"But you ought to be a dutiful son, and you are not; and your mother has cause to be displeased with you. If you should ever be so unfortunate as to lose her, and stand as I do, motherless, in the world, you will regret the pain you gave her this morning. Oh! if I had the privilege of kissing my mother, I could bear almost any sorrow patiently. If it mortifies you to acknowledge your bad behavior, it is the more necessary that you should humble your pride. Felix, sometimes I think it requires more n.o.bility of soul to ask pardon for our faults than to resist the temptation to commit them."

She turned away and busied herself in correcting his Latin exercise, and for some time the boy sat sullen and silent.

At length he sighed heavily, and taking his crutches, came up to the table where she sat.

"Suppose you tell my mother I am sorry I was disrespectful."

"Felix, are you really sorry?"

"Yes."

"Well, then go and tell her so, and she will love you a thousand times more than ever before. The confession should come from your own lips."

He stood irresolute and sighed again:

"I will go if you will go with me."

She rose and they went to Mrs. Andrew's room. The mother was superbly dressed in visiting costume, and was tying on her bonnet when they entered.

"Mrs. Andrews, your son wishes to say something which I think you will be glad to hear."

"Indeed! Well, Felix, what is it?"

"Mamma--I believe--I know I was very cross--and disrespectful to you--and oh, mamma! I hope you will forgive me!"

He dropped his crutches and stretched out his arms, and Mrs. Andrews threw down the diamond cl.u.s.ter, with which she was fastening her ribbons, and caught the boy to her bosom.

"My precious child! my darling! Of course I forgive you gladly. My dear son, if you only knew half how well I love you, you would not grieve me so often by your pa.s.sionate temper. My darling!--"

She stooped to kiss him, and when she turned to look for the girlish form of the governess, it was no longer visible; mother and son were alone.

CHAPTER XXVI.

During the first few months after her removal to New York, Edna received frequent letters from Mrs. Murray and Mr. Hammond; but as winter advanced they wrote more rarely and hurriedly, and finally, many weeks elapsed without bringing any tidings from Le Bocage. St.

Elmo's name was never mentioned, and while the girl's heart ached, she crushed it more ruthlessly day by day, and in retaliation imposed additional and unremitting toil upon her brain.

Mr. Manning had called twice to escort her to the libraries and art galleries, and occasionally he sent her new books, and English and French periodicals; but his chill, imperturbable calmness oppressed and embarra.s.sed Edna, and formed a barrier to all friendly worth in their intercourse. He so completely overawed her that in his august presence she was unable to do herself justice, and felt that she was not gaining ground in his good opinion. The brooding serenity of his grave, Egyptic face was not contagious; and she was conscious of a vague disquiet, a painful restlessness, when in his company and under his cold, changeless eyes.

One morning in January, as she sat listening to Felix's recitations, Mrs. Andrews came into the school-room with an open note in one hand, and an exquisite bouquet in the other.

"Miss Earl, here is an invitation for you to accompany Mr. Manning to the opera to-night; and here, too, is a bouquet from the same considerate gentleman. As he does me the honor to request my company also, I came to confer with you before sending a reply. Of course, you will go?"

"Yes, Mrs. Andrews, if you will go with me."

Edna bent over her flowers, and recognizing many favorites that recalled the hothouse at Le Bocage, her eyes filled with tears, and she hastily put her lips to the snowy cups of an oxalis. How often she had seen just such fragile petals nestling in the b.u.t.tonhole of Mr. Murray's coat.

"I shall write and invite him to come early and take tea with us.

Now, Miss Earl, pardon my candor, I should like to know what you intend to wear? You know that Mr. Manning is quite lionized here, and you will have to face a terrific battery of eyes and lorgnettes; for everybody will stretch his or her neck to find out, first, who you are, and secondly, how you are dressed. Now I think I understand rather better than you do what is comme il faut in these matters and I hope you will allow me to dictate on this occasion. Moreover, our distinguished escort is extremely fastidious concerning ladies'

toilettes."

"Here are my keys, Mrs. Andrews; examine my wardrobe and select what you consider appropriate for to-night."

"On condition that you permit me to supply any deficiencies which I may discover? Come to my room at six o'clock, and let Victorine dress your hair. Let me see, I expect a la Grec will best suit your head and face."

Edna turned to her pupils and their books, but all day the flowers in the vase on the table prattled of days gone by; of purple sunsets streaming through golden starred acacia boughs; of long, languid, luxurious Southern afternoons dying slowly on beds of heliotrope and jasmine, spicy geraniums and gorgeous pelargoniums; of dewy, delicious summer mornings, for ever and ever past, when standing beside a quivering s...o...b..nk of Lamarque roses, she had watched Tamerlane and his gloomy rider go down the shadowy avenue of elms.

The monotonous hum of the children's voices seemed thin and strange and far, far off, jarring the sweet bouquet babble; and still as the hours pa.s.sed, and the winter day waned, the flower Fugue swelled on and on, through the cold and dreary chambers of her heart; now rising stormy and pa.s.sionate, like a battle-blast, from the deep orange trumpet of a bignonia; and now whispering and sobbing and pleading, from the pearly white lips of hallowed oxalis.

When she sat that night in Mr. Manning's box at the Academy of Music, the editor raised his opera-gla.s.s, swept the crowded house, scanning the lovely, beaming faces wreathed with smiles, and then his grave, piercing glance came back and dwelt on the countenance at his side. The cherry silk lining and puffing on her opera-cloak threw a delicate stain of color over her exquisitely moulded cheeks, and in the braid of black hair which rested like a coronal on her polished brow, burned a scarlet anemone. Her long lashes drooped as she looked down at the bouquet between her fingers, and listening to the Fugue which memory played on the petals, she sighed involuntarily.

"Miss Earl, is this your first night at the opera?"

"No, sir; I was here once before with Mr. Andrews and his children."

"I judge from your writings that you are particularly fond of music."

"Yes, sir; I think few persons love it better than I do."

"What style do you prefer?"

"Sacred music--oratorios rather than operas."

The orchestra began an overture of Verdi's, and Edna's eyes went back to her flowers.

Presently Mrs. Andrews said eagerly:

"Look, Miss Earl! Yonder, in the box directly opposite, is the celebrated Sir Roger Percival, the English n.o.bleman about whom all Gotham is running mad. If he has not more sense than most men of his age, his head will be completely turned by the flattery heaped upon him. What a commentary on Republican Americans, that we are so dazzled by the glitter of a t.i.tle! However, he really is very agreeable; I have met him several times, dined with him last week at the Coltons. He has been watching us for some minutes. Ah! there is a bow for me; and one I presume for you, Mr. Manning."

"Yes, I knew him abroad. We spent a month together at Dresden, and his brain is strong enough to bear all the adulation New Yorkers offer his t.i.tle."

Edna looked into the opposite box, and saw a tall, elegantly-dressed man, with huge whiskers and a glittering opera-gla.s.s; and then as the curtain rose on the first act of "Ernani," she turned to the stage, and gave her entire attention to the music.

At the close of the second act Mrs. Andrews said:

"Pray who is that handsome man down yonder in the parquet, fanning himself with a libretto! I do not think his eyes have moved from this box for the last ten minutes. He is a stranger to me."

She turned her fan in the direction of the person indicated, and Mr.

Manning looked down and answered:

"He is unknown to me."

Edna's eyes involuntarily wandered over the sea of heads, and the editor saw her start and lean forward, and noticed the sudden joy that flashed into her face, as she met the earnest, upward gaze of Gordon Leigh.

"An acquaintance of yours, Miss Earl?"