CHAPTER XXII.
ADA.
She was now daily expected, the vessel in which she had sailed having landed at New York, and numerous preparations in honor of her arrival were in progress at Cedar Grove, where she was evidently regarded as a person of consequence. The best chamber in the house was appropriated for her use; Mr. Delafield himself taking much interest in the arrangement of its furniture, and bringing over each morning fresh bouquets of flowers, which, in costly vases, adorned the apartment. Every one seemed anxious and expectant, save Jessie and Halbert, the former of whom did not wish her to come, as she took up so much of “Uncle Dick’s” time, while the latter openly avowed his dislike, saying, he wished she’d stay in Europe always.
As for myself, though there was no particular reason why I should do so, I dreaded her arrival, and when at last, word came to the schoolroom that she was in the parlor, and the children must come down to see her, I stole out into the garden, in order that I might put off the interview with her as long as possible. I knew I must meet her at the supper table, and so after a time I went up to my room to dress, donning a plain white muslin, which I had often been told became me better than aught else I could wear. Before my toilet was finished, little Jessie came in and insisted upon twining among my curls a few simple buds, which, she said, looked “mighty nice,” adding, as she stepped back a pace or two to witness the effect, “I think you are a heap prettier than Ada; but Uncle Dick don’t, ’cause I asked him, and he said ‘Of course Ad was the handsomest.’ Hal says how he’s her beau, and I reckon he is, for he kissed her like fury!”
“He kisses everybody, don’t he?” I asked; and she replied,—
“Mighty nigh everybody but you. I never seen him kiss you, and when I asked him why, he said you wouldn’t let him—won’t you?”
“It wouldn’t be proper,” I said, smiling down upon the little fairy, who, poised on one foot, was whirling in circles, and then looking up into my face, with her soft dreamy eyes.
At that moment the supper bell rang, and bounding away, she left me alone. For full five minutes I waited trying to summon sufficient courage to go down, and at last chiding myself for my weakness, I started for the dining-room. My footsteps were light, as they evidently were not aware of my approach, for they were talking of me, and as I reached the door, I heard Jessie, who was giving Ada a description of her teacher, say, “Why she’s the properest person in the world, for she won’t even let Uncle Dick kiss her.”
“Somewhat different from Miss Rawson,” said Ada, joining in the general laugh; at the same time lifting her large, languid eyes, she saw me, and started slightly, I fancied, as she recognized me.
She had changed since I saw her last, and her face now wore a weary, jaded look, while the dark circle beneath her eyelids told of late hours and heated rooms.
“Miss Lee—Miss Montrose,” said Mrs. Lansing, and the proud Ada bowed haughtily to the humble governess, who with heightened color took her accustomed seat at the table.