Kitabı oku: «Little Golden's Daughter; or, The Dream of a Life Time», sayfa 16

CHAPTER XLIX

Gertrude Leith having done what she could for the happiness of others, prepared to take her own departure.

"You will not leave us, my dear, true friend, my second mother," Golden exclaimed, as she came in veiled and bonneted, to bid her good-bye.

"Yes, dear, it will be better for a time, at least, that I should go away. I shall return north and go back to those quiet quarters in Brooklyn, where you and I spent those peaceful weeks before we came south. When you come to New York with your husband you will find me there."

"I will certainly seek you out," Golden replied. "But surely you do not intend to forsake my father. The doubt and perplexity are all over now. You know that you are legally his wife, my own mother being dead before he ever knew you."

"Yes, I know, dear," she answered, gently. "Yet it is best I should go away for a time. Your father must have time for his grief. After awhile, if he desires it, I may return to him."

Her words were too full of wisdom for anyone to gainsay them, so she went away.

Richard Leith's grief and remorse over his lost little Golden was as deep and passionate as if she had died yesterday instead of more than sixteen years ago.

He was too sorrowful to remember the fair woman he had put in the dead wife's place in the vain hope of stilling the fever and pain that had ached ceaselessly at his heart for sixteen years.

The time came later on when the first wife's memory became a sweet and chastened dream to him, and his second wife's new loveliness of character won its place in his heart.

Some years of quiet happiness and mutual love came to them after they learned to know each other better, but there was no year in which Richard Leith did not return south once, at least, to spend a few solemn hours by the low grave under the whispering cedars and broad-leaved magnolias, where the broken marble shaft bore the fond inscription:

"IN LOVING MEMORY OF GOLDEN, WIFE OF RICHARD LEITH."

There was one other to whom that green grave became like a shrine, a holy Mecca, to which his poor, faltering footsteps were daily bent.

It was old Hugh Glenalvan, whom old Dinah daily guided to the sacred spot, where he would sit for hours, his gray locks fluttering in the gentle breeze, meditating, or perhaps holding spirit communion with the sainted dead.

It was discovered on the day of Golden Leith's burial that John Glenalvan and his whole family had secretly left the house the night previous.

A week later a letter came from the villain to Bertram Chesleigh, offering to sell Glenalvan Hall on fair terms, and stating that he should never live in the south again.

A bargain was closed at once, and Bertram Chesleigh became the possessor of the old hall, which was speedily repaired and remodeled under the supervision of himself and his lovely young wife.

Before the work was completed a chance newspaper chronicled the fact of a distressing railway accident and among the list of killed appeared the name of John Glenalvan.

Bertram and Golden destroyed the newspaper, and old Hugh never knew that his wicked son had gone suddenly and without preparation into the presence of his august Maker.

The old man's life flowed on in sweet serenity. All his happiness was centered in the living Golden, and beside the grave of the dead one.

While he lived, Golden and her husband made their home at Glenalvan Hall, but after several years of quiet peace the white soul of the noble old man took on the wings of immortality, and soared to its Heavenly home through the open gates of the sunset.

They made him a grave by his daughter's side, and when the grass was growing green upon his grave they took old Dinah with them and turned their faces northward.

Black mammy had become reconciled to Mr. Chesleigh when she saw how happy he made her little missie. Her kind and wrinkled old visage reflected the radiant happiness that shone on Golden's beautiful face.

She waited on her kindly and devotedly as ever, declaring that no starched-up French maid should ever take her place while she lived, and Golden, with a shuddering remembrance of the wicked Celine's treachery, always assured her "old mammy" that she need never fear such an intruder on her privileges.

The day came when one of the most beautiful and palatial homes in New York opened wide its doors to receive Bertram Chesleigh's fair wife as its honored mistress.

Though Golden had seen some of the stately homes of New York she was astonished at the luxury and magnificence of her own.

Mr. Chesleigh smiled indulgently at her pretty, childish delight as he led her through suite after suite of the sumptuous, luxurious apartments the day after their arrival.

"I am glad you are so pleased with your new home," he said, "but now, my darling, you must run away and let black mammy dress you. I have invited a few guests to dinner."

"Strangers?" she asked, with a shy pretty blush on the exquisite face that was fresh and sweet as a rosebud with only that pensive droop of the golden-brown lashes to hint at the sorrow through which she had passed.

"Not exactly,'" he replied with a smile. "Lawyer Leith and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Desmond, and little Ruby. I think you will be glad to see her, though she must have tyrannized over you dreadfully in the old days."

"A dear little tyrant she was," laughed Mrs. Chesleigh. "I shall be very pleased to see her again."

She went to her dressing-room, and a loving remembrance of some things the child had said to her once, caused her to choose a lovely dress of white and blue, with large, gleaming white pearls for her neck and wrists, and knots of fragrance-breathing violets fastened among her creamy laces.

Bertram uttered a cry of delight when she came to him in the drawing-room in the beautiful dress with the golden curls framing the perfect face in a halo of light.

She looked beyond him and saw her father and his wife gazing at her with eyes full of love and wonder, and she sprang joyfully to their embrace.

Mrs. Leith released her after some low-murmured words of love and praise, and she saw her husband's sister by her side.

Mrs. Desmond had grown more brilliantly lovely than ever. Happiness and contentment had lent new radiance to the lovely face, but there was a wistful air, almost amounting to humility, about her as she extended her jeweled hand, and said, sweetly:

"My dear little sister, can you ever forgive me?"

"Freely," she said, clasping the offered hand, and proffering the kiss of peace.

"And me, too—I am deeply repentant," said a low voice beside Mrs. Desmond, and looking up, Golden saw Mr. Desmond, debonairly handsome as ever, but so humble and ashamed that even a harder heart than our little Golden's must have pardoned his folly.

Then Ruby took possession of her and gave her a bear-like hug.

"Oh, you darling," she cried, "I have missed you so much, and to think you were Uncle Bert's wife all the while. It is just like one of mamma's novels that she is always reading. I warn you, Uncle Bert, that I shall make you jealous, I shall stay with her so much. And I do so want to see that dear old black mammy I have heard about."

Her childish curiosity was gratified, and the New York child, after her first surprise, grew very fond of the good-natured, old negress who had been Golden's nurse from babyhood up.

"I do not have a nurse any more," she confided to Golden. "They have hired a governess for me, and I like to study. It improves my temper."

"Which was never very bad," smiled Golden, kissing the pretty little brunette.

"When you go into society you will be surprised to meet Elinor Glenalvan again," Mrs. Desmond said to her after awhile. "She has picked up a rich, old man somewhere, and is Mrs. Langley now. Six months ago she burst upon society in a blaze of glory, and at present she is considered the handsomest woman in New York. But her star will fade when you are introduced to the social world."

Soon afterward the two cousins met at a brilliant reception. Both looked their best, Elinor in Ruby velvet and diamonds, Golden in misty, white lace and pearls, Elinor just touched with the tips of her fingers the arm of her decrepit old spouse, Golden clung lovingly to her princely-looking and devoted husband. As they passed each other Mrs. Langley cast one look of bitter hatred and envy upon her fair, angelic-looking rival.

It was as Mrs. Desmond had predicted. Elinor's star paled before the superior loveliness of Golden, and in bitter anger and chagrin, the eclipsed beauty retired from the field, and removed to a distant city, where she was seen and heard of no more by those who had formerly known her.

Little Golden was glad when her enemy was gone, but she felt no vanity over her brilliant social successes. Her chief joy and pride was that she reigned queen over her husband's adoring heart.