For Woman's Love Part 31

No, she could say nothing, do nothing that would not make matters worse.

She must let events take their course, bide her time and hope for the best, she said to herself, as she arose and rang the bell.

John, the footman, answered the call.

"It is Martha whom I want. Send her here," said the lady.

The man went out and the upper housemaid came in.

"You wanted me, ma'am?"

"Yes. Do you remember the room occupied by my nursery governess years ago?"

"Yes, ma'am; the front room on the left side of the hall on the third story."

"Yes; that is the room. Have it prepared for the same person. She will be here to-morrow evening."

"Good--Lord!" involuntarily exclaimed old Martha; "why, we haven't heard of her for a dozen years. What a sweet creeter she was, though, Miss Cora. I thought as she'd a married a fortin' long ago."

"She has been married and widowed. At least she says so."

"A widow, poor thing! And is she comin' to be a companion or anything?"

"She is coming as a guest."

"Oh! very well, Miss Cora; I will have the room ready in time."

When the old woman had left the room Cora sat down to her writing desk and wrote two letters--one to Mr. Fabian Rockharrt, Hotel Trois Freres, Paris; the other to Cadet Sylva.n.u.s Haught, West Point, N.Y.

When she had finished and sealed these she put them in the mail bag that was left in the hall to be taken at daybreak by the groom to North End post office. Then she retired to rest.

The next morning she breakfasted tete-a-tete with her grandfather, Mr.

Clarence having remained over night at North End. While they were still at the table the man John entered with a telegram, which he laid on the table before his master.

"Who brought this?" inquired the Iron King, as he opened it.

"Joseph brought it when he came back from the post office. It had just come, and Mr. Clarence gave it to Joseph to fetch to you, sir. Yes, sir!" replied John.

"It is from Mrs. Stillwater. That lady is a perfect model of prompt.i.tude and punctuality. She says--but I had better read it to you. John, you need not wait," said Mr. Rockharrt.

The negro, who had lingered from curiosity to hear what was in the telegram, immediately retired.

Old Aaron Rockharrt took up the long slip, adjusted his spectacles and read:

WIRT HOUSE, BALTIMORE, MD., May 16th, 18--

A thousand heartfelt thanks for your princely munificence and hospitality. I avail myself of both gladly and at once. I shall leave Baltimore by the 8:30 a.m., and arrive at the North End Station at 6:30 p.m.

"That is her message. Now I wish you to have everything in readiness for her. I shall go in person to the depot and bring her home with me when I return in the evening. Of course it will be two hours later than usual when I get back here. You will, therefore, have the dinner put back until nine o'clock on this occasion."

Cora bowed. She could scarcely trust her voice to answer in words.

Mr. Rockharrt, absorbed in his own thoughts and plans, never noticed her coldness and silence. He soon finished breakfast, left the table, and a few minutes later entered his carriage to drive to North End.

"'Pears to me old ma.r.s.e is jes' wonderful, Miss Cora. To go to his business every day like clock work, and he 'bout seventy-seven years old. And jes' as straight and strong as a pine tree! Yes, and as hard as a pine knot! He's wonderful, that he is!" said old Jason, the gray haired negro butler, when he came in from seeing his master off and began to clear away the breakfast service.

"Yes; your master is a fine, strong man, Jason--physically," replied Cora, who was beginning to doubt the mental soundness of her grandfather!

"Physicking! No, indeed! 'Tain't that as makes the old g'eman so strong. He nebber would take no physic in all his life. It's consternation, that's w'at it is--his good, healthy consternation!"

"Very likely!" replied Cora, who was too much disturbed to set the old man right.

She left the breakfast parlor, and went up stairs to superintend in person the preparation for the comfort of the expected guest.

CHAPTER XII.

THE SIREN AND THE DESPOT.

That May night was clear and cool. The sky was brilliant with stars, sparkling and flas.h.i.+ng from the pure, dark blue empyrean.

In the house it was chilly, so Cora had caused fires to be built in all the grates.

The drawing room at Rockhold presented a very attractive appearance, with its three chandeliers of lighted wax candles, its cheerful fire of sea coal, its warm crimson and gold coloring of carpets and curtains, and its luxurious easy chairs, sofas and ottomans, its choice pictures, books, bronzes and so forth. In the small dining room the table was set for dinner, in the best spare room all was prepared for its expected occupant.

Cora, in her widow's cap and dress, sat in an arm chair before the drawing room fire, awaiting the arrival. Half past eight had been the hour named by her grandfather for their coming. But a few minutes after the clock had struck, the sound of carriage wheels was heard on the avenue approaching the house.

Old Jason opened the hall door just as the vehicle drew up and stopped.

Mr. Rockharrt alighted and then gave his hand to his companion, who tripped lightly to the pavement, and let him lead her up stairs and into the house. Cora stood at the door of the drawing room. Mr. Rockharrt led his visitor up to his granddaughter, and said:

"Mrs. Stillwater is very much fatigued, Cora. Take her at once to her room and make her comfortable; and have dinner on the table by the time she is ready to come down."

He uttered these words in a peremptory manner, without waiting for the usual greeting that should have pa.s.sed between the hostess and the visitor.

Cora touched a bell.

"Oh! let me embrace my sweet Cora first of all! Ah! my sweet child! You and I both widowed since the last time we met!" cooed Rose, in her most dulcet tones, as she drew Cora to her bosom and kissed her before the latter could draw back.

"How do you do?" was the formal greeting that fell from the lady's lips.

"As you see, dearest--'Not happy, but resigned,'" plaintively replied the widow.

"You quote from a king's minion, I think," said Cora, coldly.

Rose took no notice of the criticism, but tenderly inquired.