Part 37 (1/2)

This upon the threshold! Under the very shadow of the doorway! I felt faint and giddy as I pa.s.sed on into the hall. Kitty, with a low cry of delight, sprung forward to meet me.

”Kitty, I am so glad!” I said, laying my hand upon her arm. ”Isn't it a long time since I went away? But I am so tired; do take me to my room.”

Kitty flew up the stairs in delight, only stopping occasionally to ask me if I didn't feel well, and if she couldn't help me. All the others had gone to their rooms; not even Mrs. Roberts was to be seen.

”She's got her hands too full to prowl around now,” said Kitty, with a wicked shake of the head. She led the way to my old room, and, to my surprise, putting her hand in her pocket, drew out the key, and fitted it in the lock.

”What's the reason of its being locked up?” I said in surprise.

”Reason enough, Miss,” said Kitty, with a profound look. Then, admitting me and shutting the door carefully, continued, in a less guarded tone: ”The idea of your coming back here and having any but your own room! And it's been just as much as I could do to keep Mrs. Roberts from putting Miss Churchill in it. Such a time as I had about it when the baggage came! None of the ladies had come upstairs yet; they were all walking about the piazza and hall with master, and Thomas was seeing to the trunks being carried up, and I overheard Mrs. Roberts say: 'Thomas, Miss Churchill's baggage is to be put in the blue room, and her mamma's and Miss Grace's in the oak-chamber opposite, and Miss Wynkar's goes in the south room.' 'No, I beg your pardon, ma'am,' I says, coming forward, '_my_ young lady's trunk goes to the blue room, if you please. I've master's own orders for it, and I'll go ask him again if you choose.'_Your_ young lady, indeed!' says Mrs. Roberts, throwing me such an awful look. 'Thomas, you will attend to my orders.' I flew upstairs and put the key in my pocket, and Thomas tipped me a wink, and left your trunk outside the door. And now,” said Kitty, stopping a moment to recover breath, ”don't you think it looks pleasant, Miss?”

”Indeed it does, Kitty,” I said, gratefully, sinking down in an easy-chair, and looking about me admiringly. It looked whiter and cooler than ever. There were new book-shelves in the recesses, and new curtains at the windows; roses, mignonette and heliotrope, filled the slender vases, and the wax candles on the dressing-table shed the softest light around the room. Kitty, busying herself about putting away my bonnet and shawls, chatted on eagerly.

”Gay times, these, for Rutledge,” she went on, after having answered my inquiries for Stephen and the others. ”Gay times, and busy times. Who'd ever have thought to see this house full of company again?”

”Yes,” I said, ”so busy, I am afraid, I shall not have much of your attendance, Kitty. It will not be like last fall, when you had nothing to do but wait on me. What nice times those were! I wish all the rest of the people were miles away, Kitty, and there was no one in the house that wasn't here last November.”

”Oh!” exclaimed Kitty, deprecatingly, ”I'm sure you'll enjoy it, Miss, with so many young gentlemen and ladies. I'm certain master thought you would, or he wouldn't have asked them. And as for my waiting on you, why that's all settled, and Mrs. Roberts knows it too. Mr. Rutledge told me this very morning that he supposed it would please me to be allowed to attend upon you, and that I was to consider that my duty as long as you were here. Mrs. Roberts had come in for some directions, and she heard it all. She jerked her head, and flounced a little, but didn't dare to say a word. But,” continued Kitty, anxiously, ”I'm afraid you are not well. Can I get you anything? Won't you lie down? Oh! I am afraid you are crying.”

Kitty's fears were not unfounded. The tears rushed to my eyes, and hiding my face in my hands, I tried, but vainly, to suppress the hysterical sobs that choked me, as I essayed to answer her anxious questions. She was so disappointed and alarmed at my unexpected mood that she hardly knew what to do, and I tried, as soon as I could speak, to a.s.sure her that I was really very glad to get back, that there was nothing the matter, only I was very nervous and tired.

”And there's the tea-bell!” exclaimed Kitty, in dismay, ”and everybody else is dressed! What's to be done?”

”There's nothing for it, Kitty, but to let me go to bed. I can't go downstairs to-night--it would kill me. Undress me, and then don't let a soul come in--not even my aunt. That's a good Kitty: it isn't the first time you've taken care of me.”

”Ah!” said Kitty, with tears in her kind eyes, ”if I only knew what to do to make you better! It isn't the headache that I mean--a cup of tea and a good night's rest will make that all right; but you ain't the same young lady that you were last fall. I saw that the minute you stepped into the hall. There's something on your mind; I knew it the instant you spoke. When you used to talk, it was as if there was a laugh in your voice all the time, and now you talk as if you were tired, and hated to open your lips.”

”So I am, Kitty,” I said, with a fresh burst of crying. ”I am tired and heart-sick, and when I talk it's no wonder there are 'tears in my voice.' There are a great many things to make me unhappy; you mustn't ask me anything about them; but it's so long since I've had anybody to care for me, and nurse me, that it makes me babyish, I believe. There!”

I exclaimed, after a minute, conquering my tears, ”don't think anything more about it, Kitty, but help me to undress.”

There could have been no better medicine for my aching head and heart, than that Kitty administered. It was a perfect luxury to resign myself into her hands, to feel that I needn't think again to-night if I didn't choose, that I was sure of being watched over and cared for, come what might. I had not realized, till I came into its suns.h.i.+ne again, how perfectly necessary to anything like happiness an atmosphere of love is.

I had known that, in my home, I had felt chilled and forlorn. I had given no pleasure to others, and received none myself; but, child-like, I had only known it was, and had not asked why. But now, that kind and tender hands rendered the services that I had long wearily performed for myself, and a watchful care provided for my comfort and remembered my tastes, I realized how unnatural and unkind a thing it is for anything of human mold to be denied human love and sympathy; I realized how necessary to the fair growth and goodly proportions of a nature, is the suns.h.i.+ne of kindness and affection. Since I had left Rutledge, I had never known what it was to be caressed and favored; misconstrued, slighted, and put aside by those around me, the natural result had been reserve, distrust, and aversion on my part. I was, as Kitty said, not the same girl I had been. I knew better than Kitty did how deep the change had gone--how far below the surface the blight had struck. The brave, gay heart of the child was dead in my bosom forever. Whatever there might be to hope for, in the future, it must be the life-and-death struggle and victory of the woman, not the careless happiness of the child.

CHAPTER XXV.

”Love is hurt with jar and fret, Love is made a vague regret, Eyes with idle tears are wet, Idle habit links us yet-- What is love? for we forget; Ah! no, no!”

TENNYSON.

My bright eyed maid had something evidently on her mind the next morning, as stealing early to my bedside, she found me awake and quite ready for her services. I caught sight of her perplexed face in the gla.s.s, as she dressed my hair, and said at last, ”What are you thinking about, Kitty, has anything happened?”

”Happened? Oh, no, Miss,” she said, blus.h.i.+ng, and a little confused. ”I was only thinking--I was only wondering”----

”Well, Kitty?”

”I mean that--that is--are you very fond of Miss Churchill?”

I laughed and blushed a little in my turn, and said: