MISS PINKETT'S DIAMOND.
Elsie had taken a fancy to the stern, silent girl. She put out all her little arts to please Meg. Indifferent and inclined to be fitful to the girls who petted her and offered to carry her in their arms, she followed Meg about with pathetic persistence. Meg felt the delight of a devoted nature, thankful for opportunities given to it of sacrificing itself, and mingled gratitude with the feeling she returned. She devoted herself to Elsie. She played with her, she taught her lessons, she spent time and ingenuity in making learning easy to her; and Elsie accepted this devotion. There was pity for Elsie mingled in Meg's solicitude. She was so strong, and the child looked so frail. She was so fearless, and the child was as easily frightened as a little bird. A severe word made Elsie tremble; and it was pitiful to see the little hands, with their network of veins, trembling at any harshness.
The girls were astonished to see a return of the terrible Meg one day when Laura was teasing Elsie, mimicking her nervous ways, her frightened starts and turns of the head. Meg suddenly leaped forward and pushed Laura with such force that this damsel found herself sitting on the ground at some yards' distance.
"How dare you be so cruel to a little child!" Meg said, standing between Elsie and her tormentor.
"I shall have you punished, you gypsy!" Miss Laura replied.
"Have me punished if you like," said Meg; "but if you dare hurt this child I will give it to you again."
A peculiarity of the child which perplexed Meg, besides an almost abnormal timidity, was the singular fascination exercised over her by bright objects. Like a little grayling that rises to the light, every shining object attracted Elsie. It seemed almost uncanny to Meg, whose æsthetic sense was yet in its elementary stage, and who was unconsciously stirred by the moral suggestiveness of beauty, rather than by its physical appeal. Flowers, birds, Elsie herself, came to her as vague yet tangible revelations of a greater calm, a higher goodness and sweetness than earth holds. Elsie's delight in brilliancy was purely sensuous, and its influence over her nervous little frame puzzled Meg. A Salviati glass that stood in Miss Reeves' sanctum fascinated the child. She seized every opportunity to catch a sight of the wonderful vase; the shifting opal tints seemed to throw her into an excited dream. She would go and peep at it through the open door. Meg missed her one day from the playground, and found her perched on a chair in the room no one was allowed to enter without the mistress' permission, touching the vase, cooing and kissing the cold and glittering glass.
"Come down, Elsie! You must not come in here, you know, without Miss Reeves' permission," she said, alarmed, gently taking the child up in her arms. Then as Elsie struggled she went on: "Everything in this room is a present from an old pupil or a friend. Everything is very dear to Miss Reeves in it. She would be very angry if an accident happened to the vase. You would be punished for disobedience."
Elsie at this prospect let Meg carry her away, but she began to cry:
"I want it—I want it. I want to take it to bed with me! I want to have it all to myself!"
Meg soothed her. She endeavored to divert her attention by telling her the story of a mine of diamonds, more wonderful than that of the field of diamonds in "Sindbad the Sailor." For Elsie's sake Meg had developed the gift of telling stories. Her inventive powers were as the wand of a magician over the child. Her tales were distinguished by a touch of the grotesque and grewsome, a spice of humor and adventure. Meg's voice, which was of a peculiar quality, helped the effect. It was low and feeling at times, and again it had a spirited emphasis kept under gentle restraint. A child was the heroine of these stories, inspired by incidents enlarged upon and drawn from her childish recollections.
The stories that attracted Elsie most were those of splendor and of perfume. She would listen enthralled to the adventures in the bowels of the earth of a little girl, who met there the giant who took care of the fire, the sparks of which formed the diamonds, rubies, and topaz.
One day Elsie crept like a lizard to Meg's side. Miss Pinkett, who was a parlor-boarder now, had certain privileges, and was going to a party. She had called Elsie in to see her dressed, and she had shown the child a diamond star her father had sent from India on her last birthday.
"She put it here"—Elsie's little hand touched her forehead. "It looked all alive, twinkling—twinkling! It was more beautiful than the glass vase. It shot out now a lovely red ray, then a yellow light or a bit of shiny blue. Miss Pinkett said her mother had more beautiful diamonds," Elsie concluded, with a sigh of exhausted happiness.
"It is only a bit of coal—black coal that has been buried a long time in the earth," Meg replied with practical coldness.
"I don't believe it. It shines—shines—shines!" said the child. "Do you think Miss Pinkett would let me touch it, put it on, and play with it?"
"No," said Meg bluntly. "I would not ask her. You might lose it, and she would never forgive you."
But the diamond star had taken possession of Elsie's mind, and the fear of punishment did not lift the spell it exercised.
"Do you see that little red-morocco box?—it is in there. I saw her put it in there," she whispered to Meg next morning, dragging her by the skirt into the room Miss Pinkett still shared with Miss Lister alone.
"Do leave that diamond alone," said Meg brusquely. "Don't think of it so much, Elsie. It will get you into trouble and you will get punished. Did you ever see a drop of water through a microscope? That is ever so much more wonderful. Dr. Flite showed us this at the chemistry class this morning."
"I don't care for drops of water," said Elsie pettishly.
"There are monsters in it that fight each other and eat each other up. I'll tell you a story about a drop of water," said Meg suggestively, still trying to divert Elsie's attention.
One morning Meg was running down the corridor that led out of the dormitories.
"Meg, Meg!" called a little voice in a whisper. Meg looked round; it was Elsie standing at Miss Pinkett's door. She was holding something in the palm of her small, shaking hand. Meg, approaching, saw it was the diamond star.
"Elsie, put it back at once," she said peremptorily.
"The box was open. I saw it shining and I took it out. I could not help it. Is it not lovely?"
The tiny fingers caressed the stone, and the baby voice gurgled and laughed to it.
"You will get into trouble, and I shall not be able to save you from being punished," said Meg. "Put it back."
As she spoke Elsie gave a sudden start, dropped the diamond, and took to flight.
Meg picked up the gem and went inside the room to place it in its box. She encountered Miss Pinkett and Miss Lister coming in by another door.
"What are you doing in my room?" asked Miss Pinkett coldly.
Meg, without answering, put down the diamond.
Miss Pinkett flushed. "What right have you to touch anything of mine—this diamond especially?"
Meg remained silent, as if pondering what she would say.
"If I find you fingering anything that belongs to me I will report you, Miss Beecham," resumed Miss Pinkett in her most chilly tones.
"You ought to lock up your diamond," said Meg, at last, with an effort. "It it not right to leave it about—not right to others. It might bring some one into temptation."
"I understand," replied Miss Pinkett with cutting point. "I see there is necessity to lock it up." She shut the box with a snap, and closed the drawer with an elaborate jingle of keys.
The diamond was hidden, but Elsie still thought of it. One evening, as Meg sat on the window sill absorbed in reading an account of the condor, and following with tremendous interest the flight of the bird over mountain and seas, Elsie suddenly interrupted her.
She pointed to the evening star hanging in the suffused light of the sunset. "I wonder if papa sees that star in India," she said.
"Not just now, at any rate," answered Meg a little roughly. Any sign of yearning in Elsie's voice affected her painfully.
"Do you think Miss Pinkett's lovely jewel is like that star?" said Elsie, after a pause.
"No, it is not more like it than a lighted lucifer match is like a sun," replied Meg.
"She is gone out to a dinner-party to-night, and she did not wear it. I wonder why," continued the child, undismayed by the blunt reply.
"I do not care for that diamond more than if it were a pebble from the gravel of the playground," answered Meg impatiently; then with abrupt transition she asked, "Did you ever hear of the condor?"
"The what?" asked Elsie.
"The condor," repeated Meg, and she pointed to the picture of the bird. But Elsie's mind was not to be so easily diverted.
"If I had that diamond," she said in a subdued tone, "I would carry it about wherever I went. I would talk to it, and kiss it."
"I think," said Meg, "that if you had it you would want nothing but that hard, glittering stone."
"Nothing! At night I would put it under my pillow and it would come into a dream," continued Elsie.
"You dream of it already," said Meg impatiently.
"I wish you would tell me a story about it," replied Elsie with a sigh.
Meg shut her book. She drew her breath heavily
"I don't like that diamond," she said. Then pausing, she began abruptly:
"Once upon a time there was a little girl like you, who wanted a diamond, and she cared for nothing because she could not get that diamond; and a spirit put her into a small bare world all alone, to own it and be its queen. And the spirit gave her a beautiful diamond, twenty times as big and as beautiful as that one of Miss Pinkett's."
"Oh!" said Elsie, with a pant.
"The little girl," went on Meg, "jumped about for joy, and said she would want nothing now that she had this diamond.
"And the spirit said to her, 'There is something better and more beautiful than this diamond. When you have got tired of that jewel you will find this out, and then you will want that greater blessing.'"
"Blessing!" repeated Elsie petulantly. "I am sure she never did want anything more."
"And so the little girl," continued Meg, "talked to her diamond, and kissed it, and put it under her pillow at night and dreamed of it. But the diamond did not answer her, did not kiss her back; if she were sad or if she were glad it glittered the same. So the little girl at last grew tired of the diamond. It was not a companion. She felt a great want. There is something better, she thought; something that would be good and pleasant to have in sorrow as well as in joy. She asked the spirit to tell her what was that better thing. But the spirit did not answer. So the little girl went wandering about her bare world to find it. She walked till she was footsore, and still she could not find it; for she did not know what it was. Only she yearned for it. One night she was so weary and lonely that she felt as if she must die, and she prayed to the spirit to have pity upon her and give her that better thing; and at last it came to her."
"What was it?" said Elsie eagerly.
"She was dropping off to sleep, sobbing to herself in her weariness and solitariness, when on her forehead there was laid a soft kiss."
"A kiss!" repeated Elsie in a tone of disappointment.
"It was a kiss of love, like this," said Meg, bending forward and gently kissing Elsie's forehead. "And when she felt this kiss the fatigue, the loneliness and sadness left her, and the next morning she awoke quite happy."
"Was it the spirit gave her the kiss?" asked Elsie, with cold interest.
"She sometimes thought it was," said Meg.
"And the diamond—what became of the diamond?" asked Elsie.
"It had vanished," said Meg.
"I do not like that story," said Elsie pettishly; but she remained thoughtful by Meg's side.