Both of them were large women, the elder inclined to be stout, with a waist that was suspiciously small for the size of bust and hips. Her hair was yellow—a brilliant, half-greenish yellow—that contrasted oddly with her very dark eyebrows and black lashes. Her eyes were a dark blue, and her complexion very white and very pink about the cheeks.
She was startlingly young-looking to confess to being the mother of the young woman who accompanied her.
She—the daughter—was a curious contrast to her mother, while following at the same time upon much the same lines. Her hair was red—that glorious dark rich auburn—her eyes dark brown and rather fine, her complexion singularly like that of her mother. She was not beautiful—not even pretty—but there was a certain sort of dangerous fascination about her that even inexperienced people recognized.
Carlita rather gasped when they bore down upon her suddenly the day of her mother's funeral, their mourning was so heavy, so crisp, so new, and they gushed over her in such a curious way, calling her "a dear thing!" "darling!" and all the rest of it, which was quite new to Carlita, and they took such absolute possession of everything. But she explained it all to herself by remembering that letter which her mother had received signed "Jessica," and tried to be satisfied.
When the will was read, the good people understood it all better.
Mrs. Louise Chalmers has been appointed guardian of the orphaned heiress, and Mrs. Louise Chalmers was that rather large, rather showy, rather overdressed, while yet in mourning, woman, and to her had been left an income of eight thousand dollars a year so long as she remained Carlita's guardian.
Her black-bordered handkerchief was pressed very closely to her eyes during the reading of the will; but although an occasional sob was heard by those who sat nearest to her, there wasn't an atom of moisture on the handkerchief when it was removed. Her little, black King Charles spaniel fidgeted and sneezed on her lap during the entire time, not quite able to comprehend why he should be neglected for the first time in all his absurdly spoiled life.
It did not seem quite appropriate to those plain Southern folks that Mrs. Chalmers should hold a dog on her lap during the reading of her old friend's will; but they rather forgave her when she went up to Carlita, and, in a really very pretty way, put her arms about the young orphan's neck, and said in her sweetest and most maternal voice:
"I can not take your mother's place, my darling, but I shall try to be a second one to you. It is a very sacred trust that she has left me, and I shall try with all my heart to be worthy of it."
And she immediately took the place of "second mother," taking the direction of everything in her own hands with a clear sweep that rather staggered Carlita. Her mother had been ill for five years before her death, as has already been told, and the girl had been housekeeper in entire charge, so that to be so completely swept aside in her own domain was something which she had not calculated upon. Still, she submitted, because there did not seem to be anything else to be done.