Signing the Contract and What it Cost

“And I’ll help you, Carrie,” said one of the others.

“No, no, Bell, thank you! you and Laura stay here and let me burst in upon you in full bloom,” she answered laughingly. “But you may come,” nodding graciously to Floy. “I’ll need your assistance. I’ll carry this lovely over-skirt; you may bring the rest.”

The bedroom to which she conducted Floy was, in the richness and luxury of its furnishing, quite in keeping with the boudoir.

The change of dress was quickly made, Floy adjusting the rich folds of the new gown, and making one or two little alterations in the looping or the position of the flowers to suit the taste of the wearer.

“Wait here a moment while I show myself to my friends,” said the latter when all was done.

She sailed away into the adjoining room, and Floy heard the exclamations.

“Oh, charming, Carrie!”

“And so becoming! I declare, Cal, even Espy Alden would find you irresistible in that!”

“Why not say Will? he’s to be here next week – coming home with Fred to spend the holidays. They’re college chums, you know.”

The light, joyous laugh that accompanied the words seemed to say that she considered him as already secured.

Floy heard it all, and a pang shot through her heart.

Espy Alden! her own Espy! it could be no other, for it was no common name.

Faint, giddy, sick at heart, trembling in every limb, she dropped into a chair and hid her face in her hands. She thought she had resigned him, yet oh, what anguish that another should have won her place in his heart!

No tears came to her burning eyes, but she was half frightened at the pallor of her face as, on raising her head again, she caught sight of it in a mirror on the opposite wall. She hastily drew down her veil to hide it.

The talk was going on in the next room, and every word came distinctly to her ear.

“What’s he like?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen him, Bell? There, what do you think of him? It’s not a bit flattered; is it, Laura?”

“No; don’t do him justice. No photograph could, for he’s much handsomer when he’s talking and laughing than when his face is at rest.”

“That’s so, and he’s a splendid talker; quite an artist too, Fred says. But now tell me if you think all these flowers are disposed to the very best advantage.”

The rest of the chat was about the dress, and fell utterly unheeded upon Floy’s ear.

An artist, so handsome, so good a conversationist – it could be no other than her own Espy – hers from her very babyhood. And this girl had his likeness – no doubt given by himself. What could it mean if not that they were betrothed? Well, what right had she to blame him? None, none, for she had voluntarily resigned him; and yet, and yet – oh, her heart was like to break!

“What’s the matter? are you ill?” she heard a voice asking at her side – the voice of the girl who had won him from her.

“Yes,” she answered faintly, “I – I’ve been up very late for several nights; work is so pressing just now, and I rose this morning with a terrible headache.”

“Ah, that’s too bad! I wouldn’t be a dressmaker for anything in the world. Well, I suppose you’d like to go, and there is no need for you to stay any longer. Tell Mrs. Sharp I’m delighted with the dress. Have you the bill with you?”

Floy produced it, receipted and signed; the money was paid, and she took her departure.

The keen, frosty air was no longer refreshing as she retraced her steps; it seemed rather to chill her to the very bones.

Hetty had asked her to come in through the store. Some customers were just passing out as she reached the door. Hetty glanced toward her on her entrance.

“Why, how dreadfully you look!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t managed right. I shouldn’t have let you go for such a walk when you’d eaten hardly a mouthful of breakfast.”

She threw an arm about Floy’s waist as she spoke, and drew her into a small room back of the store, where the making and trimming of bonnets was carried on. Several girls were working busily at the end nearest the window.

“Sit down here by the register and warm yourself,” said Hetty, gently forcing Floy into a large arm-chair.

“No, no, I must go up to the work-room at once,” answered the weary, half-fainting girl; “you know all hands are needed – ”

“You’ll just sit there till you’re well warmed and have had a cup of tea,” said Hetty with authority. “The Thorne is but just done his breakfast; there’s a good fire in the kitchen, and – I’ll be back in two seconds. Don’t you dare to move till I come.” And shaking her finger threateningly, she rushed away through a door opening into the dining-room.

Her promise was not fulfilled to the letter, but scarce five minutes had elapsed when she returned with a cup of fragrant tea and two or three slices of thin, daintily browned and buttered toast, all fresh from the fire.

The tray, covered with a snowy napkin, was quickly placed on a stand close at Floy’s side, and Hetty ordered her, in a tone of good-humored authority, to eat and drink.

She tried to speak her thanks, but her lip trembled and tears came instead of words.

“There, now, my dear, don’t emulate the folly of Oliver Twist over his water-gruel,” said Hetty jocosely. “I think you’ll find this fare somewhat more tempting than his; but salt water won’t improve it. You see,” bending low and speaking in a whisper, “I’ve cribbed a little from the store of dainties provided for the Thorne and served it upon part of my own breakfast set, generally reserved for high days and holidays. Now I must leave you, for there’s a customer,” and she hurried into the store.

The fragrance of the tea was appetizing. Floy tasted it, then broke off a bit of the toast, and presently discovered that, whatever might have been the original cause of her headache, an empty stomach had not a little to do with it now.

The slight refreshment made it possible to force herself to work, though in other and happier days she would have been deemed too ill for any place but bed.

The pain in the head was partially relieved, but that of the heart remained unassuaged; and though it cost a painful effort, it was perhaps well for her that she was compelled to give her mind to the details of her employment, cutting, fitting, and trimming through all the long hours of the day and evening, till nature was so thoroughly exhausted that sleep came the moment she lay down to her rest, two hours earlier than on the previous night – the result of Hetty’s kindly interposition.

It was the same through the remainder of the week; every day some errand to take her out for a breath of fresh air, every night an hour or two added to her time for rest; also her bed was removed to a warmer and purer atmosphere, Mrs. Goodenough and Hetty taking her into their room, which was heated by a furnace in the cellar and was better ventilated than the crowded room overhead.

Floy was very grateful, especially when the added luxury of some degree of privacy was given her by the kindness of Mrs. Goodenough in curtaining off the corner where her bed was placed.

The beneficial effect of these changes was soon apparent in Floy’s increased appetite and brighter looks.

On the ensuing Sabbath she felt herself able to go to church, which had been the case only once before since her coming to the city, all the other Sundays finding her so worn out with the week’s work as to be compelled to spend the day in sleeping off her exhaustion.

She went alone; and not wishing to attract observation, slipped quietly into a pew near the door.

The services had not yet begun, and her thoughts had flown far away to the dear ones worshipping in the upper sanctuary, when suddenly they were recalled to earth. A rustle of silk, and three gayly-dressed young girls swept up the aisle closely followed by two young men, the foremost, Espy Alden, stepping so close in passing that she could easily have laid her hand upon his arm.

Her heart gave a wild bound as she recognized him, but he did not see her.

She said to herself she was glad of it, yet it pained her to her heart’s core. Had he no eyes for any one but Miss Carrie Lea? Surely if his heart were loyal as of yore to his first love, he would have felt her presence near. It had seemed ever so in those earlier days.

He sat where she could see his side face, and many a furtive glance fed her hunger for the old love, a consuming fire that pride – her woman’s pride – vainly strove to trample out. Ah, it was the only earthly love left her, and it had been so sweet!

CHAPTER XIX

A GREAT SURPRISE

“Thinkest thouThat I could live and let thee go,Who art my life itself? No, no!” —Moore.

The moment the benediction was pronounced Floy left the church and walked rapidly away, turning the first corner she came to, nor paused nor slackened her pace till she reached Mrs. Sharp’s door.

“Had you a good sermon?” queried Hetty at the dinner-table.

“Yes,” Floy answered absently.

“It does not seem to have refreshed you much,” sneered Mr. Sharp, with a keen glance at the pale, sorrowful face whereon the traces of tears were very evident. “I would prescribe a nap instead, next Sunday.”

“Don’t tease her, Thorne,” said Mrs. Goodenough, “she’s been trying to do her duty like a Christian. What is it Shakespeare says?”

“Madam, let me counsel you to purchase a copy of the works of that immortal bard, and study it for your own edification, for ours, and for that of the world at large,” he returned loftily and with a contemptuous wave of the hand, as he passed his cup to be refilled.

Hetty flushed indignantly.

“It might be for your edification, no doubt,” she retorted; “this passage for one – ‘Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.’”

“Hush, hush, child! that’s too strong,” said her mother, taking the cup. “But unasked advice isn’t apt to be welcome, Thorne; what is it Shakespeare says?” and the tea-pot she had just lifted was set down again while she seemed lost in contemplation. “Ah! I have it:

“‘I pray thee cease thy counsel,Which falls into mine ears as profitlessAs water in a sieve.’”

Mr. Sharp rose, and, pushing his plate angrily away, strode from the room. Mrs. Sharp looked annoyed, but made no remark, contenting herself with a reproachful glance at her sister and niece.

Hetty accepted her share with extreme nonchalance. As for the other delinquent, she was too much elated by her successful quotation to heed so trifling a matter as the passing displeasure of her sister – a displeasure, too, which, as she shrewdly suspected, was more than half assumed for the mere sake of appearance.

That was the fact, and yet there was a real vexation to Mrs. Sharp in what had occurred, because she would have to bear the brunt of his ill-humor.

With that unpleasant conviction weighing upon her, she breathed a heavy sigh as she, too, left the table and the room.

“Poor Aunt Prue!” said Hetty, looking after her. “What a sad misnomer was her name when she undertook the care and support of – ”

“Hush, hush, child!” interrupted her mother.

“Well, well, I must try to keep my opinions to myself,” pursued the girl, with a serio-comic expression, “but I can’t help feeling sorry for her, or glad for ourselves, that we’ll get no more Sharp prickles from the Thorne to-day. He’s bound to spend the rest of it in a fit o’ the pouts, and will not darken these doors till noon of to-morrow.”

Mrs. Sharp found her Thorne lying on a couch in their chamber, literally pouting like the great baby that he was.

“My dear,” she said soothingly, “you mustn’t mind that saucy girl; she isn’t worth it, and – ”

“No, I suppose not; but if you cared a penny for me you’d send her away at once, or rather would have done so long ago.”

“But, unfortunately, Thorne, we can’t do without her, and, still more unfortunately, she is perfectly aware of the fact, and doesn’t scruple to take every advantage of it.”

“‘Where there’s a will there’s a way,’ Mrs. Sharp, and if you were the right sort of wife you’d never sit by and see your husband insulted at his own table as I have been to-day.”

“His own table indeed!” thought she; “it’s more Hetty’s than his; more mine than hers. But – ah, well, I must even make the best of a bad bargain.”

And going into an adjoining room, she presently returned laden with delicacies – fine confections and tropical fruits – which she pressed upon him, saying, “You made such a poor dinner; hardly eat enough to keep a bird alive; do try to eke it out with these. These grapes are splendid, so are the oranges and bananas, and I never saw finer candies.”

“I don’t want them,” he said shortly; “if things are to be locked up and kept from my knowledge till it suits you to bring them out, I’ll not touch them.”

At this she was justly indignant, and, losing all patience, informed him that “since he was determined to ‘bite off his nose to spite his face’ he was entirely welcome to do so.”

“To think that I should ever have married a woman who can use such vulgarisms as that!” said he, turning his back on her.

“Better be vulgar than wicked!” she retorted, “and the way you’re behaving is downright wicked – such temper and ingratitude! If you were a child I should say you wanted a good spanking, and I rather think so as it is. If I were you I’d really try to put away childish things.”

“You, who can be guilty of such extravagance as this, do well to reprove me, your liege lord,” he remarked with bitter sarcasm. “Cast the beam from your own eye, and you may perhaps see clearly to pull the mote out of mine.”

“My liege lord indeed!” she repeated scornfully; “rather my – But I will not bandy words with you, and, lest I should be too strongly tempted to do so, shall leave you to pout it out alone.”

So saying, she gathered up her rejected dainties and swept from the room, leaving him to repent of his refusal at leisure, for no child could be fonder of sweets than he.

All that day and the succeeding night Espy was present in Floy’s dreams whether sleeping or waking. Nor were they happy dreams, for they seemed to take him farther and farther from her. Yet she strove to be cheerful in the presence of others, and only Hetty suspected how hollow was the pretence. Monday passed by, bringing no unusual event. On Tuesday, at a late hour in the morning, she was again directed to go to the residence of the Leas; this time to fit a dress for Carrie’s mother.

“Mrs. Lea is not quite ready for you yet, miss,” said the servant who answered her ring. “She says you’ll be so good as to wait till she sends for you. Just walk in here, please,” he added on his own responsibility, perceiving that he was addressing a lady, and throwing open the door of the library as he spoke.

Floy stepped in, the door closing behind her, and instantly became aware that the room had an occupant, and only one – a young and handsome man, seated comfortably in an easy chair by the fire, and busied with the morning paper.

He looked up; the paper was suddenly flung aside, and in an instant he had caught both her hands in his, his face all aglow with delighted surprise.

“Floy, Floy! have I found you at last? Oh, darling, can you, will you forgive those cruel words of mine? Ah, if you knew how bitterly they have been repented!”

It was her own Espy again. Tears of joy rained down her cheeks; she could not speak for emotion; but she did not repulse him as he took her in his arms and folded her to his heart with many a tender caress, whispering the while, “Floy, Floy! my own darling, my own little wife!”

“No, no, not that!” she sobbed. “Oh, Espy, Espy, we must part!”

“For a little while – only for a little while – dearest.”

“Your parents – have they relented?” she asked, wiping the tears from her eyes and gazing steadily into his.

His cheek flushed.

“I shall be of age in a few weeks, and be my own master,” he said, drawing himself up proudly.

“But not mine,” she said very low – so low that he scarcely caught the words – and gently releasing herself from his embrace.

He flushed more hotly than before. “Oh, Floy, have I ever seemed to think it? Nay, have I not rather been your devoted slave?”

“You were always good to me, Espy; always watching over and caring for me, and ready and anxious to give me the best of everything. Oh, I shall never, never forget your goodness! no, not even if – ”

“If what, Floy?”

“Even though another has – has won you – ”

“No, no, never!” he cried, taking her hands again. “I never have, never can love any one but you. Why should you think it?” and he gazed searchingly into her eyes.

Then she told him something of what she had involuntarily heard a few days previous while waiting in Carrie Lea’s bedroom.

He was indignant and evidently surprised to learn that the girl had his photograph; puzzled, too, to conjecture how it had come into her possession.

“It must have been somehow through her brother,” he said after a moment’s thought. “But, Floy, I have never paid her any particular attention,” he added with deprecating look and tone.

“I believe you fully, Espy,” she replied, with a confiding smile; “but since I have released you from your engagement to me – ”

“I do not accept my release,” he interrupted impulsively, “and that being the case, I am answerable to you for my conduct toward other women.”

She shook her head, and was opening her lips to speak again, when the sound of approaching steps prevented. She drew hastily away from Espy’s side, and, seating herself by a window, seemed to have her attention fully occupied with something that was going on in the street.

The door opened.

“Miss, Mrs. Lea says you’ll please walk up now to her dressing-room.”

Espy, standing before the grate with his back to the door, turned at the words and made a stride forward, his face blazing with indignation, but only to see Floy’s black skirt vanish through the door, which instantly closed between them.

“What does it mean?” he asked himself half aloud; “I thought she was merely making a morning call, but that fellow spoke to her as if she were a menial like himself.”

There was a sound of light laughter and gay girlish voices on the stairway, and in the hall without, the door again opened, and the smiling face of Miss Carrie Lea looked in.

“The sleigh’s at the door, Mr. Alden, and we’re all ready waiting for you.”

He had engaged to drive out with the ladies at that hour in Mr. Lea’s fine sleigh, behind his handsome, spirited bays; and anxious though he was beyond expression to snatch another interview with Floy by intercepting her as she should leave the house, he felt compelled to go, not being able on the spur of the moment to think of any plausible excuse.

Since there was no alternative, he made the best of it; with smile and jest handed the ladies to their places, tucked the buffalo-robes carefully about them, took his seat by Carrie Lea’s side, and drove off, fervently hoping that something would occur to cause a speedy return.

CHAPTER XX

A SUDDEN SUMMONS

“I tell thee life is but one common care,And man was born to suffer and to fear.” —Prior.

Mrs. Lea’s dressing-room was gorgeous with crimson and gold; they were the prominent colors of its adornment, from the velvet carpet on the floor to the gayly-frescoed ceiling.

The lady herself, arrayed in a morning robe of dark blue silk, and wearing a great quantity of heavy jewelry, reclined upon a crimson-satin-covered couch. She evidently belonged to the shoddy aristocracy, and her sallow, slightly-wrinkled face expressed nothing but supercilious pride and fretful discontent.

She greeted Floy with an angry nod and the question: “What’s the reason Mrs. Sharp sends you instead of coming herself? You can tell her I don’t like such treatment, and I consider that my money is as good as any other body’s. She says in her note you can fit as well as she can; but I don’t believe it; it stands to reason that a ’prentice-girl couldn’t do as well as her mistress.”

Floy’s cheek flushed, but she stood with an air of dignity, silently waiting for the end of the tirade, then quietly asked:

“Am I to fit your dress, Mrs. Lea?”

“Can you? that’s the question.”

“You have Mrs. Sharp’s opinion in regard to my ability. I can only say that I am ready to do my best, or to return to her with your message, as you please.”

“Well, I guess you may cut and fit the lining, and I can judge by the looks of it whether to allow you to go on and do up the job. Eliza,” turning to her maid, “bring the things. You know where they are.”

Floy had not been invited to sit down, but feeling ill able to stand, quietly took possession of the nearest chair.

Mrs. Lea elevated her eyebrows and muttered something angrily about “impudence and upstarts, and some folks making themselves very much at home in other folks’ houses.”

Floy seemed not to hear, but kept her seat till the maid returned with the required articles, and Mrs. Lea was ready to stand up and be fitted.

This proved a tedious and trying process to both, by reason of Mrs. Lea’s impatience and captiousness; but at length Floy’s efforts resulted in so signal a success that she was graciously permitted, in Mrs. Lea’s phrase, “to go on and do up the job.”

“Why, it fits elegant!” she exclaimed at the final trying on. “I declare Mrs. Sharp couldn’t a done it better herself, and you may tell her I said as much.”

Floy was gratified, for the Leas were among Mrs. Sharp’s best customers. Her patience and forbearance had been sorely tried, but had not failed, and now she was rewarded for the restraint put upon herself.

Her pulses quickened as she passed the library door in going out, though she knew Espy was not there now, for she had heard the departure of the sleighing party, and they had not returned.

Another hour had slipped away before they came, and Espy was met at the door by a telegram to the effect that his mother was lying dangerously ill, and he must hasten home without delay if he would see her alive.

Espy read it at a glance; and turning a pale, agitated countenance upon the servant, who stood waiting,

“I must be gone at once,” he said.

“Yes, sir; I expected as much, and I’ve packed your valise, sir; here it is all right – everything in it that you’d left in your room.”

“Thank you; it was very thoughtful and kind. I will have to leave my adieus to the ladies and gentlemen with you. Tell them I have been suddenly summoned home. My mother is very ill, and I shall have barely time to catch the train. Good-by.”

And dropping a dollar into the man’s hand, Espy seized the valise and rushed away in hot pursuit of a passing street-car.

Even at that moment of grief, anxiety, and haste, he remembered with a sharp pang that this sudden departure robbed him of the opportunity to obtain another interview with Floy or to learn her address.

During the two hours’ drive his thoughts had been so full of her, their late interview, and plans for securing another, that he found no little difficulty in attending to the small talk of his companions, and was more than once rallied by them upon his absence of mind.

It was the more annoying since he was the only gentleman of the party, young Lea being confined to his room that day with a severe cold.

Great were the chagrin and disappointment of Carrie when she heard of Espy’s abrupt departure. The others cared less, as she had managed to monopolize almost all his attentions.

Floy’s heart meanwhile was in a tumult of mingled emotions – joy that she had heard from Espy’s own lips the assurance of his faithfulness to her, sorrow that duty seemed still to forbid their betrothment.

Well was it for her in those days that necessity compelled her to constant employment, and that much thought had to be given to her work.

The diversion of her mind from her cares and griefs was further assisted by the occurrences of the next day.

It was two hours since the early breakfast at Mrs. Sharp’s, and in the work-room all was life, activity, and bustle: the buzz of three sewing-machines, the busy hum of voices giving and asking instructions, the click of the scissors cutting out garments and their trimmings, making a confusion of sounds.

Floy, putting the finishing touches to the rich silk she had fitted yesterday for Mrs. Lea, was wondering if she should be commissioned to carry home this dress, her heart trembling with mingled pleasure and pain at thought of a possible meeting with Espy if sent upon that errand.