CHAPTER II.
"AN INVESTMENT, ANYWAY."
The natural result of these efforts was, that Miss Belinda was moved toshed a few tears.
"I hope you will excuse my being too startled to say I was glad to seeyou," she said. "I have not seen my brother for thirty years, and I wasvery fond of him."
"He said you were," answered Octavia; "and he was very fond of you too.He didn't write to you, because he made up his mind not to let you hearfrom him until he was a rich man; and then he thought he would wait untilhe could come home, and surprise you. He was awfully disappointed when hehad to go back without seeing you."
"Poor, dear Martin!" wept Miss Belinda gently. "Such a journey!"
Octavia opened her charming eyes in surprise.
"Oh, he'll come back again!" she said. "And he doesn't mind the journey.The journey is nothing, you know."
"Nothing!" echoed Miss Belinda. "A voyage across the Atlantic nothing?When one thinks of the danger, my dear"--
Octavia's eyes opened a shade wider.
"We have made the trip to the States, across the Isthmus, twelve times,and that takes a month," she remarked. "So we don't think ten days much."
"Twelve times!" said Miss Belinda, quite appalled. "Dear, dear, dear!"
And for some moments she could do nothing but look at her young relativein doubtful wonder, shaking her head with actual sadness.
But she finally recovered herself, with a little start.
"What am I thinking of," she exclaimed remorsefully, "to let you sit herein this way? Pray excuse me, my dear. You see I am so upset."
She left her chair in a great hurry, and proceeded to embrace her youngguest tenderly, though with a little timorousness. The young ladysubmitted to the caress with much composure.
"Did I upset you?" she inquired calmly.
The fact was, that she could not see why the simple advent of a relativefrom Nevada should seem to have the effect of an earthquake, and resultin tremor, confusion, and tears. It was true, she herself had shed a tearor so, but then her troubles had been accumulating for several days; andshe had not felt confused yet.
When Miss Belinda went down-stairs to superintend Mary Anne in thetea-making, and left her guest alone, that young person glanced about herwith a rather dubious expression.
"It is a queer, nice little place," she said. "But I don't wonder that paemigrated, if they always get into such a flurry about little things. Imight have been a ghost."
Then she proceeded to unlock the big trunk, and attire herself.
Down-stairs, Miss Belinda was wavering between the kitchen and theparlor, in a kindly flutter.
"Toast some muffins, Mary Anne, and bring in the cold roast fowl," shesaid. "And I will put out some strawberry-jam, and some of the preservedginger. Dear me! Just to think how fond of preserved ginger poor Martinwas, and how little of it he was allowed to eat! There really seems aspecial Providence in my having such a nice stock of it in the house whenhis daughter comes home."
In the course of half an hour every thing was in readiness; and then MaryAnne, who had been sent up-stairs to announce the fact, came down in amost remarkable state of delighted agitation, suppressed ecstasy andamazement exclaiming aloud in every feature.
"She's dressed, mum," she announced, "an' 'll be down immediate," andretired to a shadowy corner of the kitchen passage, that she might lie inwait unobserved.
Miss Belinda, sitting behind the tea-service, heard a soft, flowing,silken rustle sweeping down the staircase, and across the hall, and thenher niece entered.
"Don't you think I've dressed pretty quick?" she said, and swept acrossthe little parlor, and sat down in her place, with the calmest and mostunconscious air in the world.
There was in Slowbridge but one dressmaking establishment. The head ofthe establishment--Miss Letitia Chickie--designed the costumes of everywoman in Slowbridge, from Lady Theobald down. There were legends that shereceived her patterns from London, and modified them to suit theSlowbridge taste. Possibly this was true; but in that case her labors asmodifier must have been severe indeed, since they were so far modified asto be altogether unrecognizable when they left Miss Chickie'sestablishment, and were borne home in triumph to the houses of herpatrons. The taste of Slowbridge was quiet,--upon this Slowbridge prideditself especially,--and, at the same time, tended toward economy. Whengores came into fashion, Slowbridge clung firmly, and with some pride, tosubstantial breadths, which did not cut good silk into useless stripswhich could not be utilized in after-time; and it was only when, after avisit to London, Lady Theobald walked into St. James's one Sunday withtwo gores on each side, that Miss Chickie regretfully put scissors intoher first breadth. Each matronly member of good society possessed asubstantial silk gown of some sober color, which gown, having done dutyat two years' tea-parties, descended to the grade of "second-best," andso descended, year by year, until it disappeared into the dim distance ofthe past. The young ladies had their white muslins and natural flowers;which latter decorations invariably collapsed in the course of theevening, and were worn during the latter half of any festive occasion ina flabby and hopeless condition. Miss Chickie made the muslins,festooning and adorning them after designs emanating from her fertileimagination. If they were a little short in the body, and not verygenerously proportioned in the matter of train, there was no rivalestablishment to sneer, and Miss Chickie had it all her own way; and, atleast, it could never be said that Slowbridge was vulgar or overdressed.
Judge, then, of Miss Belinda Bassett's condition of mind when her fairrelative took her seat before her.
What the material of her niece's dress was, Miss Belinda could not havetold. It was a silken and soft fabric of a pale blue color; it clung tothe slender, lissome young figure like a glove; a fan-like train of greatlength almost covered the hearth-rug; there were plaitings and frillingsall over it, and yards of delicate satin ribbon cut into loops in themost recklessly extravagant manner.
Miss Belinda saw all this at the first glance, as Mary Anne had seen it,and, like Mary Anne, lost her breath; but, on her second glance, she sawsomething more. On the pretty, slight hands were three wonderful,sparkling rings, composed of diamonds set in clusters: there were greatsolitaires in the neat little ears, and the thickly-plaited lace at thethroat was fastened by a diamond clasp.
"My dear," said Miss Belinda, clutching helplessly at the teapot, "areyou--surely it is a--a little dangerous to wear such--such pricelessornaments on ordinary occasions."
Octavia stared at her for a moment uncomprehendingly.
"Your jewels, I mean, my love," fluttered Miss Belinda. "Surely you don'twear them often. I declare, it quite frightens me to think of having suchthings in the house."
"Does it?" said Octavia. "That's queer."
And she looked puzzled for a moment again.
Then she glanced down at her rings.
"I nearly always wear these," she remarked. "Father gave them to me. Hegave me one each birthday for three years. He says diamonds are aninvestment, anyway, and I might as well have them. These," touching theear-rings and clasp, "were given to my mother when she was on the stage.A lot of people clubbed together, and bought them for her. She was agreat favorite."
Miss Belinda made another clutch at the handle of the teapot.
"Your mother!" she exclaimed faintly. "On the--did you say, on the"--
"Stage," answered Octavia. "San Francisco. Father married her there. Shewas awfully pretty. I don't remember her. She died when I was born. Shewas only nineteen."
The utter calmness, and freedom from embarrassment, with which theseannouncements were made, almost shook Miss Belinda's faith in her ownidentity. Strange to say, until this moment she had scarcely given athought to her brother's wife; and to find herself sitting in her owngenteel little parlor, behind her own tea-service, with her hand upon herown teapot, hearing that this wife had been a young person who had been"a great favorite" upon the stage, in a region peopled, as she had beenled to suppose, by g
old-diggers and escaped convicts, was almost too muchfor her to support herself under. But she did support herself bravely,when she had time to rally.
"Help yourself to some fowl, my dear," she said hospitably, even thoughvery faintly indeed, "and take a muffin."
Octavia did so, her over-splendid hands flashing in the light as shemoved them.
"American girls always have more things than English girls," sheobserved, with admirable coolness. "They dress more. I have been told soby girls who have been in Europe. And I have more things than mostAmerican girls. Father had more money than most people; that was onereason; and he spoiled me, I suppose. He had no one else to give thingsto, and he said I should have every thing I took a fancy to. He oftenlaughed at me for buying things, but he never said I shouldn't buy them."
"He was always generous," sighed Miss Belinda. "Poor, dear Martin!"
Octavia scarcely entered into the spirit of this mournful sympathy. Shewas fond of her father, but her recollections of him were not pathetic orsentimental.
"He took me with him wherever he went," she proceeded. "And we had ateacher from the States, who travelled with us sometimes. He never sentme away from him. I wouldn't have gone if he had wanted to send me--andhe didn't want to," she added, with a satisfied little laugh.