had hencefortir- dared betray. Mrs. Coolidge knew she had tied her own tongue by whaf ehe had said to Brownie in her own room, but she inwardly re^ solved that the same thing should never happen again. “Your costume is rather rich for your position," she re* marked, with well-assumed indifference, “but it is of no con- sequence for once. " Then, as they left the house, she whispered to her daughter ; “No one need know but that she is a guest." “It's fine, isn't it, to have your governess outshine your own daughter? I do hope this night's experience will teach you Visdom/ grumbled the envious girl 14 ^ A SCENE. CHAPTER XIV. A SCENE. Her Majesty's Opera, Drury Lane, was crowded to its utmost capacity when our party arrived. But having secured a private box, this circumstance did not inconvenience them in the least. Wilbur Coolidge took care, after his mother and Isabel were comfortably seated, that Miss Douglas should have a place where she could command a good view of the stage. He was disgusted with their treatment of the lovely gov- erness, and strove by numerous little attentions to atone in part for their rudeness. A battery of lorgnettes was immediately leveled at this bril- liant company, and there were numberless surmisings and ques- tionings as to who the new-comers could be. In a box not far from the Coolidge party there sat a royal- looking couple — an old gentleman, still hale and hearty> although upward of sixty-five, and a matron of perhaps a half- dozen years younger. By the side of the latter, and assiduously attending to her wants, was a )'oung man of about two-and-twenty. It was no other than Adrian Dredmond 1 He, too, had leveled his glass as the new-comers settled them^ selves in their places. A SCENE. 147 After one sweeping glance, he half started from his chair, with a low exclamation of pleasure. ^^Whom do you see, Adrian.?'' asked the lady by his side. ‘'Some friends wh® came over in the same steamer with me, I believe,” he replied, taking another look, and a smile of pleasure curving his fine lips as his eye rested upon Brownie, who seemed to him in her elegant robes like some beautiful vision from another sphere. "Americans.?” demanded his companion, preparing to adjust her own glass. "Yes, your ladyship,” was the quiet response. "Ah!” Her ladyship, as she uttered this with a slight accent of con- tempt, evidently did not deem them worthy the effort of a glance, and accordingly turned her glass toward the stage, the curtain having risen for the first act. For a time the attention of all was attracted in the same direction. Brownie sat as one entranced, forgetting the past, and living over again the exquisite delight which she had so often expe- rienced in by-gone days. Wilbur Coolidge, as he stood behind her, his hand resting lightly upon the back of her chair, could feel the thrill of ecstasy which crept cX9^r her as the first notes of that almost divine songstress. Mile. Titiens, broke the breathless hush of the expectant throng. "You are fond of the opera, Miss Douglas?” he whispered, when the curtain at length fell. “Passionately,” she replied, turning her glowing face toward A SCENE. i48 him; then added : ‘‘And, Mr. Coolidge, you have given me the first bit of unalloyed pleasure I have had since great mis- fortune came upon me/' Her voice quivered, her eyes were dewy, and her breast heaved with the deliciousness of the hour. To him, as he stood looking down upon her, she was the feirest being that breathed the breath of life. “I would I could henceforth give you every joy of earth," he murmured, tenderly, in her ear. “Wilbur," his mother said, in cold, hard tones, “will you come and arrange your sister s cloak ?" She had watched his every movement, and her heart was in a tumult of rage at that artful girl for presuming to keep him at her side. A meaning glance was exchanged between mother and daughter, as she made her request ; and after the cloak was sat- isfactorily arranged, as he was about returning to his post, Isabel said : “Sit down here, Wilbur, and point out to me some of the people whom you know. " He pointed out several, when she suddenly exclaimed : “Why, there is that Mr. Dredmond who came over with ua, ttitnot.'^" “Yes," dryly replied her brother. ! “ I like his appearance very much. I wish you would go and bring him here, and introduce him to us. " “What is the use? Any other time will do as well, and it is nearly time for the curtain to rise again," he said, impatiently, and with an uneasy glance toward Miss Douglas, A SCENE. 149 ^^Oh, there is plenty of time. Look ! he is bowing to you now. '' Wilbur returned the salutation, but did not move, and his mother exclaimed ; ‘ ' Do oblige your sister, Wilbur. He is, indeed, a fine-look- ing young man ; I wonder if he is well connected T* “Rather. He is grandson to an earl,"' was the laconic reply. ejaculated both mother and daughter in a breath. “Yes; so I have lately learned, and, notwithstanding he will succeed to an earldom upon his grandfather s death, he is very modest aboujt it, and prefers to be addressed as plain Mr. Dred- mond, rather than ' my lord. ' '' “Wilbur, you must introduce him, by all means. Isabel, who knows what may happen V and Mrs. Coolidge, much ex- cited at the intelligence she had just received, ruffled her feath- ers with motherly pride. “There, Wilbur ! I do believe he is coming here. He has left his box, and is coming this way!’' exclaimed Isabel, her cheeks flushing a vivid scarlet at the thought of being intro- duced to a peer of the realm. Adrian Dredmond was indeed bending his steps in that direction ; but had those proud women known that it was on account of their despised governess, and her alone, they would not have been so elated. Wilbur arose and met him at the entrance. “How are you, Coolidge.?" exclaimed the young man, heartily, and extending his hand. “We have not met often •f late," he added. 150 A SCENE. “No; I have been dancing attendance upon the ladies Will you come in and be introduced ?” “With pleasure,” and his eyes lingered upon that graceful figure, clad in maize-colored silk, seated between the two young girls. Wilbur led him first to his mother and Isabel, then presented him to Viola and Alma, and finally to Brownie, in spite of Mrs. Coolidge’s warning glance, as she saw what he was about to do. The young girl’s cheeks kindled to a flame as she laid her daintily-gloved hand in his, and remembered that this hand* some stranger, whose name she had not known until this mo- ment, had held her in his arms, and so dose to his bosom that she had felt the beating of his great heart. Wilbur noted her rich color, and the shy drooping of her white lids; he noted, too, the lingering look of admiration which the young man bent upon her, and a great pain smote his heart — a fear that trouble, and disaster to his hopes, would follow this introduction. Mr. Dredmond was invited to a seat by Isabel, and instantly monopolized by her, while Mrs. Coolidge, much elated at the turn events were taking, took care that Wilbur did not resume his position near the governess, but kept him busy answerinf questions till the opera was over. j Miss Isabel intended that Mr. Dredmond should attend hel to the carriage, but, by some means, in leaving the box, the^ became separated, he standing at the entrance until all ha4 passed out. A SCENE, 151 Brownie being the last one, he offered her his arm to con- duct her through the crowd. She could not refuse without seeming rude, yet she was keea enough to perceive that the attention would call down the dire displeasure of her employer upon her head. The fringe of her opera-cloak became entangled upon one of the seats in passing out, and while stopping to remove it, th^ rest of the party were borne along with the crowd, leaving them fer behind. In the lobby they encountered an old gentleman and lady. In an instant the gaze of the former became riveted upon Miss Douglas. He stopped in her path. His face grew ghastly white, his lips twitched nervously, and he breathed as if terribly agitated. Brownie lifted her eyes, and was startled at his appearance. It seemed to Iw as if she was confronting a madman. He bent toward her until his quick breath smote her cheek. He did not seem to notice her companion, all his faculties were concentrated upon the startled girl. He lifted his shaking hand and touched with one finger that glittering cross upon her bosom. ‘'There is but one cross like that in the world,’" he mut- tered. “Girl, girl, where did you get it?'' he demanded, hoarsely. Before she could collect her scattered senses to reply, before tven Mr. Dredmond could interpose to save her the annoyance «f replying, some one behind cried out : ' “ Make way, there, a lady has feinted 152 A SCENE. Then the crowd surged in between them ; the old mstn was borne one way, Brownie and her companion the other, and she only caught one more glimpse of a pair of deep, fathomless eyes, filled with keenest pain, a white, set face, its lips livid and rigid. Then she found herself in the fresh, cool air, and Adrian Dredmond saying, in tones of apology : ‘'You will excuse him. Miss Douglas; he is an old man.” “Certainly; but he startled me somewhat,” she answered, drawing a deep breath ; and before she could ask if he knew who the strange gentleman was, she found they were beside the Coolidge carriage. “Really, Miss Douglas, is it you at last? You have kept us waiting until we are tired,” exclaimed Isabel, peevishly. She was boiling with rage that the governess had secured the escort which she had so coveted. “I hope you have not been troubled, Mr. Dredmond,” apol- ogized Mrs. Coolidge, graciously, and giving Brownie a with- ering look. “Oh, no ; it has given me pleasure to attend Miss Douglas,” blundered the young man, saying the very worst thing possible. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Mrs. Coolidge, but the crowd detained us, and my cloak caught upon one of the seats, ” explained Brownie. “Crowd, indeed! I’ve seen governesses before this who liked to flirt,” sneered the irate Isabel under her breath. Both Mr. Dredmond and Miss Douglas caught the insolent words, and they aroused all the fire in the young girl’s blood. With the air of a queen, she turned, as she was about enter- A SCENE. 153 ihg the carriage, and holding out her little hand, she said to Mr. Dredmond : ‘‘Thank you, Mr. Dredmond, for your kindness, and good- night.^ He bowed low over her hand, then assisting her to enter the carriage, lifted his hat to the others and turned away, but not before he had noted the menacing looks cast upon the poor lit- tle governess for her audacity. She's plucky, though," he said, with a smile, remembering her haughty air, as she bade him “good-night," “and they'll find their match in her. " “Miss Douglas, please step this way one moment," Mrs. Coolidge commanded, in icy tones, upon entering the house. She led the way toward the library. Brownie following, with head erect, and a mien which even the fashionable and im- posing Mrs. Coolidge could not subdue. “I wish it distinctly understood, Miss Douglas," the matron began, with a look which would have annihilated the young girl had she possessed less of the spirit of heroes within her, “that hereafter you are to receive no attention from gentlemen while you remain in my employ. Miss Isabel's prospects are not to be interfered with hy you."' Brownie’s red lips curled with scorn. She met her glance proudly and without the quiver of a nerve. ‘ ‘ Mrs. Coolidge, I have not the slightest desire to interfere in any way with Miss Coolidge's prospects. The occurrence of this tvening was wholly unpremeditated as far as I am concerned. But, madam, I wish it distinctly understood upon my part, that 154 A SCENE, if the insults to which I have been subjected to-night are evec repeated I shall consider my connection with you at an end. ” This was a new departure, surely. Who ever knew of a governess making terms before with her employer, and in that tone and spirit There was nothing disrespectful or unlady-Hke in Miss Doug- las' manner. But there was a resolution and firmness in what she said which plainly indicated that she had no intention of being crushed or browbeaten by any human being upon the face of the earth. Mrs. Coolidge could have strangled her as she stood there in her proud beauty, but she began to be a little afraid of her as well. Tyrannical spirits are always cowardly. ‘^Really, Miss Douglas, it seems to me you are assuming a great deal for a dependent," returned the woman, haughtily. recognize the fact, madam, that 1 am in b. measure de- pendent upon your favor ; but I am also aware that my services are of no small value to you. When I consented to take charge of your daughters' education, I did nof consent to forfeit my self-respect by quietly submitting to any abuse from any mem- ber of your family." Brownie's tone was very quiet, but very clear and firm. ^‘What am I to understand by this language from you, Miss Douglas ?” demanded Mrs. Coolidge, nearly choking with anger. ‘‘That I expect due consideration from yourself and family, A SCENE. 155 while I in turn render you all proper respect. I wish you good-night, madam.'' With a courteous inclination of her bright head, Brownie turned and walked from the room with the air of an empress. Mrs. Coolidge stood looking after her for several minutes in utter amazement. Never before had a governess — and she had had many — dared to address her in this manner. Never before had any qpe in her employ presumed to gain- say her in the slightest degree. But now she recognized a spirit, albeit it was in a little body, that was superior to her own, and it cowed while it enraged her. ‘^Who is the little vixen, I wonder she ejaculated, when she had recovered her self-possession somewhat. ''She is evi- dently far above her station ; and, judging from her appearance to-night, she must have moved in society equal to any into which we are received. " Doubtless Brownie's reply to Mrs. Coolidge's query would have been : ‘'Madam, I am a Douglas !" But that lady knew, as the young girl had said, that she was invaluable to her. Already her younger daughters were acquiring a fluency of •peech and an elegance of manner which delighted ber, and she felt that it would not do to part with her cultivated gov- erness for any light consideration. She knew it would be very difficult to find any one, while ihey were abroad, who would prove as useful in every respect 156 A SCENB. as Miss Douglas, and she resolved to swallow her wrath, and keep her at all hazards, unless Wilbur should fall in love with her. At all events, one thing was settled — Miss Douglas should be seen no more in company. ISABEL^ S DISCOVERY, 157 CHAPTER xv; , ^ ISABEL S DISCOVERY. A few days subsequent to Brownie's interview with Mrs. Coolidge, after a wearisome day in the school-room, the young ladies having been very dull and listless, Brownie donned her hat and jacket, and went out for a stroll by herself. She had been very brave and defiant while confronting Mrs. Coolidge, but the reaction followed immediately, and she had been sad and disspirited ever since. She felt so alone in the world — so weary of this loveless life. It was evident that she was looked upon as a mere machine, fit only to make herself obliging and useful. To be sure, there had been no more unkind or insolent speeches, for Isabel had been warned by her mother that Miss Douglas was so extremely high-spirited that she would not sub- mit to them ; but their manner to her was so arrogant and over- bearing that it was absolutely painful to be in their presence. She was thinking of it to-day as she went out, and tiy as she would to rise above it, to feel that it was beneath her to notice anything so low and ignoble, yet it did sting with a keenness which was very hard to bear. She almost began to long for the old days in the straw fee t©ry, and the independence of being her own mistress again, 158 ISABEL^ S DISCOVERY, even though she was obliged to live less luxuriously and work more laboriously. She walked briskly on for a mile or two, past elegant resi- dences, modern villas, and ancient halls, wholly unconscious of the more direful calamity which would befall her upon her return — of the fearful cloud about to burst above her head, 4: :jc Hp 2k ♦ Isabel Coolidge had, so to speak, been dying of envy ever since the night of their attendance at the opera. Brownie's appearance upon that occasion had been like worm in the bud," gnawing at her heart-strings continually. How did Miss Douglas happen to have such elegant apparel } Where did she get such wonderful jewels? She did not believe her mother^s theory that she had been suddenly reduced from prosperity to poverty. Brownie's manners were too simple and unassuming for her to believe that she had ever been a ‘'fine lady." She kept revolving the matter over and over in her mind. The beautifu.^ dress that she had worn, heavy with its own richness, the costly lace, those wonderful jewels, the frost-like handkerchief, and the lovely fan, were all alike a marvel to ner greedy eyes. She longed to know if she possessed more like them. She could not conceive how a poor girl, who had been forced first to go into a straw factory to earn her daily bread, then to be- come a governess, could be the possessor of such elegant and expensive articles of dress. “There is some mystery about it, mamma, which I cannot understand," she said, when speaking of it to Mrs, Coolidge, ISABEL^ S DISCOVERY, 159 ‘‘My dear, I tell you she must have belonged to some vealthy family who suddenly lost their property ; such things lappen every day/' “But if that is the case she could easily have sold her beau- iful things— 'those jewels alone would have brought a hand- ;ome sum, upon which she could have lived a long time.” I “Perhaps they are heir-looms, and she does not like to part vith them. ” “Heir-looms } Pshaw ! what can a poor girl want with heir- 00ms ? It seems to me that bread and butter would be the irst point demanding consideration. ” “Well, at all events, it did not seem to be with her, as far as acrificing her jewels goes,” returned Mrs. Coolidge. “Mamma, I tell you I don't believe the girl came by them mnestly,'’ Isabel said, impressively, after a few moments of leep thought. ■ “Why, child, you do not mean to say that you believe the ;irl is a thief exclaimed her mother, aghast. “It is an ugly word, I know, but you said yourself that you ‘onsidered her artful. '' “Yes, I think she is about attracting the attention of gentle- ncn ; although, with her drooping eyes and unconscious man- ner, one less versed in the ways of the world would say she was be impersonation of modesty.” “I hate such prudish airs, and I do not think there will be ny harm in watching her.” ! Miss Isabel had registered a mental vow that she should watch :ae despised governess, and that no means would be illegitimat# l6o ISABEL'S DISCOVERY. which would reveal her past history, or bring to light anything to prove her unworthy the place she occupied. Since Adrian Dredmond’s evident attraction toward her on the night of the opera, she had resolved that Brownie Douglas and she should not live long in the same house. With these thoughts continually in her mind, she had kept ap a constant espionage upon the governess' actions, and to- day, when she saw her leave the house, equipped for a long walk, she concluded that the right time had come to carry out certain plans which she had formed. Watching her opportunity, when no one was about, she slipped quietly into Miss Douglas' room, and locked the door after her. She had never deigned to enter there before, and she was now surprised to find how tastefully everything was arranged. She noticed the few choice pictures upon the walls, and here and there an exquisite little statuette or article of bronze — those ; relics of Brownie's beautiful home in Philadelphia, which she' dearly loved. She went to her dressing-case, and was surprised at the ele-« gance of her toilet appurtenances. She had none so rich ! One little thing in particular struck her. It was an exquisite case of Russia leather, with the mitials *'E. H." engraven in gilt upon its handle. She opened it, and an exclamation of delight escaped her. Within were six tiny flasks of cut glass, with gold stoppers, filled with choicest perfumes, upoa each of which the same letters were cut ISABEL'S DISCOVERY. l6l ^'Ah, ha! 'E. H./ that does not stand for Mehetabel Douglas V* she said, with a sinister smile. She took them out, one by one, removing their gold stop- pers and inhaling the delicious perfume with which they were filled. Suddenly her attention was attracted by a folded paper in the bottom of the case. She took it up, opened it, and read, in a gentleman's hand- writing : ‘‘My Darling:- — To-morrow will be our wedding-day. I cannot come to you to-day, as I promised, but I send my little gift to help grace your table. I pray Heaven that the fragrance which this little case contains may be but the emblem of your future life with me. Ever thine, William. " Could it be that Miss Douglas had been tich, and about to be married, and then disappointed ? There was no date, and no name but that of William, to give the prying girl any clew as to the author of the note. No, this could have been no wedding-gift intended for her, or the initials would have been different. She replaced the note, also the bottles, and then turned hei attention to other things, but becoming more and more con- vinced of Brownie's dishonesty. She opened the bureau drawers, and was surprised to find several other articles mi^rked with the same initials. Two or three sets of undergarments, trimmed with costly laces and embroideries, a couple of handkerchiefs, which made her eyes water to look at them, an emerald ring, and a pear] pin. i 62 ISABEL'S DISCOVERY. She found Brownie’s jewel-box, containing only a few plain articles of jewelry, and one or two sets of jet, which she had purchased since her aunt’s death, and the cufiF-button, the mate to which was in Adrian Dredmond’s possession. But the jeweled cross and hair ornament were not to be found there. ‘ ‘ I wonder where she keeps them ?” Miss Coolidge solilo- quized, as, after examining all the drawers, she turned her gaze about the room. Her eye fell upon a large writing-desk, which stood upon a table at the further side of the room. . ; She went over to it, and tried to raise the lid. It was locked, and the key removed. “ Bother !” was her impatient and inelegant exclamation. She then began to search for the key, feeling sure that the jewels were within the writing-desk. Now, Brownie had not a thought that any one would be guilty of such meanness as to overhaul her property during her absence, and scarcely ever kept anything locked, excepting her writing-desk. No one had access to her room except Mary, the chamber- maid, and she had the utmost confidence in her, for, having treated the girl with great kindness, she was deeply attached to her, and was constantly affirming that “Miss Douglas were more of a rale leddy than them who purtended to be her bet- ters.” Brownie’s keys, which were held together in a bunch by I steel ring, now hung by one of their number in the trunk froBI ISABEL ’5 DISCO VER K 1 63 which she had taken her evening dress on the xiight of the opera. On her return, she had first removed her jewels and returned them to their casket, then replaced her dress in the trunk, just turning the key, and leaving it in the lock. . Isabel's quick eye soon caught sight of them, and, with a cry of pleasure, she darted across the room to secure them, then returned to the desk, and finally succeeded in fitting the right key in its lock. The desk, in itself, was nothing remarkable, for it had seen long usage, but its contents were rare and lovely. A golden penholder and pen lay within ; also an elaborate paper-knife of the same metal ; a silver paper-weight of ex- quisite workmanship and design; a seal of onyx, in which blazed a huge ruby; besides several other things; and all these, were marked with the same initials, '‘E. H." Isabel lifted the inner lid, and, behold ! the casket of ebony, inlaid with pearl, which Miss Mehetabel had given Brownie on that last day of her life, was within. There were also several packages of letters and papers, but to tliese she paid no heed. ‘"I h^’e found them," she cried, and was about to seize the casket, when she caught the sound of a footstep outside the door. Her heart stood still with fear, and cold chills crept down her back. She had not dreamed that Miss Douglas would return so soon, for ihe had heard her Ull Alma she would be gone for an hour or more. 7 * 1 64 ISABEL ’ S DISCO VER F. She would not be caught in this contemptible act for all the Jewels in the queen's crown, and she began to look about for some way of escape. A hand was laid upon the door-knob, and it turned. A moment's silence, and it was tried again — this time with more force. Then a voice called : ‘'Miss Douglas, please, may I come in a moment?" It was Viola's ; and Isabel grew faint with a sense of relief, but she stood silent, scarcely daring to breathe, lest she should be heard, and her sister insist upon coming in. Presently she heard Alma call out : “Viola, Miss Douglas is not there ; she has gone out for a . walk." Then the steps moved away, and the guilty girl was obliged to sit down to gather strength, before she could continue her | investigations. Cowardice and guilt are inseparable. j She dare not wait long, however, and soon turned her atten- jj tion to the ebony casket again. ,i Fortunately for her, the little golden key, with its curious ; chain attached, was in the lock. Brownie had forgotten to clasp it about her neck again after replacing the jewels. As she was about turning the key she hesitated, while a feel- ing of her own meanness stole over her. “If I didn't mistrust the girl, I wouldn’t do it," she apolo- gized to herself. Then she added: “If she is not what she pretends, of course it is better for us to know it before the girls ISABEL ’ 5 DISCO VER Y. 165 become contaminated; but if I do not discover anything, why, then it is all right/' With this bit of doubtful sophistry in her mind, she turned the key and lifted the lid. The sight which greeted her dazzled her, even as it had Brownie when she had first looked upon those treasures. There lay the coral cross and the butterfly hair ornament, fot which she had been seeking, but she almost lost sight of them while gazing upon those others, of tenfold more value and beauty. '^Now I know she is a thief \” murmured the astonished girl, when she had somewhat recovered from her surprise. x It is not possible, " she added, ‘‘that any girl of her age, outside of royalty itself, could ever be the rightful possessessor of such magnificence as this. Why, there is a fortune here, " she went on; “and no one need tell me that a girl would choose to work for her daily bread when she has the means of living in luxury in her possession. But no, it is evident that she has stolen them, and does not dare to sell them for fear of detection. Yes, and she must have stolen all those other things marked ‘E. H." What a creature we have been harboring! I imagine Wilbur and Mr. Dredmond will not think her quite so charm- ing when they come to know that her dainty hands have been guilty of kleptomania. How exquisite,” she said, bending over them and touching the precious stones with her white fingers. “This diamond necklace is fit for a princess. It is like some faiiy story, or like a vision from Aladdin's palace. But what shall I do about them ?'' she asked, after she had in- spected them all. “If she has stolen them, as I do not doubt i66 ISABEL^ S DISCOVERY, she has, they certainly ought not to be left in her possession. 1 will take them to mamma, and ask her what shall be done with them.” \ With this decision arrived at, Isabel closed the lid of the casket, remarking its beautiful inlaid cover as she did so ; then, removing it from the desk, she shut and locked that, and re- stored the keys to the trunk where she had found them. Then she sped swiftly to her mother s boudoir, devoutly hoping that Brownie would not return until she had displayed her treasures to her, made her explanation, and they could decide what wa? best to be done about the matter. If the truth had been known, the meddlesome girl had 4 secret longing to possess those jewels hersel£ A TERRIBLE A CCUSA TION, 167 CHAPTER XVI. A TERRIBLE ACCUSATION. Mrs, Coolidge locked up with a frown, as Isabel entered the room. “Where have you been so long?"' she asked. “I have wanted you to arrange about your dress for Lady Peasewelfs drawing-room next week.” “Don't scold, mamma; I have had an adventure, and I will tell you all about it as soon as I can get my breath, ” said Isabel, sinking upon a sofa, breathless, from her haste to reach h^r mother's apartments. . “What have you there.?*' demanded Mrs. Coolidge, as sh« caught sight of the casket which her daughter carried. “You remember, mamma, what I said about Miss Douglas being the possessor of such elegant jewels ?'' she said, not heed- ing the question. “Yes; you said you did not believe she came by them hon- Bstly. Why?” “I am sure of it now. Look here !” She suddenly threw back the lid of the casket, and placed it in her mother's lap. “Merciful heavens, child 1 Where did you get these ? Ah!” she continued, as Isabel did not reply, “here are the very orna- ments which Miss Douglas wore the other evening.” i68 A TERRIBLE A CCUSA TION, She looked up at her daughter, and the two read each other s faces in silence for a moment. You do not mean to tell me that you found all these in her possession she at length asked, in a low tone. ‘‘I do, mamma,"' Isabel said, impressively. ‘‘But how did you happen to discover them.? Surely, my daughter, you have not been guilty of prying into her things daring her absence," said Mrs. Coolidge, gravely. Isabel colored violently. “I have, mamma. I should think it was time some one in- vestigated matters, when we have a governess in the house pos- sessing such treasures. I believed her guilty of theft, and I was determined that the girls should not remain under her influence if anything could be proved against her. So I set myself to work ; and I think when you have examined the contents of that box, and hear what I have to tell you, that you will con- clude that she is no fit instructress your daughters." “Isabel, I am afraid you have done a very unwise thing," remarked her mother, thoughtfully, with her eyes still fixed upon the jewels. “How so.?" “We cannot prove that she stole a single article in her pos- session. " “Why, she has quantities of beautiful things, marked with the initials E. H." And Isabel explained about the case of golden-stoppered perfumery flasks, and the contents of the writing-desk ; also about the note. “If she is light-fingered, you don't want her here; she’ll be A TERRIBLE ACCUSATION. 169 adding to her stock by appropriating our treasures,” concluded the heartless girl. ‘^No; if she is that kind of a person, she ought not to be allowed to remain.” ‘‘Well, do you believe that any girl in her circumstances could be the honest possessor of that fortune ?” Isabel asked, pointing toward the gleaming jewels. ‘‘N-o, Tm afraid not. Yet I dislike, of all things, that you should have got them in the way you have.” Mrs. Coolidge took up the diamond necklace, and it sparkled in her hands like huge drops of dew in the sun. ‘‘Very well; I will replace them at once, mamma, if you think best, and we will say no more about it,” replied her daughter, cunningly. She had noticed the avaricious gleam in her mother's eyes as they contemplated their beauty, and she knew she would give as much to possess them as she would herself. “That would never do, my daughter. I should not rest easy while there is a suspicion against Miss Douglas' honesty in my heart. There is only one thing to be done now. ” “What is that.?” “We must demand an explanation of her immediately upon her return.” “Of course, she has a trumped-up story of 2»ome kind; she is too artful not to be prepared for us.” “ She will have to prove her property, my dear At all events, I shall advise her to dispose of them in soma way. It is not proper for a governess to have such valuables.” “Perhaps she would sell them to us, mamma,” said Isabel, 170 A TERRIBLE A CCUSA TIOM. a greedy look in her eyes. “That tiara would be vastly be- coming to me. “They are the most exquisite jewels I have ever seen in my life, and the settings are peculiar. But what is there under- neath.? Have you looked, Isabel Mrs. Coolidge asked, find- ing the velvet bed was movable. “No; I was so startled at finding such an array that I did not stop to make any further investigations, but brought them directly to you.” Mrs. Coolidge lifted the velvet bed “What have we here?” she exclaimea, as she saw the enam- eled locket studded with diamonds. With breathless curiosity she touched the spring, and it flew open, revealing the noble face of Lord Dunforth. “Who can it be, mamma?” asked Isabel, with wonder-wide eyes. r “I do not know; no one who belongs to Miss Douglas,* I fancy, from his looks. How strangely he is dressed — like some court gentleman. ” “And what is this?” said Isabel, taking up the card that lay beneath. Then she cried out: “Why, mamma, it is a danc- ing list, and look ! here are the names of counts and lords ! Do you believe now that Miss Douglas ever came by these things honestly?” she demanded, in tones of triumph. “No, Isabel, I do not,” returned her mother, with firm-set lips; “and I shall inquire into it immediately on her return.” “What could a young girl eighteen years old — a poor girl without a penny, too, and who had never been out of her own country before, know of lords and counts ?” A TERRIBLE ACCUSATION. 171 The idea was absurd. There was a mystery about the whole thing, a tantalizing mystery, which both women were eager to solve. Evidently Miss Douglas had seen better days, they reasoned, or she could never have received the excellent education she possessed ; but then any enterprising person in moderate cir^ cumstances could acquire that under the training of the first- class schools which are found in most of the larger cities of the United States. While these thoughts were passing through the mind of Mrs. Coolidge, she heard the hall door open and close, and Brownie'^ voice in cheerful conversation with Wilbur. He had joined her by accident (?) while she was walking, and had made himself so entertaining and agreeable that the clouds upon her face had all been driven away. She tripped gayly up stairs, wholly unconscious of the thun- derbolt awaiting her. Isabel confronted her as she reached the top stairs. Mamma would like to see you in her dressing-room imme- diately, Miss Douglas,'' she said, haughtily. She colored at the tone and manner, but, wholly unconscious of any coming evil, she obeyed the summons as soon as she had removed her hat and jacket. She found Mrs. Coolidge sitting cold and dignified in her arm-chair. ‘•'Be seated. Miss Douglas," she said, solemnly. “I wish to speak to you upon a matter of importance. " Brownie sat down, her clear eyes wide with wonder at her ro' ception. 172 A TERRIBLE A CCUSA TION, There was a moment's awkward silence, the lady of the house hardly knowing how to commence. ‘‘Ahem she began, shifting her glance from the clear, in- nocent eyes, which she had thought must have fallen before her accusing look. “Ahem ! Miss Douglas, I have sent for you to ask what may seem a strange question ; Nevertheless, I feel it to be a to myself and family to ask it.” Brownie's fair face began to change color again. Mrs. Coolidge noticed it, and her assurance was restored. ‘T, of course, expect you will give me a straightforward reply,” she added, impressively. The shining brown head was lifted a trifle, her delicate nos- trils dilated, while an unwonted spark lighted those beautiful eyes, which never for a moment left the matron's face. S/if requested to give a straightforward answer 1 When had she ever done otherwise ? “I wish to ask you. Miss Douglas,” Mrs. Coolidge said, coming to the point at once, and feeling very uncomfortable beneath her look, “if you have anything in your possession which does not honestly belong to you ?” She now fixed her stern gaze full upon the beautiful face. The battle was begun, and she was prepared to fight it out. For an instant all three — for Isabel had returned to the room, and now stood behind her mother's chair, where she could watch her rival — could distinctly hear the ticking of Mrs. Cool- idge's watch, which lay upon the dressing-table at her side. Then Brownie arose, and stood like an insulted princess be- fore her inquisitor. A TERkIBLE A CCUSA TION. ^73 ‘‘Madam, I ask — nay, I demand — to know why you putsudh a question to me !*' she said, in low, firm tones. Her face had grown white as the narrow linen collar which she wore, and her eyes burned dangerously. \ “You forget yourself. Miss Douglas,'' Mrs. Coolidge said, j)ompously. “It was I who asked a question." “And I consider such a question an insult, madam !" “Very well; I expected you would; all people who are guilty of wrong feel insulted, or appear to, when they are ac- cused. ” “Guilty of wrong! accused! I do not understand you, madam. Of what do you accuse me demanded the young girl, with a proud dignity which her employer had not expected from her. She began to feel a little shaky, but she was in for it now, and must go on. “I accuse you of having stolen costly articles and appropri- ating them to your own use," she said, solemnly. “ Explain yourself, if you please, Mrs. Coolidge." Those brown eyes were almost black now, but her answer was intensely quiet, and the lovely face like a snow-flake. “Allow me to ask you one question before I explain." “Certainly." , “How came you by those beautiful jewels, those very costly . ornaments, which you wore to the opera last Wednasday even- ing?" “They were given to me, madam." “By whom?" ■‘By a very dear friend. " 5 74 A TERRIBLE A CCUSA TION, There was a quiver in the sweet voice, a trembling of the scarlet lips, but the lovely eyes were bright and tearless. "‘How long have they been in your possession?” continued Mrs. Coolidge. ‘‘A little over three months, madam.” Mamma, mamma, does not that prove enough?*' burst out Isabel, triumphantly. ‘‘Why, she has been with wj* over two months, and she worked in the factory three weeks. Who would give a poor girl such jewels as those?” Brownie's only reply to this outburst was a look of ineffable scorn, and the elder lady went on in a severe tone : “I fear. Miss Douglas, that your stoiy is against you. When you sought employment from my husband you were in such circumstances that you were obliged to toil for your daily bread.” A proud inclination of her head was all the reply to this query. She dare not trust her voice just then. “And you say these jewels were given to you about that time ?” Another bow. “The rich clothing, and other trifles which you have, weie they given to you also ?” madam r “And all by this same dear friend A peculiar look accompanied this question, while Isabel's, jyes gleamed in wicked triumph. She could see whither these^uestions were tending, if inncK cent Brownie did not. ' ■ ‘ ‘ They were, ” she said. J A TERRIBLE ACCUSATION, m ‘'Was this friend 2. gentleman^ Miss Douglas?* For one moment there came into the young girl's lovely eyes a look of perplexity and astonishment, followed by one of blank horror. ; Then all the royal blood in her Douglas' veins sprang to arms ! The rich color surged up from her enraged heart over her neck and face; up, up, as the full force of this horrible thought nearly drove her mad, until it lost itself among the bands of shining hair, and tingled to her finger tips. Then it all re- ceded, leaving her colorless as marble, and, in her proud indig- nation, like some avenging spirit. “Mrs. Coolidge," she said, in the same quiet, lady-like tones, but they made the wojna-ii shiver notwithstanding, “your lan- guage and insinuation is the grossest insult to me, and again I demand an immediate explanation. " “Isabel, bring me that box," said Mrs. Coolidge, pointing to Brownie's casket, which stood upon the table behind her. Miss Coolidge obeyed, and Brownie uttered a cry of aston- ishment as she saw it. “How came you by that? Where did you get it ?* she said, starting forward, her lips quivering, and a choking sensation m her throat Her dear, precious casket, still sacred from the last fond touches of Miss Mchetabel's hand, profaned by their ruthless handling ! It was almost more than her tender heart could bear. She •carcely ever looked upon it without weeping, for it recalled so vividly that last happy day with her aunt 176 A TERRIBLE A CCUSA TION. But all this emotion was but an evidence of guilt in the eyea of those hard-hearted women. ‘‘Is not that guilt, mamma, if you ever saw it?'' whisp)ered Isabel in her mother s ear. I She nodded her head sternly, and then turned to face her victim again. “I will explain, Miss Douglas. The jewels which you wore to the opera are in this box with others ®f much greater value. Were these others given to you?" “They were." “At the same time?" “At the same time, Mrs. Coolidge." “By whom?" “I decline to answer that question, madam," came defiantly from the young girl's compressed lips. She had been insulted, abused ; she would bear nothing more from them. They — these evil-minded, jealous women — had gone to her room like thieves and hunted among her possessions to satisfy their low-born curiosity, and having found something which they could not clearly understand, they were determined t® make use of it to crush he" Should they crush her? M/ She knew it would be of no use to try to prove to them that those jewels were her own. They would not believe her word, and she had not a friend in that strange land who could stand by her, to protect her against their hatred and envy. But she would defy them to the last. A TERRIBLE ACCUSATION. TJ^ She would not submit longer to stand before them like some Tictim of the inquisition, and answer their insulting questions. Mrs. Coolidge could scarcely restrain her anger at Brownie's defiance. She was very curious to know the history of those jewels, that attractive picture, and that dancing card with its high-sounding names. * ‘ Am I to understand that you refuse to clear yourself from the suspicion which rests upon you V' she'^asked, growing white with anger. ^ ‘ Madam, I question your right to arraign me before you in this manner, as I also question your right to enter my room in my absence, pry into my affairs, and abstract from under lock and key things which belong to me. " ' Whose picture is this.^^" demanded Mrs. Coolidge, taking up the jeweled locket and looking again upon that noble face. She ignored entirely Brownie's indignant protest, although she colored deeply, for she knew that if Miss Douglas owned that box with its contents she and Isabel were the thieves, decline answering," said Brownie, firmly. She could hardly refrain from crying out with pain to see those sacred relics of a lost love and a shattered life thus pro- fened by th«ir rude handling. ^‘Beware, Miss Douglas; this defiance goes against you, and 1 fear will be your ruin if you persist in it," said the woman, majestically ; then she added, feeling that she needed to make some explanation : ‘'You see that it is something very unusual for a poor person like you to have such rich apparel and jewelry in her possession. We invite you to go to the opera. We do A TERRIBLE A CCUSA TIOM, I 178 not wish you to wear black, and ask you to wear some othd color. You appear more elegantly clad than any member of my family, and you tell Viola that it is the simplest dress you have. Now, what are we to think? Would not any mother having daughters desire to investigate the matter? You say these things were all given to you at the same time and by the same person, and only three months ago. Can you not see how very improbable such a statement appears, when'we know that you have been toiling for your daily bread nearly the whole of that time? It would have taken a small fortune,'' she went on, after an impressive pause, ‘'from any one, to buy all these precious stones at one time, and young girls like you are not in the habit of receiving so much at once. Why, Isabel thinks herself fortunate to get one piece of diamond jewelry at a time. Besides all this, I find here a card with the names of counts and lords upon it. We do not have counts and lords in Amer- ica ; you have never been abroad before, consequently I know you have never had any acquaintance with persons of such high degree. Here is also a glove marked six and a half — I happen to know that you wear a six. " This was said with a frowning look at the little white hands, which were folded in a clasp of pain, and hanging against the ^ folds of her sable dress. “You refuse also to give me the name of the young man in the locket. Now, /can account for all this in two ways only." Mrs. Coolidge, as she made this statement, bent her stern upon the pale face and downcast eyes of the haughty girl before her, and thought she could see guilt in every feature. Sae thought she had very cleverly aigued the matter, and A TERRIBLE ACCUSATION. 179 paused a moment, well satisfied with herself, before clinching her point. *‘And those are,'' she continued, in a hard, unfeeling voice, ^^you have either stolen them from some wealthy families with whom you have served, or " Madam 1" The downcast eyes were raised now, and the fire which flashed from them seemed almost to sear the heartless woman's face. ‘T dare say, mamma, she was waiting-maid in some rich family, and came by them in that way," put in Isabel, spite-* fully. ‘‘Do not interrupt me, Isabel. Miss Douglas, please wait until I finish before you make any remarks," Mrs. Coolidge said, coldly, with a wave of her hand ; then continued : “As I was saying, I think you either stole them, or you have had relations with some person which would debar you from ever enters ing any respectable family, though I cannot conceive how any ont could be such a fool as to lavish so much upon a " Cease!" came in a hoarse whisper from Brownie's lovely lips, which had grown of the color of ashes, and were quiver- ing with insulted pride and anger, while her heart stood still with horror. The word checked Mrs. Coolidge in spite of her insolent self- afifiurance, and, bad as her language had been, she was ever after glad that she had not uttered that last maddening word. To be accused of theft had been almost more than Browni# could bear. A Douglas aceused of stealing I l8o A TERRIBLE ACCUSATION. But the other insinuation ! She had hardly been able to comprehend it at first. She grew sick at heart, dizzy and faint, when the woman's meaning at length burst upon and nearly crushed her. For one moment her blood seemed turned to ice, and her brain to fire. The next, conscious virtue asserted itself The proud figure grew more proudly erect, the little head was lifted with a haughty grace, and Queen Margaret Tudor herself, of whom Miss Mehetabel had been wont to boast, would have gloried in the majesty of her appearance. Then the pained, almost convulsed expression about her delicate mouth relaxed into a withering smile of scorn. What were these two base spirits, that she, a Douglas, with royal blood in her veins, should fear them ? Yet the struggle for mastery was severe, and there was an awkward silence of several minutes before she could trust her- self to speak. She turned her blazing eyes full upon her accusers, and she found they could not bear the glance; their eyes dropped guiltily beneath it. Then, with that mighty calmness in her tones and manner, Brownie said to Mrs. Coolidge : ‘'Have you anything further to say tome regarding those jewels, madam.?" “Not unless I can persuade you to confess and make restk tution," she answered, uneasily. “I have no confession to make; I have no restitution t® make. Those articles of jewelry are legally mine — how. I do A TERRIBLE A CCUSA TION. l8l not intend to explain to you, either now or at any other time. The manner in which you or your daughter became possessed of them does you infinite credit ; it is an act of which doubt- less you will be proud all your life. Now, if you please, I will relieve you of them ; and from this moment consider my engagement with you at an end, as, after such repeated insults, I could no longer remain in your family.'' She reached forth her hand to take the casket, but Mrs. Coolidge clutched it with the grip of a miser. ‘‘Oh, no. Miss Douglas, you cannot have this again; you have not yet proved to me that it is yours, and I cannot allow such a valuable possession to go out of my hands until I am assured who the rightful owner is." She sneered, white with anger, that the girl should dare brave her so. “You can put on as many grand airs as you choose, miss, but you'll find that we know how to take them for just what they are worth," said Isabel, scoifiingly. “Mrs. Coolidge, that box and all its contents are mine^ and I demand that you yield it up to me," Brownie said, sternly, fully aroused. “Hear the minx, mamma; do dismiss her instantly," cried Isabel, angrily. “You cannot have them, Miss Douglas, until you prcve that they are yours," returned Mi^. Coolidge, firmly, and she closed the box with a snap. “Then I shall be obliged to take legal measures to obtain them," returned the young girl, with decision. “Ha, ha I hear her, mamma. She speaks like a print^as^ i 82 A TERRIBLE A CCUSA TION, and she says she shall consider her engagement with yon at an end, as if that were a matter she only can decide, cried Isabel, actually quivering with rage. Brownie noticed her by neither word nor look. Addressing Mrs. Coolidge again very gently, she said : ^^Once more, madam, will you give up my property.?’^ She spoke so imperatively that for a moment the woman was staggered, and began to think she had better yield the point, for, if the girl should call in oflScial aid, it might make things very arwkward and unpleasant. Isabel saw her mother's indecision, and, stooping, she whis- ^red in her ear : ‘ Don't you do it, mamma ; wait until papa comes, at least. " ^'You prize them very highly.?" Mrs. Coolidge asked, after a moment's thought, do." ‘'They are not suitable for you to wear in your position ; you are poor — could you be persuaded to part with them for a con- sideration ?" A sudden idea had come to her that if she could persuade the governess to sell them, they would hush the matter up among themselves. She was greedy for the jewels, and was determined that they should not go out of her hands if she could help it. “What do you mean by ‘a consideration,' madam?" asked Miss Douglas, in a peculiar tone. “Why, if I should pay you something handsome for them, and pledge myself to say nothing mora about th# matter, would you give them up?" A TERRIBLE A CCUSA TIORT. 1B3 ‘'Really, Mrs. Coolidge, you are very discriminating in your ideas of honesty. You assert that I have stolen these thingSc Would you be willing to purchase stolen property T' The woman's face grew crimson with rage at this shaft. i ‘‘You can leave the room, Miss Douglas, your insolence is insufferable," she cried, rising and pointing with her shaking finger to the door. “You understand me, madam; I shall take the law, unless jou give me my property," returned the young girl, calmly con- fronting her, and taking no notice of her command. '‘Take the law, then ; you'll have a fight of it, if you do, let me tell you, for no one will believe the tale of a governess, who has been dismissed for unworthy conduct. Now, go !" cried the irate woman, almost beside herself with passion. Brownie uttered no words, but walked like a queen from the . room ; but once within her own, she broke down utterly. To lose those treasures, which had been the silent compan- ions of her heart-broken aunt during all those lonely years, and around which clustered so much of hope and despair, was more than she could bear. The little chain, too, with its golden key, which her aunt had told her to wear as long as she lived, that, too, was in the power of those cruel women. j She grew nearly wild over the thought of her loss. ! She musf have them again — she zvjuld have them, but get them was the question. She realized all the difficulties which lay in her path. She was a stranger in this foreign land, without a friend ou^ side the family to whom to turn in her hour of need. 184 A TERRIBLE A CCUSA TION, If she should take the law^ as she had threatened, no on« would believe the story, as Mrs. Coolidge had said. Only Isabel and her mother knew anything of what had just transpired, and if they should deny her statement, how could she help herself, and who, indeed, would believe that a poor governess owned such valuables.? The more she thought the more hopeless her case seemed to become. Once her thoughts turned involuntarily to Adrian Dred- mond ; perhaps he would help her. But her maidenly delicacy recoiled from seeking aid -^oin him, a stranger, and besides Besides what? She could not tell I And what was her future to be? Where should she go? What should she do ? Leave her present situation she must I She could not forfeit her self-respect by remaining where she had been so insulted and abused, although she was becoming very much attached to the young girls, Viola and Alma. She, of course, could not get another situation as governess without a recommendation, for, without doubt, Mrs. Coolidge would refuse to give her one, and she woul^ not a^pt iitf sfu did. Take her recommendation I Nevei i DECLARATION OF LOVE. 185 CHAPTER XVIL DECLARATION OF LOVE. While Brownie was weeping out her misery alone, and trying io plan what was best for the future, Isabel Coolidge and her mother were examining, more at their leisure, the beautiful or- naments, which had so excited their admiration and astonish- ment and which they both began now to covet. Isabel tried the effect of each, separate piece upon herself. To do the two women justice, they really believed that the jewels had been stolen. Whether Brownie herself had been guilty of the theft, or whether some one else had taken them, and then presented them to her, Mrs. Coolidge could not determine. At all events, she was determined that they should not go out of her hands until their ownership was fully proved ; and, that failing, why then they might as well become her property $LS any one's. Besides, they were much more suitable for her than for a poor governess, who could have no possible use for them. And thus she tried to stifle the qualms of conscience. ‘‘Mamma, this tiara of opals, pearls, and diamonds will be just the thing for me to wear next Wednesday night at Lady Peasewell's ; see how becoming it is. " And Isabel turned from the mirror, where she had been catering to ker vanity for the last half hour. i86 DECLARATION OF LOVE. It is lovely, my dear ; but I doubt whether your father will be willing you should wear it. His ideas are peculiar, you know. '' He won't be here, mamma. You know he said he should not be home for a week or ten days ; so he need not know anything about it. " am at a loss to know whether it is best to tell him any- thing about this affair," said Mrs. Coolidge, musingly. V'But what excuse will you give him for bouncing Miss Douglas asked Isabel, who had a taste for using slang once in a while. ‘‘Her insolence to me ought to be a sufficient reason, I think," her mother answered, flushing as she recalled the gov- erness' keen shafts and haughty manner. “No one knows anything of the matter but you and I ; why not keep still about it ?" urged Isabel, eagerly. “My only fear is, that she will take the law, as she threat- ened, and then your father would have to know about it. Be- sides, he will be very angry at the way we gained possession of them, and then there will be no end of trouble." She very well knew that if that day’s doings became known to her honorable husband he would insist upon her returning the casket to Miss Douglas, and tell her that she was meddling with what was none of her business. She began to fear that she had been rash in pursuing the course she had, and she heartily wished that Isabel had kept her meddlesome fingers at hor«e. And yet, every time her eyes rested upon the glittering wealth with which her daughter was toying, the desire to posses^ ^hem became stronger. DECLARATION OF LOVE. 187 Pshaw !” returned Isabel, she'll never dare lake the law, and, if she does, who will believe her, providing the jewels can^ noi he found, and we are very much astonished and indignant at be- ing accused of taking them from her T I The two women gazed at each other in silence for a moment. Isabel, you would not dare do such a thing — it would be stealing and lying," said her mother, in a whisper. ‘*Oh, no, mamma ; you are too conscientious altogether," returned the girl, shrugging her shoulders, and trying on Miss Mehetabel's beautiful engagement ring at the same time. ‘ ' We both agree," she went on, "Hhat they have already been stolen, and we only take possession of them for a little while, until we can find the true owner. I'm sure I would give them up at once if we could find the person whom they belong to. Of course, if we should acknowledge that we have them in our possession we should have to give them up, and, whether Miss Douglas proved her property or not, we should lose them. At any rate, let us hold on to them, and wait a while to see what she will do. " ‘Tam afraid it will not do for you to wear them, Isabel ; you may meet the very person to whom they belong, here in London. " “So much the better, then, mamma; we shall know that we did right in taking them from Miss Douglas, and can make our explanations and restore them. It strikes me that my sugges- tion is a very wise one, after all," concluded the artful girl, who was determined to keep the jewels. “You may be right, but I don't feel exactly easy about the matter ; above all things, don't let Wilbur know anything about m DECLARATION OF LOVE, it," returned Mrs. Coolidge, fearing more and more that there might be trouble ahead for them. ‘'No, indeed, mother, and, as I began this business, HI take charge of these jewels, and you need know nothing abtmt them^ if your conscience is troubling you. " Isabel replaced the jewels in the casket, shut it, and, with a laugh, started for her own room. As she opened the door, which had stood ajar ever since Brownie went out, she encountered Wilbur face to face. She would father have faced an alligator at that moment. "What is it you don’t wish Wilbur to know, and what jewels are you talking about V' he smilingly demanded, as he barred her passage. He had come up just in time to hear their last remarks. "That is my secret," she replied, trying to turn the matter off playfully, though her heart was beating like a trip-hammer. "Are they in that box? let me see." * ^ Before she hardly knew what he was about, he had taken it from her and opened it. "Where did you get these?" he asked, in great surprise. "They are borrowed," Isabel replied, giving her mother a significant look. "Borrowed! who could lend such a valuable collection as this?" he asked, beginning to feel, from their appearance, that all was not right "Ah 1" he added, with a start, after he had examined them more carefully, " here are those ornaments which Miss Douglas wore the other evening. Do th^ others' belong to her, too ?" They saw that it would be useless to try to keep their secret DECLARATION OF LOVE. 189 ftom him, and little by little he drew it all from their reluctant lips. A more indignant mortal never trod the earth than Wilbur Coolidge when he got at the truth of the matter. He demanded that the jewels be returned at once to Miss Douglas, and a suitable apology made for their insulting treat- ment of her. ' An angry scene ensued, which Mrs. Coolidge finally put an end to by coming forward, taking the casket from her son's hand, and locking it within her husband's safe, which stood in the room. “Now, Wilbur, be so kind as to hold your tongue," she said, angrily, “you have made a fool of yourself with this girl. I intend to keep these things until your father returns, and see if he believes a poor governess came by these things lawfully." “You women are regular tyrants, and I reckon when father does return there will be a different state of things," he replied, With flashing eyes. “Oblige me by dropping the subject, my son ; you are in- terfering in what does not concern you in the least," returned Mrs. Coolidge, coldly. “I shall it my business, madam, mother mine, just as aoon as the law will allow, if the poor abused darling will let me," he muttered, as he angrily left the room. He watched for Brownie to come down all the evening, but she remained in her own room, too utterly miserable to desire to meet any one. Viola and Alma inquired for her at tea time, but were told that she was indisposed, and would not come down. Viola afterward stole up stairs with a cup of tea and a tempi* 190 DECLARATION OF LOVE. ing plate of cold chicken and toast, but Miss Douglas' door was locked, and she could not gain admittance, so she was forced to take it back again to the dining-room. The next morning Mrs. Coolidge and Isabel started off on 2> shopping expedition, and as the carriage drove from the door, Wilbur rang the library bell, and desired the servant who ap- peared to ask Miss Douglas to grant him a few moments' con- versation. The young man was pale and excited, and after the servant disappeared, he walked the floor nervously. Brownie soon came down, looking haggard and wan, hei usually bright eyes heavy and lusterless, and great dark circles underneath them. Wilbur hastened forward to meet her as she opened the door. ‘‘My dear Miss Douglas," he said, flushing deeply, “I do not know what to say to you, but I am more indignant than I can express at the treatment you received yesterday. " Brownie smiled wearily, though her lips quivered at his kindly words. It was so comforting to be treated civilly. “Can I do anything for you. Miss Douglas?" Wilbur asked, •agerly, his heart deeply touched by her sorrowful appearance. “Thank you ; I do not suppose it is in your power to do the one thing I wish — give me back my jewels, for they are mine, Mr. Coolidge, notwithstanding it seems improbable for a poor girl to own such valuables," she replied, her color rising. “I do not doubt it in the least," he answered, impulsively. “I know that you are truth and purity itself, and, believe me, you shall yet have your own. " “ Ah ! can I?" she interrupted, her face lighting up with wonted beauty for a moment, DECLARATION' OF LOVE, 191 Oh, how he loved her ! and how it thrilled him, that any words of his should have the power to make her beautiful coun- tenapxce brighten like that. '‘Yes, you have them again/’ he said. I cannot re- kore them to you to-day, but just as soon as my father returns I shall acquaint him with what has happened, and he will see that justice is done.” "Thank you,” Brownie said, appreciating his kindness, yet fearing that his mother and sister would outwit him, and influn ence his father against her. "I feel, deeply mortified,” he went on, dropping his eyes^ "that any one who is akin to me should be guilty of doing what my sister did yesterday ; and the treatment which you afterward received — there can be no excuse for it. ” "Do not speak of it again, Mr. Coolidge ; it is past and cannot be recalled. Your kindness and sympathy have light- ened my heart already ; and as I go away, it will be a comfort to know that I have your esteem and friendship.” The young girl was deeply touched by his sympathy and dis- tress. "Go away! What do you mean?” he asked, looking up startled. His mother had not told him that she was going away, "Surely you do not think that I would remain where my truth and honesty are called in question !” she replied, with dignity. ' ' Where will you go ?” and his brow contracted with pain. She could not stay ; it were folly to think of it, he knew. But it was like taking the sun from the heavens to have her ga 1^2 DECLARATION OF LOVE', do not know/' she said, with a sigh, and her tone, Sd sadly sweet, moved him to his very soul. She had been with them less than three months, but during that time she had grown to be the one woman in the world to kirn. He had learned to watch and live upon her every motion and expression, to listen eagerly for her footsteps and even the soft tustle of her clothing. The lightest sound of her voice, her Very presence, thrilled him as nothing else had ever done be- fore. He had lived a new life since her coming. He knew he was a better man for it. She had stirrrd into being new motives and purposes, and he was beginning to think of forsaking this idle way of living, and of trying to fit himself to be useful in the world, and worthy of her. And now she was being driven away like a criminal, and in- sulted by his own kin. If she should go away thus, with this dreadful cloud hanging over her, what would become of her.? Who would take her in ? His pulses throbbed wildly ; he grew desperate with the thought. ‘‘ You do not know .? Will you let me tell you where to go ?" he breathed, bending eagerly toward her, his face flushing hotly, and his eyes glowing with the wild love which moved him. She looked up a little surprised by his manner, and her clear eyes fell before his passionate gaze. “Darling,” he cried, seizing her little hands, “you do not know where to go } Come to me. My dear, my dear, you do not know how I have learned to love you since you came like a DECLAJ^ATION OF LOVE. 193 ray of light into this household. Come to me, Meta — be my wife, and no stain shall touch you ; they shall not dare to breathe aught against you ; place your hand in mine, and I will plant myself between you and all harm. My love, my love, I have found you. I have seen many fair women, but now I have found my fate, the sweetest fate man ever found. Say, dearest, will you be my wife She sat before him white, and still, and dumb. The color which but a few moments before had begun to creep into her cheeks at his words of sympathy, now fled before this avalanche of love which he poured upon her. She had never dreamed that he loved her like this, although he had always seemed to enjoy her society, and she had believed that his mother's and Isabel's fears had only been caused by their own jealous hearts. She had no chance to speak ; he had poured forth his words so wildly, and she did not even remove her hands from his for a moment, her surprise holding her spell-bound. _ She knew he was sincere, and that his whole soul had yielded itself up to her. She could see it in his eager look, she could feel it in the passionate clasp and quiver of his strong hands. But she did not love him. No ; she was sure of it. She did not even stop to debate the question within her own mind ; she was not even moved by his wild words, except to feel a sort of tender sorrow for him that Siie must destroy all his hopes. But even as she sat there, trying to think of the gentlest way to tell him this, there came to her the remembrance of another pair of eyes into which she had once looked, and felt her soul DECLARATION OF LOVE. 294 thrill with a peculiar joy, and of a strong yet gentle clasp, which had seemed for a moment to inclose her within the gates of Paradise. No, she did not love Wilbur Coolidge, and if she did she aould not be his wife, and subject herself to the scorn and con- tempt which she would receive from his family. Something of this he must have read in her face, for he said, tenderly : ‘‘ Brownie, you do not answer me. Will you not crown my life with the blessing of your love They shall never harm you. We will go away where they cannot trouble you by so much as a word. Will you not speak and give me hope V She drew back from him, pained and sorrowful. “Mr. Coolidge, if I speak at all, it must be to crush all hope of any such thing as you desire,'' she said, sadly, with down- cast eyes and crimson cheeks. “Meta! Miss Douglas 1 noT he cried, hoarsely, his hand- some face clouding with pain. “Yes, Mr. Coolidge; hard as it is for me to wound you thus, when you offer me the greatest homage a woman can ever re- ceive — the love of an honest heart — ^yet I cannot bid you hope, &r I do not love you in return. " “You have not had time to think of it. I have startled you with my abruptness ; you do not know your own heart yet," he said, his lips growing white and quivering. “I have not, indeed, had time to think, for I didn@tat once imagine that you cherished any such feelings toward me. But my heart does not respond t# yours. No, Mr. Coolidge, I can' not be your wife.” DECLARATION OF LOVE. ns *^Are you sure — are you very sure you can never love me, Meta V he pleaded, while great drops came out upon his fore- head. ‘'Quite sure,'' she said, firmly, though kindly. “Brownie, Brownie, when I love you so ; when I have list- ened eagerly for the sound of your footfall ; when even the tone of your voice has been music to me from the first ; when every fiber of my being has twined itself about you I Oh ! it i« too cruel ; I cannot have it so^ — only give me one little ray of hope, and I will wait years if need be. " His voice sounded like the cry of the lost, and he caught his breath with a hard dry sob, that made the young girl's heart ache with pity for him. She arose from the chair where she had been sitting, and the great tears rolled swiftly over her flushed cheeks. “Mr. Coolidge, be assured if I could truthfully speak the words you wish, I would do so ; but it cannot be, and as it will only give us both pain to meet again, let me say good-by to vou here, for I go this evening. Please accept my thanks for voi^r kindness to me, and let me still be your friend." She held out her hand to him and he took it, his whole frame shaking with the great bitterness which well nigh crushed him. He lifted it to his lips, then broke down entirely, and with ©ne quick movement, gathered her close in his arms, and pressed his lips to her white brow. “My darling, my darling,’' he groaned, “forgive me, but you can never knov/ tne wretchedness of this moment to me." At that moment the library door spung open, and Mrs. Cool- 1 idsre and Isabel stood upon the threshold. t >96 I CHAPTER XVIIL JEALOUSY. Mrs. Coolidge and her daughter had only been some ten minutes on their way, when the latter discovered that she had , forgotten her pocket-book and memorandum, consequently they . had to return for them. Isabel had entered the house, intending to run up stairs and back again, but hearing low voices in the library, she stopped' to listen a moment, wondering who was within ; then, with flashing eyes and scarlet cheeks, she stepped to the door and beckoned to her mother to come in. Mrs. Coolidge quickly obeyed the summons, and as soon as she learned who were the inmates of the library, she threw open the door, and just in season to behold the scene described in ! the last chapter. With a feeling of utter dismay. Brownie disengaged herself y from Wilbur Coolidge's embrace, and started to leave the room. •. But the two women barred the way, and would not let her ’ pass ; while Mrs. Coolidge demanded, in stern tones : ‘‘Pray, what is the meaning of this affecting scene Wilbur colored deeply, but braced himself for battle. “Mother — Isabel — let Miss Douglas pass 1'" he commanded, m a voice as stern as Mrs, Coolidge's owa. JEALeUSY, 197 They dare not disobey him in that mood, and moving aside, Brownie passed out, and sped swiftly to her own room. ‘‘Now I will answer your questions, if you have any to ask,^*^ the young man said, folding his arms, and regarding them with a gloomy brow. “ I should like to know how that designing hussy succeeded in entrapping you into making such a fool of yourself ?” said Isabel, furiously. “Really, Isabel, you are acquiring an elegance of speech at which I am surprised T' retorted her brother, sarcastically. “Wilbur, hush! Isabel, keep quiet!'' said Mrs. Coolidge, authoritatively. Then, turning to her son, she continued : “ I am astonished, my son, at what I have just witnessed. That girl will ruin the peace of this family yet. " i' ‘ ‘ She has ruined it already, as far as I am concerned, he replied, moodily ; then added : “But, mother, Miss Douglas is in no way accountable for what you saw. I alone am to blame. I had just asked her to be my wife " “ Whatr exclaimed both women, aghast. “Yes ; I began to love that beautiful girl the first moment I «w her. Further intercourse has only served to deepen and strengthen that sentiment, and to-day I resolved to ask her to be my wife, that I might shield and protect her from further insult and abuse on your part. " “Indeed !" said his mother, growing white with anger. “When is the wedding to take place between you and this lovely beggar ?" sneered Isabel 198 JEALOUSY. '‘I warn you not to try me too far, either of you 1’* Wilbur replied, with a dangerous gleam in his eye ; then added : You did not permit me to finish my statement However, I have only to tell you that Miss Douglas has refused me." His mother heaved a sigh of intense relief, and murmured : “ What an escape !" While Isabel retorted : '' Showed her good sense ioi once ! She probably knew she would not be received into a respectable family after what oc^ curred yesterday. You always were a fool when there was \ pretty face around. " ''Thank you! But be it known to you both, that if she had so chosen, I should have made Miss Douglas Mrs. Wilbur Coolidge just as soon as the law would have allowed," was the , stern reply. "Now, if you please," he added, addressing his mother, "1 would like you to write a recommendation for Miss Douglas." "A recommendation for what — truth and honesty?" she , sneeied. : "For her thorough education and superior accomplishments, and her efficiency and success as a governess," he retorted, ! firmly. " I shall do no such thing I" was the indignant reply, "Then, mother, mark my words, if Miss Douglas goes away from here without a recommendation fr#m you, as a good gov- erness, a refined and cultivated lady, I leave this house also to- day, and utterly refuse to accompany you farther on your tour. Is it not enough," he continued, excitedly, "that you abuse and ixxsult her, prowling about among her possessions, and appropri^ JEALOUSY, 199 ating them, without driving her forth from your home with no means of providing for herself in the future T* ‘'Of course those jewels do not belong to her, Wilbur — why will you persist in such nonsense ? I honestly believe the girl is a thief!'' said Mrs. Coolidge, impatiently. “But just suppose the future proves they are her property, who, then, will be the thief.^^" he demanded, hotly. “Why, if she can prove it to me satisfactorily, then I shall have tc^'yield them up to her, of course," replied Mrs. Coolidge^ flushing, and not relishing this side of the question. “ Will you give her the recommend “ I suppose I shall have to, in order to keep you with us." She dreaded nothing so much as his roaming off by himself. “Then make it out at once — and a good one let it be, too ; for Miss Douglas leaves to-day. " “ Does she, indeed } I have not dismissed her yet, I believe,** sneered the irate woman. But she sat down to the table and began to write. “That will not be necessary, since she has already decided to go." “Thank you," he said, as she handed him what she had written, and he ran his quick eye over it. “ That will do nicely. Now, if you will give me what you owe her, I will hand both to her at the same time." She saw that her son was in no mood to be trifled with, and did as he requested, although inwardly resolving to be equal with the despised governess, if ever the opportunity should offer. Wilbur took both paper and money, and left the room. He aoo JEALOUSY. ''rent directly to Brownie’s door, and tapped. She opened it, and he saw that she had been weeping. The sight filled him with self-reproach. ‘ ‘ Forgive me, ” he said, regretfully, ‘ ‘ for having added to your unhappiness by my selfishness. I would have given my right arm rather than that this should have happened. But,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “I did not come here to say this ; I came to bring you these, that you might be saved any further unpleasantness,” and he handed her the money alid- paper. “Thank you,” she said, touched by his kindness. She opened the paper, and read Mrs. Coolidge’s recommend- , ation. It was all that she could ask, or even desire. She counted the money, and found that there were five pounds more than were actually due her. A painful flush overspread her lovely face, as she separated them from the rest of the money ; then, folding it within the recommendation, she passed it back to Wilbur, saying, briefly, but proudly : ; ‘ ‘ I cannot make use of these. ” ; “I understand you,” he said, humbly, “and I cannot blame you ; but I thought in this strange city you would need some-' thing of the kind.” “ I do need it— indeed, I do not know how I am to get along without something of the kind ; but, after what has occurred, I could not use /Aai,” Brownie Said, with a weary sigh. He bowed, but did not press her to take it ; then, after a mo- ment’s thought, he asked : “Miss Douglas, would you make use of one signed by ray father yEALOVsV. 201 ‘^Yes, and be very thankful for it/' she replied, her eye brightening. ‘‘You shall have it ; I will make it my first business to ob- tain a good recommendation for you as soon as he returns, and send it to you.” “Thank you ; you are very kind,” and a tear sprang to her eye at his thoughtfulness. “When do you go ?” he asked, as he was about turning away. “As soon as I can pack my trunks and send for a cab.” “Can I help you in any way.?” “If you will order the cab for me, it will save me a little trouble,” she answered, smiling wearily. ^'Anything that I can do will be a pleasure,” he replied, though an expression of anguish swept over his handsome face as he bowed and left her. In two hours she was ready, her trunks strapped and in the lower hall, waiting for the cab. With a nearly breaking heart. Brownie sought Viola and Alma to bid them farewell. They were deeply distressed at the thought of parting with her, and protested loudly against it. She had won their hearts completely during her short stay with them, and felt that with right and careful training they would make noble women ; but her work there .was over, and she could only breathe a prayer that her successor might be conscientious and wise in her deal- ings with them. Mrs. Coolidge and Isabel ignored her departure entirely, and did not show themselves, much to Brownie s relief. yEAtOUSY, As Wilbur, with clouded brow, and white, compressed lipfii, assisted her into the cab, he asked : ‘‘Where to. Miss Douglas?'' “To the ‘Washington' for the present. It is a good hotel, and has a familiar sound which seems quite home-like," she answered, trying to smile, but he saw that her lips quivered. She felt inexpressibly desolate and forlorn. “Then if I address a note to you there within a few days or a week, you will get it,"' he said. “Yes." “May I call ?" “No, Mr. Coolidge, I prefer you should not; it would be wiser not to do so at present," Brownie answered, gently, but firmly. She knew if she gave him permission, it might lead him to hope, and, besides, it might cause her further trouble if his mother and sister should discover that he was visiting her. He colored, wrung her hand, and shut the door : then giving her direction to the driver, she was whirled away. \ Wilbur returned to the house very sore at heart. Life seemed ! io him very dark just then ; its brightness had all vanished with Brownie. He went back to the library. No one was there. He passed on up stairs to his mother's rooms, and found both her and Isabel within. They had been watching his leave-taking of the despised governess, and now turned upon him, with faces of scorn. “Now that your inamorata has departed, I hope you will ■ show some common sense, Wilbur," his mother said, sharply. % JEALOUSY, 203 He took no notice of the remark, but handed her the recom- ^mendation, with the money inclosed, in silence. '‘What does this mean? Ah! she would take only what was due her, and you did not give her the recommendation, after all/' she said, in tones of satisfaction, as her quick eye ran over it. " I did not give it to her?’' cried her son, angrily. "Of course I gave it to her ; but the poor insulted girl refused to take it ; she refused to obtain another situation upon your recommendation. '' "The upstart I I'd like to box her ears soundly for putting on such airs I" exclaimed Isabel, spitefully. "Upstart indeed 1 I'll warrant that there is better blood now in her veins than ever flowed in ours. She has been born and bred a lady, which is more than I can say of you. There is some mystery about her, I admit; but, mark my words, the time will come when both of you will be glad to cultivate her ac- quaintance, and when you will rue the day that you, led on by your curiosity and covetousness, ever meddled with her treas- ures, and drove her from your house by your abuse." Wilbur Coolidge spoke indignantly and at random, but in after months he remembered his words, and wondered at the truth of his prophecy. Before he had concluded there came a rap upon the door. Isabel opened it. A servant stood without bearing a silver salver, upon which lay a card. ‘‘A gentleman to see Miss Douglas," he said, bowing spectfully. 204 JEALOUSY. ‘‘A gentleman to see Miss Douglas !” repeated Mrs. Coolidge, | contemptuously, while Isabel pounced upon the card and read the name, Adrian Dredmond/' The color flushed over her fair face in a scarlet flood. '‘There is some mistake here,'' she said, sharply, to hei servant. Then turning to her mother, she added : "Mamma, it is Lord Dredmond." She had persisted in giving him this title ever since she had learned that he was the grandson of an earl, although Wilbur | had repeatedly told her that he did not care to have it used until he came into his property. He was very m©dest about it. "Of course, there is a mistake," returned Mrs. Coolidge. "You had better pay more attention. The gentleman doubt- less wishes to see Miss Isabel," she said, severely, to the servant. "The gentleman inquired for Miss Douglas," he persisted. "Well, did you tell him that she had gone .?" " Gone ! I did not know that Miss Douglas was out," the man replied, in surprise. He had been engaged in another part of the house when Brownie departed. " Isabel, you must go down and receive him yourself. Find out, if you can, what he wants of her, and make yourself as agreeable as possible to him," Mrs. Coolidge remarked, running her eye critically over her daughter, to see that everything was all right. " It is time that minx was out of the way ; she seems to havj a strange faculty for bewitching the gentlemen, without appear* ing to do so," muttered Isabel, as she swept from the rooi^| JEALOUSY. to^ smoothing out her distorted face, and followed by her brothe^f's contemptuous glances. Wilbur himself soon after arose and left. A jealous feeling was beginning to creep into his own heart, and he wondered what Adrian Dredmond could want of Brownie Douglas. ao6 AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH, CHAPTER XDC AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH. Wb^n Isabel entered the drawing-room, Mr. Dredmond arose io salute her ; but an expression of disappointment swept over his fine face, when he saw Miss Coolidge instead of Miss Douglas. Isabel approached him, holding out her white hand, and say- ing, cordially: ‘‘This is a pleasure, truly, my lord."' He flushed at the title. “ You mistake. Miss Coolidge,"' he said, smiling, as he shook hands with her, “lam not my lord, or, at least, I should say, that I prefer not to answer to that title at present. While my grandfather lives I prefer to be only plain Mr. Dredmond."^ “The title suits you, nevertheless," she answered, sweepiag him an admiring glance, and then drooping her lashes shyly. “I hope to be wwthy of it when it becomes mine," he re- plied, gravely, and wondering why she did not explain Mis? Douglas" absence. But it was no part of her plan to do so. She intended to appropriate the call to herself, and make the most of her opportunity. Ever since she had learned that he was heir to an earldoni AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH. ioj she had resolved to exert all her powers to win him, and become '‘my lady,'' and now she set herself to work to charm him. She began chatting in a lively manner, and possessing much native tact, and a very pleasing address, she beguiled him out of half an hour before he was aware of it. "I beg your pardon, " he said, starting, when he heard the hall clock strike, "but I wished to see Miss Douglas. I have a little piece of property belonging to her, which I desire to re- turn. " Isabel longed to ask what it was, but dare not "Miss Douglas !" she said, with elevated eyebrows, and well- assumed surprise. "Yes; I inquired for her when I gave my card to the ser- vant " "I am sorry there should have been any mistake, Mr. Dred- mond," replied Isabel, smiling sweetly, but inwardly raging, "but the servant must have misunderstood, for he brought yonr card to me ; besides. Miss Douglas is not with us now, she has left" "Left! Indeed I thought she came abroad with you, and intended to return with you," he said, in great surprise, and beginning to think that all was not right " I know nothing as to her intentions, Mr. Dredmond, but we have been pained to discover that Miss Douglas is not trust- worthy, and mamma was therefore obliged to dispense with her services. " The lie stung her tongue, but she remembered his evident admiration of Brownie the night of the opera, and she resolved disenchant him if possible. AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH. 20 % ''Not trustworthy Y' he exclaimed, aghast. He would have staked his own honor against hers. "It is very painful, is it not, Mr. Dredmond, when she ap. peared feo innocent and was so beautiful?"' asked Isabel, with a sad smile. He did not reply, and she went on : "But we found that she had been taking that which did not belong to her, and, of course, mamma could not longer trust the girls under her influence." The artful girl's tone and manner expressed the deepest re- gret, but he was not deceived by it, although her statement of Brownie’s dishonesty confounded him. "Impossible!" he ejaculated, with a pained, startled look, and his mind went back to that moment when her pure face lay for one moment upon his bosom, and when she had lifted her clear eyes, which were like shining pools of purest water, so trustingly to his, and now he was told that she was a thief! He knew better. If ever truth and purity of purpose were written upon any face, they were written upon hers. "It does not seem possible, I admit," Isabel hastened to say, ’oaring she had been unwise, and not liking the way he had re- ceived her information. "Mamma and I were infinitely shocked when we discovered it, but the proof was too incon- lestable, even without her evident guilt, for us to doubt." '"Was she — did she confess her — fault?" he stammered. " Oh, no ! such persons never do that, you knov/ ; they al- wap put on any amount of airs, and make a great show of in- nocence. But then we had the proof right in our own hands." AN' UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH. t09 Would jou mind telling me what she has done — what proof you have of her guilt ? Perhaps there may be some mis- understanding to which I could suggest an explanation,” he said, inwardly writhing with pain at her words. ( ^'Excuse me ; but that would not be right, and I fear that I have been very unwise to speak of it at all. The girl is gone, and I have no wish to injure her ; I only hope she may repent of her folly, and try to do better in the future. Please forget what I have said, Mr. Dredmond, and do not remember it against her if you should ever meet her again. I assure you it is a very painful topic to me. ” She wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, and immediately changed the subject of conversation by asking if he intended being present at Lady PeasewelFs drawing-room the following Wednesday evening. ‘‘I presume so — I don’t know — I believe we have cards,” Adrian stammered, his mind fully occupied with thoughts of that delicate, lovely girl, who had been driven forth into a strange wilderness of which she knew absolutely nothing. He began to be conscious of a great pain in his heart, on ac- count of her misfortune, and he did not need to be told of the abuse which she had suffered. The memory of that conversa- tion which he had overheard between Miss Coolidge and her mother, on board the steamer, was too fresh in his mind. He did not for a moment believe her to be guilty of wliai Isabel accused her. He did not doubt that there was some serious misunderstand- 310 AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH. was unwilling to tell him, and he was too much of a gentlemaai to press the matter further. After a few moments more spent in general conversation, ho arose to go. Can you give me Miss Douglas' present address V he asked. ‘ ' I would really like to return what belongs to her. " She would not have told him for a kingdom, had she known, but she replied, with every appearance of kindness : '' How sorry I am, but really ! do not know. Indeed, I was so shocked and disappointed to discover one so young and lovely so old in guilt, that it did not occur to me to ask where she v/as going. " It nettled him exceedingly to have her talk thus ; and could she have read his heart, she would have seen at once that there was little chance of her becoming ‘"my lady." ‘"Should you discover where she is, will you kindly inform me V he asked. ‘"Oh, certainly, with great pleasure," smiled the fascinating hypocrite. ""I still think you will find there has been some mistake, Miss Coolidge," he added, gravely. “I knew something of Miss Douglas before meeting her in this country, and the state- ment you have made regarding her seems utterly impossible." ‘"You!" exclaimed Isabel, her heart bounding wildly. “Did you know Miss Douglas in America Perhaps, after all, here was the solution of the mystery of those beautiful gems, and that card with the names of counts and lords upon it. Had he had anything to do with it ? Her brain reeled at the <»hought. AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH. 211 Was she then the thief after all ? She hung breathless on his reply. knew of her, although I never made her acquaintance, until your brother introduced me at the opera the other even- ing/^ She breathed more freely now ; he had not given Brownie the gems, that was evident. He knew nothing of the card. ‘ ‘ I have friends who know her intimately, he went on, watching her keenly, to mark the effect of his words. ‘^She was a Philadelphian, and belonged to a very wealthy and hon- orable family. About a month ago — perhaps a little more — - death and misfortune suddenly deprived her of everything. She is very highly educated, as undoubtedly you have discovered, and before the trouble came upon her, she moved in the very best circles. I speak of this merely to show you why I believe it impossible for Miss Douglas to be guilty of what you accuse her. I trust also to hear ere long that you have been mis- taken. '' And with this thorn planted in Miss Isabel's conscience, Adrian Dredmond bowed himself from her presence, leaving her astounded, confused, and with a heavy weight of guilt upon her heart. What had she done ? Accused an innocent girl of theft, and stolen a fortune from her ; then driven her forth in disgrace into an uncharitable world to beg her bread or starve ; for likely as not it would come to that since she had no recommendation wherewith to gain another place. She sat for an hour in anything but agreeable meditation. 212 AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH. She was frightened at what she had done, and the possible consequences, but she was not sorry. Oh, no ; she could have set her foot ruthlessly upon Brownie Douglas' heart, and crushed the life out of it rather than that she should become her successful rival in the race for Adrian Dred- mond and his title. But she feared discovery — she feared now, as much as she had laughed at the idea before, that Brownie would have her arrested for taking the jewels, and if the circumstance should become known to Mr. Dredmond, he would undoubtedly come forward, knowing what he did, and testify to the truth of her statements, and, in that case, she could only see infinite trouble and disgrace for herself. She did not know what to do, or which way to turn in the matter. Had she known Miss Douglas' address, she would have hastened to send the casket to her, and considered herself lucky to be so well rid of it. “If only Wilbur did not know about it, mamma and I could hide the jewels, and deny all knowledge of them," she murmured, in deep perplexity. She finally resolved that she would say nothing to any one concerning what Adrian Dredmond had told her, but keep the matter to herself for a few days at least ; and if the governess did come to demand the jewels again, she would tell her mother, and persuade her to give them up quietly and save fur- ther trouble. “At all events," she added, with a sigh of relief, as she went to her own room, “she is gone, and I've nothing more to fear from her charms. " AN^ UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH, ^13 Adrian Dredmond left the Coolidge mansion in a fever of impatience and indignation. That any one should accuse Brownie Douglas of the crime of theft was sufficient to drive him wild. What had she stolen } Surely nothing of Miss Coolidge's beauty or breeding, he thought, with a contemptuous smile, for he had fathomed her ill-nature and desire to injure the lovely girl at once, and Miss Isabel had neither beauty nor good breeding to lose. ‘'She is innocent as an angel,"' he murmured, softly, then added, with a scowl : “And they are hard-hearted as devils !" Did he not know that she had been reared with tenderest care? Had she not the blood of royalty in her veins? and had he not seen her in all the brightness and purity of her young life, and been assured of her integrity by his friend Gordon ? How well he remembered that scene in the vestibule of the Art Gallery, when she had appeared like some beautiful vision to him, with her bright, sweet face, and clad so richly, yet simply, in her plain black silk, protected by the linen ulster. How lovely she had looked, with not a jewel to deck her, ex- cepting that rich coral clasp at the throat. How kind and considerate she had been, although brimming over with laughter at the ridiculous plight of the fashionable belle, and how courteously she had addressed that clown who had caused so much trouble and embarrassment Her every look, tone, and movement had betokened the true lady, both then and recently when he had met her at the opera. She guilty of stealing I A!^ UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH. *■ ' The angels would as soon think of robbing Paradise as she of purloining from Isabel Coolidge/' he said, indignandy. ‘‘I will find her, '' he continued; ‘"she is alone and friendless in this great, strange city. How cruel of them to turn her away without any notice, and of course with no recommendation by which to procure another situation. I will seek her and find her, and then use my influence to secure her a position, un- less- He did not complete the sentence, but the rich blood mounted *30 his temples as he walked on with moody brow, the pain and iisappointment growing every moment keener in his heart. He had not been able to banish Brownie s lovely face from his mem- ory since that first meeting in the Art Gallery. He had been greatly disappointed not to see her again ; of course he could not force himself upon her during her first great grief for her aunt, and when he next inquired for her of his friend Gordon, he learned, to his dismay, that she had left the city. He had been startled upon beholding her as she came on board the steamer at New York, and when he saved her from falling, and held her clasped for one moment in his arms, the blood coursed wildly in his veins, and he felt almost as if she belonged to him. Then he lost sight of her at Liverpool, and met her again at the opera in London ; and now, just as he had been so sure of seeing her again, and becoming more inti- mately acquainted with her, she had vanished, leaving him more disappointed than he had ever been over anything before. That evening, as he sat in his own room, his valet brought him a n@te. AN' UNSUCCESSFUL SEAFCN. ^15 It was signed by Wilbur Coolidge, and told him that he would find Miss Douglas at the ‘‘Washington/' Wilbur, it will be remembered, was in his mother's room when the servant brought in Mr. Dredmond's card, and asked for Miss Douglas. He had also seen the young nobleman when he went away, Rnd noting his disappointed and pained appearance, concluded that his sister had prejudiced him against Brownie. He knew that the young man would befriend the friendless l^irl if it was possible; he knew, also, that he was at present powerless to do so, and bearing his sister no love for the part which she had played in this trouble, he resolved to be even with her by giving Adrian Miss Douglas' address, and let what would come of it. As early the following morning as it would do, Adrian Dred- mond presented himself at the “Washington," and inquired for Miss Douglas. The clerk turned to his book and looked over the names of the new arrivals. Hers was not there ! Mr. Dredmond was in despair. “Are you sure?" he asked, anxiously. For reply the clerk placed the book before him, and pointed with his finger to the list of arrivals for the last two days. It was even as he had said ; her name was not there 1 “Did no young lady arrive here alone yesterday?" Adrian asked, thinking that possibly she might have assumed another name in her distress. The clerk sneered and regarded him curiously. AM UMSUCCESSFUL SEARCH, ii6 *‘No; it is very seldom that ladies come here unattended, ** he said. Mr. Dredmond colored angrily. Must he hear her maligned even here ? Disgusted with the man, and deeply disappointed, he tbrev^ feim a sovereign for his trouble, and went away. “ I will find her ! where can she be .? has anything happened to her T he asked himself almost in despair. For two days after he returned to the Washington, making the same inquiries and receiving the same answer. No, Brownie Douglas had not been there, and she nevef came. He sought her at every respectable hotel in London, but ne^. a trace of her could he find. He haunted the strec is where genteel lodgings were adver- tised, but without success. On the Sabbath he walked the streets, peering into every young face that he met, but those clear brown eyes never greeted his weary search, and that lovely face was but a vision in his memory. Monday he went to Wilbur and told him of Miss Douglas’ strange disappearance, and his fruitless search for her ; and the young man was nearly distracted himself. '‘They have driven her to her death, curse them he mut- tered fiercely, and he told Adrian the story of the jewels. His father had returned unexpectedly, arid he acquainted him also with the facts of the case. A scene ensued which was long remembered by both Isabel AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEAFCN 217 and her mother, while Mr. Coolidge spared no trouble or ex- pense to find the unfortunate girl, Wilbur had been so bound up in his own sorrow that he had paid no attention to the number of the cab in which Brownie had gone away, neither had he noticed the driver ; so that al- though he sought out and questioned every cabby that he could find, he could gain no clew to the missing girl. Mr. Coolidge advertised and engaged a detective to look her up, while Adrian Dredmond and Wilbur haunted the streets day and night, but all to no purpose. Beautiful Brownie Douglas — abused, insulted, friendless — Aeemed to have dropped out of existence as compWelv as a star when it fells from its place in the heavens 1 2x8 A STARTLING RECOGNITION CHAPTER XX. I A STARTLING RECOGNITION. Meanwhile the evening of Lady Peaseweirs drawing-room came and went. Isabel Coolidge spared no pains or expense to make herself captivating for the occasion, and she succeeded admirably. Her mind dwelt continually upon Adrian Dredmond, and the hope of ultimately winning him for herself ; for she had been told that his grandfather possessed a rent-roll of sixty thousand pounds yearly, while the young man himself had quite a fortune in his own right ; and although she did not stop to analyze the feelings of her heart toward him, yet her interest in him was evidently gauged somewhat according to his expecta- tions. Her father s unexpected return, and his anger at her own and her mother's treatment of Miss Douglas, had threatened to up- set all her plans, however. He demanded that the jewels be brought to him, and another exciting scene ensued over them. It must be confessed that he was somewhat confounded him- self when he beheld them, and a feeling of doubt entered his mind regarding Brownie's honesty ; but he would not confess it to his family, and censured them in no light terms for the dk' A STARTLING RECOGNITION. 219 honorable way in which they had become possessed of the rare stones. It all ended in angry tears on the mother's and daughter's part, and in his taking charge of those unfortunate trinkets which had caused so much trouble, and locking them securely up. The morning of Lady Peasewell's drawing-room Isabel sought her mother, discontent written upon every line of her fair, proud face. Mamma," she said, ‘‘I hav® not a decent jewel to weal with my costume to-night.” ‘‘I am sure you always considered your diamonds good enough for anything until you saw those others,” Mrs. Coolidge replied, in an injured tone. ^ ‘ But I had set my heart upon wearing that tiara, and that superb necklace. It is too bad. ” ‘‘It is all too bad from beginning to end, that our trip abroad must be spoiled by that girl. Wilbur looks as if he could never forgive us, and your father is very angry with you for entering her room and pulling over her things, and I advise you not to mention the subject to him again. ” “ Humph ! It seems to me that he is wonderfully interested in Miss Douglas' welfare for a married man,” sneered the dutiful daughter. “There! you can leave my presence if you are going to talk in that way 1” returned Mrs. Coolidge, coloring an angry red. She was somewhat sensitive upon that point herself, although she did not like to confess it. Isabel dawdled away the morning in a state of fretful unhap- iZO A STARTLING RECOGNITION. piness, and declared to herself, over and over again, that her appearance would be ruined without the governess' jewels. After dinner, however, her father complained of a raging headache ; two hours later he was in a high fever, and all thoughts of his attending the evening's festivities were relin- quished. From that moment Isabel's spirits rose, the clouds vanished from her brow, and she was even heard humming a gay opera air. Wilbur can act as our escort, mamma ; so we shall be all right," she said, when her mother complained of the circum- stance as spoiling all their pleasure. I have no heart for it, and would not go myself, were it not on your account, " she replied, wearily. Her husband's displeasure, and the fate of the missing gov- erness, still weighed heavily on her conscience. A few hours later she and Wilbur were waiting in the draw- ing-room for Isabel to make her appearance. ‘‘Does my amiable sister contemplate a brilliant conquest to-night, that she is so long making her toilet ?" sneered the young man, who had been pressed into the service, and was impatient of the delay. “ Do speak a little more kindly of Isabel, my son, "said Mrs. Coolidge, adding, with a heavy sigh : “In all probability she will marry some day, and it is desirable that she should make a good match." • .“.Certainly ; only there may be a difference of opinion as ta what a ‘good match' is," he returned, sarcastically. A STARTLING RECOGNITION. 221 ‘‘I consider any one who occupies a good position in the world, and who has plenty of money, an eligible parti.” Regardless of either heart, brain, or principles,'' interrupted Wilbur, cynically. Why will you be so disagreeable, Wilbur? Of course, I expect your sister will exercise good judgment in the matter, and I have no fear of her letting herself down, or losing her head by any silly nonsense,” retorted Mrs. Coolidge, pointedly. Wilbur understood her insinuation perfectly, but would not notice it enough to reply, and just then the rustle of rich, trail- ing garments was heard upon the stairs. A moment later the door opened, and Isabel entered. There was an instant's silence as both mother and son turned to contemplate her. ‘‘Isabel !'' exclaimed the former, in tones of gratified pride. “Whew !” whistled her brother, under his breath. There was cause, truly, for these ejaculations of pleasure and surprise, for the young girl certainly had the appearance of a queen, and, for the first time in her life, she was handsome. Her tall figure was clad in a rich white silk, with raised igures of golden maize wrought upon it. It fitted her elegantly, and swept out behind her in a graceful train. It was very aimply made, being trimmed only by a fall of elegant lace from the low-cut corsage and sleeves. Its very richness was enough in itself. Her hair was arranged a la coronet, around which glistened Brownie's lovely tiara of pearls, opals, and diamonds ; while upon her neck she wore the wonderful diamond necklace, fron\. which was suspended the cross which matched the tiara. " 222 A STARTLING RECOGNITION, her white arms she wore her own bracelets, which, although not so rich as the necklace, yet went with it very well. She was absolutely perfect and dazzling, from the crown of her haughty head to the sole of her elegantly embroidered satin slipper. ‘ ‘ Will I do, mamma V she asked, enjoying their silent ad- miration, and sweeping Mrs. Coolidge a profound courtesy. Where did you find those ornaments her mother asked, nervously, and unheeding her question, while Wilbur scowled his disapprobation savagely. Why, you know papa is sick, and it was a very easy matter to get his keys, unlock his private desk, and get them,'' she said, and laughed lightly, although secretly she was anxious lest there should be another scene. ‘‘He would be very angry, Isabel, if he knew it," returned her mother, trying to speak severely, yet, in her heart, gloating over her daughter's magnificent appearance. “ I cannot help it, mamma. I had set my heart upon wear- ing them ; they set off my dress superbly ; and I was bound I would not be disappointed. He need never know it, for I can return them just as soon as we get home again, jnd no one will be harmed," she replied, willfully. “Your sense of honor is extremely delicate, surely, Isabel, said Wilbur, mockingly. “No one asked your opinion, and you can just hold your tongue. I shall go to Lady Peasewell's just as I am, and he may help it who can r she retorted, rudely, and they knew it would be useless to say anything more to her. “Isabel, you do look magnificent ]" whispered Mrs. Coolidge, A STARTLING RECOGNITION 221 when they had arrived at Lady PeaseweH's, and were in the dressing-room putting the last touches to their toilet Don't I ? I tell you this was worth a little finesse” she re- plied, surveying herself admiringly in the double swinging mirrors ; and her mother, in her heart, was glad that she had succeeded in getting the jewels, although she feared the conse- quences should the fact be discovered. ‘‘Who is that queenly girl ?" asked a fine-looking young man of another. They were standing in the door-way leading from the dancing- room to the conservatory, where they had been watching the dancers for the last ten minutes. Isabel had just swept by them in all her elegance, and it was ^he who had called forth the above question. “That is a Miss Coolidge. She is an American, and belongs to a very wealthy family, who are spending a year abroad." “ I should judge she did belong to a wealthy family from her appearance. Why, she has at least a thousand pounds in dia- monds on her \” said the first speaker. “She is a stunner, eh “She is that. She is the most striking woman present this evening ; and yet, aside from her jewels, her dress is the simple. Do you know her ?" Yes ; I have met her several times." “Will you introduce me “Certainly, Sir Charles." A few moments- later, as Isabel was resting after her danccv saw two gentlemen approaching her. 224 A STARTLING RECOGNITION ‘ * Miss Coolidge, allow me to present Sir Charles Randall, who requests the pleasure of an introduction to you. Sir Charles bowed low, and Miss Coolidge, rising, swept him a graceful courtesy, and soon after was again circling around the room, supported upon the arm of a baronet. She had heard of Sir Charles Randall, but had never seen him before. She knew he was reputed to be very wealthy, being an only son, and there was a prospect of more property to come in the future from a rich old aunt. She had watched long for the appearance of Adrian Dred- mond, hoping to captivate him at once by her charms. But when he did come, he only noticed her presence by the haugh- tiest bow, and a scornful curl of his lips, as his eyes fell upon the jewels she wore. He had never seen them before, but instinct told him at once that they were the ones which had caused so much trouble, and he despised her so heartily that she knew at once that all hope of winning him was useless. Therefore, after her introduction to Sir Charles, she had said to herself that the next best thing to a lord was a baronet, and being a very attractive, noble-looking man, she exerted herself to charm him. That night was one long to be remembered by Isabel , Coolidge ! She was indeed, as Sir Charles had said, the most striking- looking woman in the room. Admirers flocked around her, introductions pressed upon her, men raved about her, and wo- * men yielded the palm to her for the time being : and for once she realized that she was being borne upon the topmost wave t f)f popularity, J A STARTLING RECOGNITION. 225 Mrs. Coolidge was in her element, and deemed it the proud- est moment of her life, and the castles which she reared for her daughter in imagination were of the grandest character. Sir Charles was evidently very much interested in the fair American, and certainly if she had only been as pure and beau- tiful at heart as she seemed, she would have been well worthy of all the admiration which she excited. After his third dance with her he led her away to the con- servatory to rest. As they were passing through the crowd they met a white- haired, royal-looking gentleman, who, as his eyes rested upon Isabel, suddenly paused, started on, then turned back again and gave her a keen, searching glance, and finally moved on, after bowing to her companion. Who was that?’' she asked, strangely interested, and vainb attributing the man’s queer actions to admiration of herself. ‘'That was his lordship, the Earl of Dunforth,” was the reply. Sir Charles led her to a seat beneath a spreading palm tree, then excusing himself, he went to get her an ice. She had danced a great deal, and was tired and heated. With a sigh of content, she leaned back in her seat, and dre^rf off her gloves. Upon the forefinger of her left hand there gleamed Miss Me- hetabels engagement-ring, its central pearl surrounded with its six pure brilliants. She had been determined to make the most of her opportip nity that evening, fearing she would never have another, and ,35 ^ STARTLING RECOGNITION. while putting on the other jewels, this had caught her fancy, and she had slipped it upon her finger. Sir Charles was detained longer than he had intended to be gonCy and while she sat there silently thinking, her hand care- lessly resting upon the back of the seat, she was suddenly •tartled by having it seized by some one behind her, in a grip of iron, while a voice, hoarse with suppressed feeling, said : ‘‘Where did you get this.? Young woman, where did you get this ring.?" She started to her feet, and turning quickly, found herself face to face with that white-haired, stately-looking man whom but a few moments before she had inquired about — Lord Dun- forth ! To say that she was startled is to say the very least, for the man's face was as white as his hair, his eyes dilated and fixed upon the ring, his lips set and livid, while the hand wLich grasped hers shook as if he had been stricken with the palsy. “Where did you get it.?" he demanded again, this time somewhat impatiently. Then, as she still continued silent from fear, and not know- ing how to answer him, he looked up in her face. “And this! — and this! — oh, God! and this!" he cried, as his eyes caught the gleam of the other jewels, his voice rising in pain with each word, as he touched, first the cross, then the necklace, and last the glittering tiara upon her golden head. She began to think him a lunatic, or else that the gems were bewitched and were about to get her into deeper trouble. “They — they are heir-looms," she finally managed to artictt' late, and speaking at random. A STARTLING RECOGNITION, 22J ^'Did she give them to you V ‘‘Whom?" “Meta — my Meta — Mehetabel Douglas!'' he said, speaking incoherently, almost wildly. “Yes, they used to be hers," Isabel said, thinking only of the despised and injured governess, and inwardly quaking as she wondered what would come next. “Used to be 1" he cried, catching at her words, while his face grew almost convulsed- — “used to be! Then she is dead! Ah, me !" and he caught his breath in a hard, dry sob. “This was our engagement-ring," he continued, touching it again, tenderly. “How beautiful she was the night I put this upon her finger I There is not a woman here to-night as fair as she was then ! And these other gems were her bridal gifts, and I thought to see her wear them when she should have been my wife. But the time never came. That is long ago — ages ago, it seems to me ! I thought the memory of it had faded out into but a shadow, but the sight of these things to-night is like the keen edge of a knife in my heart." His voice had grown infinitely sad. He appeared quite un- nerved; his lips quivered, and tears stood in his fine eyes, while he gazed upon that ring, as if he were looking his last upon his dearest friend who was dead. “ Was she your mother he at length asked, breaking the spell, and looking up at her. “No, she was not my mother,’' Isabel answered, guiltily, scarce knowing what to say, and yet strangely moved by his wild, sad words. “ Your aunt perhaps, then ^ — she had a brother." 228 A STARTLING RECOGNITTOK ‘‘But — but/' he added, with sudden, thoughr; are not the one who wore the corals that night at the opera ; she was short, and darker than you. Those were my gifts to Meta, and she wore them last on that dreadful night Ah ! ah ! I did not think the pain was so bitter still ! But (tny heart was broken then, and though I have tried to live bravely, I find the wound is not healed even now. " His lordship seemed to have lost all knowledge of where he was, in living over the sad past, and there is no knowing how long he might have gone on in his rambling talk, had no^*' Sir Charles now made his appearance, bearing a salver filled u ith dainties for his companion. Isabel was infinitely relieved to see him, for she was suffering torture under this forced inquisition. The young man bowed to his lordship again as he drew near, although his face expressed some surprise at finding him con- versing with Isabel. His appearance aroused his lordship effectually. He hatf seemed lost and bewildered at sight of those mementoes of tb past, which for him possessed so much of painful interest. But now he recovered himself almost instantly ; the look of prid^ returned to his face; he drew his tall form to its fullest height, and "with a courteous though dignified inclination to Isabel, he said, in his usual stately way : ! “I beg your pardon for my seeming rudeness. There are cer- tain circumstances under which one will sometimes forget one's self. I beg you to forgive and forget what has just occurred." He turned and left them almost as abruptly as he came, while Isabel sank back into her seat, weak and frightened, af- A STARTLING RECOGNITION 229 though coNsiderably enlightened upon some points. Her tongue had seemed glued to the roof of her mouth, and she could not have answered his questions had he given her the opportunity. She was immensely relieved, however, that it had not been required of her ; for she feared she should have committed her- self, since it was evident that he knew the history of the jewels which she wore. She realized now that Mehetabel Douglas, the governess, must have been a relative of another Mehetabel Douglas, who had once been engaged to this peer of the realm, and between whom some misunderstanding had risen and caused a separa- tion. This accounted for that card with the strange titled names upon it, and also for the splendor which had so astonished her, and which she could not reconcile with Miss Douglas' other- wise destitute condition. She had then wronged the governess ; the property was hers beyond a doubt, and what should she do about it.? She was filled with dismay; she could not return the jewels, for the young girl was apparently lost to them forever, and she would have to carry about with her always the unpleasant con- sciousness that she was, as Wilbur had said, the thief. But it would not do to indulge in such thoughts now, and in explanation of what Sir Charles had just witnessed, she said : ‘ ' His lordship thought from my appearance that I w^'the child ©f some one whom he knew, and he spoke to me very ab- ruptly. " ‘*My lord is very eccentric about some things ; he is getting quite old, too, and people do not mind him," replied Sir Charles, giving the matter no further thought. 2^0 THAT VOICE/ CHAPTER XXL THAT VOICE ! Isabel and her mother were jubilant over the result of Lady Peasewelhs drawing-room. The occasion had been one of signal triumph for the former, fcr she had been universally declared the belle of the evening—, the reigning star in all that brilliant company. Not so much indeed on account of her superior beauty — for she could lay no claim to beauty of features — as, her stately presence, fascinating address, and her rich and elegant attire. Sir Charles Randal had undoubtedly been deeply impressed, for after his introduction to her he had scarce left her side during the remainder of the evening. He called the next day, and the next he came to escort her to Buckingham Palace, the queen and her retinue being absent, and he having obtained passes to visit that royal residence so.- fraught with historic interest. These incidents led to a more intimate acquaintance, until the young baronet became her almost constant attendant at the opera and other places of amusement^ and it soon grew to be common talk that the fair American was likely to win him for a husband. Isabels heart often turned longingly toward Adrian Dred- THAT ‘V§TCE! 231 mond, for she had been deeply touched by him. He was her ideal of manly excellence and nobility, but she knew how use- less was that longing, for that look of scorn which he had given her at Lady PeasewelFs told her but too plainly how heartily he despised her. She had met him since at a number of places of amusement, but he never asked her to dance, or noticed her presence save by a grave, cool bow, and the involuntary curling of his hand- some lips ; so she turned the battery of her charms upon the baronet, and with much better success. Sir Charles was accounted a very fine young man, and a great catch, for he, too, was very rich ; so that Mrs. Coolidge spread her motherly wings, ruffled her most gorgeous plumage, and made much of him, feeling immensely gratified at her daugh ter s evident conquest, although no proposals had as yet beep made. Two months passed thus ; the search for Brownie had beer given up by Mr. Coolidge, who could not gain the vestige of a clew to her whereabouts, and he finally came to the conclusion that, despairing of obtaining a situation in exclusive and aristo- cratic old England, she had returned to her native land, hoping to be more successful there. What to do with her property was a puzzle to him, and he was greatly troubled on account of it, but he could only lock it carefully away, hoping some time in the future to see her and return it. Isabel had been successful in returning the gems she had worn to the casket without his knowledge, and emboldened by her good luck, she continued, from time to time^ to abstract THAT VOICE! Ill <5ome Df x:hem to garnish her rayishing toilets. At length her triumph was complete. Sir Charles Randal proposed and accepted, and great was the rejoicing thereof His mother at first tos somewhat troubled at the idea of his marrying out of his own country — she had hoped he would choose some one from the ^lobility ; but as she was eager to multiply his worldly possessions, and she had heard such ac- counts of Mr. Coolidge's fabulous wealth, she consented as gracefully as possible, and the contract was finally concluded to the satisfaction of all parties. Mr. Coolidge, who could not fail to Aonor the young man, told Isabel that she was getting a husband much too good for her, unless she mended her ways in the future, and it certainly seemed as if she had adopted his advice, for she became so amiable, apparently, that she excited the admiration of all for the time. Lady Randal was a widow. At the death of her husband she had been left wiL two sons, one fifteen, the other, which was Sir Charles, ten. The elder died in just a year after his father, so that Ao younger came into the title and property. There had been a prospect two years after Sir Charles' bmh of another addition to the family, but Lady Randal was travel- ing upon the Continent at the time of its birth, and remained away a year after the event occurred ; therefore it occasioned scarce any remark when it was reported that there was no child after all. When, after her return to England, a friend ventured V? THAT V®ICE! m speak of her disappointment, Lady Randal had put her black- bordered handkerchief to her eyes, and remarked that it was so hardio lose one's children," and there the matter dropped. Not more than a week after the engagement between Sir Charles and Isabel was announced, Mr. Coolidge was suddenly recalled to New York upon important and unforeseen business. His partner telegraphed for his immediate return, and he de- parted in great haste, having only a few hours in which to make his preparation and catch the steamer. And in his haste he forgot to take with him, as he had intended. Miss Douglas' cas- ket of jewels. As soon as Lady Randal knew of his departure, she sent a polite note, containing an invitation, to Mis. Coolidge and her family, to spend a month with them at their country seat, as they were about departing for a season from town. This was exceedingly flattering to the Coolidges, and the last of February found them domiciled at '‘Vallingham Hall, "near the ancient and beautiful town of West Mailing, Kent County; all but Wilbur, who, still heart-sore and filled with anxiety upon Brownie's account, resolved to try to lose himself in a trip to Switzerland and the Alps. Lady Randal and her servants preceded her guests by a week to the Hall, leaving Sir Charles behind to escort their visitors, so that upon their arrival everything was in readiness for them, and they received a most cordial welcome. Vallingham Hall was a handsome, though rather an ancient- looking structure, built partly of brick and partly of stone. The central portion seemed much older than the rest, a couple wings and other additions having evidently been built on at ?34 TlfAT VOICE! different times. It had mullioned windows, and wide, massive doors, which gave it a grand and imposing appearance. The beautiful ivy, green and luxuriant, which clambered upon its sides to the very top of some of its turrets, gave it also a pic- turesqueness which made it charming to every one, and more than one artist, enamored «f its beauty, had reproduced it upon canvas. About half a mile from the Hall, and standing within the limits of its park, there was a charming little villa of quite modern structure, and having such an air of comfort and cozi- ness about it that tempted the beholder to seek an entrance and obtain a glimpse wdthin, wondering if the inside were as attractive as the outside. We are privileged, let us enter. A vestibule, with its floor of richly-colored tiles — ‘'all Mo- saic, choicely planned'' — led into a long, wide hall, which divided the dwelling through the center. On the right was a charming drawing-room, not too large, and furnished with rare taste and elegance. Leading from this was a small conservatory, in which were gathered the choicest collection of plants to be found, and which filled the whole room with fragrance, while the happy songsters, which hung in their gilded cages, made the air reso- nant with melody. On the left of the hall were three spacious rooms, the first an exquisite parlor or boudoir, which connected with a sleep- ing apartment, and which contained everything that the most fastidious could wish in the way of comfort or luxury, while further on was a library, filled with choice books and work» of art. THAT VOICE! 23^ Back of this was an L, or sort of wing, containing the dining- room and other apartments, where a buxom, good-natured dam- sel presided with vigorous care and skill in the culinary depart- ment. Above were charming little suites of rooms, beautiful and luxurious enough to satisfy the most exacting, and fit bowers for the fairest virgins to dwell in. The whole place was a gem, and one could not but cry with a great poet : “ Oh, all things fair to sate the various eyes ! Oh, shapes and hues that please them well !” But, unlike that ''Palace of Art,’' one did not come upon Uncertain shapes ; nor unawares On white -eyed phantasms weeping tears of bloody And horrible nightmares.” i^o; everything, from the airy cupola, with itc many vich^ hued panes above, to the solid foundations beneath, was per-* feet, harmonious, and cheerful. But what of the occupants 1 More of them anon. Vallingham Hall was already gay with company when the Coolidges arrived, and more was expected the following week. Just who the maternal Coolidge could not learn, although quite anxious to do so, and she had questioned the maid who was assigned to serve them as far as politeness would allow. Excursions, croquet parties, archery parties, and picnics were planned for every day, when the weather would allow, while the evenings were filled yvith gayety and pleasure within the great drawing-room. THAT VOICE! 236 Sir Charles' courtship seemed to be of the most blissful na^ ture, at least to two persons. Isabel was brilliant from her conquest, and rendered herself 80 fascinating to everybody that the young man was nearly over- whelmed with congratulations at having won so bonny and wealthy a bride, although among some of the high-born dam- sels, who were husband-hunting for themselves, there was now and then the curl of a red lip, and murmur of scorn about ‘‘plebeian blood." Lady Randal, ignoring caste entirely, was always eulogizing Isabel’s “elegant manners, and her exquisite taste in dress," and promising herself so much happiness with a daughter, which she had always wanted, but never had. " Mrs. Coolidge spared neither labor nor expense for her eldest, and her wardrobe was the most recherche of anything to be seen among all the visitors at the Hall, while the jewels which she wore were a marvel to every one, and helped to swell the re- ports of her vast wealth. When she found that her father had departed without taking them with him, she was delighted, and appropriated them with- out a scruple, and, as time wore away, she began to look upon them as almost belonging to her. It must be confessed that she stood a little bit in awe of her high-born lover. It did not take her long to discover that he was actuated only by the loftiest sentiments. His manner was as courteous to a servant or an inferior as to an equal, and he never stopped to consider the position of any one when granting a favor. THAT VOICE) m The beggar or the peer was befriended with equal kindness. Open and frank himself, he could not tolerate deception or hypocrisy in any one, and a deliberate wrong incurred his deep- est displeasure. Isabel had seen him furious with a servant one day for treat- ing with unkindness a poor little boy who had come to the door begging for bread for his mother, who was ill. Then he had turned tenderly to the little fellow, listening patiently while he told his story, after which, with his own hands, he filled a basket with dainties, and then returned with the child to his home, to ascertain what further aid was needed. Of course, the haughty and selfish girl could feel no sympa- thy with any such sentiments so foreign to her own nature ; but having once learned Sir Charles' idiosyncracies, and being ex- tremely anxious to share his coronet and plethoric purse, she exerted herself to the utmost to blind his eyes, and, to all out- ward appearance, she became a most earnest advocate of all his philanthropic schemes, much to his satisfaction, and the secret contempt and amusement of Viola and Alma, who neglected no opportunity when alone with their sister to torment her about it. One evening Sir Charles invited her to walk over a portion of the estate with him, and unfolded to her his plans for beau- tifying it, and of improving the condition and comfort of his tenantry. She strove to listen attentively, and appear interested in it all^ but it was hard work, and although she was exceedingly kind and gracious to all whom she met, and won for herself high encomiums for her sweetness among his people, yet her heart THAT VOICE! 438 was not in k, and she was immensely relieved when they turned their steps homeward. On their way they had to pass the villa before described. Isabel had never been that way before, and did not know of its existence, and was quite surprised at the sight of the modern dwelling, where everything else was so ancient. Just before reaching it, Sir Charles had called her attention to a lovely view, which could be seen from the hill which they had just climbed, and they stopped to look down into the val- ley, through which a small stream went winding and doubling in the slanting sunlight, like a thread of gol^raveled from some royal garment. Beyond, they could see the bright February sun just drop- ping to rest, and fine, pale bars of gold lined all the western sky, while over them hung a misty canopy of crimson vapors, “that seemed only just a vail 'twixt us and the great unknown regions beyond, '' Sir Charles said, enthusiastically. They stood silent for several minutes enjoying it, when sud- denly a few rich chords, struck upon a fine-toned piano, saluted their ears, and then a voice of ravishing sweetness and power burst forth into joyous song. Isabel started at the sound as if a wasp had stung her. “Who is that?'' she demanded, her face flushing with a sud- den thought and fear. “It comes from yonder villa. Did it startle you?" asked Sir Charles, regarding her disturbed manner with some surprise. “A little — it was so quiet before." “I think it very fine," he replied, stopping to listen again to the clear, beatiful tones. THAT VOICE! 239 '‘Who lives there?'' Isabel asked, an anxious expression on her face. “Lady Ruxley, an aged aunt of my mothers." “Indeed! I thought she resided with you," she said, won- dering why a lady of such high degree should be living in what appeared to her such limited quarters. She had heard of Lady Ruxley before, and knew that it was from her Sir Charles was to inherit a large amount of his property. She had never met her, although she was quite curious about her, having heard much about her peculiarities. “Lady Ruxley always makes it her home with us while we are in town, but when we come to Vallingham Hall she pre- fers to be by herself, and a few years since she had this villa built, so as to escape the gayety and confusion which always reign there," Sir Charles explained. “Does she live alone?" Isabel queried, with a thoughtful look. “She has never had any one but her servants, until within the past few years she has had a companion to read to and amuse her. She is quite old, " “Ah, then it must be her companion who is singing now," and she leaned eagerly forward to listen again. “Who is she?” she asked, somewhat sharply, when after a moment the sweet singer suddenly ceased. “I really do not remember the name — some unfortunate in- dividual, I believe, who met with an accident, enlisted Aunt Ruxley's sympathies, and she insisted upon having her as a com^ panion. I have never seen her. Indeed," he added, smiling, 240 THAT VOICE r '"my time has been so fully occupied in another direction late- ly that I have not paid much attention to other people's affairs/' and Sir Charles bestowed a fond look upon his betrothed, which called the bright color to her cheeks, and the smile to her lipg again. She asked no more questions, and they remained a few mo- ments longer gazing into the valley ; then, as the sun sank out of sight, and the air began to grow keener, they turned theii faces homeward. As they passed the villa they caught a glimpse of an old woman bent nearly double with age, hobbling into the housQ from the vine-covered porch. She was leaning upon the arm of a slender, graceful figure, who seemed to be clad in deep mourning, the sight of which made Isabel Coolidge’s heart bound again with a sudden fear, and she bent forward for a better view. She could not distinguish the person clearly, for the shadow of the vines about the door miide it impossible, but a nameless dread of something, she knew not what, pursued her the entire evening, which neither the gay company at the Hall nor her Jover's fondest words could make her forget CmtJEN\ i\\\JE WME TO EOOSr/^ 241 CHAPTER XKIl. '‘chickens come h,)me to &oost!" The next day cards were received at Vjillingham Hall for the family and all guests, soliciting their presence at a grand state dinner, to be given by his lordship, the Earl of Dunforth, at his country residence at East Mailing, about five miles from the west village. A great deal of excitement prevailed in anticip.ation of this event, for all recognized the honor conferred by this itivitation, as the earl occupied a high position in the world, and owned almost the whole township of East Mailing, where Dunforth Castle was situated. ‘‘What shall I wear, mamma.?” Isabel asked, when ^hey were talking over the event in their own room. "That light blue velvet, with the pipings of white satin, and tiae stomacher of pearls, which came from Worth's last we^k, will be the most suitable, I think,” returned Mrs. Coolidge, re- 4ectivcly. "That is the one I had in mind. It will be veiy becoming tud with those coral ornaments, and a few flowers, it will be a lovely costume,” assented the dutiful daughter. "I want you to look uncommonly well, liKibel, (ot I heard to-day that any one who is received by the Earl df Dunforth 242 ^^CHICKENS COME HOME TO ROOST!*' needs no better voucher in the first circles of London. Be^ sides, he is a relative of the family, and it will be wise for you to secure their favor. By the way, has Sir Charles asked you to name the day yet V ‘‘No, and IVe played my very prettiest to him this week, hoping he would. Tve visited all those dirty cottages and hovels, and helped him plan a hundred disagreeable things for suffering humanity around us; but, apparently, he is so bound up in the woes of others that he cannot stop to consider things of such minor importance as his own happiness,'' replied Isa- bel, with bitter scorn, and with an ugly frown upon her brow. “You must have patience, my dear. A great deal has been accomplished in his proposing to you, and in your acknowl- edged engagement." Patience I I feel as if I should go wild, at times, with the constant restraint which I put upon myself. f “I know ; you are behaving beautifully," said Mrs. Coolidge, soothingly, who lived in constant fear lest there should be an outbreak. “Lady Randal," she went on, “thinks you are just about perfect ; and even the servants are all enthusiastic in your praise," “If only the prize was secure," muttered Isabel, moodily. ^ “Only go on a little longer as you have begun and it will be, I am sure," purred her mother. “Won t there be a revulsion of feeling, though, when the knot is tied, and Bell is my lady, without any fear of any one else stepping into her shoes ?" laughed Viola, viciously. “I only hope I shall be present at the unmasking ; won’t it be fan, Vi ?" sneered Alma. ^'CmCKENS COME HOME TO EOOST! 243 '‘Yes, it is the finest bit of comedy I have ever seen played,"' returned her sister, with a tantalizing giggle. “Hold your tongues, you saucy jades cried Isabel, angrily. “I can imagine now the expression of dismay which will appear upon the serene face of Sir Charles, when he discovers the pretty little game which his ‘perfect" lady-love has been playing upon him,"" retorted Alma, totally ignoring her sister"s coarse command, “Ha! ha! It will be fun indeed, though I shall feel no end sorry for him, for he"s just gay, and I should like him for a brother-in-law,"" said Viola, with a feeling of self-reproach. “ And won't the servants, who are so ‘enthusiastic" now, have to catch it, when the ‘constant restraint" is removed Yes, indeed, poor things 1 they'll wish the courting had lasted for- ever. But I say, Al, it"s lucky for her that Miss Douglas isn"t here, for if she was, she"d lose Sir Charles the same as she did Mr. Dredmond."" Viola had always taken a sort of savage delight in tormenting Isabel with Adrian s evident admiration for Brownie. Isabel, already wrought up to the last point of endurance before these chatter-boxes began, now gave way completely. Mrs. Coolidge, deeply offended by their tormenting conver- sation, said, sternly: “Viola! Alma! leave the room instantly, and be very care- ful hereafter that I do not hear you speak in this way before your sister, or you march back to London and go under mas- ters at once."" The young girls olseyed, somewhat subdued by this threat 244 ^^CHICKENS COME HOME TO EOOSTI for they thought it delightful at Vallingham Hall, and t© b« banished to dreary London to study would be dreadful. The day of the dinner-party arrived. A half hour before the Vallingham company were to start; Lady Randal knocked at Isabel's door. ‘‘Excuse me, dear,” she said, “but I wanted to see how you look before we start. I am particularly anxious that Lord and Lady Dunforth should be pleased with you. You know he is a relative of the family,” she concluded, with an accent of pride. “I heard something to that effect,” responded Isabel ; “but how is he connected “His lordship and I are own cousins,” explained Lady Ran- dal, while her face clouded fora moment, as if from some pain- i fill thought. I Then suddenly changing the subject, she exclaimed : “But I need not have been anxious about your appearance, for you are just lovely. You have exquisite taste, my love, and I shall feel quite proud when you are my daughter. This blue ; velvet is charming, and your hair is very becomingly arranged, ' while that stomacher of pearls is superb. But” — and she started suddenly, while her face grew crimson — “but where did you get those coral ornaments V and her eyes were fixed in utter astonishment, and with something of terror in them, upon the elegant coral and diamond cross, and butterfly hair ornament, which Isabel had just fastened in her hair, and clasped about her neck. Isabel colored violently at the question. Could she never wear those things without some one's re^ ^^CHICKENS COME HOME TO ROOST! 245 marking them particularly, and continually reminding her that they were not her own ? Lady Randal marked her confusion, and feeling it might kave appeared a rude question, hastened to add : ‘^Pardon me, but they are so like some that I once saw a long time ago, that I could not help exclaiming at the mo- ment. " The frown deepened upon my lady's brow, as if more un- pleasant memories had stirred unbidden in her heart. ‘‘Ah!" said Isabel, regaining her self-possession, and striv- ing to speak indilferently ; “I did not suppose there was an- other set like them in the world — they were made to order, " and the lie slipped off her tongue without a quaver. “It is a singular coincidence, surely," murmured Lady Ran- dal, absently. “Did you ever know " she began again then suddenly checking herself, she added: “But of coursi you did not, for she must be over sixty if she is living now. It is strange, though. I could have sworn they are the same." “What were you saying .5^" asked Isabel, who had not dis- tinctly understood what she said last. “Never mind, dear ; but a lady whom I used to know had some ornaments very like these. Have you nothing else which will do to go with this costume.?" She seemed to dislike the idea of her wearing them. “Oh, yes; I have plenty of others, but these look best with this light blue — they give a dash of color which it seems to need, and I prefer them. " “Well, never mind ; you e^look very nice, and," she added, partly t© herself, “perhaps he will not notice." 246 CHICKENS COME HOME TO ROOST Isabel created quite a sensation upon entering the great drawing-room at Dunforth, for there were many people present whom she had never met before, and all were quite anxious to •ce the bride Sir Charles had chosen. His lordship was very gracious to her, and seemed desirous to atone for his rudeness on the night of Lady Peasewells draw- ing-room, though Isabel noticed that a spasm of pain con- tracted his face when his eye first fell upon her as she was pre- ^nted. He introduced her to Lady Dunforth, who completely sur- prised her by turning to a gentleman at her side, and saying : ‘‘Miss Coolidge, allow me to present my grandson, Mr. Dredmond. '' She looked up astonished, and the color flamed into her cheeks at his cold salutation and the well-remembered scornful curl of his lips, as his critical eye took in every item of her cos- tume from head to foot. He, too, had recognized those lovely corals with their dia- mond garnishings, and he longed to wrest them from her hair and bosom, and denounce her as the false-hearted woman he knew she was. He, then, was the grandson of the Earl of Dunforth ! Isabel had known all along that he was heir to an earldom, but supposing it to be a nobleman by the name of Dredmond she had never made any inquiries about the matter. A feeling of chagrin came over her that she had not played her cards differently, for she knew the Dunforth wealth far ex- ceeded that of the Randals. *^CmCKENS COME HOME TO ROOST! 247 A sense of fear, too, arose in her heait lest he should strive to influence Sir Charles against her. Thus do the ignoble always gauge the character of othqxs bj their own. Lady Randal had told her that she and Lord Dunforth were cousins, consequently Sir Charles and Adrian were connected, und might he not tell him what he knew.? Later in the evening she was introduced to Lady Ruxley, whose acquaintance she had long desired to make, and whose fevor she was most anxious to secure. The old lady had arrived at the castle that morning T)y espe- cial invitation, and was to remain a few days to visit I.a(ty Dun- forth, who was a favorite with her. She was a very peculiar body, this old lad}^ of eighty, with her wrinkled, withered face, her scant, wiry, gray hair, her rest- less black eyes, keen and sharp as a brier. She was bent nearly double, and walked with a cane, and when she tried to talk to or look at anybody she twisted her neck and shoulders into all manner of contortions. She was little as well as old — she could not have weighed over ninety pounds — and in her straight, old- fe,shioned black satin gown she made Isabel think of some witch ©r sprite of evil. She felt anything but comfortable beneath those keen, bright eyes, which seemed to read her through and through at a glance, and her blunt way of asking questions disconcerted her not a little. She felt that she was being inspected from head to foot, and that when at length she was curtly dismissed with a wave of that shriveled hand, the old woman could have told to an inch i4$ '^CHICKENS COME HOME TO ROOSTf" how many yards of velvet were in her dress, the exact amount of satin it took for the piping and of lace for trimming, the number of her glove and boot, and even of the number of hair-pins it took to build her coiffure. “I am glad she lives by herself,” was her inward comment, as Sir Charles led her away. “I should never feel easy a mo- ment to have a withered old crone like that, with her piercing eyes, prying into my affairs. ” “ False as fair ; false as fair!” and “chickens always come home to roost ! ’ muttered the “old crone,” as she watched the handsome couple move away. “What were you saying, aunt.?” asked Lady Randal, sharply; She had been standing near, and saw the distrustful expres- sion on her face, and heard the muttered tones. “I said ‘chickens always come home to roost,’” she snap- ped in reply. “What do you mean by it? I don’t understand you.” “I mean that you are going to get your pay through her foi some of your own evil deeds in the past,” she answered, poinL ing her shaking finger at Isabel. Don t be a fool, aunt, ” Lady Randal said, sharply, yet growing a shade paler than usual. “What have I done that is so very wicked ?” “Ah, ha I your memory doesn’t serve you as well as mio^ for all I am in my dotage,” and the old woman gave a cracked, spiteful laugh. Then, with a malicious leer, and crooking her skinn y neck way round so that she could get a clearer vkw of her ladyship's 6c», she added : *