"Johnnie Dale? No, he has not run away. You will find him in the lane,where I saw him as we came through. Shall I find him for you?"
"No, thank you. Doubtless Lady Adela is impatient at your long stay,"she said, walking coolly away from him.
"The deuce! I expect she is. I had quite forgotten the daughter of ahundred earls," he said to himself, ruefully. "I forget everything withLeonora West. She would not answer my question, yet I would give theworld to know what she really thinks. If I had not promised De Vere afair field, I would try to find out what she thought before the sunsets. How brusque she is! Ah!"
The last exclamation was wrung from him by seeing Leonora lift her handas she walked across the field.
Something bright and shining flashed in the air a moment, then fellinto the grass.
"She has thrown my gold piece away like so much dross! What does shemean?" he asked himself.
But the question was one not easily answered, so he returned to hisfriends, who were chattering like so many magpies among the ruins.
"We thought you had gone back home, you were so long away," said LadyAdela, looking rather cross.
"Now I shall have to invent some fiction to account for my longabsence," he thought, pulling vexedly at his long mustache. "Deuce takethe women! They pull one this way and that way, until one is out ofpatience!"
And while he was hastily concocting an excuse, Leonora was walkingrapidly through the lanes and fields with little Johnnie, on her wayback to the Hall.
"I'm glad you came back so soon," Mrs. West said; "for some of theyoung people have gone over to the ruins, I hear, and I was afraid theywould see you."
"They did see me; but I came away soon after," the girl answered,carelessly.
"They are going to have a picnic at the ruins to-morrow, it seems,"pursued her aunt. "Lady Lancaster and all of them are going. So thehouse will be empty, and I can take you all over it to-morrow, if youlike."
"Thank you; I shall like it very much," said Leonora, ratherapathetically.
"And your picture of the ruins--did you get it, my dear?" pursued Mrs.West, suddenly remembering the sketch.
"Oh, yes; I finished it."
"Aren't you going to let me see it?"
"I'm sorry, aunt, but I sold it as soon as I finished it. I'll go backsome day and make another for you."
"You sold it! To whom, my dear?" exclaimed the good soul, surprised.
"Why, to Lord Lancaster," Leonora answered, indifferently.
But Mrs. West was delighted. She thought that her niece must be veryaccomplished, indeed, if she could make a picture that Lord Lancasterwould be willing to buy.
"He was very kind, especially after the way she behaved the othernight. It was quite silly. I did not think Leonora would be so easilyfrightened. It is a wonder that Lord Lancaster was not offended," shethought.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The next day dawned as fair and lovely as any picnic-party coulddesire. The party from Lancaster set out as early as twelve o'clock,and left the coast clear for Leonora's explorations of the great house.
Mrs. West, with her basket full of keys upon her arm, undertookthe office of guide. We do not propose to accompany them, you andI, reader. Descriptions of rooms are wearisome alike to reader andwriter. Most people skip over these prolix inventories of furniture andbric-a-brac, and hasten on to more interesting matters. We will too,reader.
Mrs. West had "reckoned without her host" when she supposed that thehouse was empty, and that the lady of Lancaster Park as well as therest of the guests had gone to the Abbey ruins on fun and frolicintent. It was quite true that she had intended doing so, but there isa quaint old adage to the effect that "man proposes, but God disposes."
That prosaic affliction, rheumatism, which is no respecter of persons,and to which old age is peculiarly liable, laid its grim hand uponthe great lady that morning, and reminded her of a fact that she wassometimes prone to forget, in the arrogance of her greatness andworldly prosperity--namely that, in spite of her wealth and power, shewas but mortal, after all, and that although she could order otherthings, she had no control over her own frail body and soul.
So, groaning under the hand of her relentless enemy, Lady Lancaster wasfain to relinquish her design of superintending the loves of her nephewand the earl's daughter for that day at least. She made arrangementsfor the party to proceed without her, and surrendered herself to thegood offices of her maid for the day.
And a doleful day Mlle. Elise had of it, too, for her lady's temper,never sweet, was sharp as vinegar under the stress of her affliction.In vain did Elise apply the hot fomentations and the vaunted liniments,in vain darken the room, and with kindest ministrations endeavor to wooquiet and repose to the couch of the afflicted one. Lady Lancasterbeing full of selfishness and venom always, vented it with even morethan usual rigor upon the head of her unoffending handmaid, and keepingup a series of groans, hysterics, and revilings, made hideous the gloomof her curtained chamber.
So, groaning and lamenting and scolding, Lady Lancaster passed thehours of her penance, and toward high noon the devoted maid had thesatisfaction of hearing her acknowledge that she felt a little better,and that if the sharp twinges of pain did not come back into hershoulder, she might perhaps fall into a little doze.
"Thank God," said Elise, devoutly, to herself, and she smoothed andpatted the lace-fringed pillows, and sat down to watch her mistress'sslumbers, feeling intensely relieved, and praying within herself thatthe shrewish dowager might not open her keen black eyes again for atleast twenty-four hours.
"For I do not believe that her shoulder can hurt any worse than mine,with the rubbing I have given her," said the French woman, ruefully, toherself; and she was afraid to breathe lest those wrinkled lids shouldopen again, and the querulous voice demand some further service fromher weary and impatient handmaiden.
"And if the pay wasn't so good, I would not stay in her service anotherday," said the woman to herself. "She grows harder and more vixenishevery day of her life. As old as she is, she does not seem to be makingany preparations for dying. I dare say she expects to live forever.Ugh! how yellow, and wrinkled, and ugly she is, with the paint andpowder off, and her wig of gray curls in the box; I should want to dieif I were as ugly and witchy-looking as she is."
And the maid settled her coquettish little cap a little more rakishlyupon her befrizzled hair, and made a grimace expressive of intensesatisfaction with her own young and pretty face. For Elise, in commonwith many of her sex, believed that beauty was a great power in theworld, and had vague dreams of making capital out of hers as soon asshe had saved up a little pile of money, enough to start a thread andneedle and ribbon shop for herself in London, where she expected tocaptivate some handsome and flourishing young tradesman with her prettyface and gay attire.
But while Elise, gazing into the long mirror opposite, indulged inthese Alnaschar visions of the future, the beady black orbs of hermistress had flared wide open again, and she exclaimed, in such sharp,sudden accents that the maid gave a start of terror:
"Elise, who is that playing upon the drawing-room piano?"
"Oh, my lady, I thought you were asleep!" cried poor Elise, ruefully.
"So I should have been if some fool had not commenced to play on thegrand piano in the drawing-room. Who is it, I say?" demanded LadyLancaster, irascibly.
"Oh, my lady, you must be mistaken!" Elise began to say; but then shestopped in confusion. Some one _was_ playing the piano, and the strong,full, melodious notes, struck by a practiced hand, echoed melodiouslythrough the house.
"I'm not deaf, Mam'selle Elise," said her mistress, scornfully. "Someone is playing the piano. Hark, it is the grand march from 'Norma!' Ithought all of the people had gone to the picnic."
"So they have, my lady--every soul of them."
"Then who is that playing in the drawing-room?--tell me that!" snappedthe peevish old lady.
"Indeed I don't know, Lady Lancaster," answered the maid, truthfully.
/> "Then make it your business to find out--go and see," was theperemptory command; and Elise without any more ado obeyed it.
"I did not know that there was a woman in the house who could wake thesoul in the piano like that," said Lady Lancaster to herself, when thegirl was gone. "What a touch! What grand notes! Who is it that has beenhiding her talents in a napkin? Not Lady Adela! She is fast enough toshow all the accomplishments she possesses. So are all the other women,for that matter. Modesty is not one of their failings."
And she waited most impatiently for Elise to return. She was bothcurious and angry. She was angry because her nap had been brought to anuntimely end, and she was curious to know who had done it.
It seemed to her that the maid stayed a long time. The march from"Norma" was finished, and the unknown musician had struck into anotherpiece--a melancholy fugue--before the girl came flying back withupraised hands and dilated eyes, exclaiming:
"Oh, my lady, I never was so astonished in all my life!"
CHAPTER XXIX.
"You fool!" cried Lady Lancaster, in a rage. "Who cares whether you areastonished or not? Why don't you tell me what I sent you to find out?"
"What a spiteful old cat!" Elise said to herself, indignantly; but sheanswered, meekly enough:
"So I am going to tell you, my lady, directly. It's that girl fromAmerica--the housekeeper's niece."
Lady Lancaster bounded erect in her bed and regarded the maid for amoment in unfeigned dismay. She had utterly forgotten the existence ofMrs. West's niece, and it took several minutes of bewildered thought torecall her to her mind. When her memory had fully come back, she gaspedout feebly:
"Do you say that that child--West's niece--is down in the drawing-roomplaying on the piano?"
"Yes, my lady, that was what I said," said Elise, who was almost asmuch astonished as her mistress.
"The impertinent little monkey! Wherever did she learn to play likethat? Did you tell her to go away, Elise?" angrily.
"No, my lady. I only went and peeped in at the door. When I saw who itwas, I came quietly away."
"Help me out of bed, Elise," cried her mistress, imperiously.
"Oh, my lady, and bring back all the pain in your shoulder again!"Elise cried, aghast.
"Do as I bid you, girl," sharply.
The maid took the thin, bony little figure into her strong young arms,and lifted it out upon the floor.
"Now bring my dressing-gown, my slippers, and my wig. Put them onme--quickly," commanded my lady.
Elise knew that there was no use in expostulating. She quietly did asshe was told. She powdered the yellow face, adjusted the curly wig andyouthful cap, put on the velvet slippers and the gorgeous brocadeddressing-gown that made Lady Lancaster look like the Queen of Sheba inall her glory.
"Now give me your arm," she said, turning toward the door.
"But, my lady, where are you going?" cried Elise.
"To the drawing-room," curtly.
"You'll catch your death of cold," whimpered the maid.
"What is that to you?" flashed the dowager, sharply. "Come along."
And clinging to the arm of Elise, and groaning at every step with thereawakened pain in her shoulder, Lady Lancaster took up her march tothe drawing-room, her flowered gown trailing majestically behind her,going forth as one goes to conquer, for she was intent on the instantand utter annihilation, metaphorically speaking, of the daring plebeianchild who had so coolly transgressed her commands.
Leonora had never got beyond the picture-gallery and the drawing-room.The great, black, ebony piano had fascinated her. She could not tearherself away.
"Oh, Aunt West, my fingers ache to touch the keys!"
"Can you play, dear?" asked her aunt, with one of her kind, indulgentsmiles.
"Only let me show you," said the girl. "There is no one to hear, isthere, aunt?"
"No, there is no one," said Mrs. West, reflectively. "The maids are allin the other wing. This part of the house is empty. I dare say it willbe no harm for you to amuse yourself a little while."
She threw back the magnificent embroidered cover, and raised the lidherself. Leonora's eyes beamed under their long lashes at sight of thegleaming pearl keys.
"Oh!" she said, under her breath, and sat down. She ran her fingerslightly along the keys. A shower of melody seemed to fall from them.The silver-sweet notes fell soft and swift as rain-drops from theflying fingers, and full of subtle harmony and delicious sound. Sheplayed on and on, and when the exquisite aria came to a close Mrs. Westgazed at her in amazement.
"Oh, my dear, what music!" she cried. "I do not believe that any of theladies who come here can play as well as that."
"Can not Lady Adela?"
"No, I am sure she can not," Mrs. West answered, decidedly. "But shallwe go now?"
"Presently, Aunt West. I may stay just a little longer, may I not?"
"If you like to stay alone. I have just thought of some duties I haveto perform. I will go back and leave you here. If I come in half anhour, will you be ready?"
"Oh, yes, thank you, aunt," she answered, and ran her fingers lovinglyover the keys, little thinking that the strong, full, joyous notes wereawakening Nemesis from her nap upstairs.
CHAPTER XXX.
While Lady Lancaster was finishing her toilet upstairs, Leonorafinished her fugue in the drawing-room. Then she played a little_morceau_ from Bach. Then she began to sing. The dowager, coming alongthe corridor outside with stealthy, cat-like steps, was amazed to catchthe passionate words of a little gem from "Iolanthe," sung in a voiceas sweet and clear and well trained as many a professional could boast.
"An opera song! Upon my word! What sort of a girl is it, anyhow?"ejaculated the dowager, in astonishment; and in spite of her haste andanger, she could not help pausing to hear the words of the tender lovesong:
"None shall part us from each other, All in all to each are we; All in all to one another, I to thee, and thou to me! Thou the tree, and I the flower-- Thou the idol, I the throng-- Thou the day, and I the hour-- Thou the singer, I the song! Thou the stream, and I the willow-- Thou the sculptor, I the clay-- Thou the ocean, I the billow-- Thou the sunrise, I the day!"
"Upon my word, that must be a remarkable child," Lady Lancaster said toherself; and, like Elise, she peeped around the door to get a secretview of the daring transgressor.
After she had looked she stepped back a pace in amazement. She was moreastonished than she had ever been in her life.
The child she had come to see was nowhere. She had come down the stairswith a distinct intention of "boxing the little brat's ears for hertemerity." She stared in amazement at what she saw.
And yet it was not a wonderful sight, but only a very pleasingone--unless my lady had been hard to please--only a graceful, girlishfigure in deep black, with a line of white at the slender throat, wherethe narrow linen collar was fastened with a neat bar of jet--only afair young face, with its profile turned toward the door, and twosmall white hands guiltless of rings or other adorning, save their owndimpled beauty, straying over the keys with a loving touch, as if allher soul was in her song.
Lady Lancaster caught her breath with a gasp as if someone had throwncold water over her. She turned to the maid; exclaiming, in a shrillwhisper:
"Elise, that is not West's American niece. You are trying to deceiveme!"
"No, my lady, I am not. It is Miss West. Is she not a pretty girl?"
"But I thought," said my lady, ignoring the question, "that West'sniece was a child. I am sure she told me so."
"I do not know what she told you; but this is certainly Leonora West,"reiterated the maid; and then her mistress stepped over the thresholdinto the room, the long train of her stiff brocade rustling behind heras she walked with an air of withering majesty upon her wrinkled face.
Leonora, hearing the ominous sound, glanced around with a startled air,her hands fell from the keys, and she sprung to her feet, and stoodwaiting the la
dy's approach--not humbly, not nervously, but with thatcalm dignity and self-possession that seemed characteristic of her,and that seemed to belong peculiarly to her as fragrance belongs to aflower.
Lady Lancaster was not propitiated by that peculiar air. To her angryeyes it savored of defiance.
She walked on across the thick, soft pile of the velvet carpet untilshe was directly in front of the waiting girl, and then Leonora liftedher eyes with an air of gentle curiosity, and dropped her a gracefulcourtesy.
"Impertinent! I have a great mind to slap her, anyhow!" the old ladysaid, irately, to herself; but she kept down her spleen with a greateffort of will, and said, with ironical politeness:
"You are Leonora West, the housekeeper's niece, I presume?"
"Yes, madame, that is my name," Leonora answered, with another gracefulbow. "And you are--Mrs. Lancaster!"
"Lady Lancaster, if you please," flashed the dowager, haughtily.
"Ah?" smoothly. "Lady Lancaster, I beg your pardon. You see we have notitles in America. A plain Mrs. is a title of honor in itself, and whenone comes to England one is apt to forget the requirements of rank."
A graceful, simple explanation enough; but Elise, who kept close besideher mistress, saw a roguish gleam in the blue-gray eyes shaded by thedrooping black lashes.
"She is laughing in her sleeve at my lady," thought the astute maid;but she did not resent the girlish impertinence in her mind. LadyLancaster snubbed her handmaid so often that Elise rather enjoyedseeing her snubbed in her turn.