The Inheritance by Louisa May Alcott
The old man did not answer but, with folded hands, looked up to heaven, saying, while the tears streamed down his pale, thin cheek, "My master's brother; 'tis the hand of Providence in this. God has heard my prayer. Now I can die in peace.
"Ask me no more," he said as Edith looked in silent wonder on his joy. "I cannot tell the sinful tale with eyes so like your injured father's looking on me. Leave me now, for I must quit this place tonight, and ere long you shall know the great wrong I have done you and shall be repaid for years of poverty by wealth you little dream of now. Trust me, Miss Adelon; I am not the poor dying man I seem and with new strength will journey back to finish the hard task I had begun."
Edith feared his reason had been touched, for his pale face glowed and his sunken eyes flashed as he bid her go and, with a few kind words, she left him, won dering at the strange scene she had borne a part in and the wild words she had heard.
But they soon passed away and, in other, happier thoughts, she forgot the strange old man and his mysterious words. He left the village and was never seen there again.
CHAPTER
IX
RAIN FELL HEAVILY WITHOUT, Amy, with a party of young friends, in the pleasant drawing room trying to wile away the time with music and gay conversation.
"How can we get through the evening most agreeably?" said Arthur as he threw himself beside his sister. "It must go right merrily, for Arlington tells me he must leave tomorrow, and in honor of his departure we must have some new and striking amusement, as the weather forbids all outdoor pleasures. Come, Ida, give us an idea."
"Had we known it sooner, we might have prepared a little play. Do you remember how successful we were last winter? But it is too late for that now, and I cannot tell what would be most agreeable," said Lady Ida.
"That would make a fine tableau," said Lady Mary Villiars as she laid aside a picture she had been looking at.
"Let me see it," cried Amy, springing up. "It would be lovely. Let us have tableaux. That is new and very entertaining and needs but little preparation."
"We will," said Arthur, "for I see you all look quite inspired with the thing. So bring out the portfolios, and Ida, you must plan the dresses. Now, ladies, come and choose your characters, and we gentlemen will be kings or peasants, as you shall command." And, spreading out a fine collection of pictures and engravings, they all gathered round and were soon deep in their choice and arrangement of the various scenes before them.
"We must have this. It is so graceful and the dresses are so rich," said Arthur as he showed a beautiful engraving of Amy Robsart weeping her farewell on Leicester's bosom. "Arlington would make a splendid earl, and who among you ladies can boast such long, dark locks as these falling in such fine confusion on poor Amy's shoulders?"
"Edith has most lovely hair, as you shall see," cried Amy as she suddenly drew out the comb, and Edith's dark hair fell in rich waves to her knee. "Nay, never blush and look indignant, for I shall not give you back the comb till you consent to be Lord Leicester's bride."
"No, Amy, do not ask me, for I shall not yield in this," said Edith, while her falling hair could not conceal the crimson blush upon her cheek.
"Then I shall keep you here until you do. No one will rescue you, I know, for they seldom have a chance to see such locks as these," said Amy gaily as she caught a long curl of her hair and held it fast. Consent and win your freedom, or I shall keep you prisoner."
"Dear Amy, let me go. It is not kind to hold me here. You do not know how hard a thing you ask," said Edith in a low tone.
The bright tears filled her eyes as she saw Lady Ida smile at her confusion and heard Lord Arlington encourage Amy not to yield, saying as he drew nearer, "Surely you will not refuse, Miss Adelon, to be a countess when a most devoted Leicester asks you?"
"I do refuse," said Edith as she fixed her dark eyes on his face, "for then, like poor Amy, I should find it hard to free myself so easily as now." With a sudden motion, she took a jeweled dagger from the table and, cutting the long lock Amy held her by, she passed quickly out, her glowing face veiled in her long hair.
"Quite a scene. Lord Arlington is pale with fright. Did you think she meant to stab you?" said Lady Ida, wondering why his eye had flashed so suddenly and why he watched Edith with a changing color.
"Oh, no," he answered, forcing a smile, "I had no fear of that, though these Italians are a fiery race. She was displeased with Lady Amy's little jest and at my boldness, I suppose, so we must lose this scene unless Percy will consent to take my part. What do you say, my lord?"
Lord Percy, who had looked silently on all that passed and well knew why Edith shrank from acting with Lord Arlington, now answered calmly, "Certainly not. Miss Adelon would choose to act it with none but a brother," adding, with a smile, "the handsome Leicester would feel little flattered were I to represent him."
"Well, we will have this instead. Rebecca at the stake is as beautiful, and Edith would look finely if we can but win her pardon for our rudeness and the loss of this," said Arthur, lifting the dark curl Amy had thrown down as she hastened after Edith to ask forgiveness for her little sin.
"That is my prize, being won by my dagger," said Lord Arlington as he took the lock with a glance at Lord Percy, whose quiet kindness to Edith he had watched with a jealous eye and seen how gratefully she received it. "No one will dispute my right, I think," he added as he laid the shining ringlet by his side.
"I shall," said Amy, who now came smiling back. "Edith bid me take it, for she wanted no more trouble to be made about her nor her hair, and she has consented to act in any other where we cannot do without her, so I must deprive you of it, for if I break my word, she may refuse, and then our tableaux will be spoiled, for no one acts so beautifully as she."
Lord Arlington gave back the lock with a bitter smile, for he guessed why Edith had bid Amy keep it and, with a few careless words, he turned to the characters again and nothing more was said.
Evening came and Edith joined them, pale and calm as ever. The crimson curtain was let down before the recess where the tableaux were to be, and the gay party of young friends sat waiting in the darkened room till Arthur, as master of the ceremonies, announced, "Rebecca at the stake." In a blaze of light stood Edith, with the faggots by her side and a heavy chain about her slender waist. A long white robe fell to her feet, and her dark hair drooped about her pale face, where a smile of joy and triumph seemed to lie. With one white arm folded on her breast, she pointed with the other to the unseen friend who came to rescue her from death and fixed her bright eyes proudly on the dark face of the Templar, whose rich eastern dress and glittering arms well became Lord Arlington.
"How beautiful!" cried Amy, who had stolen out to be spectator till her turn should come. "But how strangely proud and stately Edith looks. I thought she was too gentle to look scornful, even in play."
"She feels it, and well she may," said Lord Percy in a low tone, as if forgetful that he might be heard by Lady Ida, who was just behind. She wondered at the words and why he joined so heartily in their applause when the curtain fell.
The next was Mary Villiars as Queen Elizabeth, and Arthur as young Raleigh spread his velvet cloak most gracefully before her.
Again the curtain rose, and Joan of Arc, with snow white banner in her hand, hair flung back and dark eyes raised, stood pale and beautiful before them.
"That is charming. What a vast deal of expression in the countenance and grace in her attitude," said Lady Arlington to Lord Percy, who leaned on her chair.
"Yes, Miss Adelon looks as I had imagined the heroic maiden, fair and noble, with her brave heart beaming in her face," he answered, as with a deeper color on his cheek he gazed, while a bright smile shone in his dark eyes. Another and another followed, some comic and some sad.
"Your turn now, Percy," whispered Arthur as the curtain fell. "The fair statue will be ready by the time your dress is on."
A few moments passed, and then Pygmalion and Galatea were announced, and
"How splendidly she looks and how well the rich Greek dress becomes her," said Arthur as they stood behind the curtain. "Percy's quite enchanted. Do you see how handsome and inspired he looks?"
"Who would not look inspired while worshiping so lovely a Galatea?" said Lord Arlington. "I should turn sculptor immediately if I thought the gods would bless my work as they have done Pygmalion's. Who would think she was the proud Rebecca who looked so scornfully on me?" he added in a lower tone, remembering the calm contempt he had seen in those dark eyes.
"Do not take your jewels off, dear Edith. We have but a few more pictures and then we are all going out to supper in costume," said Amy to her friend when Lord Percy led her from the alcove as the curtain fell for the third time on the blushing statue.
"We have been encored and are quite overcome with our applause," he said, gracefully removing the Greek cap from his head. Bowing playfully, he presented a bouquet someone had thrown them.
"How young and gay you look tonight," said Amy as she gazed wonderingly into his smiling, happy face, so different from the pale, sad one she had always seen before.
"Thanks to Lady Ida's tasteful skill, I think we all look younger and feel gayer in these graceful garments than in our own simpler dress," he answered. He looked at Edith, whose rich robe and brilliant jewels gave a stately grace to her slender figure and a deeper beauty to her lovely face.
The tableaux finished, the curtain was then fastened back and the young actors in their tasteful costumes joined their friends, receiving with gay jests and smiles the praises lavishly bestowed.
"Am I in time to claim the fair Galatea's hand for a waltz?" said Lord Arlington, bowing with much homage.
"I never waltz," was Edith's quiet answer.
"Your pupil, Lady Amy, does. Then why not join her? How can you sit when this delightful music is calling you away?" said he.
"Amy waltzes only with her brother. As I have none, my lord, you must pardon me if I refuse," said Edith.
"When will you grant me anything I ask, Miss Adelon? You would waltz, I think, if Percy asked you," said Lord Arlington jealously.
"He would not ask me," answered Edith with a smile.
"Too proud, perhaps, though he worshiped most devoutly well. The highest heads will bow to lovely statues."
"Lord Percy is not proud, for he has been a kind friend to me and many humbler even than myself, and is too sincere to show regard he does not feel," said Edith gratefully.
"Many thanks, Miss Adelon, for defending my sincerity. I will prove worthy of your good opinion by confessing I have heard what was not meant for me," said a voice, and Edith, starting, saw Lord Percy smiling just behind her.
"Pardon my offence, and tell me what you are pleading for so earnestly, Arlington."
"Will you persuade Miss Adelon to dance, Percy? I despair of getting a partner for this waltz. She has refused to honor me."
"I think the Greek maiden has done wisely, for a waltz would ill accord with the pure and simple manners of her native land and her own gentle nature," said Lord Percy with a playful smile. "But she will sing for us, I hope, and, as we have no lyre, a harp must take its place," he added. The waltzers stopped and someone asked for music.
Lady Ida, as she entered from the supper room in the character of Cleopatra, paused suddenly and, with a flushed cheek and flashing eye, looked on the scene before her. Edith's graceful figure, with the jewels glittering on her white brow, stood beside the harp, looking beautiful and brilliant, while her rich voice sounded through the quiet room, where all stood listening silently. Lord Percy, in the Greek dress that well became his pale and chiseled features, stood beside her. Lady Ida, often as she looked, had never seen a smile of such quiet joy upon his face or such a tender light in his deep eyes as now, when looking on the bright form near the harp. He seemed lost in a pleasant dream and to have forgotten all around him.
She watched the look and smile, and in her jealous heart she vowed to win from Edith the heart she so unconsciously was winning and by false words darken the bright image she had made upon his mind. As Lady Ida passed among the happy groups, none could tell what bitter and revengeful thoughts were stirring in her bosom.
"Amy," said her brother as they sat together in a recess with Lord Percy, Lady Ida, Edith, and Lord Arlington, "did you know my friend Lord Hungerford had given his heart to beautiful Miss Grey, the pastor's daughter, and she has refused it? He is a noble fellow and loves her most devotedly. What reason could she have? Do you not think her wrong to refuse to make his happiness?"
"I did think so till Edith showed me how wisely she had acted," answered Amy.
"Why, Edith, would you, like Miss Grey, refuse a title, fortune, and noble hand if it were offered you?" asked Arthur with a wondering smile.
"I should," said Edith gently.
"May I ask why?" said Lord Percy, who had listened with strange eagerness for her reply.
"Because poor and humble as I am, I should be ill-fitted to perform the duties of my high state. Miss Grey was wise in acting as she did, for Lord Hungerford, young and thoughtless as he was and blinded by his love, could not foresee the trials that would come when his humble bride should mingle with highborn friends. He could not know how bitter a grief would be his when he should see her whom he loved so fondly sneered at for her poverty and looked coldly on because of humble birth. She knew all this and nobly refused his hand, and by this seeming cruelty has saved his generous heart from sorrows that he cannot dream of now. To wed one so far beneath him in wealth and rank would be considered a stain upon his name and, with a woman's purest love, she has refused to win her own joy by the sacrifice of his hereafter. Is she not right, and will he not, when love's first disappointment shall be over, thank her truly and honor her more deeply for the wise, self-sacrificing friendship she has shown?"
Edith spoke earnestly and, as she ceased, Amy heard a heavy sigh behind her and saw Lord Percy's cheek was very pale. The happiness that had so changed him but a little while before had faded from his face, leaving it calm and gentle but so sad. As he turned away, none heard him murmur, "Again, the happy dream is broken, as it was long years ago. Would to heaven I were a peasant."
No more was said, and the gay party was soon broken up. "Good night, Miss Adelon, and pleasant dreams," said Lord Percy as they met in the hall.
"Are you ill, my lord? Shall I not speak to someone?" said Edith as she saw how changed his face had grown, though the kind smile still lingered there.
"Nay, I am not ill, but weary. Thank you for your care, but, after this gay evening, a little rest is all I need," he answered gently. As Edith passed down the long gallery, the smile faded slowly. He watched till the last fold of the purple robe was gone, and when he turned away, a single bright drop fell unseen. None ever knew how quietly that true heart's happiness had passed away, nor how the pure love treasured there grew stronger, though all hope was gone.
And Edith, in her quiet chamber, thought often of the gentle eyes that looked so long and earnestly in hers as, kneeling at her feet, Lord Percy saw that fair face smiling down upon him with such timid joy. In her happy thoughts, she had forgotten to take the jewels from her hair till, roused by the deep silence and the old clock striking one, she started up and, with them in her hand, stole softly through the dimly lighted gallery to place them in the cabinet that stood in Lady Hamilton's private room. As she approached, a faint light shone from beneath the door. "Amy must be here," thought she and gently turned the lock, when, to her surp
"Ah, you cannot startle me, dear Amy; come out and show me how to place these jewels." And as she spoke, Edith playfully put aside the curtain but started back with a low cry of fear, for there stood not Amy, but the young page, Louis, his face deadly pale and his dark eyes looking fearfully at her.
"Louis, what are you doing here?" asked Edith gently as she recovered from her first alarm. "Do not fear to tell me. I will keep your secret, but I entreat you, for your mother's sake, do nothing wrong."
"I came to give a message to my lady," stammered the boy as he saw her clear eyes fixed upon him.