"Did she ever know of your own troubles? of your poverty, of the sacrifices you made to pay her bills, of your pawning your clothes and jewels, of your"--"No, no!" interrupted the woman quickly: "no! How could she? Ihave no enemy cruel enough to tell her that.""But if she--or if Mrs.Tretherick--had heard of it? If Carry thought you were poor, and unable to support her properly, it might influence her decision.Young girls are fond of the position that wealth can give.She may have rich friends, maybe a lover."Mrs.Starbottle winced at the last sentence."But," she said eagerly, grasping Jack's hand, "when you found me sick and helpless at Sacramento, when you--God bless you for it, Jack!--offered to help me to the East, you said you knew of something, you had some plan, that would make me and Carry independent.""Yes," said Jack hastily; "but I want you to get strong and well first.And, now that you are calmer, you shall listen to my visit to the school."It was then that Mr.Jack Prince proceeded to describe the interview already recorded, with a singular felicity and discretion that shames my own account of that proceeding.Without suppressing a single fact, without omitting a word or detail, he yet managed to throw a poetic veil over that prosaic episode, to invest the heroine with a romantic roseate atmosphere, which, though not perhaps entirely imaginary, still, I fear, exhibited that genius which ten years ago had made the columns of "The Fiddletown Avalanche" at once fascinating and instructive.It was not until he saw the heightening color, and heard the quick breathing, of his eager listener, that he felt a pang of self-reproach."God help her and forgive me!" he muttered between his clinched teeth, "but how can I tell her ALL now!"That night, when Mrs.Starbottle laid her weary head upon her pillow, she tried to picture to herself Carry at the same moment sleeping peacefully in the great schoolhouse on the hill; and it was a rare comfort to this yearning, foolish woman to know that she was so near.But at this moment Carry was sitting on the edge of her bed, half undressed, pouting her pretty lips, and twisting her long, leonine locks between her fingers, as Miss Kate Van Corlear--dramatically wrapped in a long white counterpane, her black eyes sparkling, and her thorough-bred nose thrown high in air,--stood over her like a wrathful and indignant ghost; for Carry had that evening imparted her woes and her history to Miss Kate, and that young lady had "proved herself no friend" by falling into a state of fiery indignation over Carry's "ingratitude," and openly and shamelessly espousing the claims of Mrs.Starbottle."Why, if the half you tell me is true, your mother and those Robinsons are making of you not only a little coward, but a little snob, miss.
Respectability, forsooth! Look you, my family are centuries before the Trethericks; but if my family had ever treated me in this way, and then asked me to turn my back on my best friend, I'd whistle them down the wind;" and here Kate snapped her fingers, bent her black brows, and glared around the room as if in search of a recreant Van Corlear.
"You just talk this way, because you have taken a fancy to that Mr.
Prince," said Carry.
In the debasing slang of the period, that had even found its way into the virgin cloisters of the Crammer Institute, Miss Kate, as she afterwards expressed it, instantly "went for her."First, with a shake of her head, she threw her long black hair over one shoulder, then, dropping one end of the counterpane from the other like a vestal tunic, she stepped before Carry with a purposely-exaggerated classic stride."And what if I have, miss!
What if I happen to know a gentleman when I see him! What if Ihappen to know, that among a thousand such traditional, conventional, feeble editions of their grandfathers as Mr.Harry Robinson, you cannot find one original, independent, individualized gentleman like your Prince! Go to bed, miss, and pray to Heaven that he may be YOUR Prince indeed.Ask to have a contrite and grateful heart, and thank the Lord in particular for having sent you such a friend as Kate Van Corlear." Yet, after an imposing dramatic exit, she re-appeared the next moment as a straight white flash, kissed Carry between the brows, and was gone.
The next day was a weary one to Jack Prince.He was convinced in his mind that Carry would not come; yet to keep this consciousness from Mrs.Starbottle, to meet her simple hopefulness with an equal degree of apparent faith, was a hard and difficult task.He would have tried to divert her mind by taking her on a long drive; but she was fearful that Carry might come during her absence; and her strength, he was obliged to admit, had failed greatly.As he looked into her large and awe-inspiring clear eyes, a something he tried to keep from his mind--to put off day by day from contemplation--kept asserting itself directly to his inner consciousness.He began to doubt the expediency and wisdom of his management.He recalled every incident of his interview with Carry, and half believed that its failure was due to himself.Yet Mrs.Starbottle was very patient and confident: her very confidence shook his faith in his own judgment.When her strength was equal to the exertion, she was propped up in her chair by the window, where she could see the school and the entrance to the hotel.In the intervals she would elaborate pleasant plans for the future, and would sketch a country home.She had taken a strange fancy, as it seemed to Prince, to the present location; but it was notable that the future, always thus outlined, was one of quiet and repose.