CHAPTER XVI.A GREAT SHOCK.
The next morning, on descending to her breakfast, Star found the whole house in a state of great excitement.
On asking Mrs. Blunt the meaning of it, that good but evidently much disturbed woman informed her that a “real liveEnglish lord was expected to arrive the following day, and Mrs. Richards had given orders that everything be done up in the grandest style possible.”
“A lord?” Star said, smiling—she had seen many a lord, and had not been very crushingly impressed with a sense of her own inferiority and insignificance in consequence—“a lord, Mrs. Blunt?” she repeated, laughing. “You will find him simply a man, very much like the rest of mankind. He will eat, and sleep, and talk, and walk exactly like anybody else. But what may his lordship’s name be, and what brings him here?” she concluded, with some curiosity.
“Lor’, Miss Star, you take it pretty coolly, or I’m much mistaken,” Mrs. Blunt remarked, with an admiring glance at the girl’s bright face; “but I suppose it’s because you’re accustomed to seeing ’em, being English yourself. But a lord is considered some pumpkins on this side of the water—at least, madam appears to think so, since he was courting Miss Josephine all the time down at Long Branch, and she hopes to have him for a son-in-law one of these fine days.”
Star looked surprised at this bit of information. Mrs. Richards and Josephine had been home a week, and she had heard nothing of this before, although the subject had been pretty thoroughly discussed among the servants of the household. But she had been so intent upon her studies and music, going from home so early and returning so late, and keeping her own room so much, that it was nothing strange.
“Is Miss Josephine engaged to him?” she asked.
“Couldn’t say positive, Miss Star, as to that; but if she ain’t, she’s expecting to be, and doing her prettiest to catch him, or I’m much mistaken. She’s talked of nothing else since she got home; and the beautiful dresses she’s bought, and the grand things she’s been planning to do when he comes, would fill a book if rightly writ up. It’s a mystery to me howanybody so grand and mighty can walk on two legs like the rest of us common mortals,” she concluded, with grim humor.
Star laughed merrily.
Evidently Mrs. Blunt, as a loyal subject of a democratic country, did not look forward to the advent of this young sprig of nobility with very much relish.
“You have not told me his name yet,” Star said.
“Carrol—my Lord Carrol, of Carrolton, Derbyshire, England, and goodness knows what else,” Mrs. Blunt replied, spitefully, but with a toss of her head so exactly in imitation of Josephine when that young lady went soaring among the clouds, that Star was infinitely amused.
“Lord Carrol, of Carrolton,” she repeated, reflectively. “I have never heard of any one by that name, and we lived in Derbyshire, too; but of course there are a great many people there of whom I know nothing.”
“That’s true, no doubt; but his being a lord don’t make him any the better worth your knowing, according to my way of thinking. But, gracious me! I mustn’t stand here talking, when there are such heaps of work to be done;” and the excited woman began to bustle about the room with decidedly more of energy than grace.
“Now, Mrs. Blunt,” Star said, picking up an apron and tying it around her slim waist, “since you have such ‘heaps’ to do, let me do something to help you.”
“Bless you, child! you sha’n’t touch a thing. You ain’t going to spoil those pretty fingers for the piano, lord or no lord. I was baking and preserving all day yesterday, and had no time to make the black cake that madam gave orders for, so I suppose I’ve got it to do to-day, if ’tis Sunday.”
“And you’ve got all those raisins to seed, those currants to clean, and that citron to slice. It is too bad, Mrs. Blunt, and on this holy Sabbath, too,” Star said, gravely, while she heaveda regretful sigh as she glanced from the window and saw the bright sunshine tinting everything with a golden light.
“Can’t help it; it’s got to be done,” the housekeeper responded, grimly. “I expect,” she went on, her thin lips curling with a curious expression of scorn, “if madam don’t work herself on Sunday she thinks she’s keeping the Sabbath in a proper manner and according to law and gospel, no matter how much her servants may have to do. I’ve a notion that perhapsherBible don’t read likemine; that part where it says ‘thou, nor thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant,’ must have been left out of those velvet covers of hers. But you go away, Miss Star. If I’ve got to break one of the ‘thou shalt nots,’ you ain’t going to be a partner in my sin,” she concluded, as the young girl sat down to the table and began to open a large package of raisins which lay there.
“No, indeed, Mrs. Blunt, I am not going away; I am going to help you; and if we work nimbly together, perhaps we can get through in season to go over to the chapel for evening service;” and she pulled out a great bunch of the fruit and began to pick it from the stems.
“Miss Star, I couldn’t consent to it no way; I couldn’t have it on my conscience that you should do it,” the woman returned, real distress pictured on her honest face.
“Now, be reasonable, Mrs. B., do,” Star said, coaxingly. “If you had so much to do yesterday that youcouldn’tdo this work, and itmustbe done to-day,Ishall not feel that I am doing anything wrong to help you, andI’m going to.”
“Well,” the housekeeper said, with a sigh of resignation, “that cake has got to be baked to-day, and it would take me six mortal hours to clean that fruit alone, let alone the making and baking. I’m sure it’s real good of you to offer to help me, but—there are your fingers, Miss Star——”
“I know it, and nimble ones you’ll find them, too,” interrupted the young girl, smiling. “Now, don’t raise any moreobjections, there’s a good soul, for Imayhave to do this kind of work for myself sometime,” she went on, with a slight flush, and drooping her white lids to hide the happiness in her eyes, “and I should really like you to teach me how, although I must confess Sunday would not be the day that I shouldchooseon which to learn to cook;” and, without more ado, she bent over her self-imposed task, while Mrs. Blunt turned aside to heave a sigh of relief and wipe a tear from her eyes; “for,” as she told the house-maid afterward, “it was no fool of a job to get nine pounds of fruit ready for cake, and the day had looked longer than the first twelve chapters of Chronicles, with their sons and son’s sons, which her father had made her learn when, as a child, she had played truant from her Sunday-school.”
Hour after hour Star patiently worked with the tired woman, helping to stone the raisins, stem the currants, and slice the citron; and when at last the fragrant fruit was all mixed and floured ready for the cake that was to test the digestive organs of the notable lord, she beat the eggs, browned the flour, and waited upon the housekeeper until the savory mess was finished and put in the pans.
“Two mortal hours it will take me to bake it, and then it will be ready for the confectioner to ice,” she said, as she slipped it into the oven and shut the door upon it with a sigh of relief.
“Blessings on you, child,” she added, gratefully, “for your kind heart and willing fingers, and when you’re married, if I’m living, I’ll make your wedding-cake for you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Blunt; I shall not forget your promise, you may be sure,” laughed the happy girl, as, flushed and tired, but with a light heart after the performance of a kind act, she sought her own room to rest and think of the manly lover who was to come in a day or two, and to wonder if Mrs. Blunt would really make her wedding-cake.
She could not feel that she had been guilty of any wrong in lending her aid to the weary and overworked woman below, even though she had spent long hours of that Sabbath in labor; and when, as the evening bells called to prayer, and the glorious harvest moon came sailing up from the east, flooding all the earth with beauty, they wended their way together to the chapel of which Star had spoken in the morning, and where she loved to go because everything was so quiet and unostentatious, a peculiar peace seemed to pervade her heart, and a voice, as of some angel, to whisper the benison “well done.”
Monday all day the greatest excitement prevailed, as on the preceding day, in the Richards’ mansion, for its ambitious mistress had determined to make a favorable impression upon the young lord whom she was anxious to secure as a son-in-law, and accordingly spared neither pains nor expense to make her house and hospitality as imposing as possible.
Star was away, as usual, all day at school, and therefore was not mixed up in the confusion; but, upon her return, she could imagine something of what had been done, for the house was a perfect bower of beauty, and order, and cleanliness from top to bottom.
Flowers of the choicest description were everywhere; fresh draperies had been put up wherever they were needed, and most tastefully arranged; the servants were all arrayed in immaculate suits, and went tiptoeing around with that air of importance and expectancy which betrayed the interest they felt in the arrival of an English peer; while Mrs. Richards and Josephine were perfectly gorgeous in new dresses of latest fashion and most artistic design.
The coach, with its burnished trimmings and its span of spirited bays in their gold-mounted harness, was standing before the door, ready to go to the station to meet the expected guest; and with all these evidences of preparation around her, Starwould have been less than human not to have experienced some curiosity regarding my “Lord Carrol, of Carrolton.”
“Well, it may be one of the ‘good times that I can’t be in,’ as poor Glory McGuirk would say; but then I hadmygood time yesterday, and I don’t know as I care very much,” she thought, with a smile half sad, half tender, as she watched the carriage containing Josephine and her father whirl away in grand style to the station.
However, thinking it might be expected of her to make a good appearance in case she should happen to meet the distinguished stranger, she changed her school dress for a fresh, blue lawn, trimmed with a dainty white edging, spanned her small waist with a broad belt, and fastened a bunch of waxen snow-drops at her throat.
She had no jewels, no elaboratelingerielike Josephine with which to make herself attractive; but she had a way of giving herself such a touch of elegance with these little accessories, despite her simple attire, that no one could pass her by unnoticed; and now, with that new-born smile of happiness on her ripe lips, that light of love and hope in her eyes, and the coming and going color in her cheeks, she was fairest of the fair.
When her toilet was completed she sat down by her window—which, although in the third story, was upon the front of the house, where she could look directly down upon the porch, and also commanded a view of the winding avenue which led down to the road—to watch for the return of the coach and the coming of the illustrious guest.
Sitting there, she fell to musing—to thinking of the time when she should go back to dear old England, the land of her birth, the home of her love.
Only a few months more and her course of study would be finished; a little more of faithful application to her books, alittle season of patience and forbearance, then a life of brightness and happiness.
Some one would come for her then, and she would go away forever from the slights, and sneers, and malice which had made her life so cheerless and forlorn, so hard to endure during the past year.
So absorbed did she become thinking of this, that she did not hear the carriage when it turned in at the gate and came smoothly rolling up over the hard, graveled drive-way, and it had almost reached the door before she was aware that at last the noted, titled stranger had arrived.
She leaned out to look as the spirited horses were reined in before the porch, and the sound of laughter and gay voices came floating up to her ears.
A tall, darkly clad figure sprang out and held forth a hand to assist Josephine to alight; but a massive post was in the way, and she could not see his face. Mr. Richards followed the young people, and they all passed up the steps together.
It was a pretty picture that she looked down upon, for now she could see all that transpired. Mrs. Richards, handsome as any queen in her elegant black silk dress and duchesse laces, her diamonds gleaming like drops of dew in a moonlit night; Josephine, bright and sparkling in an elaborate street dress, with her jaunty hat and bright plumes, standing proudly beside the finely formed young man as he exchanged greetings with her mother; and Mr. Richards, stout and comely, a perfect pattern of the hospitable host, with his good-natured face, which was expressive of a most cordial welcome.
But Star had grown suddenly pale as snow, and caught her breath convulsively, as a clear, manly laugh rang out on the air at some jest of Josephine’s, and then the stranger turned, hat in hand, having made his bow to his hostess, to speak to Mr. Richards, and thus she could look directly into his face.
There was a look of horror in her eyes as they were fastenedupon that handsome face, her lips were drawn and pinched, and the pain that was clutching at her heart betrayed itself in a low, sobbing moan.
There was no mistake—although she could scarcely credit her own senses—she knew that dark, chestnut-crowned head, that handsome, smiling face, that straight, stalwart form but too well, even though a cruel mist was creeping up before her eyes to hide him from her sight. She knew that clear, ringing voice, even though the roaring sound in her ears seemed striving to drown it. Josephine’s guest—her accepted lover she had tried to make it appear—the titled stranger, Lord Carrol, of Carrolton, was no other thanher betrothed, Archibald Sherbrooke!