CHAPTER X.THE UNWELCOME GUEST.
On the very evening of the day of that spirited discussion between Mr. and Mrs. Richards regarding the coming of the latter’s uncle, a railway carriage stopped before the door of their mansion, and an old man alighted.
He was dusty and travel-stained; his hair and beard were white as snow; his clothing—a common business suit—considerably the worse for the wear; while he wore a dark-green visor or shade over his eyes, and appeared both weary and feeble.
He inquired of the servant who answered his ring for Mrs. Richards, and was told in an indifferent, almost impudent, manner that she was “engaged.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the visitor, lifting the green shade and giving the man a keen look; “where is your master?”
“In the library,” was the rather more respectful answer.
“Show me the way there,” commanded the stranger, authoritatively; and the servant turned with a subdued air to obey him, recognizing at once his superior in spite of the travel-stained, shabby clothing.
Mr. Richards received his wife’s relative with every appearance of cordiality, although there was a restraint in his manner which could be felt rather than explained.
“Ah, Uncle Jacob!” he said, as he shook him by the hand and took his hat from him; “we hardly thought you could arrive quite so soon. I should have looked for you to-morrow, however. Sit down—sit down; and, John,” turning to the man who had shown him in, “tell Mrs. Blunt to fix up a nice little supper and send it in here on a tray.”
“Don’t put yourself out, George; anything will do for to-night. I am more tired than hungry,” the old man said, sinking into a luxurious chair with a weary sigh, and removing the green shade entirely from his eyes.
Mr. Richards fidgeted and looked uneasy.
He knew that there was not a room in the house that his wife would give up; every one had been arranged for company who were expected or had already arrived, and he was at his wits’ end to know what to do with him.
“Uncle Jacob” poor and ill was an entirely different character from “Uncle Jacob” rich and prosperous.
But he sat chatting socially with him until Mrs. Blunt appeared with a tray and served a tempting little meal, which the old gentleman ate with evident relish.
“Iwasmore hungry than I thought,” he said, when at length he had finished his second cup of tea, eaten the leg of a chicken and a couple of rolls. “Now, if you please, I should like to be shown to my room, for I have traveled a long distance to-day. But—where is Ellen? I should like to exchange greetings with her before I go.”
“Ahem!” began Mr. Richards, feeling extremely uncomfortable. “Ellen has a house full of company to-night; if you could excuse her, and wait until to-morrow——”
“Certainly—certainly,” the old man said, hastily, but in adisappointed tone; for his niece had always been the first to greet him and express her delight at his coming heretofore.
“And,” continued his host, growing very red in the face, “I am very sorry, but—every room in the house is taken. Would you mind sleeping at the lodge until we can make a place for you?”
The old gentleman bent a keen glance upon the speaker at this.
He saw his embarrassment, marked his averted eye and shamefaced air, and mistrusted something of its cause.
“Sleep at the lodge?” he repeated, in a peculiar tone. “Oh, no; I’ve just come from Henry’s, where I slept over the stable.Theyhad a ‘house full of company,’ too. Is the lodge far from here? You know I’ve never been in this house before.”
“About two minutes’ walk; I will go with you and see that you are made comfortable. It is too bad that things should happen so,” Mr. Richards said, with real regret as he saw how weary the traveler was, and he had half a mind to ring and command that he be shown into one of the guest chambers in spite of his wife’s objections.
“Never mind, George; I shall sleep just as well there as here, no doubt,” and he arose as if anxious to get away.
“Where is your baggage? I will attend to having what you need sent down,” Mr. Richards remarked, as he took up his hat to accompany him.
“I have nothing but a small valise,” was the reply. “You know I wrote you that I had been very unfortunate. I was on board the —— that was lost last fall, and everything I had on board went down.”
“On board the —— were you?” cried Mr. Richards, in surprise, and glad of any change in the subject of conversation. “Why, then you must have known Star, as she was also on that steamer.”
“Star—Star Gladstone, do you mean?” eagerly inquired Mr.Rosevelt, for it was he, as doubtless the reader has surmised before this.
“Yes, Star, or Stella Gladstone, is her name.”
Mr. Rosevelt sat down again, his face full of interest and animation now, and forgetting his weariness for the time in his desire to learn something of the beautiful girl to whom he was so deeply indebted.
“Where is she?” he asked. “What do you know—what can you tell me about her?”
“She is here in this house,” Mr. Richards answered. “She is the child of one of my wife’s relatives who resided in England, and Ellen, upon learning that she was an orphan and homeless, consented to have her come here,” he concluded, trying to make the best of a very poor story.
“I never expected to hear anything of her again, but I am very glad to know that she is here,” Mr. Rosevelt said, with evident emotion. “She saved my life during that awful time, almost at the sacrifice of her own. It would, perhaps, have been better had she not exerted herself in my behalf so much. It is not a pleasant feeling to know that one is regarded as an incumbrance and a burden,” he continued, with some bitterness; “but I shall never forget her heroism while I live. She nearly starved herself to death to keep life in me.”
“I am astonished at what you tell me,” returned Mr. Richards, feeling a deeper interest in Star than ever before.
“She disappeared very suddenly from the steamer which picked us up and brought us into port. I went down to my state-room for something, and then to the captain to thank him for his kindness and bid him farewell, and when I went to look for her she had gone; some one had come and taken her away.”
“Yes; we heard of the arrival of a steamer with some of the wrecked on board, and Ellen immediately sent Mrs. Blunt down to see if Star was among them,” explained Mr. Richards.
“She must be a pleasant addition to your family, George; she was a very attractive girl.”
“Ahem!” that gentleman replied, avoiding the keen eye fixed upon him. “Yes; she is a smart and talented girl; she will make a fine woman, without doubt. Would you like to see her to-night?”
“No; I believe I am too tired. I will go to the lodge now, if you please. I can see her to-morrow;” and the old man arose again.
Mr. Richards led the way from the room, getting his baggage from the hall, and then took him through the dining-room to lead him out by a side door.
As they passed through the hall, sounds of music and laughter came to them from the drawing-room; and had any one been watching Mr. Rosevelt closely, he might have seen his lips curl with something like scorn and his eyes gleam indignantly, in spite of his weariness.
As Mr. Richards opened the outside door leading out upon the veranda, a slight figure sprang up from the step, and Star, with a startled glance, turned and confronted them.
A look of surprise swept over her face as she saw Mr. Richards’ companion; then, with a low cry of joy, she darted forward and seized Mr. Rosevelt by the hand.
“Oh, sir,” she said, tremulously, “I was afraid I should never see you again! How glad I am to meet you once more!”
Mr. Rosevelt recognized her at once, and recognized, too, the heartiness and sincerity of her welcome. There was nothing forced or constrained about either her words or manner.
“Ah, Miss Star, I am as glad to see you as you can possibly be to see me,” he said, shaking her hand warmly. “I little thought,” he went on, “that when you and I were faring so poorly together that we were bound for the same place. I intendedthen to come here before this. Why did you not tell me that you were a relative of Mrs. Richards?”
“I did not think much about it, sir, or that my destination could interest you,” she answered.
“Tut, tut, child!” he said, gently; “anythingconnected with you would have been of interest to me after your kindness to me. I was deeply disappointed to find you gone when I went to seek you; but they told me that some one had come and taken you away, so I was forced to go my way also. Well,” he concluded, smiling, “I have found you now, and I shall not lose sight of you again.”
“But are you going away now, sir?” Star asked, glancing at the bag Mr. Richards was carrying, and which had the initials “J. R.” painted upon it.
“No; only to the lodge for sleeping accommodations, as there is no room in the house for me.”
“No room in the house for you?” Star repeated, in astonishment; but something in Mr. Richards’ face warned her that all was not as he would wish, and she added, flushing: “I wish you would take my room, then; for I can sleep very nicely on the lounge in the sewing-room.”
Mr. Richards raved inwardly over his wife’s obstinacy and heartlessness, which compared so unfavorably with this gentle girl’s generosity and self-denial; but he could only hold his peace and let matters take their course, for if he interfered with his wife in her present state of bitterness and disappointment over the loss of her expected fortune, he knew that a domestic squall would be sure to follow, and one which it would be hard to settle.
“No, thank you, Miss Star,” Mr. Rosevelt returned; “I will go to the lodge until there is room for me in the house. You are as kind and self-sacrificing as ever, I perceive, but I will not deprive you of your room. Good-night, my child; I shall see you to-morrow.”
He laid his hand in a tender, caressing way on her head; then went out with Mr. Richards, whom he enlightened still further regarding that eventful voyage which he and Star had made together.
She stood still in the door-way looking after them, a puzzled expression on her face, a gleam of indignation in her large blue eyes.
She had overheard Mrs. Richards telling Josephine something about “Uncle Jacob,” that afternoon after leaving her husband.
The name had made her think of Mr. Rosevelt, and he had been in her thoughts most of the time since; but she had not imagined that they were referring to him, or that he was a relative of the family. Now she saw that he was the “Uncle Jacob” to whom she referred, but she could not understand his being sent out of the house to sleep.
“No room in the house! What can they mean?” she murmured, with tingling cheeks, for she knew of three unoccupied beds that he might have had as well as not.
To be sure they had been made up for company that was expected, but the visitors would not arrive for a day or two, and it seemed such an inhospitable thing to send that old man away down to the lodge, with its close, small rooms, to sleep.
“I hope I shall never be rich if it would make me hardhearted like that,” she said, with indignation. “I would prefer to struggle all my life with poverty, and have a kind and generous heart—one that can feel for others in trouble and sorrow. How tired and ill he looked, too,” she went on, recalling his pale face and drooping attitude, “and he is such a splendid man!”
“It makes me think of those other words,” she said, the tears springing to her eyes: “‘And there was no room in the inn,’ and of One who, in consequence, had to lie in a manger.Thatcould not be helped, for therewasno room; but this isshameful, for there is plenty and to spare here. How can any one treat one’s father’s brother so?”