IN THE WEB.
"Yes, sir and madam, you may stare; but I mean to place my guest in a position from which she can command due honor. I mean to give her my name and make her the mistress of my house," said old Aaron Rockharrt; and he leaned back in his chair and drew himself up.
Had a thunderbolt fallen among them, it could hardly have caused greater consternation.
The shock was more effective because both his hearers knew full well that old Aaron Rockharrt never used vain threats, and that he would do exactly what he said he would do. Having said that he meant to marry the unwelcome guest, he would marry her.
But what unutterable amazement fell upon the two people! Both had felt a vague dread of evil from the presence of this siren in the house; but their darkest, wildest fears had never shadowed forth this unspeakable folly. The Iron King, a man of seventy-seven, strong, firm, upright, honored, to fall into the idiocy of marrying a beautiful adventuress merely because she waited on him, ran his errands, warmed his slippers, put on his dressing gown or his overcoat, as he would come in or go out, and generally made him comfortable; but above all perhaps, because she flattered his egotism without measure. And yet the Iron King was considered sane, and was sane on all other subjects.
So thought Clarence and Cora as they gasped, glanced at the old man, gazed at each other, and then dropped their eyes in a sort of shame.
Neither spoke or could speak.
The dreadful silence was broken at last by Rose Stillwater, who burst into the room like a sunbeam into a cloud, and said with her childish eagerness:
"I have got such a lovely piece of music. I ran out just now to look for it. I was not sure I could find it; but here it is. It may be called sacred music and suitable to the day, I hope. Here is the title.
"'Glad life lives on forever.'
"Shall I play and sing for you, Mr. Rockharrt? Would you like me to do so, dear Cora? And you, Mr. Clarence?"
"Certainly, my dear," promptly responded the Iron King.
"As you please," coldly replied Cora.
"I—yes—thank you; I think it would be very nice," foolishly observed Mr. Clarence, who was just now reduced to a state of imbecility by the stunning announcement of his father's intended marriage.
But all three had spoken at the same time, so that Rose Stillwater heard but one voice clearly, and that was the Iron King's.
Mr. Clarence, however, went and opened the piano for her. Then old Mr. Rockharrt arose, went to the instrument slowly and deliberately, put his youngest son aside, wheeled up the music stool, seated her and then—
"The monarch o'er the siren hung
And beat the measure as she sung,
And pressing closer and more near,
He whispered praises in her ear."
"It is 'The Lion in Love,' of Æsop's fable. He will let her draw his teeth yet," said Mr. Clarence, in a low tone, quite drowned in the joyous swell of the music.
"No, it is not. A man of his age does not fall in love, I feel sure. And she will never gain one advantage over him. He likes her society and her servitude and her flatteries. He will take them all, and more than all, if he can; but he will give nothing, nothing in return," murmured Cora.
"But why does he give her this attention to-day? It is unusual."
"To show us that he will do her honor; place her above us, as he said; but that will not outlast their wedding day, if indeed they marry."
"They will marry unless something should happen to prevent them. I do wish Fabian was at home."
"So do I, with all my heart."
The glad bursts of music which had drowned their voices, slowly sank into soft and dreamy tones.
Then Clarence and Corona ceased their whispered conversation.
Soon the dinner bell rang and the family party went into the dining room.
On Monday morning active preparations were commenced for their journey to New York. Not one more word was spoken about the marriage of June and January, nor could either Clarence or Corona judge by the manner of the ill sorted pair whether the subject had been mentioned between them.
On Wednesday of that week Mr. Rockharrt, accompanied by Mrs. Stillwater and Mrs. Rothsay, left Rockhold for New York, leaving Mr. Clarence in charge of the works at North End.
They went straight through without, as before, stopping overnight at Baltimore. Consequently they reached New York on Thursday noon.
Mr. Rockharrt telegraphed to the Cozzens Hotel at West Point to secure a suite of rooms, and then he took his own party to the Blank House.
When they were comfortably installed in their apartments and had had dinner, he said to his companions:
"I have business which may detain me in the city for several days. We need not, however, put in an appearance at the Military Academy before Monday morning. Meanwhile you two may amuse yourselves as you please, but must not look to me to escort you anywhere. Here are fine stores, art galleries, parks, matinees and what not, where women may be trusted alone;" and having laid down the law, his majesty marched off to bed, leaving the two young widows to themselves, in the private parlor of their suite.
They also retired to the double-bedded chamber, which, to Cora's annoyance, had been engaged for their joint occupancy. She detested to be brought into such close intimacy with Rose Stillwater, and longed for the hour of her brother's release from the academy, and his appointment to some post of duty, however distant, where she might join him, and so escape the humiliation of her present position. However, she tried to bear the mortification as best she might, thankful that she and her unwelcome chum, while occupying the same chamber, were not obliged to sleep in the same bed.
Truly, Rose Stillwater felt how unpleasant her companionship was to her former pupil, but she showed no consciousness of this. She comported herself with great discretion—not forcing conversation on her unwilling room mate, lest she should give offense; and it was the policy of this woman to "avoid offenses," nor yet did she keep total silence, lest she should seem to be sulky; for it was also her policy always to seem amiable and happy. So, though Cora never voluntarily addressed one word to her, yet Rose occasionally spoke sweetly some commonplace about the weather, their room, the bill of fare at dinner, and so on; to all of which observations she received brief replies.
Both were relieved when they were in their separate beds and the gas was turned off—Rose that she need act a difficult part no more that night, but could lie down, and, under the cover of the darkness, gather her features in a cloud of wrath, and silently curse Corona Rothsay; Cora, that she was freed from the sight of the deceitful face and the sound of the lying tongue.
Fatigued by their long journey, both soon fell asleep, and slept well, until the horrible sound of the gong awakened them—the gong in those days used to summon guests to the public breakfast table.
Cora sprang out of bed with one fear—that her grandfather was up and waiting for his breakfast, though that gong had really nothing to do with any of their meals, which were always to be served in their private parlor.
Cora and her room mate quickly dressed and went to the parlor, where they were relieved to find no Mr. Rockharrt and no table set.
Presently, however, the Iron King strode into the room, a morning paper in his hand.
"Breakfast not ready yet?" he sharply demanded, looking at Corona.
Then she suddenly remembered that whenever they had traveled before this time, her grandmother had ordered the meals, as she had done everything else that she could do to save her tyrant trouble.
"I—suppose so, sir. Shall I ring for it?" she inquired.
"Let me! Let me! Oh, please let me wait on you!" exclaimed Rose, as she sprang up, ran across the room, and rang a peal on the bell.
The waiter came.
"Will you also order the breakfast, Mrs. Stillwater, if such is your pleasure?" inquired Cora, who could not help this little bit of ill humor.
"Certainly I will, my dear, if you like!" said the imperturbable Rose, who was resolved never to understand sarcasm, and never to take offense—"Waiter, bring me a bill of fare."
The waiter went out to do his errand.
Old Aaron Rockharrt glared sternly at his granddaughter; but his fire did not strike his intended victim, for Cora had her back turned and was looking out of the window.
The waiter came in with the breakfast bill of fare.
"Will you listen, Mr. Rockharrt, and you, dear Cora, and tell me what to mark, as I read out the items," said Rose, sweetly, as she took the card from the hands of the man.
"Thank you, I want nothing especially," answered Cora.
"Read on, my dear. I will tell you what to mark, and you must be sure also to mark any dish that you yourself may fancy," said Mr. Rockharrt, speaking very kindly to Rose, but glaring ferociously toward Cora.
Rose read slowly, pausing at each item. Mr. Rockharrt named his favorite dishes, Rose marked them, and the order was given to the waiter, who took it away.
Breakfast was soon served, and a most disagreeable meal it must have been but for Rose Stillwater's invincible good humor. She chatted gayly through the whole meal, perfectly resolved to ignore the cloud that was between the grandfather and the granddaughter.
As soon as they arose from the table old Aaron Rockharrt ordered a carriage to take him down to Wall Street, on some business connected with his last great speculation, which was all that his granddaughter knew.
Before leaving the hotel, he launched this bitter insult at Cora, through their guest:
"My dear," he said to Mrs. Stillwater, as he drew on his gloves, "I must leave my granddaughter under your charge. I beg that you will look after her. She really seeds the supervision of a governess quite as much now as she did years ago when you had the training of her."
Corona's wrath flamed up. A scathing sarcasm was on her lips. She turned.
But no. She could not resent the insult of so aged a man; even if he had not been her grandfather.
Rose Stillwater said never a word. It was not—it would not have been prudent to speak. To treat the matter as a jest would have offended the Iron King; to have taken it seriously would most justly and unpardonably have offended Corona Rothsay. Truly, Rose found that "Jordan am a hard road to trabbel!" And here at least was an apt application of the old proverb:
"Speech is silver, silence is golden." So Rose said never a word, but looked from one to the other, smiling divinely on each in turn.
Old Aaron Rockharrt having discharged his shot, went down stairs, entered his carriage and drove to Wall Street.
Corona went to her room, or to the room she jointly occupied with Mrs. Stillwater, wishing from the depths of her heart that she could get entirely away from the sight and hearing of the woman who grew more repugnant to her feelings every day. At one time Cora thought that she would call a carriage, drive to the Hudson River railway station, and take the train for West Point, there to remain during the exercises of the academy. She was very strongly tempted to do this; but she resisted the impulse. She would not bring matters to a crisis by making a scene. So the idea of escaping to West Point was abandoned. Next she thought of taking a carriage and driving out to Harlem alone; but then she remembered that the woman Stillwater was, after all, her guest, so long as she herself was mistress, if only in name, of her grandfather's house; she could not leave her alone for the whole day; and so the idea of evading the creature's company by driving out alone was also given up.
Truly, Cora was bound to the rack with cords of conventionality as fine as cobwebs, yet as strong as ropes.
She did nothing but sit still in her chamber and brood; dreading the entrance of her abhorrent room-mate every moment.
But Rose Stillwater—who read Cora Rothsay's thoughts as easily as she could read a familiar book—acted with her usual discretion. As long as Cora chose to remain in their joint chamber, Rose forbore to exercise her own right of entering it.
Not until the afternoon did Corona come out into the parlor. Then she found Rose seated at the window, watching the busy scene on the Broadway pavement below, the hurried promenaders jostling as they passed each other on going up and coming down; the street peddlers, the walking advertisements, and all other sights never noticed by a citizen of the town, but looked at with curiosity by a stranger from the country.
Rose turned as Corona entered, and ignoring all reserve, said sweetly:
"I hope you have been resting, dear, and that you feel refreshed. Shall I ring and order luncheon? I wish to do all I can, dear, to prove my appreciation of all the kindness shown me; yet not to be officious."
Now, how could Cora repulse the advances of so very good humored a woman? She believed her to be false and designing. She longed with all her heart and soul to be rid of the woman and her insidious influence. Yet she could not hear that sweet voice, those meek words, or meet those soft blue eyes, and maintain her manner of freezing politeness.
"If you please," she answered, gently, and then said to herself: "Heavens! what a hypocrite this unwillingness to hurt the woman's feelings does make me!"
Rose rang the bell and ordered the luncheon.
They sat down in apparent amity to partake of it.
The afternoon waned and evening came, but brought no Iron King back to the hotel.
"Have you any idea at what hour Mr. Rockharrt will return, dear?" inquired Mrs. Stillwater, in her most dulcet tones.
"Not the slightest."
"I think he said something about going down to Wall Street to see after the forming of a syndicate in connection with his grand speculation. What is a syndicate, dear?"
"I don't know—it may be an agency or a company—"
"Or it may be something connected with the building of the new synagogue, which it is said is to be constructed of iron."
Cora was surprised into the first laugh she had had in two years. But the mirth was very short-lived. It came and passed in an instant, and then a pang of remorse seized her heart that she could have laughed at all. She was thinking of her lost Rule, and of her own guilty share in his tragic fate. If she had not let her fancy and imagination become so dazzled by the rank and splendor of the British suitor as to blind her heart and mind for a season, as to make her think and believe that she really loved this new man, and that she had never loved, and could never love, Ruth Rothsay, though she must keep her engagement with him and marry him—had she not broken down and given way to her emotions on that fatal evening of their wedding day—then Rule would never have made his great renunciation for her sake—would never have wandered away into the wilderness to meet his death from murderous hands. How could she ever laugh again? she asked herself.
"What is the matter with you, dear?" inquired Rose, surprised at the sudden change in Cora.
But before she could be answered the door opened and old Aaron Rockharrt came in, looking weary and careworn.
"How have you amused yourselves to-day?" he inquired of the two young women.
Cora was slow to speak, but Rose answered discreetly:
"I do not think we either of us did much but loll around and rest from our journey."
"Not been out?"
"No; I did not care to do so; nor did Cora, I believe."
Dinner was served. Afterward the evening passed stupidly.
Aaron Rockharrt sat in the large arm chair and slept. Cora, looking at him, thought he was aging fast.
As soon as he waked up he bade his companions good night and went to his apartment. The two others soon followed his example.
As this day passed, so passed the succeeding days of their sojourn in the city.
Mr. Rockharrt went out every morning on business connected with that great scheme which was going to quadruple his already enormous wealth. He came home every evening quite worn out, and after dinner sat and dozed in his chair until bedtime.
Cora watched him anxiously and wondered at him. He was aging fast. She could see that in his whole appearance. But what a strange infatuation for a man of seventy-seven, possessed already of almost fabulous wealth, to be as hotly in pursuit of money as if he were some poor youth with his fortune still to make! And what, after all, could he do with so much more money? Why could he not retire on his vast riches, and rest from his labors, leaving his two stalwart sons to carry on his business, and so live longer? Cora mournfully asked herself.
On Sunday a strange thing happened. Old Aaron Rockharrt announced at the breakfast table his intention of going to a certain church to hear a celebrated preacher, whose piety, eloquence and enthusiasm was the subject of general discussion; and he invited the two ladies to go with him. Both consented—Cora because she never willingly absented herself from public worship on the Sabbath; Rose because it was her cue to be amiable and to agree to everything that was proposed.
"We need not take a carriage. The church is only two blocks off," said Mr. Rockharrt, as he arose from the table.
The party was soon ready, and while the bell was still ringing, they set out to walk. As they reached the sacred edifice the bell ceased ringing and the organ pealed forth in a grand voluntary.
"You see we are but just in time," said Mr. Rockharrt, as he led his party into the building.
The polite sexton conducted the strangers up the center aisle and put them into a good pew. The church was not full, but was filling rapidly. Our party bowed their heads for the preliminary private prayer, and so did not see the great preacher as he entered and stood at the reading desk. He was an English dean of great celebrity as a pulpit orator, now on a visit to the United States, and preaching in turn in every pulpit of his denomination as he passed. He was a man of about sixty-five, tall, thin, with a bald head, a narrow face, an aquiline nose, blue eyes and a gray beard. He began to read the opening texts of the service.
"'If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.'"
At the sound of his voice Rose Stillwater started violently, looked up and grew ghastly white. She dropped her face in her hands on the cushioned edge of the pew before her, and so sat trembling through the reading of the texts and the exhortations. Afterward followed the ritualistic general confession and prayer, during which all knelt.
When at the close all arose Mrs. Stillwater was gone from her seat. Mr. Rockharrt looked around him and then stared at Cora, who very slightly shook her head, as if to say:
"No; I know no more about it than you."
How swiftly and silently Rose Stillwater had left the pew and slipped out of the church while all the congregation were bowed in prayer!
Old Aaron Rockharrt looked puzzled and troubled, but the minister was pronouncing the general absolution that followed the general confession, and such a severe martinet and disciplinarian as old Aaron Rockharrt would on no account fail in attention to the speaker.
Nor did he change countenance again during the long morning service.
At its close he drew Cora's arm within his own and led her out of the church.
As they walked down Broadway he inquired:
"Why did Mrs. Stillwater leave the church?"
"I do not know," answered his granddaughter.
"Was she ill?"
"I really do not know."
"When did she go?"
"I do not know that either, except that she must have slipped out while we were at prayers."
"You seem to be a perfect know-nothing, Cora."
"On this subject I certainly am. I did not perceive Mrs. Stillwater's absence until we rose from our knees."
"Well, we shall find her at the hotel, I suppose, and then we shall know all about it."
By this time they had reached the Blank House.
They entered and went up into their parlor.
"Bless my soul, I hope the poor child is not ill. Go, Cora, and see if she is in her room, and find out what is the matter with her," said old Aaron Rockharrt, as he dropped wearily into the big arm chair.
Cora had just come from church, from hearing an eloquent sermon on Christian charity, so she was in one of her very best moods.
She went at once into the bedroom occupied jointly by herself and her traveling companion. She found Rose in a wrapper, with her hair down, lying on the outside of her bed.
"Are you not well?" she inquired in a gentle tone.
"No, dear; I have a very severe neuralgic headache. It takes all my strength of mind and nerve to keep me from screaming under the pain," answered Rose, in a faint and faltering voice.
"I am very sorry."
"It struck me—in the church—with the suddenness of a bullet—shot through my brain."
"Indeed, I am very, very sorry. You should have told me. I would have come out with you."
"No, dear. I did not—wish to disturb—anybody. I slipped out noiselessly—while all were kneeling. No one heard me—no one saw me except the sexton—who opened—the swing doors—silently to let me pass."
"You should not have attempted to walk home alone in such a condition. It was not safe. But I am talking to you, when I should be aiding you," said Cora; and she went to her dressing case and took from it a certain family specific for neuralgic headaches which had been in great favor with her grandmother. This she poured into a glass, added a little water, and brought to the sufferer.
"Put it on the stand by the bed, dear. I will take it presently. Thank you very much, dear Cora. Now will you please close all the shutters and make the room as dark as a vault—and shut me up in it—I shall go to sleep—and wake up relieved. The pain goes as suddenly as it comes, dear," said Rose, still in a faint, faltering and hesitating voice.
Cora did all her bidding, put the tassel of the bell cord in her reach, and softly left the room.
The chamber was not as dark as a vault, however. Enough of light came through the slats of the shutters and the white lace curtains to enable Rose to rise, take the medicine from the stand, cross the floor and pour it in the wash basin, under a spigot. Then she turned on the water to wash it down the drain. Then she turned off the water and went back to bed—not to sleep—for she had too much need to think.
Had the minister in that pulpit recognized her, as she had certainly recognized him? She hoped not. She believed not. As soon as she had heard the voice—the voice that had been silent for her so many years—she had impulsively looked up. And she had seen him! A specter from the past—a specter from the grave! But his eyes were fixed upon the book from which he was reading, and she quickly dropped her head before he could raise them. No; he had not seen her. But oh! if she had heard his name before she had gone to hear him preach, nothing on earth would ever have induced her to go into the church. But she had not heard his name at all. She had heard of him only as the Dean of Olivet. He was not a dean in those far-off days when she saw him last; only a poor curate of whose stinted household she had grown sick and tired. But he was now Dean of Olivet! He had come to make a tour of the United States. Should she have the mischance to meet him again? Would he go up to West Point for the exercises at the military academy? But of course he would! It was so convenient to do so. West Point was so near and easy to see. The trip up the Hudson was so delightful at this season of the year. And the dean was bound to see everything worth seeing. And what was better worth seeing by a foreigner than the exercises at our celebrated military academy? What should she do to avoid meeting, face to face, this terrible phantom from the grave of her dead past?
She could make no excuse for remaining in New York while her party went up to West Point—make no excuse, that is, which would not also make trouble. And it was her policy never to do that. She thought and thought until she had nearly given herself the headache which before she had only feigned. At length she decided on this course: To go to West Point with her party, and as soon as they should arrive to get up a return of her neuralgic headache, as her excuse for keeping her room at the hotel and absenting herself from the exercises at the academy.
As soon as she had formed this resolution she got up, opened one of the windows, washed and dressed herself and went out into the parlor.
She entered softly.
Old Aaron Rockharrt was sound asleep in his big arm chair.
Cora was seated at the table engaged in reading. She arose to receive the invalid.
"Are you better? Are you sure you are able to be up?" she kindly inquired.
"Oh, yes, dear! Very much better! Well, indeed! When it goes, it goes, you know! But had we better not talk and disturb Mr. Rockharrt?" inquired Rose.
"We cannot disturb him. He sleeps very soundly—too soundly, I think, and too much."
"Do you know by what train we go to West Point to-morrow?"
"By the 7:30 a.m. So that we may arrive in good time for the commencement. We must retire very early to-night, for we must be up betimes in the morning. But sit down; you really look very languid," said Cora, and taking the hand of her companion, she led her to the sofa and made her recline upon it. Then Cora resumed her own seat.
"Thank you, darling," cooed Rose.
There was silence in the room for a few moments. Mr. Rockharrt slept on. Cora took up her book. Rose was the first to speak.
"I wonder if the new lion, the Dean of Olivet, will go to West Point to-morrow," she said in a tone of seeming indifference.
"Oh, yes! It is in all the papers. He is to be the guest of the chaplain," replied Cora.
"I wonder what train he will go by."
"Oh, I don't know that. He may go by the night boat."
"The Dean of Olivet would never travel on Sunday night."
"But he might hold service and preach on the boat."
"Oh, yes; so he might."
"What on earth are you talking about? When will dinner be ready?" demanded old Aaron Rockharrt, waking up from his nap. Straightening himself up and looking around, he saw Rose Stillwater.
"Oh, my dear, are you better of your headache?"
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Rockharrt."
"You look pale, as if you had gone through a sharp siege, if a short one. You should have told me in the pew, and allowed me to take you here, not ventured out alone, when you were in such pain."
"But I did not wish to attract the least attention, so I slipped out unperceived while everybody's heads were bent in prayer."
"All very well, my dear; but pray don't venture on such a step again. I am always at your service to attend you. Now, Cora, ring for dinner to be served. It was ordered for five o'clock, I think, and it is five minutes past," said Mr. Rockharrt, consulting his watch.
Cora arose, but before she could reach the bell, the door was opened, and the waiter appeared to lay the cloth.
After dinner the Iron King went into a little room attached to the suite, which he used as a smoking den.
The two young women settled themselves to read.
They all retired at nine o'clock that night so as to rise very early next day.