Part 14 (1/2)
”I am here.”
”No letter.”
She stood motionless a moment; but the brick walls opposite, the trees, the lamp-posts spun around, like maple leaves in an autumn gale.
”My owlet! why don't you have a light and some fire?”
He stumbled toward her, and put his hand on her shoulder; but she shrank away, and, lighting the gas, rang for coal.
”There is something terrible the matter; Russell is either ill or dead. I must go to him.”
Just, then the door-bell rang sharply; she supposed it was some brother-artist coming to spend an hour, and turned to go.
”Wait a minute; I want to----” He paused, for at that instant she heard a voice which, even amid the din of s.h.i.+nar, would have been unmistakable to her, and breaking from him, she sprang to the threshold and met her cousin.
”Oh, Russell! I thought you had forgotten me.”
”What put such a ridiculous thought into your head? My last letter must have prepared you to expect me.”
”What letter? I have had none for three weeks.”
”One in which I mentioned Mr. Campbell's foreign appointment, and the position of secretary which he tendered me. Electra, let me speak to Mr.
Clifton.”
As he advanced and greeted the artist, she heard a quick, snapping sound, and saw the beautiful Bohemian gla.s.s paper-cutter her guardian had been using lying s.h.i.+vered to atoms on the rug. The fluted handle was crushed in his fingers, and drops of blood oozed over the left hand. Ere she could allude to it, he thrust his hand into his pocket and desired Russell to be seated.
”This is a pleasure totally unexpected. What is the appointment of which you spoke?”
”Mr. Campbell has been appointed Minister to ----, and sails next week. I am surprised that you have not heard of it from the public journals; many of them have spoken of it, and warmly commended the selection. I accompany him in the capacity of secretary and shall, meanwhile, prosecute my studies under his direction.”
The grey, glittering eyes of the artist sought those of his pupil, and for an instant hers quailed; but, rallying, she looked fully, steadfastly at him, resolved to play out the game, scorning to bare her heart to his scrutiny. She had fancied that Russell's affection had prompted this visit; now it was apparent that he came to New York to take a steamer--not to see her; to put the stormy Atlantic between them.
”New York certainly agrees with you, Electra; you have grown and improved very much since you came North. I never saw such colour in your cheeks before; I can scarcely believe that you are the same fragile child I put into the stage one year ago. This reconciles me to having given you up to Mr. Clifton; he is a better guardian than I could have been. But tell me something more about these new relatives you spoke of having found here.”
Mr. Clifton left the room, and the two sat side by side for an hour talking of the gloomy past, the flitting present the uncertain future. Leaning back in his chair, with his eyes fixed on the grate Russell said gravely--
”There is now nothing to impede my successful career; obstacles are rapidly melting away; every day brings me nearer the goal I long since set before me. In two years at farthest, perhaps earlier, I shall return and begin the practice of law. Once admitted, I ask no more. Then, and not till then, I hope to save you from the necessity of labour; in the interim, Mr. Clifton will prove a n.o.ble and generous friend; and believe me, my cousin, the thought of leaving you so long is the only thing which will mar the pleasure of my European sojourn.”
The words were kind enough, but the tone was indifferent, and the countenance showed her that their approaching separation disquieted him little. She thought of the sleepless nights and wretched days she had pa.s.sed waiting for a letter from that tall, reserved, cold cousin, and her features relaxed in a derisive smile at the folly of her all-absorbing love. Raising his eyes accidentally he caught the smile, wondered what there was to call it forth in the plans which he had just laid before her, and, meeting his glance of surprise, she said, carelessly--
”Are you not going to see Irene before you sail?”
His cheek flushed as he rose, straightened himself, and answered--
”A strange question, truly, from one who knows me as well as you do. Call to see a girl whose father sent her from home solely to prevent her from a.s.sociating with my family! Through what sort of metamorphosis do you suppose that I have pa.s.sed, that every spark of self-respect has been crushed out of me?”
”Her father's tyranny and selfishness can never nullify her n.o.ble and affectionate remembrance of Aunt Amy in the hour of her need.”
”And when I am able to repay her every cent we owe her, then, and not till then, I wish to see her. Things shall change: _mens cujusque is est quisque_; and the day will come when Mr. Huntingdon may not think it degrading for his daughter to acknowledge my acquaintance on the street.”