Part 31 (1/2)
”Quite agreeable to all parties. I shall expect you. Good-morning.”
When Regina left the sitting-room she followed the housemaid up two flights of steps, and into a small but beautifully furnished apartment, where a fire was not really necessary, as the house was heated by a furnace, still the absence of the cheerful red light she had left below made this room seem chill and uninviting.
The trunks had been brought up, and after lowering the curtain of the window that looked down on the beautiful Avenue, Hattie said:
”Will you have tea, coffee, or chocolate?”
”Neither, I thank you.”
”Have you had any breakfast?”
”I do not want any.”
”It is no trouble, miss, to get what you like.”
Regina only shook her head, and proceeded to take off her hat and wrappings.
”Are you an orphan?” queried Hattie, her heart warming toward a stranger who avoided giving trouble.
”No; but my mother is in----is too far for me to go to her.”
”Then you aren't here on charity?”
”Charity! No, indeed! Mr. Palma is my guardian until I go to my mother.”
”Well, miss, try to be contented. Miss Olga has a kinder heart than her mother, and though she has a bitter tongue and rough ways she will befriend you. Don't fret about your dog, we folks belowstairs will see that he does not suffer. We will help you take care of him.”
”Thank you, Hattie. I shall be grateful to all who are kind to him.
Please give him some water and a piece of bread when you go down.”
It was a great relief to find herself once more alone, and, sinking down wearily into a rocking chair, she hid her face in her hands.
Her heart was heavy, her head ached; her soul rose in rebellion against the cold selfishness and discourtesy that had characterized her reception by the inmates of her guardian's house.
Everything around her betokened wealth, taste, elegance; the carpets and various articles of furniture were of the most costly materials, but at the thought of living here she shuddered. Fine and fas.h.i.+onable in all its appointments, but chilly, empty, surface gilded, she felt that she would stifle in this mansion.
By comparison, how dear and sacred seemed the old life at the parsonage I how desolate and dreary the present! how inexpressibly lonely and hopeless the future!
From the thought of Mr. Palma's return, she could borrow no pleasant auguries, rather additional gloom and apprehension; and his absence had really been the sole redeeming circ.u.mstance that marked her arrival in New York. With an unconquerable dread which arose from early childish prejudice and which she never attempted to a.n.a.lyze, she shrank from meeting him.
There came a quick low rap on the door, but she neither heard nor heeded it, and started when a warm hand removed those that covered her face.
”Just as I expected, you are having a good cry all to yourself. No, your eyes are dry and bright as stars. I daresay you have set us all down as a family of brutes; as more cruel than the Piutes or Modocs; as stony hearted as Solomon, when he ordered the poor little baby to be cut in half and distributed among its several mothers. But there is so little justice left in the world, that I imagine each individual would do well to contribute a moiety to the awfully slender public stock. Suppose you pay t.i.thes to the extent of counting me out of this nest of persecutors? Thank Heaven! I am not a Palma! My soul does not work like the piston of a steam-engine,--is not regulated by a gauge-c.o.c.k and safety-valve to prevent all explosions, to keep the even, steady, decorous, profitable tenor of its sternly politic way. I am a Neville. The blood in my veins is not 'blue' like the Palma's, but red,--and hot enough to keep my heart from freezing, as the Palma's do, and to melt the ice they manufacture, wherever they breathe. I am no Don Quixote to redress your grievances, or storm windmills; for verily neither mamma nor Erle Palma belongs to that cla.s.s of harmless innocuous bugaboos, as those will find to their cost who run against them. I am simply Olga Neville, almost twenty-three, and quite willing to help you if possible. Shall we enter into an alliance--offensive and defensive?”
She stood by the mantlepiece, slowly b.u.t.toning her glove, and looked quite handsome, and very elegant in her rich wine-coloured silk and costly furs.
Looking up into her face, Regina wondered how far she might trust that apparently frank open countenance, and Olga smiled, and added:
”You are a cunning fledgling, not to be caught with chaff. Have they sent you anything to eat?”