CHAPTER XXIV.WHAT NEXT?
Star Gladstone’s eighteenth birthday dawned as bright and charming as it was possible for a morning to be. At eight o’clock she and Mr. Rosevelt sat down to their breakfast, and a merry meal they made of it, for both appeared in the best of spirits, in spite of the sad and exciting events of the previous evening upon which they had conversed.
About nine a handsome carriage drove to their humble abode, and the driver rang and asked for the “gentleman and lady who were going for a drive in the park.”
Star looked surprised as she peered from the window and saw a pair of sleek, coal-black horses, with their silver-mounted harnesses, and the shining, velvet-lined coach.
“Uncle Jacob, did you order that carriage to come for us?” she asked.
“Yes, my dear,” he said, with an expression of satisfaction, as he, too, looked out and saw the team. “It is not often that I ride, as you well know, but when I do, I like to go in style. One ride a year in ‘ship-shape’ would satisfy me, where a half-dozen in some broken-down hack wouldn’t give me a bit of pleasure. Now, put on your hat, and tuck some roses in your belt, as you did yesterday, for this is to be a gala day, and I want you as fine as possible.”
Star laughed and tripped away to obey, coming back after a few moments with such a bright and happy face that Mr. Rosevelt thought she had never looked so lovely before.
All the morning they drove, four long, delightful hours-hoursthat were always a pleasant memory afterward to both of them; and many who saw the nicely dressed old gentleman, with the fair, bright, golden-haired girl beside him in their elegant carriage, thought what a green old age must be his, with so much to make life pleasant.
About one o’clock they turned toward the city once more, and Star said, with a sigh of pleasure:
“Uncle Jacob, I believe there never was such a perfect day before, and I’m sure I never enjoyed a birthday more. You were very kind to plan this pleasure for me.”
The old gentleman’s eyes twinkled. Her delight, her bright, animated face were such a joy to him.
“If I had only been rich as I used to be, I should so like to have made you some nice present to-day—a watch, for instance,” he said.
“You gave me something last night which I value far better—your confidence,” Star said, softly. “I should like a watch,” she added, after a moment, “and I mean to have one some time. When I have earned it, you shall go and select it for me, if you will. But what have you done with your own, Uncle Jacob? You had a very nice one when I first met you, and I remember seeing it on you after the wreck.”
“Watches and I have not had much in common during the last two years,” he answered, evasively; and she thought perhaps he had been obliged to sell it since he became poor.
All at once the carriage stopped in a quiet street up town, which, Star noticed, was lined on both sides with elegant brown-stone dwellings.
“What are we stopping here for?” she asked.
“A good woman whom I used to know lives here, and I thought, as we were in gala attire to-day, I would like to stop and make a call, and—introduce my Star to her,” Mr. Rosevelt said, preparing to alight.
He helped Star out, and together they went up the marble steps.
Mr. Rosevelt rang the bell, and then took a card from one of his pockets, and, with an arch smile, said:
“It almost seems as if we were really fine people, doesn’t it, dressed in our best, riding about in our carriage, and sending our cards in at a brown-stone house?”
“Yes, indeed; and it would be such fun if we could keep it up for awhile,” Star said, gayly. “But,” with a regretful little sigh, “like Cinderella of old, I suppose we shall soon be aroused to the fact that our coach and horses are gone, and find the stern realities of life staring us in the face again.”
Mr. Rosevelt laughed.
“Would you like to be a fine lady, Star?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered, thoughtfully. “I believe I should like totryit for a little while, just to see how it would seem.”
There was not time for any more conversation, for the door was at this moment opened by a neat-looking servant.
She appeared to recognize Mr. Rosevelt, for she greeted him with a smile, and then her eyes wandered inquiringly to Star’s lovely face.
She invited them to enter, and conducted them into a handsome drawing-room on the right of the hall, when, taking Mr. Rosevelt’s card, she retired, leaving them alone.
“What a lovely room!” Star breathed, as her eyes roved about the apartment, over the beautiful pictures, the bright, rich carpet, the carved ebony furniture, upholstered in warm-hued satins, choice bric-a-brac, and all those fine things which add so much to a place like that. “Your friend must be a ‘fine lady,’ with plenty of money,” she added.
Mr. Rosevelt merely nodded his head in reply, while he watched the door with evident impatience.
It was soon slowly opened, and a familiar face appeared inthe aperture—a face all beaming with smiles of pleasure and good nature.
“Mrs. Blunt!” cried Star, in astonishment; and springing toward the woman, she grasped both her hands warmly.
“Yes, Miss Star,” the woman returned, half laughing, half crying; “IamMrs. Blunt, or I’m much mistaken, as I sometimes imagine I may be when I get to thinking about everything, and how strange it has all turned out. How well you’re looking, miss, and it does my old eyes a wonderful sight of good to see your bright face again.”
Star thought her language somewhat ambiguous; but everything seemed rather ambiguous just then.
“Do you live here?” she questioned.
“Yes, I live here; or——”
“Have you been in New York long? and why haven’t we seen you before? and what are you laughing at?”
The young girl’s astonishment seemed to increase, for the woman appeared strangely, and was shaking with suppressed laughter.
“I’m laughing because I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been in New York a month, and haven’t been to see you because the last time I saw Mr. Rosevelt he told me he was going to bring you to see me soon; so I’ve been content to wait,” Mrs. Blunt explained.
Star wondered if the present occupant of that elegant place allowed her housekeeper to entertain her friends in the drawing-room; if so, it was surely a new departure, and not exactly in accordance with Mrs. Richards’ ideas of the treatment of servants.
“Take off your hat, dearie,” Mrs. Blunt continued, “for I have a nice little lunch waiting for you.”
“A lunch?” repeated Star, in amazement, and with a puzzled look at Mr. Rosevelt, who was regarding her attentively.
“Yes; I had orders to get up the nicest lunch I could formy old friends, and I’m much mistaken if I haven’t done it,” the woman replied, with an air of satisfaction.
“You must have a very kind mistress,” the fair girl said, as she drew off her gloves and removed her hat.
“I have, the best in the world,” the queer creature returned, with a chuckle. “But come, I’ll show you the way to the dining-room.”
Mr. Rosevelt arose, and drawing Star’s hand within his arm, followed her to a room on the opposite side of, and farther down the hall.
As she opened the door, Star saw a charming dining-room, furnished in costly woods of different colors, its floor inlaid in an intricate and lovely pattern.
In the center stood a table, covered with a heavy white damask cloth, and spread with a glittering array of silver and cut glass, and where also a most tempting repast was awaiting them.
Mr. Rosevelt led his wondering companion to one side of the table, and, looking down upon her with the fondest look in the world, said, in a voice which was not quite steady:
“Star, my dear, my pure-hearted, faithful little friend, I here formally install you asmistress of your own table and of your own home. This is to be your seat henceforth—mine opposite; and, my darling—for such you have become to me—I trust you will be as happy as an old man’s love, gratitude, and wealth can make you.”
Star had grown suddenly pale while he spoke, and regarded him with a puzzled expression.
“I do not understand,” she said, clasping both her small hands around his arm and leaning heavily upon him.
“I will tell you,” he answered, tenderly. “When you met me on board that ill-fated steamer I was a very rich man. When it was wrecked, and I had discovered that you were the grandchild of the only woman whom I ever loved, and also what akind, tender little heart you had, I formed a sudden resolution. I had always, as I told you last night, been flattered and cajoled by my relatives, who knew I was rich, and I resolved that I would test their sincerity. If they stood it, I would divide my fortune into three portions, one of which should be yours, the others theirs. If they did not, it shouldallbe yours, ifyouproved the true, noble character which I believed you to be. That was one reason why I was so keenly disappointed to find you gone when I went to bid you farewell on the steamer; but I meant to search for you all the same. And so I pretended to be the poor old man whom you remember coming to Ellen Richards’ that night. You know the result. No one was true to me or kind to me but my Star. Yet I had become so suspicious of everybody, that I resolved to study even you thoroughly before I committed myself; and so I concluded to wait until you had completed your education before telling you of my actual position in life. It was very hard, though, when you were in such trouble that last night in Yonkers, when you told me your secret about writing your book, and offered to share your little all with me ‘because I was not happy there,’ and I was sorely tempted to tell you all, surround you at once with everything to make life beautiful, and place you in a position far above the daughter of the woman who had treated you so shamefully. On second thought, however, I deemed it best to wait until your education should be completed, for then you would be more free to enjoy the good things of life.”
“Then you have not been poor at all?” faltered Star, as he paused for a moment.
“No; I have had abundance. I own this house, and have for years. I own a block on Broadway, and—well, little one, there is enough to enable you and me to do pretty much as we like for the remainder of our lives,” he answered, with a fond smile.
“Then I cannot take care of you. I thought I was goingto makeyouso comfortable, and that, with teaching and the income from my book, we could have such nice times together,” Star said, wistfully, and hardly able, even yet, to comprehend the change in her circumstances.
Mr. Rosevelt patted her softly on the shoulder, though a tear sprang to his eyes at her words.
“No, dear,” he returned; “you cannot take care of me in that way. I am going to take care of you; but you can still make me so comfortable. We can still have nice times together, and I shall be very proud to introduce the young authoress of ‘Chatsworth’s Pride’ as myward and future heiress.
“Bless you, child!” he continued, his fine face glowing with happiness; “don’t you suppose it is going to be a comfort to me to try to make you happy and give you everything you wish, after all your constancy, patience, and self-denial for me? Don’t you suppose I enjoyed fitting up this house for you after my tenant gave it up, some six months ago? And don’t you believe, too, that Mrs. Blunt was glad to come and be housekeeper for us?” and he turned kindly to the woman, who had been standing in the background during these explanations.
“You may be sure I’m much mistaken if I wasn’t,” she returned, eagerly, her eyes gleaming with delight, and her gratitude for the position shining through her homely but good-natured face.
“And I am very glad, too. It is the nicest arrangement in the world,” Star said, heartily; “and just to think,” glancing around the elegant apartment with a sigh of supreme content, “that I am to be surrounded with all this beauty! It is like a fairy tale, or a dream of enchantment.”
“Itoldyou I had the best mistress in the world,” Mrs. Blunt said, chuckling; “but we didn’t imagine anything like this, Miss Star, that Sunday when we were stoning raisins and stemming currants.”
“No, indeed,” Star answered, laughing. “But you don’t mean to tell me that you considermeyour mistress.”
“I never’d ask for a better,” the woman said, earnestly; then, turning to Mr. Rosevelt, she resumed:
“And now, sir, won’t you please eat your lunch and tell the rest of the story afterward, for everything will be spoiled waiting.”
“Yes, indeed—yes, indeed; to be sure we will. There, Miss Gladstone, sit down by your tea-urn, and make me the best cup of tea that was ever brewed, while I serve you to some of that tempting salad.”
He forced her gently into her chair, and going around to the opposite side of the table, began to wait upon her in the most chivalrous manner.
“Ah! this is what I call comfort, dear,” he said, in a satisfied tone, after Mrs. Blunt had withdrawn to see that the strawberries and cream were properly served; “this is what I have been dreaming about for a whole year; and now, after we have appeased our hunger—and, by the way, I believe I am half-famished, or else Mrs. Blunt’s efforts in the culinary line are wonderfully successful—we will go over the house, and see if everything suits you. What are you looking at the clock for? Your school days are over, Miss Gladstone.”
Star laughed somewhat nervously, and flushed.
“I was looking to see how many hours would elapse before the clock would strike twelve, and wondering if it would dissolve the spell that is on me.”
“No fear of that, Starling. The hours, days, and months, and years, I trust, will roll by and bring you only joy and pleasure, with no rude awaking. You are to have everything that you want—and mind, by that I do not mean just what youneed, and have you stop to count the cost on those pretty fingers of yours, as I have seen you do so often. You shall have music and painting to your heart’s content. You shallhave a pair of ponies and a phaeton of the most approved style; and, in fact, little girl, it will take you a good while to find the bottom of my purse. But how do you like your tea-service? I chose it myself, and had it marked expressly for you.”
“It is perfectly lovely,” Star replied, as her eyes roved admiringly over the beautiful and costly equipage, upon each piece of which there gleamed a star in delicate frost-work.
“I’m glad you like it. And now, my dear, suppose you open that small box by your plate.”
Star gave him a wondering look—indeed, all her looks had been wondering ones during the last hour—and opened a little white box, which had until now lain unnoticed beside her plate.
She found inside a morocco case, and springing back the lid of this, an elegant little watch and chatelaine were exposed to her delighted eyes.
“Uncle Jacob! I cannot tell whether I am awake or dreaming,” she cried, a rosy flush spreading over her whole face. “It is the dearest little watch in the world. And is this star on the case made of diamonds?”
“Yes; diamonds are none too good formystar.”
“And you had this waiting for me, even when we were talking about my having a watch while we were driving?”
“Yes; I was only sounding you a little to see if you would like a watch best or something else. Now, if you are through, put it in your belt and come with me,” he said, rising from the table.
She followed his example, and together they passed from the beautiful dining-room out into the hall, and thence to another room on the front of the house, which was fitted up as half library, half music-room.
In it there stood a new Steinway piano, with a richly carved case and pearl keys. The handsome bookcases, each surmountedby books of popular authors, were filled with choice volumes, while the other furniture, upholstered in olive and crimson, was most luxurious.
From here they went up stairs, and over the drawing-room found a most charming suite of rooms, furnished throughout in blue and white.
The dainty bed, in its pretty chamber, was draped with antique lace, over blue silken curtains, with a spread to match; draperies of the same kind hung at the windows, and all the toilet articles were of costly china, most beautifully decorated. The boudoir, or sitting-room, was fitted up with every convenience, and all those pretty trifles which young girls so much admire, carpeted with wreaths of forget-me-nots and golden-hearted daisies. The furniture was covered with richest brocade of the same design, while the full-length mirror, in its massive blue and gold frame, revealed, as Star went up to it, a beautiful maiden, with shining hair, gleaming eyes, smiling coral lips, and glowing cheeks—a fitting tenant for this lovely bower.
“Allow me to introduce you to the heiress of Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire,” said the old gentleman, taking her hand and bowing before the fair apparition in the glass. “How do you like her?”
“I can’t tell just yet, she is such a new creature; but,” with a roguish look up into his eyes, “I’m very fond of the millionaire.”
“Thank you, Miss Gladstone; your favor is most highly appreciated,” he returned, laughing. “But come, you must see my bachelor den;” and he led her across the hall to a room over the dining-room, and here she found every comfort, if something less of elegance.
Opposite her sitting-room there was a great chamber, furnished in crimson and gold, while up another flight were the servants’ rooms. Mrs. Blunt’s room was on the lower floor,where she could conveniently overlook her assistants at all hours.
“It is like a story,” Star said, when they had been the rounds and came back to the library; “and now what are we to do next, Uncle Jacob?”
Her plans had all been for work, and now that she found there was to be no more toil or care for her—nothing but pleasure and what her own sweet will dictated, she hardly knew where or how to take up the thread of her life again; therefore the query:
“What are we to do next, Uncle Jacob?”