EDRIE'S LEGACY.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 29, Issue 36, 11 May 1917, Page 7

EDRIE'S LEGACY.

COPYRIGHT.

By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon, Author of ■'•‘That Dowdy of a Girl,” &c. &c.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS PART. Mrs. Campbell and her daughter Helena Sturtevant rescue a young girl, who calls herself Brown Edrio, from the dutches of a woman who is unmercifully beating the child. They take her home, where she is installed as waiting-maid, Mrs. Campbell was a widow with two children, Helena and Harold, when she married Mr. Daniel Campbell, a coarse, uneducated, but immensely wealthy man.

PART 2.—CHAPTER ll.—(Contd.) It was, as all such unions are liable to be, a marriage in haste, to be repented of a ( t leisure, and the refined and beautiful woman had not been three months in her new position before she most bitterly regretted the step she had taken. Not only did her husband’s lack of refinement and education, coat sc speeches, and patronising, purseproud manner for he constantly boasted of his wealth, and that he ,was a "self-made man,”- which was £ a ssK-e.vident fact which he need not ; have troubled himself to mention—- • ,not only did all this grate harshly upoa her sensitive nature, and her 'intensely proud spirit, but she likewlsa awoke to the fact that something el»o was very wrong about the m*a whom she lied married ; that he h*d a accet—a dark secret of some kind - which in his waking hours he guarded oa a miser guards his hoarded treasure, but about which he muttered and groaned and cursed while asleep, in a way to make her heart quake with fear and horror, and to shrink more and more from'him and regret the weakness that permitted her to yield to his suit. f

Sho never told him of this ; she only grew proud and cold and distant towards him, and drove him nearly to a frenzy, after the first few months of their married life, by her chill deference to his wishes—when they did not conflict with her sense of what was right and proper —and the reserved politeness which gradually crept into her manner towards him. In Jess than six months from the day on which she became Mr. Daniel t.Campbell’s wife, the millionaire and his family had become residents of {one of the most aristocratic of Boston’s suburbs, where in their magni'ificent home, and with everything 1 that money could buy. it would I seem that they could have nothing, to wish for to ensure their happiness.

I Daniel Campbell was very proud 'of his beautiful and talented wife, jtout he found to his cost that gold, Ifor once, could not purchase what )he wanted ; ho knew that the woman [whom he worshipped did not love »him, and never would. She reigned a ,very queen in his magnificent home, and she accorded him all due courtesy ; but he always felt like a vassal in her presence, and know that he could never hope to attain to her level, or to span the gulf which every month was widening between '‘Them, and thus the hopes which he had so fondly cherished when he set himself (the task of winning her, became, like "ap’ples of Sodom, but ashes in Ins grasp.”

i Thus the look of care deepened on his brow, and that peculiar gleam in his restless eyes gre# more marked las the years went on ; always a very silent and reticent man, he gradually became moody and sullen, seldom appearing in public with his family, and rarely assisting in entertaining at home.

| Mrs. Campbell, on the other hand, went everywhere, not only among the wealthy and aristocratic, where she was ever welcome, but among the poor and lowly, into the abodes of wretchedness and poverty, and was first and foremost in every good and charitable work connected with the church where she worshipped. Thus she was well known by both high and low ; and if she had suffered, if she had seasons of bitterness and regret for the mistake of earlier years, she also had much of comfort and balm in the good which she did, and the happiness she conferred upon other people.

j Besides this, her children grew up noble and beautiful, refined and cultivated as the fonc&st heart could desire. Helena, a lovely brunette. Is now twenty, and has been two seasons in society, where she bids fair to shine as brilliantly as her mother had shone before her.

' Harold, two years younger, and a jbright, manly fellow, of whom any mother might be proud, is now in his first year at Harvard. He is exceedingly smart, and loves study and literary pursuits, like his father before him. He is a gentleman, young as' he is ; he despises coarseness of every kind, and cannot tolerate anything like pride of wealth , consequently he shares his mother’s secret aversion for the man she had given him for a second father, although Daniel Campbell was very proud of him, and .generous as a prince with him in pecuniary affairs.

I Thus we have given a brief outline iof the history of the family into [which Edrie Brown has been so very [strangely thrown, and with whom her future romantic life is to bo so and remarkably interwoven.

CHAPTER 111. DANIEL CAMPBELL’S RECEPTION OF EDRIE. Daniel Campbell was in New York

upon nusiness when his wile brought iOdiie Brown into her home to act as waiting-maid to herself and Hel-

He was detained there more than a week longer than he anticipated when he went away, and as letters Seldom passed between himself and his family, ho knew nothing about this addition to his household until his return.

It was a sultry day when he reached Hollyhurst. The thermometer registered ninety in the shade, which was unusual at that season of the year.

Mr. Campbell had sent no word slating when he should arrive, consequently no one was at the station to meet him, and he had been obliged to walk over to Hollyhurst in the glare and heat of the sun, while the road was like ashes beneath his feet.

He was weary and uncomfortable when he reached his own door, while a feeling of sadness, even gloom, settled over him as he saw no welcoming 4tce looking out for him. He. quietly entered the house and threw himself into a great chair in the dim, cool hall, tossed his hat upon the floor, loosened his necktie, and lay back with a sigh of content to be once more at home, where every comfort and luxury was his to command.

Presently a fresh, though strange young voice burst into song, trilling in some flexible tones :

"Hang up the baby’s stocking. Be sure you don’t forget ; The dear little dimpled darling, She ne’er saw Christmas yet."

The voice, but more than that the song, acted like an electric battery upon the man. He sat suddenly erect, chills creeping him, a grey pallor settling upon his face, a look of startled fear leaping into his cold blue eyes.

But stnl that lovely voice sang on another verse of the simple ballad, with its pretty refrain. Daniel Campbell shivered, and taking out his handkerchief, wiped the clammy moisture from his brow. Tlien he arose, looking almost as if he expected to see some apparition from another world, and followed the sound of that fresh young voice. It led him to the library, a grand, lofty room, finished in carved oak, dark and rich with age, frescoed in Pompeiian tints, and furnished in bright warm crimson. The door stands partially open, and within he sees the trim, lithe form of a young girl, neatly clad in a pretty print dress, a spotless apron lied about her slim waist, a dainty cap perched upon her small brown head, flitting about the apartment, dusting the furniture, and putting it to rights generally, after the thorough sweeping it had previously undergone at the hands of the housemaid.

It was Edrie Brown, but greatly changed from the forlorn-looking waif of a week previous.

Her face, though still thin and sallow, is bright with hope and happiness ; her dark eyes sparkle with interest, even delight in her work ; her movements are quick and eager, as if she is trying to do her very best, in her new occupation, while the sweet, clear tones which issue from her parted red lips tell of a heart from which all fear has fled, and into which joy and content have entered to take its place. Mr. Campbell stood there watching her for several minutes, a look of blank astonishment in his eyes, while the crimson flush, which had rushed to his brow on first beholding her, gradually faded out, leaving a peculiar pallor on his face. He mechanically reached forth his hand, and pushed the door wide open.

The act attracted the attention of the young girl. She looked up with a quick, bright smile, thinking it might 'bo Mrs. Campbell, whom already she had begun to regard with a feeling akin to idolatry. Then, as she saw a man instead, she made a quaint little salutation, half bow, half courtesy, for she understood at once that it must be the master of the house, whom, until now, she had never seen. “I shall be done, sir, very soon,” she said, simply ; then turned as if to go on with her dusting. “Stop ! Who are you ?” Mr Campbell commanded and questioned as he stepped over the threshold, his eyes still fastened upon her face as if fascinated by something which he saw there.

"Edrie Brown, sir,” the girl replied, meeting his look with a frank, open glance. "Edrie !” the man repeated, in an awed, startled tone, while he shot a half-frightened look all around, as if fte feared the name might betray something to others. "Who —when— how came you here ?’- "Mrs. Campbell brought me, sir. She took me away from a woman who didn’t treat me well, and I’m to wait on her and Miss Helena and help about the house.” "The douce you are !” muttered the refined master of Hollyhurst under his breath, another shiver running the length of his spine. Then he continued, aloud, "Where did you learn that song you were just singing ?” "I don’t know, really,” said Edrie, pausing in her work, a puzzled look stealing into* her large brown eyes. "I’ve always sung it ever since I was a very little girl, before I went to the Home. I guess my mother taught it me.” "Home ! What Home ?” questioned Daniel Campbell, still regarding her searchingly. "Aunty Gwynn’s, in street.” "How came you to go there ?” "Some ladies took me there after my mother died,” Edrie responded,

with a tremor in her voice. "Oh, your mother is dead, then ?” the man observed, with a long-drawn

breath, and in a tone which madeher look up wonderingly. "Brown ! Brown !” he repeated, with a frown, after a pause. "What was your, mother’s name ?” "I don’t know, sir ; I can’t remember," she answered, putting her hand to her head in a troubled way. "I think T should know if I could only hear it once ; though perhaps' I shouldn’t, it is so long since I heard it. It wasn’t Brown, anyhow. They called me that at the Homo because my skin is so dark," she explained, with a flush.

"Ah, then, that is not your real name ?" Mr. Campbell said, quickly, growing pale even to the lips again. "Are you sure you can’t remember?" . "No, sir ; I’ve tried and tried. I’ve laid- awake at nights, thinking and thinking, but it would never ,conio to me, and I’m afraid I shall never know who I am," she replied, with a wistful look, and a pathetic little sigh.

A peculiar gleam shot into Daniel Campbell’s eyes at this, and the anxious expression faded fromTßs face. "Well, never mind,” he said, with another deeply-drawn breath ; "go on with your work.”-

And turning abruptly from her he passed through the hall, mounted the stairs, and sought his own room, shutting and locking himself in. Day after day, after that, he regarded the young girl with a strange, watchful look whenever she came into his presence, always with fluctuating colour, too, and with a frown upon his brow.

Mrs. Campbell explained more fully to him later how she happened to have her in the house, remarking that she fotmd her very helpful and willing ; that she was growing more and more interested in her, and meant to keep her permanently, and allow her to study and improve herself as much*as she was inclined. She believed there was good blood in the girl, and it would yet show itself. Daniel Campbell listened to all this, but made no comment, though his face grew pale and hard, showing that he was not at all in sympathy with the philanthropic scheme/ while his manner towards Edrie betrayed plainly that he was annoyed by her presence in the house.. However, this did not disturb his independent wife, who was in the habit of having her own way in all domestic arrangements ; and she pursued the even tenor of her, way, regarding it only as a whim which would wear, away with time.

One thing, she could not fail to notice, and it excited sometimes her wonder, sometimes her amusement, and that was, her husband never would utter the name of Edrie—never even addressed the child by it. If obliged to speak to her ati all —which he avoided doing as much as possible —he would call out to her in a gruff tone, “Here, you girl !” and Mrs. Campbell would shrug her graceful shoulders. and curl her delicate lips at her husband’s coarseness, the rough edges of which she had long since given up trying to smooth off. Edrie Brown’s singing affected him strangely ; he cringed every time her sweet, tuneful voice echoed through the house, while the little ballad, “The Baby’s Stocking,’’ which had so startled him at first, and which seemed to be a special favourite with Edrie, at times appeared almost to madden him.

One day, coming down stairs, she was trilling it with all the sweetness and expression that she could throw into it, when ; Mr. Campbell, who was in the hall, turned savagely, strode up to her, and seizing her roughly by the shoulder, exclaimed, angrily :

"Hang it ! what do you always sing that thing for ? I’m tired of it ! Never let me hear it again !” Edrie released herself from his grasp and drew herself up slightly, while he wondered at the dignity which seemed to come so naturally to her.

She lifted her great dark eyes to his face, which she searched with a look of surprise for a moment ; then she bowed gravely, and passed on without a word, and it was years ere he heard it on her lips again. But she had to sing somethingher soul was full of song, which could no more be restrained than the songs of the birds can be silenced by a command. She could not read a note, but her ear was quick and accurate, and she caught and reproduced everything she heard, although she took care not to offend the master of the house again with the little ballad which she believed her mother had taught her when she was a child.

One day she was out in the garden gathering flowers with which to fill the vases in the dining-room, when Miss Helena’s music teacher stole upon her unawares and stopped to listen behind a fir tree.

Edrie was warbling a difficult yet beautiful exercise, 'Which he had given his pupil only a week previous. The man was astonished at the expression and pathos that rang forth in every flexible tone—he was thrilled by the sweetness and roundness of that perfect voice. "Bravo!” he cried, under his breath, as she took a difficult turn, ran easily up to B flat, giving a delightful little trill, making a fine turn, and then glided down to the key-note with an effect that would have done credit to a prima donna. "Bravo ! you little stray singingbird. This day I shall speak to madam about that glorious voice ; it would be a thousand pities to neglect its cultivation.” He "passed on and £penl the next hour faithfully drilling Helena, who also had fair talent, though his mind

was full of plans for the girl who was a pensioner upoii her moTiur’s bounty.

Mrs. Campbell came into the room a few moments before the time was up, as was her custom, and then he boldly broached the important subject.

"You have another musician in the family," he remarked, smiling as some silvery trills came floating in A from the dining-room, where Edrie'j was arranging her flowers, in blissful unconsciousness of her critical audience, and thus showing her vocal powers to the best advantage- " Yes, indeed ; that is Edric Brown, our little waiting-maid. Hasn’t she! a beautiful voice, Professor Gortz?" i said Helena, with eager interest. "Ihave been trying to get mamma toi consent, to let me teach j her to read', music." i

"Can she not read?" asked the) professor, opening his eyes. "Not a note : but she catches and ; sings everything far more accurately’ than I can by diligent study." "That is true," Mrs. Campbell ad- i ded ; "and I would not object to her > learning music if I thought it would really be to her advantage."

"Such a voice as that, if properly trained, would certainly prove of great advantage to its possessor," (hj professor remarked, with impressive gravity.

"Do you really think so ?’’ inquired his patron, looking interested. "She is a poor girl, with no friends, whom I literally • took from the streets, and whom I am trying to befriend and train for a waitingmaid."

Professor Gortz made a gesture of indignant protest at this informal tion. Those liquid tones still came floating in from the dining-room, and he was longing to have Edrie in and fully test the powers of her really remarkable voice.

"Madam, if she becomes a waitingmaid the public will lose a prlma donna,” he sententiously remarked. "Can that be possible?” said Mrs. Campbell, looking astonished and a trifle sceptical as well. "If I believed that, I would be the last one to stand in the way of her interests.”

The professor thought a moment, then he asked :

"How old is this young girl ?”

"I think she must be nearly fifteen,” Mrs. Campbell replied; and then she gave him a brief sketch of Edriets history as far as she knew it.

"It is too bad—too bad—tha.t she has not friends to give her proper advantages,” said the professor, as he shook his head regretfully ; then he added, with some timidity, and with a bow, "If madam will allow her the time for practice, I shall be happy to give the young miss a quarter’s instruction, just for an—an experiment.”

"That is very good of you, Professor Gortz, I am sure,” replied the lady, graciously. "She shall have the time, and welcome ; more than this, if you find that you can make something of her as a professional musician, she shall be a permanent pupil at my expense. I should be sorry to deprive the child of any opportunity to benefit herself,” she concluded, with deep earnestness.

The professor bowed and smiled his thanks, and begged that he might have Edrie in at once ; his impatience would not allow him to w'ait until he came again. The young girl was therefore-/ called, and told of the arrangements proposed for her.

She listened with wonder, and delight, She had wished with her whole heart that she could have-some one to teach her, as Helena had. She sang two or three songs, and allowrf ed the professor to test her power and compass, and it was arranged that she should begin her lessons the very next time he came to Helena.

CHAPTER IV. HAROLD STURTEVANT MAKES EDRIE’S ACQUAINTANCE. Professor Gortz was not long in discovering that Edrie possessed an intense passion, as well as great talent, for music, while she at once took hold of the study of it with wonderful avidity and • comprehension. She was indefatigable in her practice ; nothing was too difficult or tiresome for her to undertake, -• and her teacher as well as Mrs. Campbell and Helena, were astonished at her progress. "To think of a person possessing such a gift being reared as a wait-ing-maid !" Mrs. Campbell once remarked to Helena when she realised how Edrie was improving her advantages. "It would be a deplorable waste of talent, and I am determined to do the best I can for her.” She had a plain, practical talk with Edrie, and persuaded her to improve her mind as well as her voice, proposing to allow her to go for a few hours daily to study at a neighbouring school. Edrie liked this also, after she began to get a taste of knowledge, although at first she imagined it would be dull and stupid to have to study so much ; but as she mingled with other girls, and began to realise, how needful it was that she should learn other things beside music, she made thorough work of her lessons. She was very grateful to Mrs. Campbell for all these privileges, and loved the woman dearly for her kindness, while she was devoted to both her and Helena.

She arose with the dawn, that she might do what she could for them before the hour for school arrived, and she often astonished them by the amount of work that she performed. It seemed as if she could not do enough to show her gratitude for the favours she was receiving, and she waited uoon them with a

cheerfulness and alacrity that was simply delightful. Harold Sturlevant returned from his first year in college the last of Jane, and to Edrie he seemed like a being- from a higher, sphere.

He was a tall, manly fellow, with a handsome, high-bred face, with a broad, full brow, from which a wealth of golden brown hair swept back in heavy shining masses ; with eyes of deep, dark blue, in which lay a world of showing that he inherited much of his mother’s generous nature ; and with a genial smile and manner that won everybody at the outset.

Mrs. Campbell was very proud of her son, not so much on account of his good looks as his natural ability; possessing his father’s love of literary pursuits, of art, of everything else refining, ho bade fair to lake a high rank in his class, and was the wonder and pride, being younger than most of them, of both students and professors. At first he barely noticed Edrie Brown, otherwise than to think, perhaps, that his mother, and sister had a very smart, trim-looking waitingmaid, for she was strangely quiet ‘after his arrival at Hollyhurst, and went about her duties looking like some demure sister of charity, in her spotless cap and apron, with downcast eyes and modest mien. But after a while, when he caught the swift, searching flash of her groat dusky eyes, as they swept his face 1 when she thought herself unobserved, he was startled by their beauty iof expression, and began to feci an "unaccountable interest in her. > Then ho heard her sing, and her rich, glorious voice exerted an irresistible power and influence over him.

She was plain, dark, undeveloped, iand awkward, he thought, for he 1 was very fastidious, and yet she had 1 regular features a broad, low, but intelligent brow, a pretty nose and mouth, and, with those gem-like :eyes, he could imagine that, by-and-!by, she might become almost beau-" 'tiful.

i "What wdtch or sorceress is this .that you have, mother, in the garb >of a housemaid or waitress, with her _shy, demure ways, and such a glorilous voice?” he asked-one day of his ;mother, a short time after his return. • "

They were sitting in the library, and Professor Gortz having, a few ’moments afterwards, dismissed Helena, Edrie had taken her place, and her pure, liquid tones were now filling the house with melody. , "That is a question which seems to puzzle us all, Harold,” replied his mother, smiling ; "for, although Edrie is neither a witch nor a sorceress she is still a great and interesting mystery, which no one can solve.” And then she proceeded to tell the child’s story as she knew it. "Well, well ! Right here in the house we have a romance fit for a novel !” he said, when she concluded, and finding himself strangely fascinated by the tale. "And Edrie ! What a name ! The very sound of it has a smack of the mysterious that sets one all agog. Of what name or names can it be a contraction or combination, I wonder ?” "I am sure I cannot tell. I have often wondered myself, what strange fancy could have prompted her father or mother to give it to her. It has, as you say, a spice of the romantic .or mysterious about it,” Mrs- Gampbell returned, thoughtfully. "She never ought to occupy the position of waitress, with that marvellous voice,” said the young man. flushing slightly, as Edrie’s tones seemed to go mounting upward among the stars with a silvery sweetness that was almost divine.

"I know it, and I have told her that she need not wear a cap, or do so much about the house, now that she has to spend so many hours in study and practice ; but she seems to prefer it ; she seems to be very grateful for her privileges, and anxious to do all that she can to compensate for them,” Mrs. Campbell replied. “It is very good of you, mother mine, to allow and assist her to cultivate her talent,” Harold remarked as he bestowed an affectionate glance upon the beautiful woman opposite him.

'T do not know about that,” she replied, her fair face clouding. "I believe I should be doing a great and cruel wrong to allow her wonderful gift to He dormant. I have made some mistakes in my life for which I should be glad to atone,” she continued, flushing, while her delicate nostrils dilated into scornful curves ; “and if I can-assist this poor girl to a position where she can provide handsomely for herself, I shall be glad.” “I predict that she will make her mark in the world ; and if she should turn out to be a first-class prima donna, she will owe it all to you ” said the young man. “Not entirely, Harold ; though I should be very glad and proud to /have aided in so noble a work, if she should take the musical world by storm some day. But we must not forget that a great deal will be duo to her own perseverance and application. At all events I shall feel that I have given her an opportunity to be independent, and she need be-beholden to no one for support in the future,” the lady concluded, with a tinge of bitterness in her tones. (To be Continued.)