CHAPTER IX
AN ORPHAN'S PROTECTORS
The artist stood at the window watching for his pupil's return; it was thelate afternoon hour, which they were wont to spend in reading, and herabsence annoyed him. As he rested carelessly against the window, hisgraceful form was displayed to great advantage, and the long brown hairdropped about a classical face of almost feminine beauty. The delicacy ofhis features was enhanced by the extreme pallor of his complexion, and itwas apparent that close application to his profession had made sad inroadson a constitution never very robust. A certain listlessness of manner, asort of lazy-grace seemed characteristic; but when his pupil came in andlaid aside her bonnet, the expression of _ennui_ vanished, and he threwhimself on a sofa looking infinitely relieved. She drew near, and withouthesitation acquainted him with the discovery of her relatives in New York.He listened in painful surprise, and, ere she had concluded, sprang up. "Iunderstand! they will want to take you; will urge you to share their homeof wealth. But, Electra, you won't leave me; surely you won't leave me?"
He put his hands on her shoulders, and she knew from his quick, irregularbreathing that the thought of separation greatly distressed him.
"My aunt has not explicitly invited me to reside with her, though Iinferred from her manner that she confidently expected me to do so. Irenealso spoke of it as a settled matter."
"You will not allow me to persuade you? Oh, child! tell me at once you willnever leave me."
"Mr. Clifton, we must part some day; I cannot always live here, you know.Before very long I must go out and earn my bread."
"Never! while I live. When I offered you a home, I expected it to be apermanent one. I intended to adopt you. Here, if you choose, you may workand earn a reputation; but away from me, among strangers, never. Electra,you forget, you gave yourself to me once."
She looked into his eyes, and, with a woman's quick perception, read allthe truth.
In an instant her countenance changed painfully; she stooped, touched hishand with her lips, and exclaimed--
"Thank you, a thousand times, my friend, my father! for your interest in,and your unvarying, unparalleled kindness to me. All the gratitude andaffection which a child could give to a parent I shall always cherishtoward you. Since it annoys you, we will say no more about the future; letthe years take care of themselves as they come."
"Will you promise me positively that you will not go to your aunt?"
"Yes; I have never seriously entertained the thought."
She escaped from his hands, and lighting the gas, applied herself to herbooks for the next hour.
If Irene found the restraint of boarding-school irksome, the separationfrom Russell was well-nigh intolerable to Electra. At first she had seemedplunged in lethargy; but after a time this mood gave place to restless,unceasing activity. Like one trying to flee from something painful, sherushed daily to her work, and regretted when the hours of darknessconsigned her to reflection. Mrs. Clifton was quite aged, and thoughuniformly gentle and affectionate toward the orphan, there was no commonground of congeniality on which they could meet. To a proud, exactingnature like Electra's, Mr. Clifton's constant manifestations of love andsympathy were very soothing. Writhing under the consciousness of hercousin's indifference, she turned eagerly to receive the tokens ofaffection showered upon her. She knew that his happiness centred in her,and vainly fancied that she could feed her hungry heart with his adoration.But by degrees she realized that these husks would not satisfy her; and asingular sensation of mingled gratitude and impatience arose whenever hecaressed her.
Mrs. Clifton was a rigid Roman Catholic, her son a free-thinker, in thebroadest significance of the term, if one might judge from the selectionsthat adorned his library shelves. But deep in his soul was the germinationof a mystical creed, which gradually unfolded itself to Electra.
It was late at night when Electra retired to her room, and sat down tocollect her thoughts after the unexpected occurrences of the day.
More than one discovery had been made since the sunrise, which she awoke soearly to study. She had found relatives, and an opportunity of livingluxuriously; but, in the midst of this beautiful _bouquet_ of surprises, aserpent's head peered out at her. Mr. Clifton loved her; not as a teacherhis pupil, not as guardian loves ward, not as parent loves child. Perhapshe had not intended that she should know it so soon, but his eyes hadbetrayed the secret. She saw perfectly how matters stood. This, then, hadprompted him from the first, to render her assistance; he had resolved tomake her his wife; nothing less would content him. She twisted her whitefingers in her hair, and gazed vacantly down on the carpet, and graduallythe rich crimson blood sank out of her face. She held his life in thehollow of her hand, and this she well knew; death hung over him like thesword of Damocles; she had been told that any violent agitation or griefwould bring on the hemorrhage which he so much dreaded, and although heseemed stronger and better than usual, the insidious nature of his diseasegave her little hope that he would ever be robust. To feign ignorance ofhis real feelings for her, would prove but a temporary stratagem; the timemust inevitably come, before long, when he would put aside this veil, andset the truth before her. How should she meet it--how should she evade him?Accept the home which Mrs. Young would offer her, and leave him to sufferbriefly, to sink swiftly into the tomb? No; her father's family had casthim most unjustly off, withholding his patrimony; and now she scorned toreceive one cent of the money which his father was unwilling that he shouldenjoy. Beside, who loved her as well as Henry Clifton? She owed more to himthan to any living being; it would be the part of an ingrate to leave him;it was cowardly to shrink from repaying the debt. But the thought of beinghis wife froze her blood, and heavy drops gathered on her brow as sheendeavoured to reflect upon this possibility.
A feeling of unconquerable repulsion sprang up in her heart, nerving,steeling her against his affection. With a strange, instantaneous reactionshe thought with loathing of his words of endearment. How could she endurethem in future, yet how reject without wounding him? One, and only one pathof escape presented itself--a path of measureless joy. She lifted herhands, and murmured--
"Russell! Russell! save me from this!"
When Mr. and Mrs. Young visited the studio the following day and urged theorphan's removal to their house, she gently but resolutely declined theirgenerous offer, expressing an affectionate gratitude toward her teacher,and a determination not to leave him, at least for the present. Mrs. Youngwas much distressed, and adduced every argument of which she was mistress,but her niece remained firm; and finding their entreaties fruitless, Mr.Young said that he would immediately take the necessary steps to secureRobert Grey's portion of the estate to his daughter. Electra sat with herhand nestled in her aunt's, but when this matter was alluded to she rose,and said proudly--
"No, sir; let the estate remain just as it is. I will never accept onecent. My grandfather on his deathbed excluded my father from any portion ofit, and since he willed it so, even so it shall be. I have no legal claimto a dollar, and I will never receive one from your generosity. It was thewill of the dead that you and my Uncle William should inherit the whole,and as far as I am concerned, have it you shall. I am poor, I know; so weremy parents. Poverty they bequeathed as my birthright, and even as theylived without aid from my grandfather, so will I. It is very noble andgenerous in you, after the expiration of nearly twenty years, to be willingto divide with the orphan of the outcast; but I will not, cannot, allow youto do so. I fully appreciate and most cordially thank you both for yourgoodness; but I am young and strong, and I expect to earn my living. Mr.Clifton and his mother want me to remain in his house until I finish mystudies, and I gratefully accept his kind offer. Nay, aunt! don't let ittrouble you so. I shall visit you very frequently."
"She has all of Robert's fierce obstinacy. I see it in her eyes, hear itringing in the tones of her voice. Take care, child; it ruined yourfather," said Mrs. Young sorrowfully.
"You should remember, Electra, that an orphan
girl needs a protector. SuchI would fain prove myself."
As Mr. Young spoke, he took one of her hands and drew her to him. Sheturned quickly and laid the other on the artist's arm.
"I have one here, sir, a protector as true and kind as my own father couldbe."
She understood the flash of his eyes and his proud smile as he assured herrelatives that he would guard her from harm and want so long as he lived,or as she remained under his care. She knew he regarded this as a tacitsealing of the old compact, and she had no inclination to undeceive him atthis juncture.
Urging her to visit them as often as possible, and extending the invitationto Mr. Clifton, the Youngs withdrew, evidently much disappointed, and asthe door closed behind them, Electra felt that the circle of doom wasnarrowing around her. Mr. Clifton approached her, but, averting her head,she lifted the damask curtain that divided the parlour from the studio, andeffected her retreat, dreading to meet his glance--putting off the evil dayas long as possible--trying to trample the serpent that trailed after herfrom that hour.