For Woman's Love Part 33

"You owe no thanks to me," replied Cora.

"A thousand thanks, my darling!" said Rose, and hearing the heavy footsteps of the Iron King in the hail, she added--as if she heard them not: "And as for Mr. Rockharrt, that n.o.ble, large brained, great hearted man, I have no words to express the grat.i.tude, the reverence, the adoration with which his magnanimous character and munificent benevolence inspires me. He is of all men the most--"

But here she seemed first to have caught sight of the Iron King, who was standing in the door, and who had heard every word of adulation that she had spoken.

"Cora, is not dinner ready?" he inquired, coming forward.

"Yes, sir; only waiting for you," answered the lady, touching a bell.

The gray haired butler came to the call.

"Put dinner on the table," ordered Mr. Rockharrt.

The old butler bowed and disappeared; and after awhile reappeared and announced:

"Dinner served, sir."

Mr. Rockharrt gave his arm to Mrs. Stillwater, to take her to the table.

"Will not my Uncle Clarence be home this evening?" inquired Cora, as the three took their seats.

"No; he will not be home before Sat.u.r.day night. Since Fabian went away there has been twice as much supervision over the foremen and bookkeepers needed there, and Clarence is very busy over the accounts, working night and day," replied the Iron King, as he took a plate of soup from the hands of the butler and pa.s.sed it to Mrs. Stillwater, who received it with the beaming smile that she always bestowed on the Iron King.

She was the life of the little party. If she was a broken hearted widow, she did not show it there. She smiled, gleamed, glowed, sparkled in countenance and words. The moody Iron King was cheered and exhilarated, and said, as he filled her gla.s.s for the first time with Tokay, "Though you do not need wine to stimulate you, my child. You are full of joyous life and spirits."

"Oh, sir, pardon me. Perhaps I ought to control myself; but I am so happy to be here through your great goodness; so free from care and fear; so full of peace and joy; so safe, so sheltered! I feel like a storm beaten bird who has found a nest, or a lost child who has found a home, and I forget all my losses and all my sorrows and give myself up to delight. Pardon me, sir; I know I ought to be calmer."

"Not at all, not at all, my child! I am glad to see you so gay. I approve of you. You have suffered more than either of us, for you have not only lost your life's companion, but home, fortune, and all your living. My granddaughter here, as you may see, is a monument of morbid, selfish sorrow, which she will not try to throw off even for my sake.

But you will brighten us all."

"I wish I might; oh, how I wish I might! It seems to me it is easy to be happy if one has only a safe home and a good friend," said Rose.

"And those you shall always have in me and in my house, my child," said the Iron King.

Cora listened in pure amazement. Her grandfather sympathetic! Her grandfather giving praise and quoting poetry! What was the matter with him? Not softening of the heart; he had never possessed such a commodity. Was it softening of the brain, then? As soon as they had finished dinner and returned to the drawing room, the Iron King said to his guest:

"Now, my child, I shall send you off to bed. You have had a very long and fatiguing journey and must have a good, long night's sleep."

And with his own hands he lighted a wax taper and gave it to her. Rose received it with a grateful smile, bade a sweet toned good night to Mr.

Rockharrt and Mrs. Rothsay, and went tripping out of the room.

"I shall say good night, too, Cora; I am tired. But let me say this before I go: Do you try to take pattern by that admirable child. See how she tries to make the best of everything and to be pleasant under all her sorrows. You have not had half her troubles, and yet you will not try to get over your own. Imitate that poor child, Cora."

"'Child,' my dear grandfather! Do you forget that Mrs. Stillwater is a widow thirty-six years old?" inquired Cora.

"'Thirty-six.' I had not thought of it, and yet of course I knew it.

Well, so much the better. Yet child she is compared to me, and child she is in her perfect trust, her innocent faith, her meekness, candor and simplicity, and the delightful abandon with which she gives herself to the enjoyment of the pa.s.sing hour. This will be a brighter house for the presence of Rose Stillwater in it," said the Iron King, as he took up his taper and rang for his valet and left the room.

Cora sat a long time in meditation before she arose and followed his example. When she entered her chamber, she was surprised and annoyed to find Rose Stillwater there, seated in the arm chair before the fire. Old Martha was turning down the bed for the night.

"Cora, love, it is not yet eleven o'clock, though the dear master did send us off to bed. But I wanted to speak to you, darling Cora, just a few words, dear, before we part for the night; so when I met my old friend, Aunt Martha, in the hall, I asked her to show me which was your room, so I could come to you when you should come up; but Aunt Martha told me she was on the way to your room to prepare your bed for the night, and she would bring me here to sit down and wait for you. So here I am, dear Cora."

"You wished to speak to me, you say?" inquired Mrs. Rothsay, drawing another chair and seating herself before the fire.

"Yes, darling; only to say this, love, that I have not come here to sponge upon your kindness. I will be no drone. I wish to be useful to you, Cora. Now you are far away from all milliners and dress makers and seamstresses, and I am very skillful with my needle and can do everything you might wish to have done in that line--I mean in the way of tr.i.m.m.i.n.g and altering bonnets or dresses. I do not think I could cut and fit."

"Mrs. Stillwater," interrupted Cora, "you are our guest, and you must not think of such a plan as you suggest."

"Oh, my dear Cora, do not speak to me as if I were only company. I, your old governess! Do not make a stranger of me. Let me be as one of the family. Let me be useful to you and to your dear grandfather. Then I shall feel at home; then I shall be happy," pleaded Rose.

"But, Mrs. Stillwater, we have not been accustomed to set our guests to work. The idea is preposterous," said the inexorable Cora.

"Oh, my dear, do not treat me as a guest. Treat me as you did when I was your governess. Make me useful; will you not, dear Cora?"

"You are very kind, but I would rather not trouble you."

"Ah, I see; you are tired and sleepy. I will not keep you up, but I must make myself useful to you in some way. Well, good night, dear," said the widow, as she stooped and kissed her hostess. Then she left the room.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE SPELL WORKS.

Rose Stillwater was very near overdoing her part. She rose early the next morning and came down in the drawing room before any of the family had put in an appearance. She had scarcely seated herself before the bright little sea coal fire that the chilly spring morning rendered very acceptable, if not really necessary, when she heard the heavy, measured footsteps of the master of the house coming down the stairs. Then she rose impulsively as if in a flutter of delight to go and meet him; but checked herself and sat down and waited for him to come in.

"How heavily the old ogre walks! His step would shake the house, if it could be shaken. He comes like the statue of the commander in the opera."

She listened, but his footsteps died away on the soft, deep carpet of the library into which he pa.s.sed.

"Ah! he does not know that I am down!" she said to herself, complacently, as she settled back in her chair. Cora came in and greeted Rose with ceremonious politeness, having resolved, at length, to treat Mrs. Stillwater as an honored guest, not as a cherished friend or member of the household.

"Good morning, Mrs. Stillwater. I hope you have had a good night's rest and feel refreshed after your journey," she said.

Rose responded effusively:

"Ah, good morning, dear love! Yes; thank you, darling, a lovely night's rest, undisturbed by the thoughts of debts and duns and a doubtful future. I slept so deeply and sweetly through the night that I woke quite early this morning. The birds were in full song. You must have millions of birds here! And the subtile, penetrating fragrance of the hyacinths came into the window as soon as I opened it. How I love the early spring flowers that come to us almost through the winter snows and before we have done with fires."

Cora did not reply to this rhapsody. Then Rose inquired:

"Does your grandfather go regularly to look after the works as he used to do?"

"Mr. Rockharrt drives to North End every day," replied Cora.

"It is amazing, at his age," said Rose.

"Some acute observer has said that 'age is a movable feast.' Age, no more than death, is a respecter of persons or of periods. Men grow old, as they die, at any age. Some grow old at fifty, others not before they are a hundred. I think Mr. Rockharrt belongs to the latter cla.s.s."