"I shall never do that," said Esther firmly. "I told him some time before that I should be occupied on Christmas morning, and he had no right to try to force me to alter my plans. The apology must come from him. I have done no wrong."
"Just hear the stupid little simpleton! He apologize to her! The idea! To think she should dare to go contrary to his wishes, and run the risk of losing him, and all for the sake of amusing a few old women!"
"Do you know," Sophy said, turning fiercely to Esther, "what you have done? Or haven't you brains enough to take it in? Mr. Langdon will be the richest man in the city when his father dies, and you have lost him, probably."
"I don't care for money," Esther said dreamily, her eyes out of the window, following a fleecy cloud that was sailing by, and thinking what she dare not speak, that it was far better to be able to pray as that young doctor did, than to have great riches.
"You don't care for money!" screamed her aunt. "Indeed! You will find out whether you care for it when you are left alone in the world without a penny, as you probably will be. Go to your room, do! And stay there out of my sight. You are too exasperating to be tolerated."
"I had no idea she was so stubborn," Mrs. Ward told her daughter, as day after day passed, and Esther refused to send a humble confession to Mr. Langdon. They constructed one themselves at last, ordering her to copy it, but Esther was firm. She had nothing to confess, and she would not, for any consideration, engage herself to him again. It was delightful to be free again; if only they would not torment her she could be almost happy. When she expressed something of this to them they looked at each other aghast, as if here was proof that Esther was a subject for a lunatic asylum.
The weeks that followed were dreary ones to Esther. She was kept on bread and water, figuratively, if not literally, and ice-water at that. It was curious how a house that is warmed And lighted until it fairly glows can be rendered dark and chilly as a tomb to some of its inmates. If the girl's life had been unpleasant before, it was wretched now. Cold looks and sharp words were her portion, when she was not ignored utterly, all the more so because Mr. Langdon had transferred his affections to a Boston belle, visiting in the city, and was hopelessly and forever lost to Esther.
It was not all dark, though. There were occasional visits to a snug little house at the other end of the city, where dwelt a lovely, white-haired old lady called by her devoted nephew, Aunt Katherine.
Mrs. Lyman insisted on a weekly visit from Esther, and sometimes she was kept to cosy little suppers. It was a delightful place to visit, and it was no wonder Esther liked it. She was warmly welcomed and petted to her heart's content. There was usually a good, long talk with her old friend first, then the doctor would come home, and bring out a store of stories from his brain, of things in foreign lands, grave and gay and instructive; he was a charming talker, and Esther was a good questioner. Then he had great volumes of rare engravings of which she never tired, and a microscope whereby she became wise about some of nature's secrets. Her education was going on surprisingly, all the more because one was entirely unaware that he was teaching, and the other that she was being taught. Aunt Katherine watched the glowing faces,—the golden head and the brown head bending together over one book—and smiled. After they had sung numberless songs and hymns it was time for Esther to go home. Of necessity, Dr. Evarts must accompany her home, in a long walk across the city, which latter was not a necessity, but which they much preferred to street cars, the walk being not at all long to them.
As they thus walked and talked one winter night when the Christmas moon shone solemnly down on a white world, and the songs of angels floated on the clear air—heard only by those two—the breeze wafted back some of the words. Their talk was all about themselves—how the precious gift of each to the other began a year ago last Christmas. And they tried to settle bewildering questions: Whether, if Esther had not insisted on going to the "Old Ladies' Home" that morning she would be walking this Christmas Eve with Paul, and suppose there had been no "Old Ladies' Home," would they ever have met.