A REVELATION.
"I am as I am, and so will I be,
But how that I am, none knoweth truly;
Be it ill, be it well, be I bond, be I free,
I am as I am, and so will I be."
—Wyatt.
Sir Barry Traleigh's parlour, at his bachelor apartments, is lit only by the flickering firelight. It chases the dark shadows out of the dim corners, and throws a cheerful brightness over the pretty crimson and gold satin furniture. Sir Barry's little dog "pug" lies on the tiger skin rug in front of the cheerful blaze, keeping watch over his master's slippers. Mr. Litchfield and Dolores sitting there, awaiting Sir Barry's return, are not slow to enjoy the luxuries spread so lavishly about them. It is nearly five o'clock on a December afternoon, and the short day is almost gone. The woman in charge of the rooms had brought in lights, but Dolores had refused to have them lit, saying the fire light was so very pleasant. Sir Barry had sent to Mr. Litchfield to know where he could secure a good boarding place for a few weeks for sister Jean. She had a persisting, little, hacking cough, that worried Sir Barry, and made him persuade her to try a change of air. Aunt Adeline, in her goodness of heart, said the girl should come to them. And Dolores was sent with her father with a special invitation. They had gone to the hotel on their arrival, and afterward drove to see Sir Barry. He was out, but they awaited his return in his pretty fire-lit parlour. Dolores has slipped off her seal skin jacket and gloves, and is sitting on the rug patting the little grey coated, brown eared dog, when the door opens.
"Mr. Litchfield, why, this is a pleasant surprise; have you been waiting long?" Sir Barry says, coming forward. Then his eyes fall on the girl crouched there by the fire, with the dog in her lap. "Dolores, Miss Litchfield."
There is an eager, expectant look in Sir Barry's pleasant eyes, he has longed so to see the girl's face, to hear her musical voice; now she is here, here in the room where he can talk to and hear her talk. Dolores rises leisurely and puts the dog down.
"How do you do, Sir Barry Traleigh?" she says coldly, not offering even to shake hands with him. She does not, she can not yet trust herself to look at the man standing before her, and Sir Barry turns to Mr. Litchfield.
"You got my letter; have you gained a place for my little friend yet?"
"My Sister sent us to take her home with us."
"Miss Adeline was always kind; I hope she has overlooked my deception ere this?"
Sir Barry glances across the room where Dolores stands beside a cabinet of rare old china, her blue velvet and silk dress making a pleasant rustle as she moves about the pretty room, admiring the pictures and the ornaments. Sir Barry lets her be, he will not force his company upon anyone.
"Oh yes, long ago, my lad; we laugh at your masquerade now as a fine joke. I explained away all the difficulties. Now when can we see this sister Jean? Mr. Litchfield's voice breaks in upon Sir Barry's meditation.
"We can go now; ah!"—The door is thrown open, and Blondine's pretty face, radiant with welcome, appears.
"I just thought I would come over; I got your telegram, uncle Edward, and as you were not at the hotel I came here. I hope you will pardon me, Sir Barry, for invading your room in such an unceremonious way. Dolores, my darling, how are you?"
"We are going to the convent, Miss Gray, will you come?" asks Sir Barry, as he assists Dolores on with her coat.
"Do, dear," Dolores says, drawing on her fur gloves. "I hate to go, yet I want to."
Blondine is always ready and willing to go anywhere for a change, so consents. Sir Barry had said he would arrange some plan for taking Mr. Litchfield to the convent; this must be the way, and Blondine begins to feel a great excitement creeping around her. They arrive and are admitted by a sister, who takes them up-stairs to the Mother Superior's parlour, where a cosy fire burns in the polished grate.
"Will you see the mother St. Marguerite? as sister Jean has just come home and is too tired to see anyone to-night," asks the sister. This is just what Sir Barry wants, so he said if it were possible he would see mother St. Marguerite. Sir Barry is very restless; he walks up and down the pretty, homelike little room, until Blondine thinks she will go wild, if he does not sit down. Blondine's eyes are full of suppressed fire; she and Sir Barry are soon, any moment, to be either rewarded or mistaken in what they have long been patiently planning. There is a sound of approaching footsteps, Sir Barry wheels around his face in deep shadow; the door is opened softly, and mother St. Marguerite stands within the room.
"Estelle, my wife? Thank God I have found you at last," Mr. Litchfield cries, springing forward.
"Edward," gasps mother St. Marguerite.
"Blondine, what does it all mean?" Dolores demands.
"It means that you have found your dear mother."
"Surely this is Dolores." Mother St. Marguerite takes the trembling girl in her arms. "And my little, spirited baby, my Zoe, she is well? Ah! the good God has preserved my dear ones until this happy day." Blondine's eyes are full of happy tears.
"Are you not glad, dear Sir Barry? Dolores will never be able to thank you enough. If it had not been for you, she would never have found her mother."
Sir Barry feels glad that so much happiness had been brought around for all hands concerned, but feels most woefully forlorn himself. It seems now they are all united, that he is left entirely out in the cold. Blondine's voice awakens him.
"Yes, I suppose so," he says, absently.
"Dolores is going to stop a few days with me; come in and see us any time, when you are lonely," Blondine says, cheerfully. She intends giving naughty Dolores a good scolding for her persistent coolness to Sir Barry. "And at one time I imagined they were getting so fond of each other," Miss Gray thinks, ruefully.