CHAPTER IVTHE LEGACY OF JEWELS

“In falling my head struck against the base of a pillar, cutting a severe gash in my forehead, which, with the blow, nearly cost me my life—there is the scar now, dear.”

The old lady lifted the silvery hair from her forehead, revealing a white seam about an inch in length.

Brownie reached over and pressed her red lips upon it. The act nearly unnerved Miss Mehetabel again.

“I was taken to a room in the house,” she went on, “put to bed, and a physician sent for, but it was hours before I recovered consciousness, and the doctor said I had had a marvelous escape.

“I lay for days listening, trying to catch the echo of Roy’s footsteps, and once or twice I fancied I heard it, and the deep, rich tones of his voice, asking some eager question. Then the sound would die away, and I thought my ears and my longing heart had deceived me, for he never came, and I was too proud and hurt to send for him.

“At last one day my maid brought me in a little note.

“I saw and recognized the handwriting as soon as she opened the door.

“‘Give it to me, quick!’ I cried, my heart bounding at the sight of it.

“With trembling fingers I tore it open and read these cold, formal words:

“‘Will Miss Douglas kindly favor me with an interview, if she is strong enough to endure it? and oblige,

“‘Royal Dunforth.’

“I nearly shrieked at the icy words—my nerves were still unstrung, and they hurt me as nothing else had ever done before.

“Was he coming to blame me—to charge me with the disgrace I had brought upon him and myself, and then cast me off forever? Had I sinned past all forgiveness? I asked myself again and again.

“I seized a pencil and wrote:

“‘Yes, come at once, if you can forgive your repentant

“‘Meta.’

“I folded and enclosed it in an envelope, without sealing it, and giving it to a maid, told her to carry it down to Lord Dunforth, who, she said, was awaiting an answer.

“I did wrong to send him a written reply. I ought to have gone to him, even if I had been obliged to crawl upon my hands and knees to do so; but I was weak—I had not yet left my room, was able only to sit up for an hour or two at a time, and I thought, of course, he could come to me. I never dreamed of treachery.”

“Treachery, auntie!” exclaimed Brownie, who was intensely interested in the sad tale.

“Ah, treachery, child, as you will soon see, and I might have known it, too, had my wits been about me.

“The maid came back almost immediately.

“I looked up in surprise as she entered.

“‘Why are you back so soon?’ I demanded.

“‘I met Miss Helen on the stairs,’ she answered, ‘and she told me Lord Dunforth was in the drawing-room, and she would take the note to him.’”

“I could not say anything, but I did not like it even then; I did not like Helen Capel to be the bearer of any message from me to my lover. I liked her far less since the ball than I had ever done before, for I believed she had tried to make all this trouble for me. I had refused to see her during my sickness, although she had called a number of times, and had also sent me beautiful flowers.

“I lay two hours, listening for my loved one’s tread on the stairs. I had not a doubt but that he would obey my message and come to me. But at last I heard gay voices in the hall, then his deep, rich tones gravely saying ‘good-morning’ to some one, after which came the sound of closing doors, and I knew he had gone.

“With a heart like lead, I bade the maid go down and ask Miss Capel if she had given Lord Dunforth my message.

“She came back, saying that Miss Capel said, ‘Certainly, she had given his lordship the message.’

“Then it came to me that I had made a condition in my note—I had said if he could forgive me, to come to me.

“He could not forgive me, therefore he would not come, and, without even a word of farewell, he had left me forever.

“I cannot tell all that I suffered, Brownie. I know I raved against the injustice of Heaven in permitting such sorrow to come upon me, and in shutting out the light of my life from me. I cursed Helen Capel, her brother, and the Count de Lussan for their part in the drama; but most of all, I cursed myself for having allowed myself to become their dupe.

“I insisted at once upon returning to my own home, where I was again prostrated, and for another long month lay sick and weak, and praying to die; and thus my weddingday passed. Oh, who can tell the blackness of despair which came over me as that day came and went. I was to have been a happy wife, proud and blessed in the love of a noble man. Instead, I was a heart-broken girl, wailing out my life in loneliness. A homeless beggar in the street was not more wretched than I.

“Another month went by, and I was at length thought able to ride out; and one day my father took me out to Richmond Park, where we spent an hour or two driving about.

“On our return, when about two miles from the city, I saw Lord Dunforth’s elegant carriage, with its span of black horses, approaching. He was driving himself, and a lady whom I did not know sat by his side.

“With my brain on fire, and my heart quivering with pain, I sat like a statue, watching his every movement, noting his every expression.

“He gave a sudden start, which I could see shook his whole frame, while an expression of pain passed over his features. His face grew pale as my own, and he leaned forward with an eager look in his eyes, as if about to speak. Oh, if I had only smiled, if I had but spoken one word, all would have been well even then; but I did not, and drawing himself erect again, he inclined his head with haughty grace, and was gone.

“Many times I longed to write him a line, begging him to come to me, if only for an hour, that I might hear him say he forgave me; many times I had the pen in my hand to do so, but pride whispered, ‘you are sick and feeble, it is his place to come to you, not yours to beg his presence;’ and so we, who to-day might have been united and loving, were parted forever.

“My parents decided soon after to take me abroad, as the physician said my health would never improve unless I had some change, and we set sail for the United States early in May.

“In July, after our arrival here, they both sickened and died very suddenly, and I was left alone a stranger in a strange country.

“I could not return to England, where I had suffered and lost so much, and I could not remain here alone. Accordingly,I wrote to my brother, begging him to take his family and come to me. I had often heard him say he would like to live in America. I commissioned him to settle the estate, as far as I was concerned, to the best of his ability, and bring me the proceeds when he came.

“To my great comfort, he consented to my request, and in October arrived in New York with his wife and child—their son, who was your father, Brownie.

“We decided to make our home in this city, having spent some time in traveling, and finding no other place we liked so well; and here they lived until God called them, and here I have lived ever since.

“Five years after our arrival we heard that Lord Dunforth had married Helen Capel’s cousin, Lady Leonie Herford, and just three months later I learned that but for Miss Capel’s treachery I might have been his wife.”

“Oh, auntie! only just three months after his marriage!” exclaimed Brownie, in deep distress.

“Yes, dear, those three months were all that stood between me and my future happiness; but what matters it if it had been but a day, or an hour even, if it were that much too late?

“I found out that Miss Capel never gave that note of mine to Lord Dunforth, but told him instead that I utterly refused to see him then and ever after.

“When he met me driving afterward, and I did not even recognize him, but sat so cold and indifferent, he was confirmed in the truth of her statement. I was told that it was a terrible blow to him, for he loved me, and would have made me his wife notwithstanding all that had passed. He left England almost immediately after we sailed for America, and did not return until a year before his marriage.”

“Who told you all this, auntie?”

“A friend of his lordship told my brother, who met him while he was traveling in this country. He did not know the truth of the matter regarding the note I sent, until brother told him, and I do not suppose Lord Dunforth knows to this day of Helen Capel’s treachery, or that she was the cause of our separation.

“Now, darling,” concluded Miss Mehetabel, with a littletremulous smile which was sadder than tears, “you know the reason why I am an old maid.”

“Did Miss Capel ever marry?” Brownie asked.

“Yes, the year following Lord Dunforth’s marriage; but I have forgotten the name of her husband.”

“If you had discovered her treachery before his marriage would you have sought a reconciliation?”

“Certainly, dear, for I know that he loved me with a love as true and strong as my own for him, and this makes me think to caution you, never to let pride stand in the way of your happiness. If I had hushed the voice of pride, and written his lordship to come to me, when I so longed to do so, all would have been well even then.”

“I should like to have known Lord Dunforth, auntie—I mean I should like to see the man whom you would choose,” the young girl said, musingly, and not heeding the advice just given.

In after months she remembered it.

A look of keen pain swept over the old lady’s face, but she had fully recovered her self-possession now.

“Go and bring me a little ebony box, dear, which you will find in the third drawer of my dressing-case,” she said.

Brownie arose to obey, and soon returned, bringing a beautiful casket about twelve inches square and eight deep. It was inlaid with pearl and gold, in lovely designs, and was quite heavy for anything so small.

Miss Mehetabel took a delicate chain from her neck, to which was attached a tiny golden key.

Her hand shook as with the palsy, as she inserted the key in its lock.

“This has not been opened for forty years, my child, and I feel as if I were about to look upon the dead,” she said, in a voice that shook, despite her efforts to control it.

“Don’t open it now, then, Aunt Meta. I cannot bear you to live over this sorrow for me,” Brownie answered, a feeling of awe stealing over her at Miss Mehetabel’s words.

“I will look once more before I die, dear, and I wish to tell you about these things, which are to be yours when I am gone.”

She turned the key as she spoke, and lifted the jeweled cover, and Brownie uttered a cry of delight at the sight which greeted her eyes.

There, upon their blue velvet bed, gleamed such jewels as she had never seen before.

In the center lay a beautiful diamond necklace, with ear-pendants to match. Then there was a coral and diamond cross, with a hair ornament, in the shape of a butterfly, to match. A tiara composed of pearls, opals, and diamonds, with a cross for the neck. Rings of pearls, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds; one, a large pearl, surrounded by six small, pure diamonds, Miss Mehetabel took up tenderly in her hand.

“This,” she said, while her lips quivered, “Lord Dunforth put upon my finger when he told me of his love. It has never been there since that day, when I believed he went away from me forever of his own accord. These other jewels were given me in honor of my approaching marriage, but I have never worn any of them, excepting this coral and diamond cross which Royal gave me, and which I wore to that ball, where I lost everything dear in life. I have no use for them, and henceforth they are all yours, dear, to do as you like with—if ever you feel that you can wear them for my sake, I wish you to do so.”

“Oh, auntie, they seem too precious for me to wear; they seem like something sacred to me,” the young girl said, reverently, while her eyes lingered upon their beauty.

“Then you will prize them all the more, dear, and I am glad that it is so—you will never wear them lightly, and they will never grow valueless to you. You have the cuff buttons already which Lord Dunforth gave me the same time with the coral cross.”

“Are those—did you give them to me?” stammered Brownie, feeling that she had almost been sacrilegious in wearing anything so precious, and not know it.

“Yes, dear, they were the only articles of his giving which I ever permitted myself to wear, and then only a few times. So, feeling that they ought to do somebody some good, I had them marked for you for your last birthday.”

“I shall never wear them again without feeling thatthey are tenfold more precious than ever before,” the young girl said, with starting tears.

She little knew that even then one of them was lost. She had removed her linen ulster upon returning home, and left her cuffs hanging in it.

Miss Mehetabel now lifted the velvet bed, and laid it with all its glittering wealth upon the table near which she sat. Beneath it lay a locket of blue enamel and gold, studded with diamonds; a little bunch of dried flowers, a crumpled card, and a pair of soiled white kid gloves.

“These,” Miss Mehetabel said, touching the flowers, “I wore in my hair that night, fastened with the butterfly; and these are the gloves—they bear the last touch of his hand. This is the card on which the Count de Lussan wrote his name.”

She took up the locket with a tender touch.

“This contains the face of the one man on earth to me. Open it, dear—I cannot.”

Brownie took it, the great tears rolling over her flushed cheeks. It seemed so inexpressibly sad, and as if she, too, were about to look upon the face of the dead.

She pressed the spring and it flew open. From one side of it there gazed up at her the dark, noble face of a man about twenty-five years of age.

The fair girl gazed upon it for several moments in silence, then heaving a deep sigh, she said, softly:

“He was grand, auntie!”

“Put it away,” said Miss Mehetabel, with white lips, “and when I am dead come and get this chain and key, and wear it around your own neck as long as you live.”

Little did that fond old lady dream of the pain and shame which that legacy of jewels would bring upon the fair girl whom she so loved.

Back to Index Next