"And you, dearest one? How is it with you?"

"I am very well, thank you," replied the lady.

"After such a terrible trial! But you always possessed a heroic spirit."

"We will not speak of that, Mrs. Stillwater, if you please," was the grave reply.

Mr. Rockharrt looked around, as well as he could while old Jason was drawing off his spring overcoat, and said:

"Take Mrs. Stillwater to her room, Cora. Don't keep her standing here."

"I have rung for a servant, who will attend to Mrs. Stillwater's needs,"

replied the lady, quietly.

The Iron King turned and stared at his granddaughter angrily, but said nothing.

The housemaid came up at this moment.

"Martha, show Mrs. Stillwater to the chamber prepared for her, and wait her orders there."

The negro woman wiped her clean hand on her clean ap.r.o.n--as a mere useless form--and then held it out to the visitor, saying, with the scorn of conventionality and the freedom of an old family servant:

"How do Miss Rose! 'Deed I's mighty proud to see you ag'in--'deed I is!

How much you has growed! I mean, how han'some you has growed! You allers was han'some, but now you's han'somer'n ever! 'Deed, honey, you's mons'ous han'some!"

This hearty welcome and warm admiration, though only from the negro servant, helped to relieve the embarra.s.sment of the visitor, who felt the chill of Cora's cold reception.

"Thank you, Aunt Martha," she said, and followed the woman up stairs.

"Why did you not attend Mrs. Stillwater to her room?" sternly demanded the Iron King, fixing his eyes severely on his granddaughter, as soon as the visitor was out of hearing.

"It is not usual to do anything of the sort, sir, except in the case of the guest being a very distinguished person or a very dear friend. My ex-governess is neither. She shall, however, be treated with all due respect by me so long as she remains under your roof," quietly replied Cora.

"You had best see to it that she is," retorted the Iron King, as he stalked up stairs to his own room, followed by his valet.

Cora returned to the drawing room, and seated herself in her arm chair, and put her feet upon her foot-stool, and leaned back, to appearance quite composed, but in reality very much perturbed. Had she acted well in her manner to her grandfather's guest? She did not know. She could not, therefore, feel at ease. She certainly did not treat Mrs.

Stillwater with rudeness or hauteur; she was quite incapable of doing so; yet, on the other hand, neither had she treated her ex-governess with kindness or courtesy. She had been calm and cold in her reception of the visitor; that was all. But was she right? After all, she knew no positive evil of the woman. She had only strong circ.u.mstantial evidence of her unworthiness. She recalled an old saying of her father's:

"Better trust a hundred rogues than distrust one honest man."

Yet all Cora's instincts warned her not to trust Rose Stillwater.

After all, she could do nothing--at least at present. She would wait the developments of time, and then, perhaps, be able to see her duty more clearly. Meanwhile, for family peace and good feeling, she would be civil to Rose Stillwater. Half an hour pa.s.sed, and her meditations were interrupted by the entrance of the guest. Mrs. Stillwater seemed determined not to understand coldness or to take offense. She came in, drew her chair to the fire, and spread out her pretty hands over its glow, cooing her delight to be with dear friends again.

"Oh, darling Cora," she purred, "you do not know--you cannot even fancy--the ineffable sense of repose I feel in being here, after all the turbulence of the past year. You read my letter to your dearest grandfather?"

"Yes," answered Mrs. Rothsay.

"From that you must have seen to what straits I was reduced. Think!

After having sold everything I possessed in the world--even all my clothing, except two changes for necessary cleanliness--to pay my board; after trying in every direction to get honest work to do; I was in daily fear of being told to leave the hotel because I could not pay my board."

"That was very sad! but was it not very expensive--for you--living at the Wirt House? Would it not have been better, under your circ.u.mstances, to have taken cheaper board?"

"Perhaps so, dear; but Captain Stillwater had always made his home at the Wirt House when his ship was in port, and had always left me there when his ship sailed, so that I felt at home in the house, you see."

"Yes, I see," said Mrs. Rothsay.

"Oh, my fondly cherished darling--you, loved, sheltered, caressed--you, rich, admired, and flattered--cannot understand or appreciate the trials and sufferings of a poor woman in my position and circ.u.mstances. Think, darling, of my condition in that city, where I was homeless, friendless, penniless, in daily fear of being sent from the house for inability to pay my board!"

"I am sorry to hear all this," said Cora. And then she was prompted to add: "But where was Mr. Fabian Rockharrt? He was your earliest friend.

He first introduced you to my grandfather. He never lost sight of you after you left us, but corresponded with you frequently, and gave us news of you from time to time. Surely, Mrs. Stillwater, had he known your straits, he would have found some way of setting you up in some business. He never would have allowed you to suffer privation and anxiety for a whole year."

While Cora spoke she fixed her eyes on the face of her listener. But Rose Stillwater was always perfect mistress of herself. Without the slightest change in countenance or voice, she answered sweetly:

"Why, dear love, of course I did write to Mr. Fabian first of all, and told him of the death of my dear husband, and asked him if he could help me to get another situation as primary teacher in a school or as a nursery governess."

"And he did not respond?"

"Oh, yes; indeed he did. He replied very promptly, writing that he had a situation in view for me which would be better suited to my needs than any I had ever filled, and that he should come to Baltimore to explain and consult with me."

"Well?"

"The next day, dear, he came, and--I hate to betray his confidence and tell you."

"Then do not, I beg you."

"But--I hate more to keep a secret from you. In short, he asked me to marry him."

"What!" exclaimed Cora, in surprise and incredulity.

"Yes, my love; that was what he had to explain. The position of his wife was the situation he had to offer me, and which he thought would suit me better than any other I had ever filled."

"When was this proposal made?"

"About five months ago, and about seven months after the death of my dear husband. He said that he would be willing to wait until the year of mourning should be over."

"Oh, that was considerate of him."

"But I was still heart-broken for the loss of my dear husband. I could not think of another marriage at any time, however distant. I told him so. I told him how much I esteemed and respected him and even loved him as a dear friend, but that I could not be faithless to the memory of my adored husband. I was very sorry; for he was very angry. He called me cold, silly and even ungrateful, so to reject his hand. I began to think that it was selfish and thankless in me to disappoint so good a friend, but I could not help it, loving the memory of my sainted husband as I did. I was grieved to hurt Mr. Fabian, though."

"I do not think he was seriously injured. At least I am sure that his wounds healed rapidly; for in a very few weeks afterward he proposed to Miss Violet Wood, and was accepted by her. They were married on the fourteenth day of February, and sailed for Europe the next day," said Mrs. Rothsay.

"Yes; I know. Disappointed men do such desperate deeds; commit suicide or marry for revenge. Poor, dear girl!" murmured Rose Stillwater, with a deep sigh.

"Why poor, dear girl?" inquired Cora.

"Oh, you know, she caught his heart in the rebound, and she will not keep it. But let us talk of something else, dear. Oh, I am so happy here. So free from fear and trouble and anxiety. Oh, what ineffable peace, rest, safety I enjoy here. No one will pain me by presenting a bill that I cannot pay, or frighten me by telling me that my room will be wanted for some one else. Oh, how I thank you, Cora. And how I thank your honored grandfather for this city of refuge, even for a few days."