My Pretty Maid; or, Liane Lester

"It must have been something awful," said Lottie Day.

"I should say so! She declared to Mrs. Clarke she had seen Miss Roma push Mr. Devereaux over the bluff and drown him! Just think—when Mr. Devereaux had not been near the place, but was lying at his hotel with a broken arm!"

"It was all a dream," said Miss Bray from her cutting board.

"Yes, but she could hardly be convinced yesterday morning that she had not really seen Miss Roma commit a murder. They had to send for the doctor to tell her that Mr. Devereaux was really alive at his hotel, having broken his arm by a fall on the sands. They say she went off into more hysterics when she heard that, and muttered: 'A fall over the cliff was more likely, but how he escaped death and got to shore again puzzles me. And why did she do it, anyway? It must have been a lovers' quarrel. I must get away from here. She will be pushing me over the bluff next.' And she had her trunk packed and went off to Boston, though she looked too ill to leave her bed," added Mary Lang, who had had the whole story straight from the housekeeper at Cliffdene.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT

"Oh, how rash and foolish I have been!" thought Roma, the next day, when she heard of Jesse Devereaux's accident.

"His arm broken by a fall on the sands last night—most probably on his way to see me, poor fellow! And in my angry resentment at my disappointment I have broken our engagement! How rash and foolish I am, and how much I regret it! I must make it up with him at once, my darling!" she cried repentantly, and hurried to her mother.

"Mamma, you were right last night. I regret my hasty action in dismissing Jesse without a hearing. How can I make it up with him?"

"You can send another note of explanation, asking his forgiveness," suggested Mrs. Clarke.

"Oh, mamma, if I could only go to him myself!" she cried, impatient for the reconciliation.

"It would not be exactly proper, my dear."

"But we are engaged."

"You have broken the engagement."

Roma uttered a cry of grief and chagrin that touched her mother's heart.

"Poor dear, you are suffering, as I foreboded, for last night's folly," she sighed.

"Please don't lecture me, mamma. I'm wretched enough without that!"

"I only meant to sympathize with you, dear."

"Then help me—that is the best sort of sympathy. I suppose it wouldn't be improper for you to call on Jesse, at his hotel, would it?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Then I will write my note to him, and you can take it—will you?"

Mrs. Clarke assented, and was on the point of starting when a messenger arrived with a note for Roma, replying to hers of the night before.

In spite of his broken right arm, Jesse Devereaux had managed a scrawl with his left hand, and Roma tore it open with a burning face and wildly beating heart, quickly mastering its contents, which read:

Mr. Devereaux accepts his dismissal with equanimity, feeling sure from this display of Miss Clarke's hasty temper that he has had a lucky escape.

It was cool, curt, airy, almost to insolence; a fitting match for her own; and Roma gasped and almost fainted.

Where was all her boasting, now, that she would teach him a lesson; that he would be back in a day begging her to take back his ring?

She had met her match; she realized it now; remembering, all too late, how hard he had been to win; a lukewarm lover, after all, and perhaps glad now of his release.

Oh, if she could but have recalled that silly note, she would have given anything she possessed, for all the heart she had had been lavished on him.

With a genuine sob of choking regret, she flung the humiliating note to her mother, and sank into a chair, her face hidden in her hands.

Mrs. Clarke read, and exclaimed:

"Really, he need not comment on your temper while displaying an equally hasty one so plainly. He must certainly be very angry, but I suppose his suffering adds to his impatience."

"He—he—will forgive me when he reads my second note!" sobbed Roma.

"But you do not intend to send it now, Roma!" exclaimed Mrs. Clarke, with a certain resentment of her own at Jesse's brusqueness.

But Roma could be very inconsistent—overbearing when it was permitted to her; humble when cowed.

She lifted up a miserable face, replying eagerly:

"Oh, yes, mamma, for I was plainly in the wrong, and deserve that he should be angry with me. But he will be only too glad to forgive me when he reads my note of repentance. Please go at once, dear mamma, and make my peace with Jesse! You will know how to plead with him in my behalf! Oh, don't look so cold and disapproving, mamma, for I love him so it would break my heart to lose him now. And—and—if he made love to any other girl, I should like to—to—see her lying dead at my feet! Oh, go; go quickly, and hasten back to me with my ring again and Jesse's forgiveness!"

She was half mad with anxiety and impatience, and she almost thrust Mrs. Clarke from the room in her eagerness for her return.

It mattered not that she could see plainly how distasteful it was to the gentle lady to go on such a mission; she insisted on obedience, and waited with passionate impatience for her mother's return, saying to herself:

"He is certainly very angry, but she will coax him to make up, and hereafter I will be very careful not to let him slip me again. I can be humble until we are married, and rule afterward. Mamma will not dare leave him without getting his forgiveness for me. She knows my temper, and that I would blame her always if she failed of success."

But there are some things that even a loving, slavish mother cannot accomplish, even at the risk of a child's anger. Jesse Devereaux's reconciliation to Roma was one of them.

The mother returned after a time, pale and trembling, to Roma, saying nervously:

"Call your pride to your aid, dear Roma, for Jesse was obdurate, and would not consent to renew the engagement. I am indeed sorry that I humbled myself to ask it."

CHAPTER IX.

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

Jesse Devereaux had never spent a more unpleasant half hour in his life than during Mrs. Clarke's visit. He admired and esteemed the gentle lady very much, and it pained him to tell her that he no longer loved her daughter, and was glad of his release.

Yet he did so kindly and courteously, though he was well aware that no gentleness could really soften the blow to her love and pride.

"I have been betrothed to your daughter only two weeks, dear madam, but in that short time I have discovered traits in her character that could never harmonize with mine. We have both been spoiled by indulgent parents; both are willful and headstrong. Such natures do best wedded to gentle, yielding ones. It is best for our future happiness that we should separate, although I should have kept faith with Roma, had she not yielded to her hasty temper and broken the engagement," he said.

She looked at his pale, handsome face as he rested on the sofa, and decided that he was only holding out for pride's sake. Surely he must love beautiful Roma still—he could not hate her so soon.

"Roma is not headstrong, as you think; only hasty and impulsive," she faltered. "See how she has humbled herself to you in the depths of her love. Why, I left her weeping most bitterly over her fault, and praying for your forgiveness. How can I go back and tell her you refuse it; that you scorn her love?"

She was frightened, indeed, to return from an unsuccessful mission to Roma. There were tears in her imploring eyes as she gazed at him.

"I do not refuse her my forgiveness; I accord it to her freely," he replied. "Neither do I scorn her love, but I do not believe it can be very deep, else she could not have been so angry with me last night. And I am free to confess that my love was not of the strongest, either, for I realize now that I am glad of my freedom, if you will pardon me for my frankness, dear lady."

How could she pardon aught that must wound her daughter vitally? An angry flush rose into her cheek, her blue eyes flashed.

"You are cruelly frank!" she cried; and he answered:

"I lament the painful necessity, but circumstances leave me no alternative, Mrs. Clarke. I feel that I entered into an engagement too hastily, and that its sudden rupture is a relief. I tender my friendship to your daughter with profound gratitude for her kindness, but I can never again be her lover."

In the face of such frankness she sat dumb. What was there to say that could move him?

Her heart sank at the thought of Roma's disappointment. She rose unsteadily to her feet, blinded by angry tears.

"I may still retain your friendship?" he pleaded, but her lip curled in scorn.

"No, you are cruel and unjust to Roma. I despise you!" she answered, in wrath, as she stumbled from the room, wondering at his heartlessness.

She would not have wondered so much if she could have known that Roma had never really filled his heart, but that the glamour of her fascinations and her open preference had somehow drawn him into a proposal that had brought him no happiness, save a sort of pride in winning the beautiful belle and heiress from many competitors. All the while he did not really love her; it was just his pride and vanity that were flattered.

There had come a sudden, painful awakening that fateful day, when rescuing Liane Lester's veil. He had looked deep into those shy, lovely eyes of hers, and felt his heart leap wildly, quickened by a glance into new life.

Roma's eyes had never thrilled him that way; he had never wondered at her great beauty; he had never longed to take her in his arms and clasp her to his heart at first sight. This was love—real love, such as he had never felt for the proud beauty he had rashly promised to marry.

In that first hour of his meeting with Liane, he cursed himself for his madness in proposing to Roma.

Yet, he was the soul of honor. He did not even contemplate retreating from his position as Roma's affianced husband. He only felt that he must avoid the fatal beauty of Liane, lest he go mad with despair at his cruel fate.

Then had followed the meeting with her again, that night when he had so fortunately saved her from the insults of a stranger and the brutality of her old grandmother. How proud and glad he had been to defend her, even at the pain of a broken arm; how he had loved her in that moment, longed to shelter her on his breast from the assaults of the cruel world.

He could never forget that moment when, overcome by gratitude, the girl had bent and kissed his hand, sending mad thrills of love through his trembling frame.

Had he been free, he would have poured out his full heart to her that moment, and the tender stars would have looked down on a scene of the purest love, where two hearts acknowledged each other's sway in ecstasy.

But he was bound in the cruel fetters of another's love, from which he could not in honor get free. His heart must break in silence.

He had to hurry away from her abruptly to hide the love he must not confess.

In his sorrow and suffering that night, judge what happiness came to him with Roma's angry letter, sent by special messenger, restoring his ring and his freedom!

His heart sang pæans of joy as he let his thoughts cling lovingly to Liane, realizing that now he might woo and win the shy, sweet maiden for his own.

Very early in the morning he penned his note to Roma, making it purposely curt and cold, that she might not attempt a reconciliation.

He felt so grateful to her that he was not at all angry, and thanked her in his heart for her summary rejection.

The unpleasant interview with Mrs. Clarke over, he dismissed the whole matter from his mind, and gave all his thoughts to Liane, chafing at the delay that must ensue from his forced confinement to his room.

"You must let me get out of here as soon as possible, doctor. I have something very important to do!" he cried eagerly.

"Love-making, eh?" bantered the doctor, thinking of Roma. "All right, my dear fellow. I shall have you walking about in a few days, I trust; but I warn you it will be a long while before you can do any but left-handed hugging!"

"Pshaw!" exclaimed his patient; but he colored up to his brows. He was indeed thinking of how impassionedly he would make love to Liane when he saw her again.

"I shall ask her to marry me on the spot!" he decided joyfully, "and—I hope I'm not vain—but I don't believe she will say no. We must be married very soon, so I can take her away from her wretched surroundings. That old grandmother can be pensioned off. She shall never see Liane again after she is my wife. Of course, the world will say I've made a mésalliance, but I'm rich enough to please myself, and my darling is beautiful enough to wear a crown."

The doctor found him the most impatient patient in the world. He never complained of the pain in his arm, though it was excruciating. He only chafed at his confinement.

"I want to get out," he said. "Doctor, you know I'm one of the judges at the Beauty Show to-morrow night."

"I'm going to let you go with your arm in a sling. Hang it all, I wouldn't miss it myself for anything! Say, there's more than one beauty in Stonecliff, but it goes without saying that you judges will award the prize to Miss Clarke, eh?" cried the jocose physician.

CHAPTER X.

ROMA SEEKS A NEW MAID

Roma's rage and grief at her mother's failure to set matters straight between her and Devereaux were beyond all expression.

But, for very pride's sake, she concealed the deepest bitterness of her heart.

She could not accuse her gentle mother of wanton carelessness, for the tears stood in her deep-blue eyes as she told the story of her interview, concluding sadly:

"Do not think, my darling, that I did not do my best to bring him to reason, putting pride away, and telling him how devotedly you loved him, and that it would break your heart to lose him now. He was cold and unresponsive to all my pleadings, and as good as said he was glad to be free of you. I confess I lost my temper at the last, and told him I despised him, before I came away."

Roma did not speak, she only tapped the rich carpet with a restless foot, indicative of a white heat of repressed anger; but Mrs. Clarke did not read her mood aright; she thought she was bearing the blow with fortitude.

In her keen sympathy she exclaimed:

"It is a cruel blow to your pride and love, my daughter, and I only wish I knew how to comfort you."

Roma lifted her white face and glittering eyes to Mrs. Clarke's anxious scrutiny, and actually laughed—a strange, mirthless laugh, that chilled her mother's blood. Then she said, with seeming coolness:

"You can comfort me right off, mamma, by begging papa to give me those rubies I've wanted so long! As for Jesse, he is only holding off from pride! I shall win him back, never fear!"

"You shall have your rubies, dear," her mother answered kindly, though she thought: "What a strange girl? How can she think of rubies at such a moment?"

"Thank you, mamma, you are very good to me!" Roma answered prettily, in her gratitude for the rubies; then, as Mrs. Clarke was going out, she added: "I wonder if Sophie is well enough to get up and wait on me. I am in need of her services."

Mrs. Clarke paused in some embarrassment, and answered:

"I shall have to lend you my own maid till I can get you another. Sophie Nutter left quite abruptly this morning."

"I'm glad of it. I disliked the girl, and I suspected her of telling tales of me to you!" cried Roma.

Mrs. Clarke neither affirmed nor denied the charge. She simply said:

"We should be kind to our servants, Roma, if we expect them to bear good witness for us."

"Kindness is wasted on the ungrateful things!" Roma answered impatiently. "I must have another maid immediately."

"But where shall we find her? Not in this little town, I fear. So we must send to Boston."

"Wait! I have an idea, mamma!"

"Well?"

"I should like to have that neat little sewing girl that altered my cape that night. She is so clever with her needle, she would be a real treasure to me, and save you many dressmaking bills."

"Would she be willing to come?"

"We can find out by asking the old woman she lives with—you know, mamma, that old tumble-down shanty at the end of town, coming out of Cliffdene? It is a little more than a mile from here. Liane Lester lives there with an old grandmother that beats her every day, I've heard, and I've no doubt she would jump at the chance of a situation here!"

Mrs. Clarke forbore to remind her daughter that she, too, had been accused of beating her maid; she only said warningly:

"You would have to be kinder to her than you were to Sophie, or she would not be likely to stay, my dear."

"How could you believe Sophie's fibs on me?" cried Roma petulantly; but Mrs. Clarke turned the exclamation aside by saying:

"Perhaps you had better go and see about the new maid at once."

"Oh, mamma, I think you might do it yourself! I—I am too nervous and unhappy to attend to it just now. Won't you just drive down into town again and see about the girl?" answered Roma.

Mrs. Clarke did not relish the task, but she was so used to bearing Roma's burdens that she assented without a murmur, and went out again to see about the new maid, sadly troubled in her mind about what had happened last night, when the delirious maid had told such shocking stories on her daughter.

"It could not be true; of course not, but it is shocking that Sophie should even have imagined such awful things! It all came of Roma being cross and impatient with her, and making a bad impression on her mind. Now, if this young sewing girl should consent to serve Roma, I shall make it a point to see that she is not ill-used," she thought, as her handsome carriage stopped at Liane's humble home, and the footman opened the door and helped her out.

She swept up the narrow walk to the door, an imposing figure, thinking compassionately:

"What a wretched abode! It will be a pleasing change to Liane Lester if the girl will consent to come to Cliffdene."

She tapped on the open door, but no one replied, though she saw the old woman's figure moving about in the room beyond.

"She is deaf and cannot hear me. I will just step in," she thought, suiting the action to the word.

Granny was sweeping up the floor, but she turned with a start, dropping her broom as a soft hand touched her shoulder, and, confronting the beautiful intruder, asked:

"Who are you? What do you want?"

Mrs. Clarke smiled, as she replied:

"I am Mrs. Clarke, of Cliffdene. I wish to see Liane Lester."

"Liane's down to her work at Miss Bray's, ma'am, but you can tell me your business with her. I'm her grandmother," snarled granny crossly.

"My daughter Roma has lost her maid; she wishes to offer Liane the vacant place, with your approval. She will have a pleasant home, and much better wages than are paid to her by Miss Bray for sewing."

Mrs. Clarke had never seen Liane Lester, but she felt a deep sympathy for her from what she had heard, and was strangely eager to have her come to Cliffdene.

So she waited impatiently for granny's reply, and as she studied the homely figure before her, a sudden light beamed in her eyes, and she exclaimed:

"How strange! I recognize you all at once as the woman who nursed me when my daughter Roma was born. You have changed, but yet your features are quite familiar. Oh, how you bring back that awful time to me! Do you remember how my child was stolen, and that I would have died of a broken heart, only that she was restored to me almost at the last moment, when my life was so quickly ebbing away?"

The quick tears of memory started to the lady's eyes, but granny's fairly glared at her as she muttered:

"You are mistaken!"

"Oh, no, I cannot be! I recall you perfectly," declared Mrs. Clarke, who had an astonishing memory for faces.

"I never saw you before in my whole life! I never was a sick nurse!" declared the old woman, so positively and angrily that Mrs. Clarke thought that, after all, she might be mistaken.

"Really, it does not matter. I was misled by a resemblance, and I thought you would be glad to hear of your nurse child again," she said.

A strange eagerness appeared on the old woman's face as she muttered:

"It's my misfortune that I haven't such a claim on your kindness, ma'am. God knows I'd be glad to meet with rich friends that would pity my poverty-stricken old age!"

Mrs. Clarke's white hand slipped readily into her pocket, taking the hint, and granny was made richer by a dollar, which she acknowledged with profuse gratitude.

"And as for Liane going as maid to your daughter, ma'am, I'd like to see this Miss Roma first, before I give my consent. I want to see if she looks like a kind young lady, that would not scold and slap my granddaughter," she declared cunningly.

Mrs. Clarke colored, wondering if Sophie's tales had reached the old woman's ears, but she said quickly:

"I would insure kind treatment to your grandchild if she came to serve my daughter."

"Thank you kindly, ma'am. I believe you, but will you humor an old woman's whim and persuade Miss Roma to come to me herself?" persisted granny, with veiled eagerness.

"I will do so if I can, but I cannot promise certainly," Mrs. Clarke replied, rather coldly, as she rustled through the door.

She was vexed and disappointed. Everything seemed to go against her that day. How angry Roma would be at the old woman's obstinacy, and how insolently she would talk to her, looking down on her from her height of pride and position. It was as well to give up the thought of having Liane come at all.

And how strangely like the old woman was to Mrs. Jenks, the nurse she had had with her when Roma was born. She was mistaken, of course, since the old creature said so; but she had such a good memory for faces, and she had never thought of two such faces alike in the world.

But if Mrs. Clarke went away perturbed from this rencontre, she left granny sadly flustrated also.

The old creature sat down in the doorway, her chin in her hands, and gazed with starting eyes at the grand carriage from Cliffdene rolling away.

"Who would have dreamed such a thing?" she muttered. "Here I have lived two years neighbor to the Clarkes, and never suspected their identity, and never heard their girl's name spoken before! Well, well, well! And they want Liane to wait on Roma. Ha, ha, ha!"

She seemed to find the idea amusing, for she kept laughing at intervals in a grim, mocking fashion, while she watched the road to Cliffdene as if she had seen a ghost from the past.

"Will the girl come, as I wish? Will she condescend to cross old granny's humble threshold? I should like to see her in her pride and beauty. Perhaps she, too, might have a dollar to fling to a poor old wretch like me!" she muttered darkly.

CHAPTER XI.

THE BEAUTY SHOW

Roma was indeed surprised and angry at granny's summons. She flatly refused to go, declaring:

"The insolence of the lower classes is indeed insufferable. Why, I offered that girl a situation much more profitable than the one she holds now, and here that crazy old witch, her grandmother, wishes to annoy me with all sorts of conditions! Call on her, indeed, in her old rookery of a house! I shall do nothing of the kind, but I will write a note to the girl, at Miss Bray's, and I have no doubt she will fairly jump at the chance, without saying 'by your leave' to that old hag!"

Delighted at the idea of outwitting the insolent old woman, as she deemed her, Roma quickly dispatched a patronizing, supercilious note to Liane, and waited impatiently for the reply.

She hardly gave another thought to poor Sophie Nutter, now that she was gone. Least of all did it enter her beautiful head that the maid had quit in fear and horror at the crime she had seen her commit that night.

Mrs. Clarke, in her tenderness over Roma's feelings, had bound all the servants never to betray Sophie's wild ravings to her daughter.

So, secure in her consciousness that her terrible deed had had no witness, Roma tried to dismiss the whole affair from her mind, believing that her victim lay at the bottom of the sea and could never rise again to menace her with threats of exposure, as he had done that night, bringing down on himself an awful fate.