Читать книгу Self-Raised; Or, From the Depths - Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth - Страница 21

"So next morning we started for the Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington station. We were in good time, and were just comfortably seated in one of the best cars when Lord Vincent caught sight of someone on the platform. And papa, with a muttered curse he started up and hurried from the car, throwing behind to me the hasty words, 'I'll be back soon.' Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, and he did not come. And while I was still anxiously looking for him the train started. It was the express, and came all the way through. And that is why myself and attendants are here alone."

"All this seems very strange, Claudia," said the judge, with a troubled countenance.

"Yes, very."

"What do you make of it? Of course you, knowing more of the circumstances, are better able to judge than I am."

"Papa, I do not know."

"Who was it that he caught sight of on the platform?"

"A tall, handsome, imperious-looking woman between thirty and forty years of age, I should say; a sort of Cleopatra; very dark, very richly dressed. She was looking at him intently when he caught sight of her and rushed out as I said."

"And you can make nothing of it?"

"Nothing. I do not know whether he missed the train by design or accident; or whether he is at this moment on board the cars steaming to Washington or on board one of the ocean packets steaming to Liverpool."

"A bad, bad business, Claudia; all this grieves me much. You have been but two months married, and you return to me alone and your husband is among the missing; a bad, bad business, Claudia," said the judge very gravely.

"Not so bad as your words would seem to imply, papa. At least I hope not. I am inclined to think the detention was accidental; and that Lord Vincent will arrive by the next boat," said Claudia.

"But how coolly and dispassionately you speak of an uncertainty that would drive any other woman almost mad. At this moment you do not know whether you are abandoned or not, and to be candid with you, you do not seem to care," said the judge austerely.

"Papa, what I paid down my liberty for—this rank, I mean—is safe! And so whether he goes or stays I am Lady Vincent; and nothing but death can prevent my becoming Countess of Hurstmonceux and a peeress of England," said Claudia defiantly, as she arose and drew her shawl around her shoulders and looked about herself.

"What is it that you want, my dear?" inquired the judge.

"Nothing. I was taking a view of the old familiar objects. How much has happened since I saw them last. It seems to me as if many years had passed since that time. Well, papa, I suppose Ruth has unpacked and put away my clothes by this time, and so I will leave you for the present."

And with a weary, listless air Claudia left the room and turned to go upstairs.

"Not there, not there, my dear, I told you. The rooms on this floor have been prepared for you," said the judge, who had followed her to the door.

With a sigh Claudia turned and crossed the hall and entered the "parlor-chamber," as the large bedroom adjoining the morning room was called.

Ruth was hanging the last dresses in the wardrobe, and Jim was shouldering the last empty trunk to take it away.

"I have left out the silver gray glace, for you to wear this evening, if you please, my lady," said Ruth, indicating the dress that lay upon the bed.

"That will do, Ruth," answered her mistress, whose thoughts were now not on dresses, but on that time when Ishmael, for her sake, lay wounded, bleeding, and almost dying on that very bed.