Part 11 (2/2)
”Mr. St. Claire:
”Dear Sir,--Miss Hastings accepts the great honor of looking after your house, and will see that nothing gets mouldy during your absence.”
In haste, RICHARD HARRINGTON, ”Per Edith Hastings.”
”P.S. Will you have her CLEAN it before you return?”
”Edith!” and Richard's voice was very stern. ”Arthur St. Claire never intended to insult you and you shall NOT send that note.
Tear it up at once.”
Edith stood a moment irresolute, while her eyes flashed with indignation, but she had been too long accustomed to obey the man, who, groping his way to her side, stood commandingly before her to resist his authority now, and mechanically tearing the note in pieces, she tossed them into the fire.
”Victor,” said Richard, wis.h.i.+ng to spare Edith the mortification of writing a second answer, ”tell the man from Gra.s.sy Spring that Mr. St. Claire can leave his keys at Collingwood.”
Victor departed with the message, and Edith, somewhat recovered from her pet, said,
”Isn't it queer, though, that Mr. St. Claire should ask to leave his keys with me? One would suppose he'd trust his cousin to rummage his goods and chattels sooner than a stranger.”
”He has his reasons, I dare say, for preferring you,” returned Richard, adding that he himself would go with her some day to Gra.s.sy Spring, and a.s.sist her in airing the house.
Toward the middle of the afternoon, the keys of Collingwood were delivered to Edith, together with a sealed note, containing a single line,
”The iron broken key unlocks the DEN.”
Had Arthur wished to puzzle Edith he could not have done so more effectually than he did by these few words.
”What do I care,” she said, ”which unlocks the Den. I certainly should not cross its threshold were the door left wide open. What does he mean?” and she was still wondering over the message when Grace Atherton was announced.
As she grew older Grace a.s.sumed a more familiar, youthful manner than had characterized her early womanhood, and now, tossing her riding hat and whip upon the bed, she sank into Edith's easy chair and began: ”The funniest thing imaginable has happened at Gra.s.sy Spring. His Royal Highness, Lord St. Claire, has flown into a violent pa.s.sion with Mrs. Johnson for having shown us into that room.”
”Shown YOU, you mean. I didn't go in,” interrupted Richard, and Grace continued, ”Well, shown ME, then, though I think you might at least share in the disgrace. I never saw Arthur as indignant as he was last night when he called on me. 'Women were curious, prying creatures, anyway,' he said, 'and he had no faith in any of them.'”
”Did he say so?” asked Edith, and Grace replied, ”Well, not exactly that. He did make a few exceptions, of which you are one.
Mrs. Johnson must have told him that you refused to enter. What harm was there, any way, and what's the room for? I'm beginning to grow curious. Here, he's dismissed Mrs. Johnson and her daughter, telling her if he could not trust her in small matters he could not in those of greater importance, and the good soul has taken the afternoon express for Boston, where she formerly lived. She says he paid her three months' extra wages, so he was liberal in that respect; but the strangest part of all is that he is going to Florida, where he has some claim to or owns a plantation of negroes, and he intends to bring a whole cargo of them to Gra.s.sy Spring--housekeeper, cook, chambermaid, coachman, gardener, and all. Don't you think he's crazy?”
Edith thought the facts would warrant such a conclusion, and Grace went on. ”I offered to take charge of his house, telling him it ought not to be shut up for several weeks, but he declined so haughtily, saying he should leave the keys with someone less curious than myself, and asked if I supposed YOU would be offended if he offered them to you. I told him no, and I dare say he will send them here, if indeed, he has not already done so. Has he?”
she asked, quickly, as she saw a peculiar smile on Edith's lip.
”Yes,” Edith answered, feeling the while SO glad that Richard had prevented her from sending that insulting note.
She knew now why the keys were given to her, and the fact that Arthur St. Claire trusted HER even before his own cousin, left a warm, happy spot in her heart. Upon second thought this act was not displeasing to Grace herself. It evinced a preference in Arthur for Edith Hastings, and on her way home she busied herself in building castles of the future, when Edith, as the wife of Arthur and mistress of Gra.s.sy Spring, would cease to be her rival.
As Grace had said, Mrs. Johnson and Rose, her daughter, were dismissed, the house was shut up, the owner gone, the keys in Edith's possession, and for many days the leaves of crimson and of gold drifted down upon the walks and lay piled beneath the windows and upon the marble steps, where they rested undisturbed, save when the evening wind whirled them in fantastic circles and then sent them back again to their first lodging place.
Occasionally Edith, on her spirited Bedouin, rode slowly by, glancing at the grounds and garden, where so many flowers were blossoming for naught, and then gazing curiously at the latticed windows looking out toward Collingwood. She knew which ones they were, though the blinds were closed tightly over them, and she wondered if the mystery of that room would ever be revealed to her. Once, as she was riding by, she saw a stranger standing upon the steps of the front door and pulling vehemently at the silver k.n.o.b which brought him no response. Reining Bedouin at the gate the waited until the gentleman, tired of ringing, came slowly down the walk, apparently absorbed in some perplexing thought. He did not see her until almost upon her, when, bowing politely, he said, ”I beg your pardon, Miss, can you tell me where Mr. St. Claire's to be found?”
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