CHAPTER IV.
HESTER'S PLAYROOM.
"'THAR!' said the Deacon. 'Naow she'll dew!'"
Hildegarde spoke in a tone of satisfaction, as she looked abouther room. She had been setting it to rights,--not that it was ever"to wrongs" for any length of time,--for Bell and GertrudeMerryweather were coming to spend the morning with her, and shewanted her own special sanctum to look its best. She was very fondof this large, bare, airy chamber, with its polished floor, itswhite wainscoting, and its quaint blue-dragon paper. She had madeit into a picture gallery, and just now it was a flower-show, too;for every available vase and bowl was filled with flowers fromwood and garden. On the round table stood a huge Indian jar ofpale green porcelain, filled with nodding purple iris; the greenglass bowls held double buttercups and hobble-bush sprays, whiletwo portraits, those of Dundee and William the Silent, werewreathed in long garlands of white hawthorn. The effect wascharming, and Hildegarde might well look satisfied. But BellMerryweather, when she came into the room, thought that its ownerwas the most beautiful part of it. Hildegarde was used to herself,as she would have said frankly; she knew she was pretty, and itwas pleasant to be pretty, and there was an end of it. But toBell, in whose family either brown locks or red were the rule,this white and gold maiden, with her cool, fresh tints of pearland rose, was something wonderful. Hildegarde's dress this morningwas certainly nothing astonishing, simply a white cambric powderedwith buttercups; but its perfect freshness, its trim simplicity,made it so absolutely the fit and proper thing, that Bell's honestheart did homage to the lovely vision; there was something almostlike reverence in her eyes as she returned Hildegarde's cordialgreeting. As for the young Gertrude, all the world was fairylandto her, and Hildegarde was the queen, opening the door of a newprovince. The most important thing in life was not to fall or dropanything on this first visit to the strange and wonderful oldhouse, as all the Merryweathers persisted in calling Braeside.Gertrude was always falling and dropping things. At home nobodyexpected anything else; but here it was different, and the poorchild was conscious of every finger and toe as she stepped alonggingerly. Gerald's parting words were still ringing in her ears:
"When you feel that you must fall down, Dropsy, be careful not tofall into shelves of china,--that's all. Bookcases are the bestthings to fall into, you'll find; and a book is the best thing todrop, too, my poor child. When you feel the fit coming on, putdown the teacup and grab a dictionary; then choose the toe youwant it to fall on,--superfluous aunt of the family, or some oneof that sort,--and you are all right. Bless you, Dropsy! Farewell,my dear!"
Hildegarde took the girls directly up to her room, and theyadmired all her arrangements as heartily as she could wish. Bellexclaimed with amazement at the size of the room.
"To have all this for your own, your castle and defence," shecried. "What would the girls at college say if they could see sucha room as this, and one girl living in it! Twelve by fourteen isour rule, and two girls to that."
"Dear me!" said Hildegarde. "Why, I couldn't live without room."
"Oh yes, you could!" said Bell, laughing. "One gets used toeverything. It's rather good fun seeing how closely one can pack.We have sixty-five pictures in our room, my chum and I. Oh, youhave my William! I didn't know anyone else had just exactly thatportrait."
"Your William, indeed!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "Why, he ismine, my very own, and no one ever began to love him as I do."
The two girls fell into a friendly discussion, and ran lightlyover the history of the Netherlands, with occasional excursions toItaly, the Highlands, or the south of France, as one picture oranother claimed their attention. Hildegarde was enjoying herselfimmensely, and did the honours with ardour, delighted to find thatthe "college girl" knew all about the things she loved, withoutbeing in the least bookish or prosy.
"I thought you would be 'primmed up with majestic pride,'" shesaid, laughing. "I was frightened when your little brother saidyou were at college, and I instantly saw you with spectacles, andpale, lank hair done up in a bob on the top of your head. Andthen--then you came over the top of the fence, looking like--like----"
"Like what?" said Bell. "I insist upon knowing."
"You are sure you don't mind?" asked Hildegarde, as Bell herselfhad asked the day before. "You looked like an apple,--so exactlylike a nice red and white Benoni I was sure you must be good toeat. Oh, I am so glad you came!"
"So am I!" said Bell.
"Do you think we might drop the 'Miss' part?" inquired Hildegarde,"or are you too dignified?"
"Apples must not stand on dignity," replied Bell, gravely. "But Ihave wanted to say 'Hildegarde' ever since I came into this room,because the name just fits the room--and you."
At this point Gertrude, who had forgotten her destiny in the joyof pictures, and was backing round the walls in silent ecstasy,saw--or rather did not see--her opportunity, and fell quietlydownstairs. One special feature of Hildegarde's room was thestaircase, her own private staircase, of which she was immenselyproud. It was a narrow, winding stair, very steep and crooked,leading to the ground floor. When Gertrude disappeared down thisgulf with a loud crash, Hildegarde was much alarmed, and flew tothe rescue, followed more leisurely by Bell.
"Are you much hurt, my dear?" cried Hildegarde. "Wait till I comeand pick you up, poor child!"
"Oh no!" replied Gertrude, softly, from the foot of the stairs,where she lay doubled up against the door. "Thank you, but I neverhurt myself. I hope I haven't hurt the stairs."
Bell came along, laughing. "Dear Dropsy!" she said. "Here, comeup! She really never does hurt herself," she added, in response toHildegarde's look of astonishment. "She falls about so much, andhas done so since she was a baby, that she keeps in training, Isuppose, and her joints and bones are all supple and elastic. Thiswas a good one, though! Sure you are not bruised, little girl?"
Gertrude picked herself up, declining assistance, and maintainedstoutly that she was sound in wind and limb. "If only I did notbreak anything," she said, anxiously. "I came a terrible crackagainst the panel here, and it seemed as if something gave as Ifell past it."
Bell bent down, in spite of Hildegarde's assurance that everythingwas right, and passed her hand along the wall of the staircase."There is no crack," she said. "I think it is all right, Toots."She tapped the panel critically. "The wall is hollow here," shesaid. "Is this your secret chamber, Hildegarde?"
"Hollow?" cried Hildegarde. "What do you mean, Bell? I know of nohollow place there."
"Have you ever looked for one?" Bell inquired. "Search wouldreveal something in there, I am pretty sure."
Thrilled with curiosity, Hildegarde came down, and the three girlscrouched together on the narrow stair, and tapped and rapped hereand there. Beyond a doubt, one panel was hollow. What could itmean?
Bell meditated. "What is on the other side of this place?" sheasked.
"I--don't know," said Hildegarde. "Stop a moment, though! It mustbe,--yes, it is! The old chimney, the great square stack, comesnear this place. Can there be any space--"
"Then it IS a secret chamber, most likely," said Bell. "I haveheard of such things. Shall we try?"
They tried eagerly, pressing here, pushing there, but for sometime in vain. At length, as Hildegarde's strong fingers pressedhard on one spot of moulding, she felt it quiver. There was afaint sound, like a murmur of protest; then slowly, unwillingly,the panel moved, obedient to the insistent fingers, and slidaside, revealing a square opening into--the blackness of darkness.
"Oh, it's a dungeon!" cried Gertrude, starting back. "Perhaps thefloor will give way, and let us down into places with knives andscythes. You remember 'The Dumberdene,' Bell?"
"No fear, Gertrude," said Hildegarde. "Nothing more horrible thanthe dining-room is under our feet. But this,--this is verymysterious. Can you see anything, Bell?"
"I begin to get a faint glimmer," said Bell. "Of course, if it isa chimney-room there cannot be any particular light. Shall wecreep in? There is evidently a good deal of spa
ce."
"By all means," cried Hildegarde. "But let me go first, to bearthe brunt of any horrors there may be. Spiders I would not face,but they must all be dead years ago."
She crept in on her hands and knees, closely followed by the twoMerryweathers. Growing accustomed to the dimness, they foundthemselves in a small square chamber, high enough for them tostand upright. The walls were smooth, and thick with dust; thefloor was carpeted with something that felt soft and close, likean Eastern rug.
"We simply MUST have light!" cried Hildegarde. "Wait, girls! Iwill bring a candle and matches."
"No! no!" cried Bell. "Wait a moment! I think I have found awindow, or something like one, if I can only get it open."
Again there was a soft, complaining sound, and then a slidingmovement; a tiny panel was pushed aside, and a feeble ray of lightstole in. The girls' faces glimmered white against the blackness.
"Something obstructs the light," said Hildegarde. "See! this isit." She put her arm out through the little opening, and pushedaway a dense mass of vines that hung down like a thick curtain."That is better," she said. "Now let us see where we are."
It was a curious place, surely, to lie hidden in the heart of acomparatively modern house. A square room, perhaps eight feetacross, neatly papered with the blue-dragon paper of Hildegarde'sown room; on the floor an old rug, faded to a soft, nameless hue,but soft and fine. On the walls hung a few pictures, quaint littlecoloured wood-cuts in gilt frames, representing ladies andgentlemen in scant gowns and high-shouldered frock-coats. Therewere two little chairs, painted blue, with roses on the backs; alow table, and a tiny chest of drawers. The girls looked at eachother, a new light dawning in their faces.
"It is a doll's room," said Gertrude, softly, with an awe-strickenlook.
"I know! I know whose room it was!" cried Hildegarde. "Wait, oh,wait! I am sure we shall find something else. I will tell you allabout it in a moment, but now let us look and find all we can."
With beating hearts they searched the corners of the littlechamber. Presently Hildegarde uttered a cry, and drew somethingforward into the light of the little window; a good-sized object,carefully covered with white cloth, neatly stitched together.Hildegarde took out her pocket scissors, and snipped with ardour,then drew off the cover. It was a doll's bedstead, of polishedmahogany, with four pineapple-topped posts, exactly like the greatone in which Hildegarde herself slept; and in it, under daintyfrilled sheets, blankets and coverlid, lay two of the prettiestdolls that ever were seen. Their nightgowns were of fine linen;the nightcaps, tied under their dimpled chins, were sheer lawn,exquisitely embroidered. One tiny waxen hand lay outside thecoverlid, and in it was a folded piece of paper.
"Oh, Hildegarde!" cried Bell, "what does it mean?"
Gertrude was in tears by this time, the big crystal drops rollingsilently down her cheeks; her heart was wrung, she did not knowwhy.
"Hester Aytoun," said Hildegarde, softly. "This must have been herplayroom, Bell. She used to live here; it is about her that Iwanted to tell you. But first let us see what she has writtenhere. I think she would be willing; we are girls, too, and I don'tthink Hester would mind."
There were tears in Hildegarde's voice, if not in her eyes, as sheread the writing, now yellow with age:
"I, Hester Aytoun, being now sixteen years old, am putting away mydear dolls, the dearest dolls in the world. Sister Barbara says Iam far too old for such childish things; but I shall never be tooold in my heart, though I may well busy myself with householdmatters, especially if I must marry Tom in three years, as hesays. So I put away my dear dolls, and I shall shut up theplayroom, also, for I could not think to pass by it each day andnot go in to see them, and that Sister Barbara will not allow. Itmay be that no one will find my playroom till I show it myself tomy little children, if God wills that I have them, which I shallpray always, now that I may not have my dolls any more. But ifthat should not be, or I should be taken away, then I think noharm to pray that a girl like myself may one day find my playroomthat father made for me,--my own room, where I have been a veryhappy child. A man would never know what it meant, but a girlwould know, and if it should so hap, I pray her to be gentle withthe bedstead, for one leg is weakly; and if she will leave my deardolls, when she has well played with them, I shall bless heralways for a gentle maiden, wherever I be. So farewell, says"HESTER AYTOUN."
All three girls were crying by this time, and little Gertrude laidher head on her sister's shoulder and sobbed aloud. Bell smoothedher hair with light, motherly touches, drying her own eyes thewhile. Hildegarde sat silent for a while, the letter in her hand;then she folded it again, and gently, reverently laid it again inthe doll's hand.
"Dear Hester!" she said, "we do know, dear; we do understand,indeed."
And then, sitting on the floor by the pretty bedstead, andspeaking softly and tenderly, she told the two girls of that othermaiden who had lived and died in this old house,--the bright,beautiful Hester Aytoun, who faded in her springtime loveliness,and died at eighteen years; who had left everywhere the traces ofher presence, soft, fragrant, like the smell of the flowers in herown garden.
"I chose my bedroom, that you like," said Hildegarde, "because Ifelt sure, somehow, that it had been hers. I never had a sister,girls, but Hester seems to me like my sister; and sometimes"--shehesitated, and her voice fell still lower--"sometimes I have feltas if she wished it to be so,--as if she liked to come now andthen and see the old home, and give a loving look and word to thethings she used to care for so much. I am glad we found thisplace, but I don't think I shall tell anyone else about it, exceptmamma, of course, and Jack, when he comes home."
Very gently the three girls laid the white covering back over thelittle dolls, who lay quiet and rosy, and seemed as content asever was Sleeping Beauty in her tower. They peeped into the chestof drawers, and found it full of dainty frocks and petticoats, allexquisitely made; there was even a pile of tiny handkerchiefs,marked "Annabel" and "Celia." This sight made Gertrude's tearsflow afresh; she was a tender-hearted child, and tears fell fromher eyes as softly and naturally as dew from a flower.
When all was seen, they closed the little window, and with a mutefarewell to the sweet guardian spirit of the little place,--thegirl who had loved her dolls, and so made herself dear to allother girls,--the three withdrew, and softly, reluctantly drew thesliding panel after them.
"I shall not forget," whispered Hildegarde, who was the last toleave the secret chamber; "I shall come sometimes, Hester dear,and sit there, just I myself, and we will talk together, the dollsand I. I shall not forget."
The panel slid into its place with a faint click; no sign wasleft, only the white wainscoting, one panel like another, and thecrooked stair winding up to the open, airy room above.