After this scene, our house was quiet as the grave—not a laugh sounded within its walls, not a brilliant word enlightened the stiff monotony. Jessie kept her promise. Nothing could be sweeter or more gracious than her manner toward Mrs. Dennison; but all this was accompanied by no warmth. It was impossible to find fault with anything she did or said, yet her submission seemed to annoy our guest more than anything. It proved how deep was the gulf which lay between them.
As for me, nothing could render my position more disagreeable than it had already become. A few days after that scene in the library, I was sitting with Mrs. Lee, while Lottie went out for a little recreation. Mr. Lee, Mrs. Dennison, and Jessie, had gone out on horseback, and, with the enemy away, Lottie thought that I might be trusted with her charge; but while Mrs. Dennison was in the mansion, she never would leave her post on any consideration. With all the keen longings of youth for change, this confinement, voluntary though it was, told painfully on the young girl, and when she did get a few moments of freedom, it was seized upon as a bird darts from its cage.
That morning she was gone some time, having taken a run through the grounds with a favorite dog that always followed her footsteps. I saw them rioting up and down among the flower-beds, with a feeling of thankfulness that anything on earth could find enjoyment when my heart was so heavy!
Mrs. Lee was unusually silent that day, and, without asking me to read, amused herself with a book of engravings that Mr. Lee had ordered for her from the town. I felt the change. Every day this lady, who had been my dear friend so long, seemed more and more independent of me. Lottie she still clung to, but I had become a useless waif in the household.
While thinking over these depressing truths, I watched with a vague sensation of regret. All at once I saw her stop, beat the dog back, and shade her eyes with one hand. It was only one of our people, who had been over to the town, and had attracted her observation. I saw the man beckon to her. She darted down the walk, along the sloping lawn, and over the wall, holding out her hands for a package which he held out. There was some talk between them as the man gathered up his bridle, while she examined something in her hands which seemed like a letter. Then, nodding her head repeatedly, she ran toward the house.
I cannot tell why it was, but these movements interested me greatly. A strange apprehension took possession of me, and I began to wonder what the letters could be about—if any of them related to me, and if new trouble was coming.
In the midst of these vague thoughts, Lottie came into the room, with a letter in her hands.
"I left all the rest, papers, books, and trash, on the hall-table," she cried, joyously; "but here's a letter for the dear mistress, and I brought it up. Such a nice letter—white and satiny as the leaves of a water-lily! I know there is something sweet and good in it that will make you smile."
She went up to Mrs. Lee, dropped on one knee at her feet—a common thing with the strange girl—and held up the letter between her hands.
Mrs. Lee took it, with a pink flush of the cheek. During her long illness she had gradually given up writing, and a letter, directly to herself, was an event sufficiently rare to create a little excitement. Lottie's prophecy regarding the letter brought a smile to those usually pale lips. She broke the seal, took the letter from its envelope, and murmured, pleasantly,—