.
tried to leave her for a minute. It was this sleeve, ma’am,” she explained, lifting a cluster of rainbow flounces and ribbons which but a minute before had looked little short of ridiculous in my eyes, but which in the light of the wearer’s kind-heartedness had lost some of their offensive appearance.
“Poor Mary!” murmured Lena, with what I considered most admirable presence of mind.
“What name did you say?” cried Mrs. Desberger, eager enough to learn all she could of her late mysterious lodger.
“I had rather not tell her name,” protested Lena, with a timid air that admirably fitted her rather doll-like prettiness. “She didn’t tell you what it was, and I don’t think I ought to.”
Good for little Lena! And she did not even know for whom or what she was playing the rôle I had set her.
“I thought you said Mary. But I won’t be inquisitive with you. I wasn’t so with her. But where was I in my story? Oh, I got her so she could speak, and afterwards I helped her up-stairs; but she didn’t stay there long. When I came back at lunch time—I have to do my marketing no matter what happens—I found her sitting before a table with her head on her hands. She had been weeping, but her face was quite composed now and almost hard.
“‘O you good woman!’ she cried as I came in. ‘I want to thank you.’ But I wouldn’t let her go on wasting words like that, and presently she was saying quite wildly: ‘I want to begin a new life. I want to act as if I had never had a yesterday. I have had trouble, overwhelming trouble, but I will get something out of existence yet. I will live, and in order to do so, I will work. Have you a paper, Mrs. Desberger, I want to look at the advertisements?’ I brought her a Herald and went to preside at my lunch table. When I saw her again she looked almost cheerful. ‘I have found just what I want,’ she cried, ‘a companion’s place. But I cannot apply in this dress,’ and she looked at the great puffs of her silk blouse as if they gave her the horrors, though why, I cannot imagine, for they were in the latest style and rich enough for a millionaire’s daughter, though as to colors I like brighter ones myself. ‘Would you’—she was very timid about it—‘buy me some things if I gave you the money?’
“If there is one thing more than another that I like, it is to shop, so I expressed my willingness to oblige her, and that afternoon I set out with a nice little sum of money to buy her some clothes. I should have enjoyed it more if she had let me do my own choosing—I saw the loveliest pink and green blouse—but she was very set about what she wanted, and so I just got her some plain things which I think even you, ma’am, would have approved of. I brought them home myself, for she wanted to apply immediately for the place she had seen advertised, but, O dear, when I went up to her room——”
“Was she gone?” burst in Lena.
“O no, but there was such a smudge in it, and—and I could cry when I think of it—there in the grate were the remains of her beautiful silk blouse, all smoking and ruined. She had tried to burn it, and she had succeeded too. I could not get a piece out as big as my hand.”
“But you got some of it!” blurted out Lena, guided by a look which I gave her.
“Yes, scraps, it was so handsome. I think I have a bit in my work-basket now.”
“O get it for me,” urged Lena. “I want it to remember her by.”
“My work-basket is here.” And going to a sort of etagère covered with a thousand knick-knacks picked up at bargain counters, she opened a little cupboard and brought out a basket, from which she presently pulled a small square of silk. It was, as she said, of the richest weaving, and was, as I had not the least doubt, a portion of the dress worn by Mrs. Van Burnam from Haddam.
“Yes, it was hers,” said Lena, reading the expression of my face, and putting the scrap away very carefully in her pocket.
“Well, I would have given her five dollars for that blouse,” murmured Mrs. Desberger, regretfully. “But girls like her are so improvident.”
“And did she leave that day?” I asked, seeing that it was hard for this woman to tear her thoughts away from this coveted article.
“Yes, ma’am. It was late, and I had but little hopes of her getting the situation she was after. But she promised to come back if she didn’t; and as she did not come back I decided that she was more successful than I had anticipated.”
“And don’t you know where she went? Didn’t she confide in you at all?”
“No; but as there were but three advertisements for a lady-companion in the Herald that day, it will be easy to find her. Would you like to see those advertisements? I saved them out of curiosity.”
I assented, as you may believe, and she brought us the clippings at once. Two of them I read without emotion, but the third almost took my breath away. It was an advertisement for a lady-companion accustomed to the typewriter and of some taste in dressmaking, and the address given was that of Miss Althorpe.
If this woman, steeped in misery and darkened by crime, should be there!
As I shall not mention Mrs. Desberger again for some time, I will here say that at the first opportunity which presented itself I sent Lena to the shops with orders to buy and have sent to Mrs. Desberger the ugliest and most flaunting of silk blouses that could be found on Sixth Avenue; and as Lena’s dimples were more than usually pronounced on her return, I have no doubt she chose one to suit the taste and warm the body of the estimable woman, whose kindly nature had made such a favorable impression upon me.
Chapter XXIII.
Ruth Oliver
From Mrs. Desberger’s I rode immediately to Miss Althorpe’s, for the purpose of satisfying myself at once as to the presence there of the unhappy fugitive I was tracing.
Six o’clock Sunday night is not a favorable hour for calling at a young lady’s house, especially when that lady has a lover who is in the habit of taking tea with the family. But I was in a mood to transgress all rules and even to forget the rights of lovers. Besides, much is forgiven a woman of my stamp, especially by a person of the good sense and amiability of Miss Althorpe.
That I was not mistaken in my calculations was evident from the greeting I received. Miss Althorpe came forward as graciously and with as little surprise in her manner as any one could expect under the circumstances, and for a moment I was so touched by her beauty and the unaffected charm of her manners that I forgot my errand and only thought of the pleasure of meeting a lady who fairly comes up to the standard one has secretly set for one’s self. Of course she is much younger than I—some say she is only twenty-three; but a lady is a lady at any age, and Ella Althorpe might be a model for a much older woman than myself.
The room in which we were seated was a large one, and though I could hear Mr. Stone’s voice in the adjoining apartment, I did not fear to broach the subject I had come to discuss.
“You may think this intrusion an odd one,” I began, “but I believe you advertised a few days ago for a young lady-companion. Have you been suited, Miss Althorpe?”
“O yes; I have a young person with me whom I like very much.”
“Ah, you are supplied! Is she any one you know?”
“No, she is a stranger, and what is more, she brought no recommendations with her. But her appearance is so attractive and her desire for the place was so great, that I consented to try her. And she is very satisfactory, poor girl! very satisfactory indeed!”
Ah, here was an opportunity for questions. Without showing too much eagerness and yet with a proper show of interest, I smilingly remarked:
“No one can be called poor long who remains under your roof, Miss Althorpe. But perhaps