CHAPTER XI
ANXIETY
It was late October; a feeble flame flickered in the grate; on the rugcrouched an English spaniel, creeping closer as the heat died out and thewaning light of day gradually receded, leaving the room dusky, save where aslanting line of yellow quivered down from the roof and gilt the folds ofblack silk. At one of the windows stood Electra, half concealed by theheavy green and gold drapery, one dimpled hand clinging to the curtains,the other pressed against the panes, as she watched the forms hurryingalong the street below.
For three weeks she had received no letter from Russell; he was remarkablypunctual, and this long, unprecedented interval filled her, at first, withvague uneasiness, which grew finally into horrible foreboding. For ten daysshe had stood at this hour, at the same window, waiting for Mr. Clifton'sreturn from the post-office. Ten times the words "No letter" had fallen,like the voice of doom, on her throbbing heart. On this eleventh daysuspense reached its acme, and time seemed to have locked its wheels tolengthen her torture. At last an omnibus stopped, and Mr. Clifton steppedout, with a bundle of papers under his arm. Closer pressed the pallid faceagainst the glass; firmer grew the grasp of the icy fingers on thebrocatel; she had no strength to meet him. He closed the door, hung up hishat, and looked into the studio; no fire in the grate, no light in thegas-globes--everything cold and dark save the reflection on that frontwindow.
"Electra!"
"I am here."
"No letter."
She stood motionless a moment; but the brick walls opposite, the trees, thelamp-posts spun around, like maple leaves in an autumn gale.
"My owlet! why don't you have a light and some fire?"
He stumbled toward her, and put his hand on her shoulder; but she shrankaway, and, lighting the gas, rang for coal.
"There is something terrible the matter; Russell is either ill or dead. Imust go to him."
Just, then the door-bell rang sharply; she supposed it was somebrother-artist coming to spend an hour, and turned to go.
"Wait a minute; I want to----" He paused, for at that instant she heard avoice which, even amid the din of Shinar, would have been unmistakable toher, and breaking from him, she sprang to the threshold and met hercousin.
"Oh, Russell! I thought you had forgotten me."
"What put such a ridiculous thought into your head? My last letter musthave prepared you to expect me."
"What letter? I have had none for three weeks."
"One in which I mentioned Mr. Campbell's foreign appointment, and theposition of secretary which he tendered me. Electra, let me speak to Mr.Clifton."
As he advanced and greeted the artist, she heard a quick, snapping sound,and saw the beautiful Bohemian glass paper-cutter her guardian had beenusing lying shivered to atoms on the rug. The fluted handle was crushed inhis fingers, and drops of blood oozed over the left hand. Ere she couldallude to it, he thrust his hand into his pocket and desired Russell to beseated.
"This is a pleasure totally unexpected. What is the appointment of whichyou spoke?"
"Mr. Campbell has been appointed Minister to ----, and sails next week. Iam surprised that you have not heard of it from the public journals; manyof them have spoken of it, and warmly commended the selection. I accompanyhim in the capacity of secretary and shall, meanwhile, prosecute my studiesunder his direction."
The grey, glittering eyes of the artist sought those of his pupil, and foran instant hers quailed; but, rallying, she looked fully, steadfastly athim, resolved to play out the game, scorning to bare her heart to hisscrutiny. She had fancied that Russell's affection had prompted this visit;now it was apparent that he came to New York to take a steamer--not to seeher; to put the stormy Atlantic between them.
"New York certainly agrees with you, Electra; you have grown and improvedvery much since you came North. I never saw such colour in your cheeksbefore; I can scarcely believe that you are the same fragile child I putinto the stage one year ago. This reconciles me to having given you up toMr. Clifton; he is a better guardian than I could have been. But tell mesomething more about these new relatives you spoke of having found here."
Mr. Clifton left the room, and the two sat side by side for an hour talkingof the gloomy past, the flitting present the uncertain future. Leaningback in his chair, with his eyes fixed on the grate Russell said gravely--
"There is now nothing to impede my successful career; obstacles are rapidlymelting away; every day brings me nearer the goal I long since set beforeme. In two years at farthest, perhaps earlier, I shall return and begin thepractice of law. Once admitted, I ask no more. Then, and not till then, Ihope to save you from the necessity of labour; in the interim, Mr. Cliftonwill prove a noble and generous friend; and believe me, my cousin, thethought of leaving you so long is the only thing which will mar thepleasure of my European sojourn."
The words were kind enough, but the tone was indifferent, and thecountenance showed her that their approaching separation disquieted himlittle. She thought of the sleepless nights and wretched days she hadpassed waiting for a letter from that tall, reserved, cold cousin, and herfeatures relaxed in a derisive smile at the folly of her all-absorbinglove. Raising his eyes accidentally he caught the smile, wondered whatthere was to call it forth in the plans which he had just laid before her,and, meeting his glance of surprise, she said, carelessly--
"Are you not going to see Irene before you sail?"
His cheek flushed as he rose, straightened himself, and answered--
"A strange question, truly, from one who knows me as well as you do. Callto see a girl whose father sent her from home solely to prevent her fromassociating with my family! Through what sort of metamorphosis do yousuppose that I have passed, that every spark of self-respect has beencrushed out of me?"
"Her father's tyranny and selfishness can never nullify her noble andaffectionate remembrance of Aunt Amy in the hour of her need."
"And when I am able to repay her every cent we owe her, then, and not tillthen, I wish to see her. Things shall change: _mens cujusque is estquisque_; and the day will come when Mr. Huntingdon may not think itdegrading for his daughter to acknowledge my acquaintance on the street."
A brief silence ensued, Russell drew on his gloves, and finally said,hesitatingly--
"Dr. Arnold told me she had suffered very much from a fall."
"Yes; for a long time she was confined to her room."
"Has she recovered entirely?"
"Entirely. She grows more beautiful day by day."
Perhaps he wished to hear more concerning her, but she would not gratifyhim, and, soon after, he took up his hat.
"Mr. Clifton has a spare room, Russell; why can't you stay with us whileyou are in New York?"
"Thank you; but Mr. Campbell will expect me at the hotel. I shall beneeded, too, as he has many letters to write. I will see you to-morrow, andindeed every day while I remain in the city."
"Then pay your visits in the morning, for I want to take your portrait withmy own hands. Give me a sitting as early as possible."
"Very well; look for me to-morrow. Good night."
The week that followed was one of strangely mingled sorrows and joys; inafter years it served as a prominent landmark to which she looked back anddated sad changes in her heart. Irene remained ignorant of Russell'spresence in the city, and at last the day dawned on which the vessel was tosail. At the breakfast table Mr. Clifton noticed the colourlessness of hispupil's face, but kindly abstained from any allusion to it. He saw that,contrary to habit, she drank a cup of coffee, and, arresting her arm as sherequested his mother to give her a second, he said gently--
"My dear child, where did you suddenly find such Turkish tastes? I thoughtyou disliked coffee?"
"I take it now as medicine. My head aches horribly."
"Then let me prescribe for you. We will go down to the steamer withRussell, and afterward take a long drive to Greenwood, if you like."
"He said he would call here at ten o'clock to bid us farewe
ll."
"_N'importe._ The carriage will be ready, and we will accompany him."
At the appointed hour they repaired to the vessel, and, looking at itshuge sides, Electra coveted even a deck passage; envied the meanest whohurried about, making all things ready for departure. The last bell rang;people crowded down on the planks; Russell hastened back to the carriage,and took the nerveless, gloved hand.
"I will write as early as possible. Don't be uneasy about me; no accidenthas ever happened on this line. I am glad I leave you with such a friend asMr. Clifton. Good-bye, cousin; it will not be very long before we meetagain."
He kissed the passive lips, shook hands with the artist, and sprang onboard just as the planks were withdrawn. The vessel moved majestically onits way; friends on shore waved handkerchiefs to friends departing, andhands were kissed and hats lifted, and then the crowd slowly dispersed--forsteamers sail every week, and people become accustomed to the spectacle.
"Are you ready to go now?" asked Mr. Clifton.
"Yes, ready, quite ready--for Greenwood."
She spoke in a tone which had lost its liquid music, and with a wintrysmile that fled over the ashy face, lending the features no light, nowarmth.
He tried to divert her mind by calling attention to various things ofinterest, but the utter exhaustion of her position and the monosyllabiccharacter of her replies soon discouraged him. Both felt relieved when thecarriage stopped before the studio, and as he led her up the steps, he saidaffectionately--
"I am afraid my prescription has not cured your head."
"No, sir; but I thank you most sincerely for the kind effort you have madeto relieve me. I shall be better to-morrow. Good-bye till then."
"Stay, my child. Come into the studio, and let me read something light andpleasant to you."
"Not for the universe! The sight of a book would give me brain fever, Iverily believe."
She tried unavailingly to shake off his hand.
"Why do you shrink from me, my pupil?"
"Because I am sick, weary; and you watch me so that I get restless andnervous. Do let me go! I want to sleep."
An impatient stamp emphasized the words, and, as he relaxed his clasp ofher fingers, she hastened to her room, and locked the door to prevent allintrusion. Taking off her bonnet, she drew the heavy shawl closely aroundher shoulders and threw herself across the foot of the bed, burying herface in her hands, lest the bare walls should prove witnesses of her agony.Six hours later she lay there still with pale fingers pressed to burning,dry eyelids.
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