CHAPTER XXIII.AN INTERESTING STORY.
Jacob Rosevelt stood not far away during the conversation between Mr. Appleton, Miss Meredith, and Star, and a proud light beamed in his eyes as he listened to their praises of the girl whom he had learned to love so well.
But it was nothing new to him that Star was an authoress; he had known it for nearly a year.
That was the secret that she had whispered in his ear when, after Mrs. Richards’ terrible accusations, they had been left alone and she had begged him to go away with her to make a little home of their own, telling him that what she should receive for her book, together with her hundred pounds, would be ample for their support until she could graduate and obtain a position as a teacher.
She had written it that first winter; for after Mr. Richards had vetoed his wife’s plan of making her a servant, and insisted that she should be sent to school, there had been many lonely hours which would have been very irksome to her if she had not spent them in this way.
Her studies that winter were not hard; she had no associates to help her pass the time pleasantly, and so her heart had overflowed in this way, and she had penned the charming little romance which had at once set everybody to wondering who the author might be.
This was the package with which she had stolen forth so early one morning, taking it with fear and trembling, yet with something of hope, to the great publisher.
When she was shown into his office and made known her errand there, he looked at her in wonder, astonished at the temerity of one so young and simple as she appeared to be in bringing her manuscript to him and asking him to publish it.
But the deferential yet winning way in which she made her appeal, and the influence of her loveliness, won a reluctant promise on his part “to look it over.”
He did so, opening the neatly folded package with an amused smile, and expecting after a casual glance at its contents to be nauseated with some sickly sentimental love-story.
But he became strangely interested in it at once, and read on and on, now with smiles, then melting into tears, until it was finished, and pronounced a “little gem;” while he was convinced that a sensitive, refined, and talented girl had thrown her heart, and perhaps something of her own life, into those touching pages.
He sent a note to her at once, asking her to come and see him again, and when she obeyed the summons, he questioned her about herself, how she had come to write her book, and what incidents had suggested it.
She told him that the scene of her little romance was laid in Derbyshire, England, and that many of the incidents were connected with her childhood; and the tears sprang to his eyes as she related to him something of the misfortune which overtook her in the death of her mother, the subsequent loss of her father, and how she was obliged to come, a stranger, to this country; of the tempestuous voyage across the ocean, with its thrilling events, and that as soon as she could complete her education she intended to become a teacher.
He was greatly interested in her, and told her that he should publish her book, and if the first edition sold well, she should have a thousand dollars, and a certain per cent. on all other editions.
It seemed like a fortune to Star, who had not thought ofreceiving anything like such a sum, and she went back to her duties with a joyful heart to await the issue of her book.
Mr. Appleton was so pleased with her that he saw her often after that, and having received a card from her for the commencement exercises of Professor Roberts’ seminary, he decided he would go; and the little package which he had given her in the presence of Mr. Richards was a copy of her book, which had just come to him from the hands of the binders; and it was he, too, who, admiring her fine essay, begged it of her and sent it, with those few flattering remarks which had so annoyed Josephine, to the next morning’s papers.
Star had put no name to her work, telling Mr. Appleton that she did not care to be known as its author; and he, too, thought it best, since it was her first experience in literary matters; so, when she had told him that her name was Stella, he had put a simple Star in place of it.
But the book had sold beyond even the publisher’s most sanguine expectations, and when it became evident very soon that a second edition must be published, he asked her to allow him to put her name to it, as everybody was besieging him to know who wrote it.
But she was firm, and insisted upon having his promise that he would not betray her until after her graduation and her eighteenth birthday.
When he wrote her a check for the promised thousand dollars, she had taken it directly to Mr. Rosevelt.
“Now we need have no fears for the future,” she said, with a proud smile, as she put it into his hand. “You must have every comfort, Uncle Jacob—fruits, and wines, and everything nice, to make you strong and well. There will be more coming, you know, as the other editions are sold, and when I begin to teach I shall have my salary besides.”
The old gentleman was deeply touched by her thoughtfulness for him; he could not speak for the choking sensation inhis throat, but drew her gently to him and kissed her fair forehead, feeling that she was the only gleam of sunshine which his life contained.
Now, as he stood by and heard her praises sung, and knew that she would have the fame that belonged to her, he exulted over it; and when, a little later, she came to him and slipped an envelope into his hand, saying: “It is another check, Uncle Jacob, which Mr. Appleton has just given to me. Please take care of it, for you are my banker, you know; and,” a tear starting to her glorious eyes, “I believe I never expected to be so happy again as I am to-night,” he thought his own cup of joy was nearly as full as hers.
She was, indeed, a star after that all through the evening, and held a right royal little court, receiving and making the acquaintance of the admirers of “Chatsworth’s Pride,” until she became so weary that she longed to get home to quiet and rest.
As soon as she could find an opportunity to do so, she drew Mr. Rosevelt to President Hunter and made her adieu.
Just as she was turning away, some one touched her on the arm.
“Miss Gladstone, allow me to present my brother, Mr. Ralph Meredith.”
It was Miss Meredith—Grace Meredith she had told Star she was called—who spoke, and looking up, she found a pair of brilliant dark eyes looking into hers, a handsome face smiling down upon her, while a musical voice acknowledged the introduction with evident pleasure.
“I expect you arethe ‘star’whom I have been wishing to know for a long time,” he said, significantly, as he took the hand she held out to him, and thought he had never seen a lovelier face in his life.
Star thanked him with a charming smile for his interest in her, and introduced him to Mr. Rosevelt; then turned to MissMeredith to escape from the praises which she saw he was longing to pour into her ears.
The young man was somewhat chagrined at being thus summarily disposed of, but he was too polite and good-natured to betray it, and did his best to make himself agreeable to the old gentleman and win his good-will.
Gradually, however, he managed to attract the attention of the young ladies, and then the conversation became general, and they chatted pleasantly for several minutes, until, at a look from Star, Mr. Rosevelt declared they must go, “for he was not used to late hours, and Star, he knew, was nearly worn out with the excitement of the day.”
Mr. Meredith regretted that they must leave, but begged, with his most captivating smile:
“May I have the pleasure, Miss Gladstone, of coming with my sister to call upon you?”
“Certainly,” Star answered, graciously, for she was pleased with both brother and sister. “I shall be very happy to have you do so. We live——”
“Wait a minute, Star, and I will write our address down for them. It is so difficult to remember numbers, I am afraid they will forget;” and taking a leaf from a small notebook that was in his pocket, Mr. Rosevelt wrote both street and number and passed it to young Meredith.
Star thought he looked surprised as he read it. Was it because of the humble locality? she wondered.
They then exchanged good-nights and parted. When they reached the street, Mr. Rosevelt said:
“I am going to call a carriage, dear, for I know you are just ready to drop from weariness;” and Star did not object, for she was indeed exceedingly tired.
When they reached home she insisted upon making a cup of tea for Uncle Jacob, saying that he was not accustomed to suchlate hours and dissipation; “and besides,” she added, with a smile, “she felt like having a drop herself.”
But the old gentleman was so absent-minded over his tea, that she felt almost guilty for having kept him up so late, and feared he would be ill to-morrow.
She put away the tea things when they were through, and was about to light her lamp to retire, when he stopped her, saying:
“Star, my dear, come and sit down upon this ottoman by me; I have something I wish to say to you.”
She obeyed, wondering what had happened to make him look and speak so gravely.
“Are youreally happyto-night, my child?” he asked, tenderly.
A startled look came into the girl’s eyes at this question, and her heart leaped with sudden pain as her thoughts went bounding over the sea to one to whom she had given the first grand passion of her soul.
“Uncle Jacob,” she answered, gravely, though he could see the quiver about her lips, which she tried in vain to repress, “I am happier than I ever expected to be again. It is useless to regret or mourn over the past. I have tried to be sensible over it, but sometimes, I am afraid, I have not succeeded very well,” she said, with a smile that was a trifle bitter. “If,” she added, more brightly, a moment after, “thatone episodecould have been left out of my life, I believe there would be nothing to mar it now.”
“I would that it could have been so,” Mr. Rosevelt sighed. “But I want you to listen to me for a little while. I know it is late, and you ought to go to rest, but I particularly wish to tell you a short story of my life to-night. It is a page which has been turned from sight for many years, and no one has ever read it save myself. You are about entering upon a new era inyourlife. I have learned to love you very tenderly, my child, and I want to bind you yet closer to me.”
“Why, Uncle Jacob, you do not think I have any idea of going away from you, I hope,” Star said, in surprise.
“No, for I have grown to feel that you belong to me. I want you to think so, too, and I am going to tell you why. Fate—or Providence, I suppose,youwould say—has thrown us together in a strange way, considering all things. Do you remember telling me, on board that ill-fated steamer, that your name was Star Rosevelt Gladstone, and how surprised you were when you learned that my last name was the same as your middle one?”
“Yes, sir; and I still think it a strange coincidence,” Star answered.
“Perhaps you will be more surprised when I tell you that you were namedforme.”
Star looked up astonished at him.
“How can that be possible?” she asked.
“In this way,” Mr. Rosevelt returned, a shade of pain crossing his face. “When your grandmother, Stella Winthrop—that was her name before her marriage, was it not?”
“Yes; and that is all I know about her, Uncle Jacob,” Star answered, with a troubled look. “Papa never said much about his friends. Indeed, he did not appear to have any relatives, and never would allow me to question him about them. Once I said something to him about my name, and he remarked: ‘Your grandmother once told me that if ever I had a little girl of my own, she would like me to call her Stella Rosevelt, and that is how you came by it.’
“‘Where is my grandmother, papa?’ I asked.
“‘She is dead,’ he said, and immediately left the room, looking so pale and miserable that I never dared ask him anything more about her.”
“It seems strange thatIshould be the one to tell you about her,” Mr. Rosevelt said, thoughtfully, “and I am puzzled toknow why he should have been so reticent. Did your father ever have any trouble with his family?”
“Not that I know of; and yet,” Star said, flushing, “therewassome trouble about his marriage with mamma, though that seems to have been on the part of her family rather than his. Mrs. Richards once twitted me about mamma—who was a sort of cousin to her—having married beneath her.”
“I do not see how that could have been, for the Mr. Gladstone who married Stella Winthrop was a very wealthy and important man in the county of Devonshire—at least, I was told so—and if your father was his son, he might have married almost any one he chose, and have conferred an honor in so doing. But this is not telling you my story.
“When Stella Winthrop was of your age, and I three or four years older, we met at a large reception in London. That meeting was fatal to us both, for we loved from that hour as true lovers ever love. For six months the world was like Paradise to us, and then I was called away to the far East on business for the firm with which I was connected. I am an American, but most of my life has been spent abroad.
“If I was successful in my business undertaking, it was agreed that I might claim my bride when I returned at the end of two years. The vessel on which I sailed was wrecked—I have had more than one such experience you see, my dear—and it was reported that every passenger on board was lost, while only a very few of the crew lived to tell the story of the disaster. But I was fortunate enough to secure a large cask, and with this I managed to keep afloat for two days, when I was picked up by a sailing-vessel bound for the Philippine Islands.
“My first work upon reaching land was to write to Stella and tell her of my safety; but my letter never reached her. I also notified the firm that I was all right, and should proceed directly about the business upon which I had been sent, butthey knew nothing of my connection with Miss Winthrop, and accordingly did not communicate with her. I kept writing at intervals to my beloved, but never heard anything in return. At last, in despair, I wrote to the firm, telling them of my engagement, and asking them to notify her of my safety and give her my address in case she should have happened to lose the one I had given her. In reply, they said that the Winthrop family had gone abroad for an indefinite stay. Of course this was a great trial to me, and I was exceedingly impatient; but my two years were over at last, and I turned my face toward England once more. I had succeeded in my business beyond my most sanguine expectations, and I looked forward to the immediate fulfillment of my hopes when I should return.
“My first duty on reaching London was to acquaint my employers with the result of my transactions, and my next thought was for Stella—my bright Star. Never for an instant had I doubted her fidelity; I believed she would be as true to me as I was to her, and my heart beat high with hope as I bounded up the familiar steps leading to her home and rang the bell. I asked for Miss Winthrop of the maid who answered my summons, and she stared at me as if she thought me demented.
“‘Miss Winthrop?’ she repeated. ‘There is no Miss Winthrop, sir; she was married and went away nearly a year ago.’
“‘Married!’ The word was like a thunderbolt to me, and in an instant all the light went out of my life—my heart was paralyzed. I staggered from the place, and hid myself from every one for a week. Then I gained something of calmness and courage to go out among my friends and try to learn how it happened that Stella Winthrop had married. As I told you before, it was reported that every passenger on the vessel in which I sailed was lost. Those of the crew who were saved affirmed that such was the case, and my betrothed had believed that I was dead.
“She grieved herself almost to death over my loss, and herparents, fearing they would lose her also, took her abroad and traveled for many months. It was during this absence that the firm received my letter relating to her, but were unable to learn her address, as she was moving from point to point, and so could not communicate with her.
“Six months after learning my fate, she met Mr. Gladstone in Paris. He fell in love with her, and offered himself to her. He was a gentleman in every sense of the word, was kind and sympathetic, and she liked him as a friend. She told him the story of her grief, and that she could never marry. He did not sneer at her ‘girlish folly,’ as many would have done, but comforted her, speaking so kindly and regretfully of me that he won even a warmer place in her heart. He was patient with her, and when at length a second time he asked her to marry him, she told him that she could never love him as she had loved me, but if he could be content to take her with what respect she could give him, and the duty she would strive to yield him, she would become his wife. He told her he would be content, and they were married—a year and three months after I sailed on the fatal voyage.
“They traveled several months longer, and when at length on their return to London, only three or four months before I arrived there, she learned that I had not perished, but was soon expected back, the shock nearly killed her a second time. Her husband was all kindness and attention, took her immediately away again, and showered everything that wealth could buy upon her; and after a time children were born to her, and those new ties aroused her to her sense of duty as a mother. I never saw her, for I had not courage to look upon her dear face, knowing that she was the wife of another; for I never ceased to love her, with an affection that amounted to idolatry. They told me that she had two children—two noble boys, one of them resembling her, the other his father—that she was atender, faithful mother, and very much beloved by every one who knew her.
“That was forty years ago, Star, and for thirty I have not heard one word concerning either her or her family; but I have lived my life out alone; I could never take any one to my broken heart; and perhaps, if your belief is true, my child, and I can ever be made clearly to see it, I may find my lost love somewhere in the great future; but I do not need to tell you that my past has been one long season of longing and regret, of sadness and loneliness.”
His voice broke, his lips quivered painfully, and it seemed for a moment as if he must break down utterly.
Star softly slipped one of her small hands into his, and the sympathetic little act comforted him greatly. His closed over it in a strong, yet tender clasp.
“You pity the old man’s weakness, don’t you, dear?” he said, with a sad smile; “but it is not easy to open the secret chambers of one’s heart when they have been closed for forty years.
“When I first saw you,” he continued, after a moment, “there was something in your face that touched me—a light in your eye, a sheen on your hair, that somehow smote a familiar chord in my heart. I watched you, although you were not aware of it, and felt sorry for you during that dreadful storm at sea; for your white face and great, startled eyes appealed to me as nothing had done for many a year. But I would not yield to it. I had shut my heart to every one; I had vowed that I would never love any one again, and I mistrusted every one who sought to win me to a better mood. But when that lurch of the boat threw you directly into my arms, and you clung to me in such a helpless way, I could not resist you, and some good angel prompted me to gather you close to me and make you rest upon me. When you told me your name, the shock nearly unmanned me—‘Star Rosevelt Gladstone,’ yousaid—and I knew as well as if I had been told, that you were in some way connected withmylost Star, and I watched over you all the night through, feeling almost as if some sweet spirit had been sent from her to me, to give me a little ray of comfort at the end of my long, loveless life.
“When, the next morning, you told me that your grandmother had named you, and that her name was Stella Winthrop, I had not a doubt; I felt convinced that you must be the child of one of her sons. You thought it merely a strange coincidence, but I knew better, and all my boasted coldness and hardness melted away, and I began to love you then and there. When that dreadful explosion occurred, and you urged me to save myself, as ‘doubtless I had dear friends’ and ‘you had no one to love you’—when you refused to leave me, and took up your station by my side to die with me, as we both believed, I felt as if something of the spirit of my lost love was shining through you. Then your tenderness toward, and your care of me—your heroic self-denial and efforts to save my life while we were helplessly afloat on the mighty ocean—your sweet voice singing those hymns of faith and cheer, completed the conquest of my hardened nature. I can never make you understand how disappointed I was, on arriving in New York, to find you gone. I meant to tell you something of myself, and learn your own destination, so that I might see you once in awhile.
“But I never forgot you; and when I visited my nephew in the West, and met only coldness and neglect, simply because of my misfortunes, I could not help contrasting it with your kind attention to an entire stranger.
“I left those heartless people and came to my niece, and met with the same reception, when before they had always fawned at my feet, flattered and humored me as if I had been something more than common clay.
“I felt forsaken; no one loved me, no one wanted me; Iwas a burden and incumbrance. But just then you appeared to me, and your heavenly kindness made my poor old heart glow again. Still, I was so embittered by finding my only brother’s children so heartless and selfish, that I was not quite sure of you. It made me mistrust everybody, and I feared you might grow to be like them. But for that I should not have remained a day beneath Ellen Richards’ roof; I should have gone my own way again as soon as I became rested and recruited. Do you remember how you came to me the next morning after my arrival, and cheered me with your merry chat and your thoughtful little gift? I said, ‘Surely this child must be artless—she must be true;’ but I resolved to stay awhile and test and study you, and you have been a blessing to me from the first. My dear, I began to love you for my lost Star’s sake; now I love you for your own. There, you have all my story now, and you must go to rest, for to-morrow will be your birthday, and we must celebrate a little in honor of it,” Mr. Rosevelt concluded, patting her softly on the shoulder.
Star lifted a flushed and tearful face to his.
“Uncle Jacob!” she cried, tenderly; “it seems as if you arereallythat to me now; and I am so glad that you have told me how you have loved my grandmother, and I shall try more than ever after this to make your life as bright as possible. I do not see how any one could ever have treated you unkindly or disrespectfully.”
Uncle Jacob smiled fondly at her.
“I know there is one at least who treats me kindly for my own sake, and who would share all her laurels with me. My child, I was very proud of you to-night.”
“And I of you,” Star added, quickly. “I never saw you look so nice—so like anaristocraticold gentleman.”
He laughed, such a bright, hearty laugh that she wondered to see him so pleased over her little compliment.
“Now, good-night,” he said, rising; “I want you to be as fresh as possible to-morrow.”
He led her to the door of her room, and then, with a softly breathed “God bless you!” sought his own.
God bless you! Those words rang in Star’s ears. Was he beginning to believe in her God, after all? She hoped so—sheprayedso.
But she did not go directly to bed, as he bade her; his story had strangely stirred her heart, and she could not rest until she had decided some questions that were troubling her.
She opened a drawer of her dressing-case, and taking that worn portfolio to which we have before referred from it, unlocked it, and drew forth a sealed package.
“Papa told me to wait until I was eighteen before I opened and read it,” she said, musingly; “but a few hours can make no difference, and I feel now as if I must know if he washerson, and why he never would tell me anything about his family.”
With reverent fingers she broke the seals, a sob rising to her lips as she thought whose hand had fastened them there, and how tenderly it used to stroke her hair and call her “My bright little Star.”
The package contained several papers, and it took her more than an hour to examine them; but when she had read them through, there was a look of wonder in her large blue eyes and an almost blank expression on her white face.