CHAPTER XI.FILTHY LUCRE.
The next morning word was brought from the lodge that Mr. Rosevelt was quite ill, and not able to come up to the mansion for his breakfast.
“Breakfast, indeed!” muttered Mrs. Richards, with a toss of her proud head; “as if he supposed he was going to be invited to sit at the table with my fashionable guests in his shabby clothes.”
She had received a full account of his arrival and appearance from her husband the night previous, after Mr. Rosevelt’s departure for the lodge.
Mr. Richards went at once to see him, and to give orders to Mrs. Mellen, the wife of the gardener, to do everything for his comfort.
Later, his wife, with much inward fretting and fuming, followed his example, not because she had any desire to see him or felt in any way anxious about him, but to save unpleasant remarks and comments.
She met her uncle with anything but a cordial greeting, and which, even in the midst of his suffering, he could not fail to feel keenly.
“I am very sorry, Uncle Jacob, that you are ill, especially as I am full of company just now, and cannot personally give you the attention that you ought to receive,” she said, trying to speak sympathetically, but failing utterly.
“Never mind me, Ellen. Mrs. Mellen seems very kindly disposed, and will, no doubt, do all that is necessary for me. I am sorry to be a burden to you in my misfortune, but you have always been so kind to me, urging me so cordially to come to you at any time, that I thought you would be glad to see your old uncle under any circumstances,” the old man said, regarding her closely while he was speaking.
“I hope you will soon be better,” Mrs. Richards returned, evasively.
She did not think it necessary to tell him that he was no burden, or to say anything to make him feel comfortable and at ease in his trying situation.
She was so deeply disappointed and chagrined on account of the loss of his fortune, and consequently of her share of his million, that it was impossible not to betray something of her feelings.
“Thank you,” he returned, coldly. “Do not allow my condition to cause you any anxiety. I am very comfortable. It is very quiet here, and I shall doubtless do very well.”
“Yes; youwillbe more quiet here than up at the house, where there are so many people and so much going on,” she replied, eagerly seizing this pretext for keeping him where he was. “And,” she added, “if you need anything, Mrs. Mellen can attend to all your wants.”
After a few more commonplace remarks, she took her departure, feeling quite relieved to have him so easily disposed of. She had nothing to gain now by fawning and flattery, and since his gold was gone, he was no more to her than any other feeble old man, and it would not pay even to pretend what she did not feel.
As she went rustling out of the room and down stairs in her rich attire, her aged and dependent relative lay back in his chair, with a darkening brow and a pale, pained face.
“Money! money! money!” he muttered. “No one is ofmuch account in this world without plenty of the filthy lucre. If I had come here as I used to, with plethoric pockets instead of an empty purse and shabby attire, no one would have been sweeter or more delighted to see ‘dear Uncle Jacob’ than Ellen Richards. And it was just the same with Henry and his family. When I could make them costly presents and shower favors upon them—when I was ‘Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire’—no trouble was too great, nothing too good for me. It is a cold-hearted, selfish world;no oneis to be trusted. But it is a little hard on an old man to find that he must go down to his grave and feel that he is regarded with affection by nobody. Talk of ‘Divine dispensations,’ of ‘tempering the wind to the shorn lamb’—there is no divinity about it, for the adverse winds of the world never blew so coldly on me as at this moment,” he concluded, bitterly; and bowing his head upon his hands, he seemed to lose himself in troubled thought.
“May I come in?” asked a gentle voice behind him, after a few minutes; and turning, he saw two blue eyes gleaming at him from beneath soft curls of sunny hair, a pair of red lips smiling upon him, while a slight, graceful figure, daintily clad in a pretty blue lawn gown, stood in the door-way, waiting for his permission to enter.
Jacob Rosevelt’s sad face involuntarily brightened at the sight of this attractive picture, and he said, hastily:
“Well, well, child, I believe you are rightly named, for you come like a veritable star into the gloom of my life. Star Gladstone—it is but an index to your character, for you both brighten and cheer. Of course you may come in.”
“Thank you,” Star said, laughing, and advancing to his side. “I did not expect to be so highly complimented when I came out. I have brought you this lovely spray of oleanders which the gardener gave me from the conservatory,” and she held up her little vase containing the bright, fragrant blossoms. “And here,” she continued, “is a dish of the most delicious raspberriesyou ever tasted, every one picked by my own fingers,” and she held up her right hand, showing her slender fingers stained by the rosy fruit.
He watched her, his pale lips relaxing into a smile, which even extended to the eyes that had been so sad a little while before. She was irresistible in her bright beauty; she was as fresh and sweet as the morning itself, while with her heart filled with kindness and consideration for him, he began to think that all the world was not quite so bad as he had thought.
“Mrs. Mellen told me, as I came in, that you did not eat much breakfast,” Star continued; “and as she is about to serve you a little lunch, I brought my berries right up to give them to you myself.”
Mrs. Mellen entered at this moment, bearing a little tray with a tempting lunch spread upon it.
Star wheeled a small table to the invalid’s side, spread a spotless towel which she found upon the rack upon it, and then deftly arranged the dishes in the most tempting way before him, putting the oleander blossoms in the center and the raspberries just under his nose, where he could not fail to get their delicious odor and long to eat them.
“How pretty and inviting you make everything look, little one,” he said, affectionately, as he watched her graceful movements and their result.
“What would the world be but for the beauty there is in it? and what are pretty things given us for, but to enjoy?” Star returned, with a fond glance at the flowers, as she moved them a trifle nearer to his plate.
“There,” she went on, smiling, and tossing her hat upon a chair, “I believe I am hungry myself, and if you will allow me to pour your tea, I think I could eat a slice of Mrs. Mellen’s delicious bread and butter with you afterward. You don’t often see such bread as that, I can assure you, and I frequently run down here and beg her to give me some.”
The young girl shot a smiling glance at the woman as she spoke, and the woman’s face beamed with pleasure at this tribute to her skill.
“Bless you, child!” Mr. Rosevelt said, as he unfolded his napkin and drew nearer the table; “the sight of your bright face and the smell of your berries have given me an appetite already. Sit down, sit down; my tea will taste ten per cent. better to be poured by your fair hands, and while we eat you shall tell me how it has fared with you during the past year. I see it has not changedyouat heart; you are the same as when we parted, and you were as ready as ever last night to sacrifice your own comfort for a poor old man.”
Star blushed. She felt almost as guilty, knowing that there had been room for him at the house, as ifshehad been the one to turn him away.
“I knew these rooms were low and close, while my room, although rather high up, was much more airy; besides, you looked too tired and ill to walk way down here,” Star explained, with some embarrassment.
“Your own is rather high up, is it? How high?” he asked, giving her a keen glance.
“It is in the third story,” she answered, flushing again.
“Ah! onewouldbe apt to get good air in that latitude,” said Mr. Rosevelt, dryly. “Now tell me,” he added, “what you have been doing since I saw you.”
Star gave him an account of her life at school, omitting for several reasons to speak of the fate which had been intended for her, and said just as little as she could in connection with Mrs. Richards and her haughty daughter, or their treatment of her. She told him of her music, of the books she had read, and what her plans for the future were when she should graduate at the end of another year.
She spent more than an hour with him, and when at lengthshe left him, he was apparently much cheered and a good deal better for her visit.
She went every morning afterward while her vacation lasted, always taking him something in the way of fruit or flowers, and cheering him with her lively chatting, until he began to look for her coming as the chief event of the day.
Sometimes they would wander together through the beautiful grounds of Mr. Richards’ place, or, finding a cozy nook, Star would take some interesting book and read to him; and as the week went by, he appeared to improve in health and to grow more contented with his lot.
He continued to remain at the lodge, in spite of the fact that the company had all departed, and there was now plenty of room in the mansion.
Mr. Richards had gone West on a prolonged business trip, and, of course, could not use his influence as to any change; while Mrs. Richards appeared to ignore his presence entirely, unless she came upon him unexpectedly, when she would treat him with indifferent politeness.
Josephine’s attitude toward him was one of proud disdain, although once she professed great friendship for him; but now he was nothing more than an aged, decrepit man—a sort of “cumberer of the ground,” and simply tolerated because it would be considered inhuman to cast him out at that time of life.
In September Mrs. Richards and her daughter went to Long Branch for a change, leaving the household in charge of Mrs. Blunt.
Star began school again, going back and forth by rail, as the town house would not be opened again until October.
This made it hard for her, because she was obliged to go so early and return so late; but as her comfort was not a matter which usually demanded much consideration, and she made no complaint, the fact remained unnoticed.
During the absence of the family, Mr. Rosevelt frequented the house, for it was much more comfortable through those hot September days than his contracted room at the lodge, and he was glad to avail himself of the privilege of the well-stocked library to while away the long hours of Star’s absence.
In the evening she would entertain him with her music, while on Saturday they both felt like children out of school; and thus day by day they grew to feel a deep affection for each other.
“She at least does not love me for my money,” the old man would often mutter to himself, with a grim smile, after receiving some thoughtful attention from the young girl; “her affection is sincere and disinterested, and I pray that her gentle heart may never become seared and hardened by the cold world.”
He had long ago learned just how Star was regarded by the family, and how they had attempted to degrade her to the level of a common servant, and this did not tend to make him entertain any deeper respect for them.
His information on this point he had gathered chiefly from Mrs. Blunt. Star would not talk about it, always evading or changing the subject in a dextrous way that amused him in no small degree.
Meanwhile Josephine and her mother were flourishing among the fashionable at Long Branch.
The season proved to be a very gay one; every hotel was crowded, and many noted people from various countries were sojourning there.
Among others, the Richardses heard upon their arrival, there was a young English lord of great reputed wealth, having, it was said, the largest rent-roll in Derbyshire, England.
“They say he is the handsomest man in the place, as well as the richest,” Josephine said to her mother, the night after their arrival at the gay watering-place, having heard this pieceof news, with much else, from an intimate friend. “All the girls are wild about him,” she pursued. “Annie Falkner was introduced to him yesterday, and says he is as charming in conversation as he is in appearance.”
“How old is he?” asked Mrs. Richards, pricking up her maternal ears at once over this wonderful information.
“About twenty-one or two, Annie thought he might be. He has been traveling in this country for a year, just to see a little of the world before settling upon his own estate. It is whispered,” the eager damsel went on, with flushing cheeks and sparkling eyes, “that he has heard of the beauty of American ladies, and is on the lookout for a handsome wife;” and Josephine tossed her head with a conscious smile, as her eyes wandered to the reflection of her own fine face and figure in an opposite mirror.
“That is somewhat doubtful, I think, since the English nobility are very jealous regarding marriages outside the pale of their own rank. However, such things are happening every year now, and this young lord may be captivated by some of our American beauties, after all;” and Mrs. Richards bestowed a glance of pride upon her handsome daughter, and thought how delightful it would be to figure as mother-in-law to an English lord, and to be able to say, “my daughter, Lady So-and-So.”
That evening Josephine Richards, the most brilliant girl in the ball-room of the Howard House—the hotel where they were stopping—was made supremely happy by receiving an introduction to Lord Carrol, of Carrolton, Derbyshire, England.
One look into the frank, handsome eyes of the manly stranger, one touch of his hand, one tone of his rich, musical voice as it vibrated in her ears, and she knew that she had met the man whom she should love with the one great passion of her life.
He was tall, with a well-developed form, straight, strong, andlithe; a splendidly shaped head, with masses of waving brown hair; clear, truthful, brown eyes, full of fire and intelligence; a full, rather low brow, a straight nose, and a smiling but decided mouth, with brilliant, even teeth.
It was not much wonder that the “girls were wild” over such a man as this, and he a lord, with a rent-roll of sixty thousand a year.
Josephine herself, at nineteen, was a magnificent-looking girl, at least when she was good-natured and animated.
She was a clear, brilliant brunette, with eyes as black as night, a wealth of midnight hair, a fine form, and clearly cut, rather delicate features; and all this, added to a faultless taste in matters of dress, went far toward making her the chief attraction wherever she went.
My Lord of Carrolton seemed no less pleased with her than she with him, and spent a goodly portion of the evening by her side after making her acquaintance, much to the chagrin and indignation of other anxious, blooming maidens and fond, managing mammas.
“Have you ever visited Europe?” the young peer asked his companion, as he led her to a seat at the conclusion of a quadrille.
“Never, my lord, but I think we shall persuade papa to take us upon a European trip by another year. Mamma has some distant relatives, I believe, somewhere in England,” Josephine replied.
“I trust you will be as well pleased with my country and countrymen as I am with America and Americans,” Lord Carrol remarked, gallantly, with an inclination of his grand head, and bestowing a look of admiration upon his companion.
Josephine flushed with pleasure. His glance, his gesture, his words, all plainly indicated that he did not consider her the least attraction in America or among Americans.
“Thank you, in the name of my native land,” she said;“but I think you must be an exception to the proverbial Englishman, for I have been told that, as a rule, they do not like us any too well. They cannot forgive us our independence.”
“One may be forced to admire in one way that which it might not be pleasant to contemplate in another,” his lordship returned. “But,” he added, “I trust that as we, as nations, become better acquainted with each other by the frequent interchange of courtesies, we shall also become better friends.”
“Have you been long in America?”
“Nearly a year. I have visited a large portion of the country, and I must confess that I am greatly pleased and interested in what I have seen, and particularly so with your free institutions and schools. Your people, too, are generous, free-hearted, and intelligent, while the beauty of American ladies, you know, is proverbial,” he concluded, smiling.
Josephine’s dark eyes drooped shyly beneath his glance, while the blood went rippling to her heart with a thrill such as she had never before experienced.
“I shall remain two or three months longer,” he continued; “and I think when I do return, notwithstanding I love old England very dearly, I shall go with something of regret.”
He would remain two or three months longer.
Josephine’s heart leaped exultingly; she would meet him often, perhaps, this noble young peer; and what might not happen in two or three months?
“Do you remain long at Long Branch?” she asked.
“Three or four weeks, perhaps. I find it very pleasant here,” he said; and again that thrill leaped through her veins. “I shall then go to New York,” he added, “where I shall make my headquarters until I return to England.”
“Perhaps we can help to make your stay in New York pleasant,” Josephine said, with her most brilliant smile. “Mamma and I are to remain here until the first of October, when weshall go home, and can, perhaps, help to show you more of our great city than you would otherwise see.”
“Thanks; I shall be very happy to avail myself of your kindness. But there is the signal for supper; may I take you in?”
It is needless to say that the fascinated girl accepted his invitation, and spent the hour feasting more upon the young lord’s handsome looks and charming conversation than upon the choice viands which he placed before her.
It was evident that he also experienced pleasure in her society, for, when he took her to Mrs. Richards—as she made a signal that she wished to retire from the company—and was introduced to her, and then accompanied them both to the foot of the staircase leading to their apartments, he asked and obtained permission to call upon them on the morrow.