The Shadow of a Sin Part 25

And she submitted pa.s.sively while a plain band of hair was chosen for her by the hair-dresser and Mrs. Chalmers. When it had been arranged, and she looked in the gla.s.s, she hardly recognized her face, the wavy golden hair had always given such a graceful, fairy-like character to her beauty. She looked many years older than she was--sad and subdued.

The plain band of hair seemed quite to alter her face. Mrs. Chalmers kissed her.

"Never mind, my dear," she said; "you will soon be your own pretty self again," and the kindly words smote the young girl with deadliest pain.

Her own self? Ah, no!--that self was dead, never to live again. It was but fitting that the old, graceful beauty--the girlish beauty Adrian had loved so dearly--should die with it.

"A very proper person indeed," thought Lady Dartelle, when the interview was nearly at an end; "evidently knows her place and mine; and I may own to myself that the outlay is very little."

For Lady Dartelle had, during the course of the interview, been delighted with the brilliant accomplishments of the young girl. Her playing was magnificent, her singing most exquisite--the pure, sweet contralto voice had been highly cultivated. Then she spoke French and German with such a pure, perfect accent, that Lady Dartelle began to think that the terms expected would be high. She managed the matter skilfully. She carefully concealed her admiration, and dwelt princ.i.p.ally on the fact that the young lady had never before been engaged in teaching.

"That makes an immense difference," said her ladyship, diplomatically.

"Still, as Miss Holte's appearance pleases me, I will not think of the deficiencies. In addition, Miss Holte, to your teaching my youngest daughter, I should wish you to speak French and Italian with my eldest girls."

Miss Holte bowed acquiescence, and her ladyship, finding that she offered no objection to any amount of work, then mentioned a few other "little duties" she wished to be attended to--"duties" she would not have dared to exact from any one else.

All arrangements were concluded greatly to her satisfaction, and then Lady Dartelle asked Millicent if she would not like to see her new pupil. The young girl said "Yes," and in answer to a summons from her ladyship, the child came into the room.

Then, for the first time, Millicent's heart was touched; the large, earnest eyes looked into her own with an appealing expression, the little burning hand trembled as it lay in her own. Millicent bent down and kissed the sweet face. Something stirred in her heart that had long seemed dead--something that brought with it exquisite pleasure and exquisite pain.

"In cases of this kind," said Lady Dartelle, "I find there is nothing like a clear and straightforward understanding. I should like to tell you, Miss Holte, that when we are quite alone you will sometimes dine with us, and occasionally spend the evening in the drawing-room; but when we have visitors such an arrangement will be impossible. My reasons for saying this," continued her ladyship, blandly, turning to Mrs.

Chalmers, "are these. My son Aubrey is a frequent visitor at Hulme Abbey; he often brings friends with him; and then I think precautions with young people are necessary. I have seen sad results among my friends where the precautions I think so necessary have not been taken."

"I shall never wish for any society but that of my little pupil, Lady Dartelle," said Millicent.

And her ladyship was graciously pleased to observe that Miss Holte seemed to be very sensible.

It was all arranged; but as they drove home a sudden doubt came to Hyacinth. Lady Dartelle spoke of her son's bringing visitors with him.

Suppose among them there should be any one she knew--any one who would recognize her? The very thought of it made her sick and faint. No, it was not likely; she had seen so few people, she had known so few--besides, when visitors came, it was Lady Dartelle's wish that she should not appear.

"Even if I do appear," she said, "who that has known me in my bright happy days--who that has known me as Hyacinth Vaughan--would recognize me now?"

Who could discover the lovely, smiling, radiant face under that sad, careworn look? Where was the light that had shone in the beautiful eyes--where were the smiles that had played round the perfect lips--where the grace and happiness that had made the face like sunshine? Years seemed to have pa.s.sed over that bowed head--years of sorrow, of care, of misery. No one could recognize her. She need have no fear.

She blushed crimson when Dr. Chalmers, on seeing her, laughed. She had forgotten the false braids of hair. Nothing had the power to interest her long. Her thoughts always flew to Adrian. What had he thought of her? Had he forgotten her? What was he doing? She had completely forgotten the braids. The doctor's mischievous laugh made her remember them.

"I declare, Millicent," he said, "I should have pa.s.sed you in the street without recognizing you. Why, you look ten years older, child, and so altered!" His face grew serious and sad as he remembered the girl as he had seen her first.

"Shall you like Lady Dartelle?" he asked.

Severe suffering had not blunted her keen instinct--the instinct that had shown her that Claude was more enthusiastic than sincere, and that Adrian was the most n.o.ble of men.

"I shall like my pupil," she said, "I shall love her in time."

"Now," observed the doctor, "I have hopes of you. This is the first time you have used that word. Millicent," he continued, kindly, yet gravely, "to love any thing, even though it be only a child, will be the salvation of you."

It was arranged that Millicent--Hyacinth had even learned to think of herself by that name--should join Lady Dartelle on the Friday evening; and on the following Sat.u.r.day they were to go down to Hulme Abbey together. Dr. Chalmers had promised to find time to run down in the course of a few months.

"You will naturally be anxious to see how Miss Holte gets on," said her ladyship, adroitly; "and I shall be glad of your advice about Clara."

Then the time for parting came. The separation proved harder than they had thought. Millicent had grown to love the place and the people, as it was characteristic of her grateful, loving nature, to care for all those who were kind to her. It was her only home now; and the friends who dwelt there had been goodness itself. Her sad heart grew heavier as she thought of leaving them.

"Yet, if I live on here as I have been doing," she said to herself, "I shall lose my reason."

When the time came to say farewell, Dr. Chalmers held her hands in his.

"I am not a man of many words," he said, "but I tell you this--the sunshine and joy of my heart go with you. How much I care for you, you will never know; but Heaven's best blessing go with you and prosper you!

If you ever want a friend, send for me."

In another minute Hyacinth had left the house that had been to her as a haven of refuge and a heaven of rest.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

The beautiful November day was drawing to a close as Lady Dartelle and Hyacinth neared the end of their journey. It had been a lovely day. The branches of the trees were all bare of leaves, but the sun shone brightly and the sky was clear.

After the railway journey was ended, as they drove along the country roads, a faint color came into Millicent's face, faint and exquisite as the delicate bloom on the inner leaf of a wild rose, and a light shone in her eyes. New life had come to her. The trees seemed to spread out their grand branches as though to welcome her. The time was not so long since she had talked to them in her pretty childlike way, believing they could hear if not answer her. The life in that dull London house, where no green leaf was to be seen, faded like a heavy dream. She could have stretched out her hands to the trees, in fondest welcome. How had she lived so long without seeing them? A long, deep sigh escaped her. Lady Dartelle looked up.

"I hope you are not tired, Miss Holte?" she said.

"No, not at all, thank you; but the country looks so beautiful, and the trees are like dear old friends."

Her ladyship did not look very well pleased; she had not bargained for a sentimental governess.

"I hope," she returned stiffly, "you will find better friends at Hulme Abbey than the trees are likely to prove."

Another cry of delight escaped Hyacinth, for, on turning a sharp corner of the road, the sea lay spread out before them.

"Is Hulme Abbey near the sea?" she asked.

"Almost too near," said Lady Dartelle, "for when the wind blows and the tide is high we can hear the noise of the surf too plainly--that is the only fault that any one could possibly find with Hulme. Do you like the sea, Miss Holte?"

She did not know. She had seen it twice--once when the world was all fair and she was going to Bergheim, and again when the waves had sobbed a dull requiem to all her hope and her love. Did she like it? The very music seemed full of the sorrow of her life. She thought that she would soon grow to love it with a pa.s.sion that only poets lavish on the fair beauties of nature. Then the gray turrets of the Abbey came in sight.

"We are at home," said Lady Dartelle.

Hulme Abbey was neither so s.p.a.cious nor so magnificent as Queen's Chase.

It was an ancient building of imposing aspect, with square towers and an old-fashioned gateway, the windows were large, and the exterior of the house was ornamented with heavy carvings of stone. The building stood in the midst of the beautiful grounds; a long chestnut avenue at the back led to the woods, and these last sloped down to the very edge of the sea.

"We are not many minutes' walk from the sh.o.r.e," said Lady Dartelle, "and one of your most important duties, Miss Holte, will be to take Miss Clara down to the sea every day. The walk will be most beneficial to her."

The lonely, sorrowful heart clung to that idea of the sea; it would be a companion, almost a friend to her. It had a voice that would speak to her, that would tell her of her love, lost forever, and that would whisper of the mysteries of life, so hard to understand. Lady Dartelle almost wondered at the rapt, sublime expression that came over the sweet, sad face. In another moment they were in the s.p.a.cious entrance-hall, servants bowing, Lady Dartelle proud and patronizing.

"You are tired, and will like to go to your room," she said. "King, show Miss Holte to her room."