Jacob Rosevelt stood not far away during the conversation between Mr. Appleton, Miss Meredith, and Star, and a proud light beamed in his eyes as he listened to their praises of the girl whom he had learned to love so well.
But it was nothing new to him that Star was an authoress; he had known it for nearly a year.
That was the secret that she had whispered in his ear when, after Mrs. Richards’ terrible accusations, they had been left alone and she had begged him to go away with her to make a little home of their own, telling him that what she should receive for her book, together with her hundred pounds, would be ample for their support until she could graduate and obtain a position as a teacher.
She had written it that first winter; for after Mr. Richards had vetoed his wife’s plan of making her a servant, and insisted that she should be sent to school, there had been many lonely hours which would have been very irksome to her if she had not spent them in this way.
Her studies that winter were not hard; she had no associates to help her pass the time pleasantly, and so her heart had overflowed in this way, and she had penned the charming little romance which had at once set everybody to wondering who the author might be.
This was the package with which she had stolen forth so early one morning, taking it with fear and trembling, yet with something of hope, to the great publisher.
When she was shown into his office and made known her errand there, he looked at her in wonder, astonished at the temerity of one so young and simple as she appeared to be in bringing her manuscript to him and asking him to publish it.
But the deferential yet winning way in which she made her appeal, and the influence of her loveliness, won a reluctant promise on his part “to look it over.”
He did so, opening the neatly folded package with an amused smile, and expecting after a casual glance at its contents to be nauseated with some sickly sentimental love-story.
But he became strangely interested in it at once, and read on and on, now with smiles, then melting into tears, until it was finished, and pronounced a “little gem;” while he was convinced that a sensitive, refined, and talented girl had thrown her heart, and perhaps something of her own life, into those touching pages.