Stella Rosevelt

Star went down to the housekeeper’s room after her encounter with Mr. Richards, and ate her breakfast in a very thoughtful mood.

Mrs. Blunt watched her curiously, and with a troubled expression on her honest face.

“Child, if you don’t eat more you’ll die, or I’m much mistaken,” and she deftly slipped a dainty slice of buttered toast on her plate as she spoke.

“Thank you, Mrs. Blunt, but I believe I am not very hungry this morning,” she returned, with a smile.

“I should think not, indeed, nor at any other time. You haven’t eaten a ‘square meal’ since you came into this house,” the good woman said, with an injured air.

Star was too deeply occupied to heed it, and finishing her coffee in silence, arose and proceeded slowly up stairs to the sewing-room, intending to finish her other dress that morning.

There was a look of resolution on her young face; her eyes gleamed with a new purpose.

“I will do it,” she murmured, as she stood thoughtfully outside the door a moment, one small hand resting upon the knob. “I may as well make a bold stroke for myself at once, or I shall sink into nothingness. I must have an education; I cannot—I will not grow up ignorant, and have poor papa’s kind care in the past all go for nothing.”

She turned the handle of the door and passed into the room.

She found Mrs. Richards standing in the middle of the floor, holding up the unfinished dress in both hands, and inspecting it with no pleasant expression of countenance.

She glanced at the young girl as she entered, and as her keen eyes ran over her dainty figure in its new and tasteful garment, her face grew dark.

Star bade her a courteous “good-morning,” but she did not even deign to notice the salutation.

“Who trimmed these dresses?” she demanded, sharply.

“I did,” Star answered.

“Who told you to do it?”

“No one, marm; but I like things made pretty, and as there were plenty of pieces which could not be used in any other way, I made them up into ruffles.”

Star spoke very quietly, but a bright red spot burned on either cheek.

“You like ‘things pretty,’ do you? And that is the way you calculate to spend your time in this house, I suppose?” Mrs. Richards retorted, sarcastically.

She received no reply, and continued:

“The pieces you have cut up into senseless ruffles I intended you should make into patch-work for the servants’ beds during your odd minutes.”

Star glanced at the numerous “senseless ruffles” which encircled the indignant matron’s ample figure, and thought there might be such a thing as a distinction without a difference.

“I’ve half a mind to make you sit right down and rip off every one,” Mrs. Richards proceeded, still chafing over the matter, and flushing as she noticed Star’s glance and half read her thought. “The idea of a chambermaid with ruffles and furbelows! And I do believe that seamstress has made your dress so tight that you cannot breathe,” she concluded, pouncing upon the poor girl to make an examination of the offensive robe, for the slight, graceful figure before her was not at all pleasing to her.

“No, marm, my dress is not tight; it only fits me nicely;” and Star’s slender fingers laid over quite a plait, thus showing that there was plenty of room for inflating her lungs to their utmost capacity.

“Then you are laced,” persisted madam.

“Laced?” repeated Star, who did not quite understand the obnoxious term.

“Yes; your corsets are too tight.”

“Oh! I never wear corsets; mamma did not approve of them.”

Mrs. Richards bit her lips and colored with vexation. She was not showing to advantage in this controversy. It was clear that Star’s perfect form was the work of nature’s own hand, and she would be obliged to put up with it, unless she tied her up in a sack to hide its comely outlines.

“Well,” she said, throwing aside the dress she had been examining, “I want you to come with me now; I am going to assign you your regular work. For one thing, you are to make all the beds in the house, except those in the servants’ rooms; then you are to keep Josephine’s and mine in order, wait upon us generally, and sew when there is nothing else to be done.”

Star stood looking down at the carpet in a thoughtful way while her would-be task mistress reeled off these instructions; then she raised her eyes, which looked almost black instead of their usual beautiful blue, and fixed them full upon the woman’s face.

“Did you understand,” she began, “when papa wrote to you, asking you to assume the guardianship of his only child and superintend her future education, that he had any idea that I should come into your family as a servant? I am sixteen years old, and although I have been taught to do many things in my home, and to do them well, I have never done any hard work. I have spent most of my time in study, and papa left written instructions with me regarding my future course in that direction. I am very fond of music; I can paint and draw quite well, I am told, for one of my age, and papa wished me to keep on with these accomplishments, so far as I was able to and attend faithfully to the other branches of my education. I tell you this that you may understand something of the disappointment I have experienced, since my arrival in this country, to find that I was expected to fill the place of a common servant. Do you think my father intended you to make me such?”

Mrs. Richards regarded the girl in astonishment, while her face grew crimson with shame and anger. She knew very well that Albert Gladstone had never dreamed that she would degrade his child in any such way. But Albert Gladstone was dead, and could not interpose to prevent it. She was obliged to curtail just now in some way, and when she found she must have this girl in her family, she had decided to dispense with the expense of one servant and impose the duties on Star.

But she had not once imagined that she would dare question her right to do with her whatever she saw fit, and she was amazed as well as angry at the quiet dignity and independence with which she made these statements, and called her to an account of her duty to her.

“I don’t know what your father intended, or what you expect,” she returned, in cold, precise tones. “I know that he wrote me you would soon be an orphan; that you had hardly a friend in the world, and he would leave you almost a pauper. He asked me to superintend your education, so that you would be able to earn your own living by and by. I intend to do so; and as you have nothing save your own hands to depend upon in the future, I am going to begin by making you useful at once. Did you suppose you were going to drop into the lap of luxury, and be reared in idleness?” she concluded, with biting sarcasm.

“No, marm,” Star returned, respectfully, yet not one whit abashed by the way Mrs. Richards had perverted the letter which her father had written. “I am willing to be useful—I wish to be useful—I should be unhappy to be idle; but I am very unwilling to be made a common drudge, with no time nor opportunity to pursue my education. You say I have nothing save my hands with which to earn my living. You are mistaken; I have brains, and I intend they shall serve that purpose.”

“It seems to me that you are making a saucy tongue serve its purpose pretty early in the day,” retorted Mrs. Richards, an angry red leaping into her face.

“I do not mean the least disrespect in what I have said, Mrs. Richards; but I cannot give up all the hopes and aspirations which my father has fostered all my life without making an effort to accomplish them. I am frank to confess,” Star continued, coloring, while her lips quivered slightly, “that from your reply to my father’s letter, I inferred that I should be received into your family as an equal, and that you would give me a mother’s care and counsel during the next three or four years of my life. Papa, I know, also understood it so, and died content, feeling that I should be well and kindly provided for.”

Mrs. Richards felt very uncomfortable, for she knew that every word Star uttered was truth. She knew, too, that she was doing a mean and cowardly thing in making the bright and talented girl a servant; but she must have a house-maid. If she must curtail, she must do it in this way rather than in her own or Josephine’s wardrobe.

“You are very impertinent, miss, and have been reared with altogether too high notions for one in your position,” she said, angrily. “You ought to be thankful for a roof to cover your head, and anything to cover your nakedness, coming here, as you did, destitute of everything. An equal in my family, indeed! Music, painting, and drawing! What will Josephine say to that, I wonder? And who did you suppose was going to foot the bills? It won’t do you any harm to have some of this independence taken out of you, and I’ll have you understand, once for all, that you will fill Maggie Flynn’s position in this house, or none.”

Star bowed her proud head coldly. She saw that she was helpless for the present, and must yield to the inevitable.

“Very well,” she said, calmly. “I understand from Mrs. Blunt that Maggie Flynn was about my age; that she had six dollars a month besides her board, and two evenings out a week. I will consent to fill her place, for the present, upon the same conditions.”

“Upon my word!” exclaimed Mrs. Richards, in a towering passion at this unexpected proposition. “I never heard anything like it in my life! You forget that you are indebted to me for the very clothes you have on at this moment.”

Star could hardly repress a smile at this calculating outbreak.

“You have given me the print for two dresses,” she answered, with ready tact, “the cost of which, with us in England, would be four pence a yard. I have nearly made them myself, but you can deduct whatever you see fit, and I will attend to my own wardrobe in the future. If I do Maggie Flynn’s work, I must have Maggie Flynn’s pay and privileges,” she concluded, decidedly.

“You will have nothing of the kind”—Mrs. Richards was fairly hoarse with anger. “You forget that your father has consigned you to my guardianship for the next few years, and you will do exactly as I direct you. But we have wasted time enough in this kind of talk. You are to come with me now; I will set you to work, and see if we cannot take down some of this English impudence.”

Star followed the woman as she was bidden, without a word, thinking it best to discuss the question no further just then; but there was, nevertheless, a determined gleam in her glorious eyes; her form was as erect and proud, her step as firm as if she felt herself in every respect the equal of the woman who appeared bound to oppress her.

All day long she was kept steadily at work; not a moment was she allowed to rest, except while she was eating. She made beds, swept and dusted rooms, and ran upon errands, until every bone in her slight body ached with weariness and her small feet were nearly blistered.

Her delicate hands had never performed such menial duties before, nor had her gentle heart ever throbbed with such revengeful, rebellious feelings.

It was eight o’clock before her hard mistress released her from her labors, and told her to go directly to bed, so as to be up early in the morning and sweep off the front steps before people should begin to pass.

She went to her room as directed, but instead of retiring, she took from a drawer of her bureau one of the packages of papers which she had rescued from her state-room on that burning vessel, and, weary as she was, she again descended two flights of stairs, and approaching the library door, tapped gently upon it.

A deep, manly voice bade her come in, and she entered with a firm and decided tread.

Mr. Richards was sitting at his desk, engaged in answering some business letters.

Star had timed her visit to him, for she had watched and seen him go into the library after tea was over.

He looked up as she closed the door behind her, and his face relaxed into a kind smile as he saw who it was.

The girl had interested him in the morning by her beauty, grace, and intelligence, but he had been so busy during the day that he had scarcely thought of her since.

He did inquire for her at dinner, but there was company present, and his wife made some evasive reply. If the truth could have been known, she was rather reluctant to inform him what her intentions were regarding the young stranger.

“Do I interrupt you, sir?” Star asked, modestly, but without advancing beyond the threshold.

“Not at all, Miss Star. Come here and sit down; I am just through,” he answered, heartily.

She went and stood before him. She did not wish to sit down; she could say what she intended to tell him better standing, she thought.

“You spoke so kindly to me this morning,” she began, “that I have ventured to come to you for a little advice this evening.”

“Spoke kindly to you! Why on earth shouldn’t I speak kindly to you?” he asked, in surprise.

Then noticing her pale, weary face, he continued:

“What under the sun have you been doing to-day? You look tired to death.”

Star tried to smile, but she felt more like dropping her face upon her hands and sobbing aloud.

She controlled herself with an effort, however, and putting some of her papers upon the table beside him, said:

“I have brought you some papers which papa gave me just before—just before he died”—a sob would come in spite of her then. “One is a copy of a letter which he wrote to Mrs. Richards,” she went on, “and there is also her reply. Will you kindly read them, and tell me just what you understand by them?”

“Certainly, if you wish,” he replied, looking a trifle surprised at her request.

He motioned her again to a seat, then opened the letters and read them both through.

“I understand,” he said, when he had finished them, “from your father’s letter that, believing he was soon to die, he wished to provide a home for you. He states that he has no friends or relatives in England with whom he would be willing to trust you; that he has next to nothing to leave you, and begs my wife, as the nearest of kin, to assume the care of you and your education until you are able to do something for yourself, trusting to Providence to reward her for her kindness to the orphan. He mentions that he feels assured she will do this, since she once entertained such tender feelings for his wife for the signal service which she once rendered her.”

“Do you know what that service was?” Star asked, in a low tone.

“No; I asked Ellen when I read the letter which she received, but she seemed to have forgotten to what he referred. Perhaps you know, though?” Mr. Richards concluded, inquiringly.

Star colored vividly.

“Yes, sir,” she returned, with compressed lips.

“Well, what was it? I should like to know.”

“My mother was a Miss Chudleigh before her marriage, as you doubtless know, and she lived near Halowell Park, in Devonshire, where Mrs. Richards was once visiting, and it was during that visit that she saved her from drowning.”

“Whew! Your mother saved my wife from drowning, eh?” cried Mr. Richards, in astonishment, and coloring as he remembered his wife’s indifference upon the topic when he had questioned her about it.

“Yes, sir. Now will you please read Mrs. Richards’ reply to my father’s letter, and tell me how you interpret it?”

Star did not care to dwell upon the subject of her obligation, since Mrs. Richards had seen fit to pass it by so lightly.

“I interpret it just as it reads,” he said, after glancing over it; “that she would be very happy to grant your father’s request, do her utmost to make a good and useful woman of you, and follow out his wishes regarding your future education as nearly as she could.”

“Yes, sir, that is the way papa understood it; that is the way I understand it,” Star said, rising and standing erect before him with a gravity that made him wonder what was coming next.

“My father,” she continued, “as you know, was a clergyman with a very limited income, and he conducted my education himself until he became too weak to do so, therefore I am pretty well advanced for one of my years. I have read seven books in Virgil, have read two years in French, and am nearly through trigonometry, and have read a good deal in history. I was studying harmony in music when papa died, besides doing a little in painting and drawing. I do not tell you this,” Star interposed, with a sad smile, “to boast of what I have done, but that you may understand what my feelings are when I tell you why I came here to-night. Papa wished me to keep on with my Latin, reading Horace and Tacitus, with French, music, and history—in fact, he left a written programme for me to follow out as nearly as I was able. I am ambitious myself—I am hungry for knowledge. I want a thorough education, and as I must in the future earn my own living, I know of no way so congenial to my feelings as through literary pursuits. Perhaps I made a mistake in appealing to you just now, but I could think of no other way out of my difficulties, for of course I am wholly ignorant of the manners and customs of this country. I mentioned these things to Mrs. Richards this morning——”

And now Star’s voice trembled, and the beating of her heart nearly choked her, for she did not know how this man would receive her appeal to him against his own wife.

“Well, and what did she say?” he asked, feeling somewhat perplexed over the matter.

“She told me that I could not go on with my education as papa wished; that—I was to take the place of a girl named Maggie Flynn in your family.”

“What!” exclaimed the gentleman, in tones of the most emphatic astonishment.

“Maggie Flynn, I understand,” Star went on, gathering courage as she noted his surprise, “was a sort of chamber and waiting-maid, and Mrs. Richards says that I am henceforth to perform her duties. I cannot tell you,” she continued, earnestly, “how repulsive such a life would be to me—to give up all my hopes, to forget, in the ceaseless routine of such an existence, all that I have already acquired; and I have come to appeal to you—to ask you if you will not try and persuade your wife to allow me to continue my studies? I am willing to work, and work hard, but I must have some time to improve and develop my mind. There are plenty of girls who can be employed in my place”—Star did not know of the curtailing business—“and who do not care for an education. Papa authorized a friend of his to dispose of his library and our household goods, and give the proceeds to me, after paying all bills. I have a letter of credit to the amount of a hundred pounds. I do not know the expense of schooling in this country, but could I not be sent to some institution for a year or two, and take this money to pay for it? I should be fitted by the end of that time, I think, to teach, and could relieve Mrs. Richards of all responsibility regarding my support.”

Mr. Richards’ face was very stern when the young girl concluded, and Star, looking into it, felt almost frightened at what she had done.

But she reasoned that her situation could not be much worse than it already was, and it demanded desperate measures.