Part 47 (2/2)
At last Rachel drew a long breath. ”I'm sorry I broke your things,” and she awkwardly pushed the bits with her shoe.
”Oh, that's no matter,” said Miss Parrott, feeling astonished at herself for the words, ”but you said such dreadful things. I can never forget that.” She drew a long breath.
No matter that she broke those beautiful things! The whole truth flashed upon Rachel, and although the smell of the hated stuff was even yet dragging back to her all the memory of her low condition of life through such childhood as she had known, over and above it all was quickly rising the conviction that for this unpardonable misdemeanor she would be sent back to the city and--awful thought!--perhaps to Gran. She set her teeth together hard, and clenched her thin hands as they hung by her side.
”Yes. I say it is no matter,” repeated Miss Parrott, not suffering herself to glance at the wreck of her ancestral treasures, ”but oh, child! why did you say such dreadful things?” She still clung to the cabinet, shocked out of one tradition of her family, as if she must still hold to its time-worn and honored furnis.h.i.+ngs.
Rachel gave her a swift, bird-like glance. ”You do care; you're crying,”
she exclaimed, aghast at the tears running over the wrinkled face.
”Not about that, but the things you said; I didn't mean to do you harm.”
Miss Parrott did not attempt to deny the tears, and brushed them off with a trembling hand.
”You ain't hurt me,” cried Rachel, stumbling across the floor, with an awful feeling at her heart to see this stiff old woman cry.
”Oh, whatever your name is, don't! I'll go home, and the minister may send me back to Gran, an' she may beat me. Don't cry!” She seized the heavy black silk in its front breadth and held on tightly.
The butler, having at this minute his eye at the keyhole, now rushed in, unable to bear the sight, to be met by Miss Parrott, her withered face flaming behind her tears.
”Do you go directly out, Hooper, and remain away until you are called.” He never knew how he got out; and this time the keyhole was un.o.bstructed.
”Were you beaten, you poor little thing?” Was this Miss Parrott bending over Rachel's shaking shoulders, and hands clutching the silk gown! ”Oh, dear, dear!”
”Tain't no matter,” mumbled Rachel. ”I don't care, only don't let me go back.” She shook in terror, and crouched down to the floor.
”Never!” said Miss Parrott firmly. All the blood in her body seemed to be in her wrinkled face, and her eyes shone, as had those of her father, the old judge, when befriending some poor unfortunate. ”You shall never go back, child; don't be afraid.”
But Rachel still s.h.i.+vered. There were the broken bits of china and gla.s.s on the floor back of her, and the minister and his wife must be told of the awful accident; and what they would do with her, why, of course, no one could tell.
The thin, wrinkled fingers on which blazed many rings, that had been her mother's before her, were tremblingly smoothing Rachel's neatly braided hair. And as if she thought what was pa.s.sing beneath them, Miss Parrott broke out quickly:
”I shall never speak of it--of the breaking of those articles, child; so no one will know it but ourselves.”
”Never tell?” gasped Rachel, lifting her head, in astonishment and scarcely believing her ears.
”Of course not,” declared Miss Parrott, in scorn. ”So do not be afraid any longer, but get up and dry your eyes.” For at this announcement, Rachel's tears had gushed out, and she sobbed as if her heart would break.
For answer Rachel flew to her feet, and without any warning and astonis.h.i.+ng herself equally with the recipient, she threw her arms around Miss Parrott's thin neck, in among all the ancient laces with which she delighted to adorn it, and hugged it convulsively.
Taken unawares, Miss Parrott could utter no word, and Rachel clung to her and sobbed. But the old ears had heard what hadn't been sounded in them for many a long day, and forgotten were wasted heirlooms and broken treasures.
”I love you!” Rachel had said, hugging her tumultuously.
XXIII
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