Part 13 (1/2)
”Sometime I will tell you about the player and the sweet young girl he loves.”
”Does he--” she paused, blus.h.i.+ng; love was a subject upon which she had never yet spoken to any one.
”Yes he does,” Mr. Sylvester returned smiling.
”I thought there was a meaning in the music I did not quite understand.
Good night, uncle,”--he had requested her to address him thus though he was in truth her cousin, ”and many, many thanks.”
But he stopped her again. ”You think you will be happy in these rooms,”
said he; ”you love splendor.”
She was not yet sufficiently acquainted with his voice to detect the regret underlying its kindly tone, and answered without suspicion. ”I did not know it before, but I fear that I do. It dazzled at first, but now it seems as if I had reached a home towards which I had always been journeying. I shall dream away hours of joy before each little ornament that adorns your parlors. The very tiles that surround the fireplace will demand a week of attention at least.”
She ended with a smile, but unlike formerly he did not seem to catch the infection. ”I had rather you had cared less,” said he, but instantly regretted the seeming reproach, for her eyes filled with tears and the tones of her voice trembled as she replied,
”Do you think the beauty I have seen has made me forget the kindness that has brought me here? I love fine and n.o.ble objects, glory of color and harmony of shape, but more than all these do I love a generous soul without a blot on its purity, or a flaw in its integrity.”
She had meant to utter something that would show her appreciation of his goodness and the universal esteem in which he was held, but was quite unprepared for the start that he gave and the unmistakable deepening of the shadow on his sombre face. But before she could express her regret at the offence, whatever it was, he had recovered himself, and it was with a fatherly tenderness that he laid his hand upon hers while he said, ”Such a soul may yours ever continue, my child,” and then stood watching her as she glided up the stairs, her charming face showing every now and then as she leaned on her winding way to the top, to bestow upon him the tender little smile she had already learned was his solace and delight.
It was the beginning of happier days for him.
BOOK II.
LIFE AND DEATH.
XIV.
MISS BELINDA HAS A QUESTION TO DECIDE.
”I pray you in your letters,
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice.” --OTh.e.l.lO.
Miss Belinda sitting before her bedroom fire on a certain windy night in January, presented a picture of the most profound thought. A year had elapsed since, with heavy heart and moistened eye, she had bidden good-bye to the child of her care, and beheld her drift away with her new friend into a strange and untried life. And now a letter had come from that friend, in which with the truest appreciation for the feelings of herself and sister, he requested their final permission to adopt Paula as his own child and the future occupant of his house and heart.
Yes, after a year of increased comfort, Mrs. Sylvester, who would never have consented to receive as her own any child demanding care or attention, had decided it was quite a different matter to give place and position to a lovely girl already grown, whose beauty was sufficiently p.r.o.nounced to do credit to the family while at the same time it was of a character to heighten by contrast her own very manifest attractions. So the letter, destined to create such a disturbance in the stern and powerful mind of Miss Belinda, had been written and dispatched.
And indeed it was matter for the gravest reflection. To accede to this important request was to yield up all control over the dear young girl whose affection had const.i.tuted the brightness of this somewhat disappointed life, while to refuse an offer made with such evident love and anxiety, was to bring a pang of regret to a heart she hesitated to wound. The question of advantage which might have swayed others in their decision, did not in the least affect Miss Belinda. Now that Paula had seen the world and gained an insight into certain studies beyond the reach of her own attainments, any wishes in which she might have indulged on that score were satisfied, and mere wealth with its concomitant of luxuriant living, she regarded with distrust, and rather in the light of a stumbling-block to the great and grand end of all existence.
Suddenly with that energy which characterized all her movements, she rose from her seat, and first casting a look of somewhat cautious inquiry at the rec.u.mbent figure of her sister, asleep in the heavy old fas.h.i.+oned bed that occupied one corner of the room, she proceeded to a bureau drawer and took out a small box which she unlocked on the table.
It was full of letters; those same honest epistles, which, as empowered by Mr. Sylvester, she had requested Paula to send her from week to week.