Читать книгу Zula - H. Esselstyn Lindley - Страница 3

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“Oh, you little wretch! What are you about? You dreadfully sinful little creature. Police, police!”

The speaker, a richly dressed woman, was just entering the spacious dining-room, as she caught sight of a dusky little form in the act of taking a set of silver spoons from the heavy gold-lined holder. The child raised a pair of coal-black eyes to the lady’s face as she turned to pass out of the dining-room door, which had been left open to let in the cool June breeze; but as she was about to cross the threshold she was seized by the strong hands of a policeman, who had answered Mrs. Wilmer’s call, and the silver was scattered in a dozen different directions.

“Did you ever see such a bold little creature in all your life? Who would have thought she would dare come in here, right in broad daylight, and steal my spoons off the table? Why, it’s awful!”

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“It’s lucky you caught her at it,” said the officer, “for she is as quick as a deer, and saucy enough, no doubt, but never mind, we’ll put the little jade where she won’t steal anything again for a day or two, at least.” He took her roughly by the shoulder in the attempt to lead her away.

“Oh, don’t be too hard on her, mother,” said a young man who had followed her into the room, “perhaps she did not know just how wicked it was.”

His fine eyes looked pityingly on the child, who could not have been more than ten years of age.

“Oh, nonsense, sir, that is too old a story. She is old enough to have some sense, the young gypsy. I have seen too many of these young burglars to be fooled by ’em. It won’t do to encourage ’em.”

“I’ll give you a ‘V’ if you will let her go.”

“Why, Scott,” said Mrs. Wilmer, “are you crazy? Indeed you must do nothing of the kind.”

“By no means,” said the policeman. “She mustn’t be let go to do the same thing without a lesson to teach her what it means.”

The child turned her large black eyes full upon the face of the young man. Every feature of his face was indelibly stamped upon her memory in that one searching glance.

“Come, don’t be looking back so eagerly,” said the officer, “you won’t find anything more that you can get your little brown hands on; you can’t steal the gentleman’s diamond pin if you do look so sharp at it.”

The black eyes flashed indignantly and the long purple-black braid which hung down her back shook as she 3 raised her eyes to the officer’s face, giving her head a proud toss, and with the sauciest pucker of the small red mouth and a scornful ring in her voice, she said:

“I didn’t know he had a diamond pin. I was only looking at his face; it looks so kind, I’m sure I couldn’t steal that, but yours don’t look kind. I guess you like to punish little girls; you look like a great cross bear.”

“Take care, I’ll let you know what I am. I don’t have any notion of being kind to such little imps as you are. There’s a way to take care of little burglars.”

“I ain’t a burglar. I’m just as good as you are, if I am poor. I’d rather steal than be so ugly to little girls.”

They had now reached the sidewalk, where they were met by June Wilmer, a young girl of just ten years of age, who was about to enter the gate. She was rightly named, for she looked like a fresh June rose, with the pink flush on her cheeks, and her blue eyes full of innocent mirth, but the expression changed to one of pity as she looked at the little girl who was being led away like a dumb animal.

“Why, what is the matter?” she asked, “what have you done to be taken away by a policeman, you poor little girl?”

“She was trying to steal your mother’s spoons.”

“Oh, dear, that was wicked, but perhaps she did not know it was, or maybe she was hungry and wanted to sell them for something to eat.”

“Oh, miss, I wouldn’t get up any excuse for her,” said the officer, “she can do well enough at that herself. She stole the spoons, and she must be punished. 4 I’ll warrant she was not a bit hungry, was you now?” he asked, turning to the child.

“No, I wasn’t hungry.”

“There, you hear that, miss.”

“Perhaps,” said June, “if you let her go this time she will not do so again; please do,” and, turning to the little girl she asked:

“Won’t you promise not to steal again if he will?”

“I can’t promise that, ’cause maybe I’ll have to, but, oh, lady, I don’t want to be locked up,” and as she spoke the great black eyes were turned pleadingly toward June’s face. The defiant look faded away, and a mournful expression settled around the full red lips.

“Oh, come along,” said the officer, “you have your game pretty well learned, but you can’t fool me with your nonsense.”

“You can lock me up if you want to,” she said, as the dusky little form was drawn to its full height. “I ain’t afraid of the dark, nohow.”

“June, dear, come here; do not be seen talking to that little thief,” said Mrs. Wilmer, as she stood on the broad veranda.

“Oh, mama,” said June, as she entered the house, “don’t you feel sorry for that poor little girl?”

“Sorry? Why, no; in another moment she would have carried away every spoon on the table, and I am astonished, June, that you should turn champion for the little sinner.”

“She certainly is steeped in crime,” said Scott, “but for all that I pity her.”

“And to think,” added June, “that the policeman 5 will take her to the station and lock her up; won’t it be terrible? I wonder what kind of a place it is anyway.”

“Oh, she will no doubt be shut up until to-morrow, and if no one appears to bail her out she will be sent to the reform school,” said Scott.

“Well, it is no more than she deserves,” said Mrs. Wilmer.

“But just to think,” said June, “of being locked up all night, and perhaps her mama will be waiting for her, and the poor little girl all alone in the dark—but she told the policeman she was not afraid.”

“There is not the least doubt of that,” said Mrs. Wilmer. “It is quite likely she is accustomed to being locked up.”

“I have very pleasant news for you, June,” Mrs. Wilmer said; “I have just received a dispatch by telegraph saying that Irene Mapleton will be here in a few days. Isn’t that nice?”

“I don’t see anything nice about it,” answered June, honestly; “she cannot amuse me any, for she is older yet than brother Scott.”

“But she sings and plays beautifully, and you cannot help loving her. I always enjoy her society; she writes such lovely poetry, too.”

“Well, I can’t see anything very nice about writing poetry. I am sure that will not amuse me at all.”

“Perhaps not, but we must love Irene for Scott’s sake, for you know she will be his wife some time.”

June looked thoughtful a few moments, and then asked, suddenly:

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“Mama, why don’t Irene’s mother come with her sometimes? You know she has been here often to stay, and she always comes alone.”

“Did you not know that her mother was dead? Poor Irene is an orphan.”

“I don’t think she is very poor. She dresses splendidly, and she has the most beautiful diamonds and all kinds of jewelry, and the loveliest bonnets; oh, my, I never saw prettier ones, and the dresses, I never saw the end of them.”

“Why, June, what a little extravagant minded child you are; of course I do not mean that Irene is poor in purse. She has all that is necessary to gratify every wish, as regards wealth, but she has no mother, and I think she said her father never took her into society, and of course she lacks sympathy, just as any young girl does who is without parents.”

“Do people always have to love their brothers’ wives, mama?”

“Why, no, but they should love them if they can, and I see no reason why you or anyone else should not love Irene.”

“Well, I’ll try to love her if she is going to marry Scott,” said June, so submissively that it caused Mrs. Wilmer to smile.

“You need not look so solemn over it; I do not think you will have to try very hard.”

Scott, who had taken a seat by the window, and had been a silent listener to the conversation, now addressed his mother, while a slight cloud passed over his brow.

“I am sorry,” he said, “that she is coming just now, 7 for I am afraid I shall find very little time to devote to ladies’ society, and of course she will expect it; and another reason is that she seems such a stranger to me, that I shall be obliged to stand on the most rigid formality and be her escort whether I wish it or not, but perhaps she will think me too much a boy to waste her time with.”

Irene Mapleton was two years older than Scott Wilmer, and through his mother’s influence he had paid her marked attention while she was on a visit to a friend in the beautiful city of Detroit, her home being in San Francisco. Her father, who had invested largely in mining stocks and become wealthy, spared no pains to give Irene means to gratify every wish. June had spoken truly when she said that Irene’s dresses were lovely. There never was a bow or a flower misplaced, or colors that did not blend with perfect harmony. With the ample means she possessed, it became a noticeable fact that no lady dressed with greater taste than Miss Mapleton. She had paid the Wilmers a visit the summer previous to the opening of this story, and it was then that Mrs. Wilmer had used every means to make a favorable impression on the mind of Irene, and to influence Scott to do the same. Scott, however, was not the person to practice any deception, and when his mother spoke to him in regard to being more attentive, he only smiled and said:

“Why, mother, I shall not pretend any affection I do not feel, and I really cannot help whether Miss Mapleton likes me or not. I will devote all my spare time to making her visit pleasant, and that is the best I can do.”

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Mrs. Wilmer replied that Scott was a strange boy, at any rate, but, she added:

“I suppose there is no use to urge you in the matter.”

“How soon will she be here, did you say?” asked June.

“In a few days, the dispatch says, and,” said Mrs. Wilmer, turning to Scott, “I suppose her father is quite anxious to have your marriage take place as soon as convenient.”

“I can see no hurry for such an event,” Scott replied.

“Why, her father is so interested in his business that he has no time to devote to her, she says, and she feels her loneliness greatly. I hope we shall be able to keep her with us a few weeks at least. Her father says, too, that he is afraid some other will carry off the prize.”

“She certainly should possess enough firmness not to be so easily captured, and I should not consider it much of a prize that could be drawn without an effort to secure it. I am decided on waiting another year, at least.”

Mrs. Wilmer said nothing more. She knew that firmness was one of the strongest features of her son’s nature, and she knew, also, that he, as a rule, was right. He seldom settled on a matter without having first looked it thoroughly over, and when a decision was made, no force of argument could change his views. The closing of the curved lips showed plainly that Scott Wilmer never surrendered to any trifling argument. Although in nowise conceited, he yielded not to another’s opinion without first being convinced by a process of reasoning satisfactory to himself. His face was a fine one, and although not strikingly handsome, was 9 wonderfully attractive and beaming with intelligence. His auburn hair curled loosely around his broad white brow, and his hazel eyes were clear and searching. June often said to him:

“Please, brother Scott, don’t look at me so hard; I would rather not do as I want to than to have you look at me like that.”

His love for his young sister was very strong, and he was indulgent as far as consistency would allow, but when he found, as he often did, that she was inclined to be self-willed, he would look at her in that searching way, which really meant more, and had a more lasting impression on her than harsh words could have done. June dearly loved her brother, and she would sooner have disobeyed either parent than her brother Scott, and when she went to Mr. Wilmer with a request which he considered unreasonable, he would caress her and answer carelessly:

“Oh, go and ask Scott.”

Mr. Wilmer’s health had become impaired by too close attention to business, and at the present time he had retired on a comfortable income, and the affairs of the family had inadvertently fallen upon Scott, who, though young in years, was an adept in the transaction of business. He possessed his father’s strong ambition, and, at the present time, was studying law, and hoped to be admitted to the bar in another year. He was in no hurry to trouble his mind with love affairs, and he really wished that Irene’s visit could be postponed; although he was too much of a gentleman to say so, even to his mother.

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