The reigning belle

Eva Laurence had no appetite for breakfast, and lingered about home long after she should have been at her duties at the store. There was something so unusual in her mother’s going out very early in the morning with a strange man, that both the girls were greatly disturbed, though each strove to hide her anxiety from the other.

Once Eva put on her bonnet, and went as far as the gate, on her way down town; but, after lingering there a minute, she came back again.

“I cannot go, Ruthy,” she said, with keen anxiety in her voice and manner. “Where has she gone? It is now two hours! What can have become of her?”

Ruth could hardly answer. Her eyes were full of trouble; her delicate form trembled all over. She clutched nervously at the cushions, but still persisted in saying,

“Oh, she will be home again before long. Nothing can have happened.”

“I will, at any rate, stay here till she comes,” said Eva, taking off the outer garments she had put on. “I wonder where James is? Mrs. Smith ought not to keep him all night so often. She might reflect how lonesome we are without him.”

“It is strange; he is always sure to run in during the morning,” said Ruth, shaking like a flower in the wind, with weird terror of some unknown evil. “What is that?”

Eva ran to the window—the gate had opened. It might be her mother. No, it was Mr. Ross coming leisurely up the walk. He saw Eva, and smiled. She could not answer this pleasant greeting, but hurried to the door, anxious and breathless.

“Oh, Mr. Ross, do you bring us any news? We are so anxious.”

“About what, my child?”

“Why mother has been out since early this morning. A man came here before breakfast, and she went with him.”

“Well, what do you fear? It is not noon yet. How frightened you look! There, there, your mother is sure to come back safely. She is not a woman to run into danger.”

The cool, good sense of their visitor tranquilized the girls, and they made strong efforts to be cheerful.

“As for my part,” said Ross, sitting down near Ruth, “I am rather glad she is away. The matter I came to talk about does not require her presence just yet. Eva, I have come from my sister, who renews the offer half made to you some nights ago. We desire, very much, that you should come to us, and be a part of our household. Carter is willing, his wife desires it, and I ask no greater blessing than to look upon you as my own child.”

Eva started up, clasping her hands with a thrill of unthinking joy; but they fell apart hopelessly.

“Oh, sir! Oh, my friend! I cannot; it is impossible! To leave my family now, when my work is of so much use, would be cruel beyond anything. Look at poor Ruthy. The first thought of it has set her trembling!”

Eva’s eyes were full of tears. The idea of this offer had haunted her with temptations, which she resisted, now that trouble was in the house with double force.

Mr. Ross smiled. He did not like the girl less for this generous clinging to her home duties.

“It would be better a thousand times,” cried Eva, with passionate warmth, “that you took Ruthy; though what on earth we should do without her, I cannot tell. She, with her genius and goodness, might be a blessing in any house, while I am only useful here.”

“My dear child, how quick you are to decide. We do not propose to take anything from your family; on the contrary, in partially leaving it, every one will be benefited. My sister intends to settle upon Mrs. Laurence five times the amount you can earn. I propose to put that fine little fellow, your brother, into school, and after that, through college. As for Miss Ruth here, if she will remain my pupil a few months longer, there will be no need of your toil. Her pencil will do far more than your labor.”

Eva looked at her sister in wonder. There she lay, blushing like a wild rose, trembling like its leaves, and smiling in spite of the fears that had so oppressed her—a creature so delicate and frail, that helplessness seemed her portion forever. Could it be possible, that pure genius in a creature like that, might accomplish more than all her strength of life and power of action? Was genius so far above everything else in this world? These thoughts broke forth in a burst of tender enthusiasm.

“Oh, Ruthy! Ruthy! Is it so? Are you to be the bread-winner, and I the drone? I cannot believe it! I cannot believe it!”

“Nor I,” said Ruthy. “It seems like a miracle; but, oh, I will work so hard! Ah, Mr. Ross, you opened a new life to me, when you pronounced my poor sketches worthy of notice.”

“The life of genius is always new, for its very essence is creation,” answered Ross, with subdued enthusiasm.

“But, to chain genius down to the earning of money, seems so unsuited to its greatness,” said Eva.

“Unsuited to its greatness!” exclaimed Ross. “Is it a degradation to be useful, to give bread for thought—for mental power to transmute itself into material blessings? Is the man or woman of genius higher or prouder than the God who made him? Is the wheat, which bends in green and ripening waves to the wind, and grows golden under the sunshine, less beautiful because hungry millions feed on it? Are the lilies of the field more splendid than the fruit with which our orchards are laden? Why, Eva, every grand or lovely thing that God has created has its uses for mankind. While men starve and suffer, no gift that comes from Him can remain idle without sin. The great reward of genius is its power to confer blessings; first, by the effort itself, giving new objects of thought or beauty to the world, and again by the material rewards, which cannot be used without adding to the comfort and happiness of mankind.”

Ross spoke with an outburst of feeling, which Eva’s little speech, natural to a romantic girl, need hardly have called forth. She blushed crimson, feeling his ardent words as a rebuke, while Ruth seemed to kindle up with living fire. Her eyes flashed like stars, and a handful of carnations seemed to have been dashed against her cheek, leaving a delicate stain there. She rose to her elbow, radiant.

“Oh, Eva!” she said. “If you knew how happy it has made me to win a little money, when you all need it so much, you would never talk as if the earning it could be considered unsuitable.”

“You are right,” answered Eva, almost crying. “It was a thoughtless speech.”

“Because you really had never considered the subject,” answered Ross, heartily ashamed of his own enthusiasm. “But all this brings us no nearer to the question in hand.”

Both the sisters grew silent, and the color faded slowly from their faces. They looked at each other with yearning fondness, and, as if influenced by one feeling, the eyes of both filled with tears.

“It can hardly be called a separation,” said Ross, touched with lively sympathy. “There need not be a day in which you cannot see each other.”

“She must go,” faltered Ruth, stretching forth her arms. “To keep her with us would be cruel.”

Eva sunk upon her knees by the couch, and buried her face in Ruthy’s bosom.

“No! no!” she said. “We cannot part; not while they have need of me.”

“But, remember mother, how much more you would be doing for her and James, who felt it so hard to give up school,” pleaded Ruth. “This is a poor place for you, my sister.”

“But is it better for you and mother?” questioned Eva, almost indignantly, for the temptation to go was strong within her, and she hated herself for it.

“But we will soon make this home pleasanter for them than it has ever been,” said Ross.

“Who is that? Mother?” cried Ruth, who heard a woman’s step in the porch. “She will think with us, I am sure, Eva.”