Читать книгу Astra (Musaicum Romance Classics) - Grace Livingston Hill - Страница 5

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If Astra Everson had not made up her mind that she simply could not stay in her cousin Marmaduke Lester's house any longer, she would probably never have taken the definite step of going back to the old home to find her father's friend, Mr. Sargent, and discover for herself just how her finances stood.

Three years before, when her father was in his last illness, he had talked with her one day about her future. He told her that he was leaving her plenty to keep her comfortable as long as she lived. She wouldn't be what people called wealthy, but she would have enough and would not need to worry about money. He had arranged her inheritance in such a way that she would be safe from ordinary financial depressions. He had so invested the money he was leaving her that it would not be likely to depreciate in value, that is, as far as the human mind was able to estimate possibilities. And he had put the whole estate in the charge of this honored friend, Mr. Sargent, whom he trusted as himself, or even more, because he was a wise, conservative businessman who did not believe in taking chances. He would be as honorable with money entrusted to his care as if it were his own, perhaps even more so.

Her father gave Astra a little book in which all the facts were set down and warned her not to let it pass out of her hands. He had gone over each item and hoped he had made them plain to her. He had told her to read over these items once or twice each year, so that she would never be without knowledge of her own affairs.

But Astra had been so overwhelmed that her father would speak of the possibility of his going from her, that the financial matters seemed of very little account then. She had so dreaded to think of the day when he would be gone, that she did not give her mind to considering her fortunes very seriously. Although she had taken in the fact that even before she was of age, money need not worry her. Her usual modest allowance would come to her regularly, increasing a little each year, to meet her own modest needs.

But of late, there had been many extra expenses that her cousin Miriam considered necessities and had insisted upon since she was living with them. Things like visits to the beauty parlor and the continual purchasing of fashionable high-priced garments, many evening frocks, and even a new fur coat when her old one was still perfectly good. Her allowance was growing more and more inadequate to meet the requirements, and she scarcely had enough to buy little things for herself that she really wanted, like books and tickets to hear fine music. She was reluctant to spend her money on a multiplicity of garments which her cousin Clytie wore oftener than she did herself, especially the fur coat and the evening dresses. In fact, Clytie had borrowed the fur coat and several of the evening dresses to take to California with her.

Before he left her, her father had said, "Of course, your natural home after I am gone would be with your mother's niece Miriam, I suppose, if she is still living and wants you. But I have never quite trusted her husband Marmaduke's judgment in financial matters, and that is why I am explaining your financial affairs to you carefully, even though you are so young and the days when you will come into your property are so comparatively far away. Of course, Cousin Duke may be all right. I haven't known him long, you know, but I have an instinctive distrust of his business methods and his standards of right and wrong, so I want you to be able to handle your own affairs yourself, with advice from Mr. Sargent, who will be in charge of your affairs and be a real guardian to you. I don't want you to have to be dependent upon Duke's advice or assistance in any way. I think you will always find Mr. Sargent ready to help.

"Also I have made ample provision that you may be able to pay a reasonable sum for your board wherever you stay after I am gone."

The time had come all too soon, and, almost in a daze, she had let Miriam and Duke take her back with them to their home.

As she thought over these things, her father's words, which had been almost forgotten, seemed clearly voiced in her ears again. She began to feel that she had been very wrong and careless to let her affairs go in such a slipshod manner since going to live with her cousins. She had spent far too much on showy apparel that she seldom used. Cousin Duke had been kind, of course, and she had almost come to feel that if her father were here now he would change his ideas about him. He had been almost more kind and helpful to her than her cousin Miriam. Yet now she realized that he had been the one who had encouraged Miriam to buy expensive garments, to join clubs and dress in a showy way, and on several occasions he had told Astra that as she lived with them, she must dress accordingly. He didn't want people to think she had to scrimp in her wardrobe. He said it wouldn't be good for his business to have people think that.

There was another thing that had greatly troubled Astra, and that had been the constant differences of opinion between herself and her young cousin Clytie, which also brought on differences of opinion between herself and Miriam.

Clytie Lester was three years younger than Astra, but old for her years and badly spoiled. Whatever she had wanted all her life had been given her by her parents if they could possibly manage it, and she had wanted a great many things. When it was not possible for her parents to get what she wanted, Clytie had ways of getting things for herself, and one of those ways of late had been to borrow money of Astra.

As time went on, a good many of things Clytie wanted were not things that Astra considered right, and therefore Astra's problem about lending money to her young cousin had been growing more and more complicated, and her conscience was more and more harassed about what she ought to do. She did not wish to inform upon Clytie. It was not her idea of good ethics. But Clytie was constantly putting her into situations where it was either necessary to do so, or else to actually lie about things when she was questioned.

Cousin Miriam was not gentle, unworldly, and conscientious, as Astra remembered her own mother to have been. She was pretty and flighty, and rather inclined to be worldly and have easy standards of living. But she was very strict with regard to certain forms and ceremonies, and her ideas of what Clytie should or should not do were not at all Clytie's ideas. It followed, therefore, that Clytie did many things in direct disobedience to her mother's commands and got away with it in the main, often from behind the screen of an unwilling Astra.

"Now Clytie," her mother would say, "I want you to go straight to the library and get those books you say you have to have for your schoolwork and come right home! I don't want you lingering to talk with anyone or to take a walk or anything. I want you at home inside of an hour to try on the dresses that the dressmaker has been altering. Astra, you walk down with her and see that she gets back on time. Just remind her, won't you?"

Clytie would frown behind her mother's back and make a mouth of annoyance at Astra, but Miriam would see that Astra went.

Always Clytie had her plans, as Astra had known she would have, and instead of going to the library herself to pick out her books, she would send Astra in, telling her she simply couldn't stay in the house, she had such a bad headache and needed a bit of air.

"I'll meet you right here on the step, Astra," she would say, and settle down serenely on the bench beside the door. So Astra would go. For Clytie was well versed in ways to make her suffer for it if she didn't. Clytie knew how to create a scene at the dinner table afterward and show how unaccommodating her cousin had been, when she had "such a blazing headache," and Astra would be left to bear the disapproval of both mother and father while poor Clytie would be pitied and petted. So Astra often did things which her conscience did not approve. It seemed the only way.

And when she would come out from the library with her arms full of books Clytie had ordered, there would be no Clytie sitting on the bench; neither was she to be seen either up or down the street.

Astra would settle down at last, knowing full well that all this had been planned for her undoing. She knew that Miriam would blame her if Clytie was not back at the proper time. Nearly two years' experience had taught her this only too well. It was a little thing perhaps, but she would be filled with vexation as she watched anxiously, meantime glancing at her watch. An hour would have gone by since she left Clytie on the bench and Astra would start to wonder. Was it conceivable that Clytie had grown weary of waiting and gone back home without her? Should she dare go to the telephone and call the house to see? But if Clytie was not yet home, what kind of a storm would that raise? She could well conceive the light in which she herself would be placed.

So she would worry along for another fifteen minutes, and then just as she rose with her armful of books to go and telephone, she would sight Clytie's coronet of pink roses which she called a hat, tilted over her right eye, as she sauntered leisurely down the street surrounded by three young men! That was just about what she had always to expect of Clytie. It had happened too many times. And there was nothing for Astra to do but turn and follow the hilarious young gang down the street like a humble minion till they reached the corner where Clytie always parted with what her mother considered "undesirable escorts," and hastened on home.

"Clytie, where in the world have you been?" her mother would ask. "It is two hours since you left the house, and I told you to come right back! What on earth have you been doing all this time?"

"Why, Mother dear, I hurried just as fast as I possibly could," Clytie would respond. "Didn't I, Astra? You know, Mother, it takes the longest time to get waited on in that library. I simply implored that woman to wait on me at once, but she said she couldn't show preference, and there was a long, long line of people waiting for books. Schoolchildren, you know, and all that."

And then her mother would say, "Clytie! That's perfect nonsense! What were you doing? Who were you talking to in the library?"

"Not a soul, Mother dear," Clytie would chirp blithely. "Was I, Astra?"

Cousin Miriam's quick glance would give a passing search to Astra's face as she turned away to lay the books down on the table and then look back at Clytie.

"Now look here, Clytie, you must have been doing something more than just getting books! With whom did you walk up the street and talk?"

"Not a soul, Mother. I didn't meet anyone I knew at all this afternoon. Did I, Astra?"

But for once, this last time it had happened, Astra had escaped up to her room before an inquisition, though she still had a faint fear that it all might be brought up again later, in a full family conclave, and she be made to tell all she knew of the afternoon. The trouble was that Astra had been taught not to lie, even when she was in an unpleasant situation, and they all knew it. They knew that when she admitted a thing it was so, and there was no disputing it. But they also had their ways of punishing her for it if the truth put the adored Clytie in an unpleasant light in her parents' eyes. For often, when Astra had been forced to tell the truth about some ill-advised action of Clytie's, it was Astra who was treated as if she were the offender, and Clytie got off scot-free.

So the days had been going by, each one a problem in itself, and Astra had been growing heartsick and sad.

Moreover Clytie's borrowing habit had increased lately, until it had come about that there was scarcely enough in Astra's allowance check after board was paid and Clytie had dipped into it to cover Astra's actual needs in the way of clothing, stationery, and so forth.

Astra had worried a lot about this, for she felt guilty letting it go on without the knowledge of Clytie's parents, and yet if she told them there would be a terrible row, and she would inevitably be accused of being stingy. So clever was Clytie that she knew just how to work it this way without having the situation reflect in the least upon herself. Astra had prayed about it and come to the conclusion that she must not let this go on, no matter what might happen to herself.

And so, when it was arranged that the Lesters were to go to California to visit Duke's mother and father and to attend a cousin's wedding—a cousin who was not related to Astra—and she was to be left at home, she decided the time had come for her to think this thing through by herself and work it out somehow so that life would be livable and she need not feel continually condemned.

Then the very day before the Lesters started, Astra's check arrived. Astra cashed it at once, because she wished to pay her board before they left. After that was done, she put the remainder in a safe place, a new place, where she had not kept money before. A little carved wooden box with a spring lock. She put the box carefully away among her least-used garments in her lower bureau drawer and locked the drawer, putting the key on a ribbon around her neck.

She wasn't just sure why she did all this, but of late she had a suspicion that Clytie did not hesitate to go to her purse if she were in need of a trifle. Yet she had no proof of that, and she felt almost condemned for locking that drawer.

But locks meant nothing at all to Clytie. Nothing indeed was sacred when Clytie wanted something.

Clytie came to her as usual. She spoke nonchalantly, as if she were somehow conferring a favor on Astra.

"How about a little loan, Astra darling?" she said. "And could you make it a little larger than usual? I spent more than I meant to on that wedding gift, and I'm afraid I'm going to run short before I get back."

Astra was ready for her this time, however. She looked up pleasantly from the letter she was writing and gave Clytie a faint smile.

"Sorry, Clytie, but I can't possibly spare anything this time. I'm getting some new clothes, and I have a few plans I want to carry out while you are away. Besides, I'll be entirely on my own and have no one to borrow from, so I have to be economical. You haven't paid me back yet what you owe me, you know."

"Why, the ridiculous idea!" sneered Clytie. "Why should I pay you back those little trifles when you're living here in our house, just making a convenience of us? You haven't any expenses, you know you haven't. And anyway, you can charge new clothes. You know Mother always says you can. Besides, you don't need any new clothes while we are away. There'll be nobody here. What would you want new clothes for? And you never go to parties."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Clytie, but I really can't let you have any money this time. Why don't you ask your father for some? I think that would be better, don't you? I can't always spare it. And Clytie, I always pay my board, you know. My father arranged for that, and this time I paid for the time you are to be away. So I haven't as much as usual. No, really, I mean it. I can't spare even a dollar."

Clytie, with her most unamiable expression, stared in affront at her cousin.

"Well, I think you are the most unaccommodating—"

And just then Clytie's mother called.

"Clytie, why don't you come? I'm waiting for you to measure this skirt. Hurry!"

Clytie turned away hurriedly and murmured in a fierce anger, "Well, I'll see that you're good and sorry for this!" Slamming the door, she hurried down the stairs.

It was a busy day, and Astra had little time to think about her money. There were so many little last things that Cousin Miriam wanted done. There were hems to be shortened, collars to be washed out, stockings to mend. The items seemed endless, and Astra took them all up to her room to do, out of the hurry and turmoil of downstairs. There was no chance for Clytie to annoy her, for Clytie was sent on several errands herself, and as usual, did not return soon.

Astra sat up very late finishing the mending for Miriam, and all day she had kept an eye on the third-story stairs which led to her room; she was sure Clytie had had no chance to get up there without being seen.

For Clytie had a way of mauling over Astra's ribbons and collars and gloves, and calmly appropriating anything that was to her liking, and it wasn't in the least unlikely that she would attempt such a raid at the last minute. So Astra lay down to sleep the night before they left with relief, knowing that nothing had been attempted that night at least, and there would be very little time for anything of the sort in the morning.

They were all at breakfast when Clytie entered with a frown on her brow.

"Mother, did you see those lovely new Pullman slippers I brought home yesterday? I thought I took them up to my room to put in my suitcase, but I can't find them anywhere. Astra, did you take them away? If you call that a joke, I think it's a poor time to pull it off, just as we're starting."

"Clytie, that's no way to speak to your cousin," said her father, albeit with an indulgence in his voice that did not trouble Clytie.

"Well, I can't help it. I want those slippers, and I intend to have them! You might at least come upstairs and help me find them, Astra!" She darted an angry look at Astra and dashed out of the room and upstairs.

Astra listened and heard her footsteps going up the second flight, then she rose to follow.

"No," said Miriam, "don't go, Astra. Eat your breakfast and then run down to the shoe shop for me. I left a pair of shoes there to have the heels straightened, and I need them."

"But Miriam, you haven't time to go after things. It's almost time we started," said her husband.

"Oh, I think we have. Hurry, Astra, you can make it, I'm sure. They are the only really comfortable shoes I have for walking."

"Well, why didn't you attend to them before?"

Astra swallowed the rest of her breakfast in haste and got herself down to the shoe shop in a hurry. When she came rushing back with the shoes, the car was already at the door, and her cousin Duke stood impatiently beside it, looking anxiously up toward the house.

Miriam came out presently, and after a sharp call from her father, Clytie at last emerged, a sullen look upon her face. Her farewell to Astra was vengeful. But there was no time to say more, for the car door shut with a snap and they were on their way, Miriam calling out last-minute directions to Astra—something about the house and some mending she might attend to while they were gone.

But Astra scarcely heard her. Her eyes were full of dismay as she watched the car disappear around the next corner and realized how alone she was in the world now.

Slowly she went into the house, picking up as she went, things that had been scattered, her thoughts almost bitter at the look Clytie had given her. How unfair Clytie was! Somehow she didn't believe those Pullman slippers had really been lost. She felt that Clytie had only been carrying out her promise that she would be sorry about not lending her money. Nevertheless, she went into the rooms that looked so much as if a hurricane had struck them, and quietly, carefully, put them in order, searching as she went. If she found the slippers, she would send them on after them. But no slippers came to light. If there really were any slippers, Astra thought to herself, they were probably stowed carefully in Clytie's suitcase, whence they would conveniently turn up when they were needed.

So at last, worn out with the last few hurried days in which she had so willingly sacrificed her own ways for the family good, she climbed to the third floor, thinking to sit down and read a little while and get rested before she did anything else. But when she opened her door, such chaos met her gaze as drove the thought of rest entirely from her mind.

All the bureau drawers were pulled out and set about on the floor, their contents scattered hither and yon. The bed was pulled to pieces. The pillow cases were peeled off and flung in a crumpled heap. Even the pillows had been ripped at one corner and a few feathers were drifting about as Astra walked around excitedly. Her frightened eyes searched the room, seeking the contents of her lower bureau drawer. And then suddenly she saw it. The little carved box that she loved so much because it had been one of her mother's precious treasures. Long ago when Astra's mother had first given it to her, it had been the place in which she had kept her little string of coral beads that her grandmother had given her. Her jewel chest, she had quaintly called it. But later, when she grew older, and had put her little hoard of childish treasures all together in a larger box, this little box had been carried about with her as just a treasure in itself. Always closed and locked, with the tiny key on the little chain in the secret hiding place under her watch in her watch case.

But now to her horror, she saw the little box wide open, upside down and yawning among clothes and stockings and hairpins and strings of beads. The hinges were bent back, and one was broken away, hanging free and loose. She felt as if someone had struck her with a sharp knife. With a little cry like the sound of a hurt bird, she dropped to her knees in the tumult of clothes and collars and dainty fineries, and took it up gently, as if it were human and could be hurt. And now she saw that the box had been forcibly opened, perhaps by flinging it to the floor, or striking it with a hairbrush or a heavy bottle. That was it! Her witch hazel bottle! It was standing on the bureau where she never left it. It belonged in her little bathroom on the shelf. And the bottle was cracked. The witch hazel was seeping out. Yes, the box had been first flung on the floor and then pounded with the bottle. She could just see the face of the determined, angry girl as she did it. She had forced the box open, and there it lay ruined, broken. But where was the money? It was gone!

Astra searched wildly, then carefully, through everything in the room, but there was not even a single dollar left! Yes, Clytie had her revenge.

As she searched through the wreckage with the tears drenching her face, Astra could see in memory the angry look on Clytie's face as she cried out, "You'll be good and sorry!"

At last, after a long, careful search through her entire room, hoping that perhaps Clytie had only played a trick and might have repented at the last and left her at least a little of her money, Astra dropped upon her knees and buried her hot, tear-wet face in the cool length of sheet that had been flung across the head of the mattress and trailed down upon the floor. She knelt there and sobbed softly to herself, for even now in her despair she was aware that she was not alone in the house. The old housekeeper was still there, and the maid, and they must not hear her weep and perhaps report on it to her relatives.

After softly sobbing for some minutes, she at last got quiet enough to bring her heart to a little pitiful prayer, remembering her father's words during those last days when he knew he was going to leave her.

"Don't ever forget," he had said, "that nothing is too small to bring to God in prayer. No trouble is too small for Him to notice and to give you comfort when you are distressed. Just get in the habit of bringing everything to Him. Say, ‘Lord, here's something I can't do anything about. I'm afraid of what it is going to be, so won't You please take it, manage it, and bring it out the way You want it to be!"

She had remembered that many times in lesser situations than this, and it had comforted her to pray. It seemed to take out of her that burning desire to rush at those who had caused her trouble and demolish them, tear them limb from limb. It seemed to bring calm in the midst of the tempest in her heart.

So, after a little, she was able to lay the whole matter before her Lord and ask guidance.

When she arose from her knees and went patiently about clearing up the room and putting it in perfect order once more, she seemed to be waiting for God to tell her what to do.

Before the bell rang for her solitary meal, she had so far recovered her equilibrium that she had washed away the signs of tears and smoothed her hair, and peace was upon her brow.

For more and more the conviction had been growing within her as she worked that this was not the place for her to be living any longer. This trouble was not something she could bring out in the open and have cleared up. There would always be bitterness between herself and Clytie, for Clytie resented her presence in their home and would always be jealous of everything that was done for her, every favor granted. It was hopeless to try to do anything about it. She must go away. And surely her father, if he were here now, would agree with her.

And of course this would be the time to go, while they were all away and there could be no discussion about it. Just write a nice note to Cousin Miriam and thank her and Cousin Duke for their kindness in opening their home to her when she was first left alone, tell them that now she felt it was time to relieve them of the burden of her continual presence, that it would be better for Clytie, too, and then just go. By the time they got back and realized that she had really meant it, and they got around to protest, she would have found a place for herself where she was comfortable and wanted to stay, and they would finally subside. She felt sure she knew those cousins well enough to be sure that none of them would mourn very much for her absence, or have pains in their conscience for allowing her to stay away, and she would be on her own and could make a new and tolerable life for herself.

But there was one almost insurmountable objection to her going now. Her money was gone! Absolutely! All of it! Her careful search through her room had revealed only a fifty-cent piece, five dimes, and two quarters. How was she to go away anywhere with only a dollar and a half?

As she idly ate the unattractive lunch that the two maids had provided for her, she was puzzling her brains as to how she could get money to go away, and if she had the money, where she would go. When she finished her lunch, she hurried upstairs to look over what she owned and see if there was anything she could sell that would bring her enough to pay her for parting with it.

It was the memory of all this, and the anguish of the few hours before she started on this journey, that came flashing into Astra's mind when she awoke in her berth two days later. It was like a picture of a former life that seemed very long ago. It was hard for a moment or two to struggle back into the present and remember. Why had she ever started on this journey, and what was there for her to do this morning that would start in a few minutes now, in this new life she had come into?