Ladies Column.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5427, 30 November 1895, Page 3

Ladies Column.

THE STEPS OF A

LADDER.

_BT HABBIET PRESCOTT SPOPPORD.] (Next) York Sun.)

She waa pale and thin, but might have been pleasing had she not been ghastly with the motion of the ship; for there had been quite a swell on from the hour we cast off. As it waß, she lay back, indifferent to life or death or the receding world, and received aB to the manner born the kindly attention of Mrs Prideaux, who has crossed bo often that she is as much at home at sea bb on shore.

"Who is she ? " I said to my sister, oh* nerving her case. "My maid, Annie Beecher," she answered ; and she afterwards told me she had engaged the young woman the week before, because she had shown a pretty knack in the arrangement of hair and the designing of gowns, the young woman having also declared that she did not know what sea-sickness was. She told the truth, perhaps; she did not know at that time; she had evidently found out since. And Mrs Prideaux, half compassionate and half amused, was by way of winning eternal gratitude in seeing that the deck steward made the young woman comfortable, and in not happening to think of mentioning the relation between them. My sister had been visiting at a country houße which some of our American friends, desiring to try English life, had taken for a new season, when she first came aorpsa the girl, Annia Beecher, the daughter of a labourer on the neighbouring estate of the Earl of Saverleigh, ill fed, scantily clothed, and running wild. The good housekeeper at the castle had •presently sent for. her to take some subordinate position, and noting her aptitude had promoted her till a chance brought her to the attention of the old Countess, after which she was more or less about that personage, waiting on her and reading to her. She had been taught at the village sohool, and, quick to mark and heed, Bhe soon acquainted and familiarized herself with the gentle movements, the low voioeß of the drawingroom, and the observance of the table. Then her father had received some injury, I believe, and ahe had been obliged to leave these pleasant places and go hack to the cottage and care for him, feeling sharply, it may be, the contrast, the rough tone, the *.ude habit, the hardship, too, and the unlovelinesa of life. When he died another lady ruled at Saverleigh, and without a relative in the world, with a heart aching with ambitions and desires, and with nothing before her but service, she had conceived the happy thought of procuring a reference from the old housekeeper, and had begged Mrs Prideaux, who was then visiting her friends again, when she should join me at Southampton to let the service be with her. Perhaps she thought that in the life over here, which giveß all a chance, ehe would find her own. But certainly Bhe could then have had no idea of playing any other part in it than that of a skilful lady's maid, which was in itself a great step on the ladder of life for the youug factotum of the housekeeper. It may have occurred to her, however, when in any interval of comparative ease, after she had been brought on deck, ahe saw oertain of the young girls gaily promenading with as muoh of their war paint and feathers aa wind and weather permitted, realised with her quiok wit a difference between their ways and manners and the exquisite breeding of the ladieß at Saverleigh, had a sense of injustice in the inequality of position, and felt a sudden purpose spring within her soul.

. Owing to her very violent seasicknoss, ahe had had no opportunity of seeing me with my sister, and she had no idea that the solitary individual pacing up and down the deok was related to her mistreßs. But at one time, when the ship had given an unexpected lurch, I chanced to hinder her, limp and helpless, from failing out of her chair ; and after that I now and then addressed her a word with the freedom of fellow passengers, and hardly, thought a change in my conduct worth while when I learnod who Bhe was, the more aa I was something of a student of human nature, bo it in maid or mistress. The young girls whom she was watching, when she could, often stopped and spoke with her. "It must be dreadful to be so ill," said one. " Oh !" she sighed in answer, " I could Vfißh I had never left Saverleigh." " Saverleigh ? Where is that ?" *' The Earl's place/don't you know ? " The Earl !" cried the young republican. ••What Earl?"

" "The Earl of Saverleigh, to be sure." "And you lived in an Earl'a castle?" "We lived on the estate," murmured Annis.

And then the other re-arranged the rugs, aomewhat reverentially, about the invalid who had something to do with an Earl's castle, and tripped away. When she saw Annis again on deck among her wraps and pillows, this young person came to inquire for her health. " I am afraid it ia as much home-siokness aB Bea-sickneßß," she aaid, " I should be homesick, too, if I had left a castle. We went over Warwick Castle just before we left. I stole a sheet of note paper, at least the man Baw me take it, and I tipped him. Did you often go to the castle at— at Saverleigh ? Did you know the Earl ? My ! And the Countess P An Earl'a wife is a Countess !"

" The idea ! And you left all that for the sake of seeing America P" "Fanoy !" said Annis Beecher, with an effort:. "And then it maybe yon left a beautiful home— and dear relatives— for the sake— of seeing Europe." "Oh,. girls!" cried the questioner, on returning to her compatriots. " She knows earls and countesses, and has left suoh a beautiful home as Saverleigh Castle for the ease of seeing America !" And Annis would have been deaf not to have heard the shrill, sweet voice.

When, ;i day or two afterward, I took a vacant chair, and saw that it was beside her, and saw how wretchedly she looked, I said, encouragingly, " We shall Boon be in port now." "Ob, it's not that, indeed, sir. It's to think of the whole thing over_ again," she sighed with languid seasick bitterness. " Well, well, perhaps you won't have it over. You may stay on this side and not go homo again." "Not go home to Saverleigh, sir!" sho exclaimod, I noticed that sometime later Bhe dropped the "sirs." " Is Saverleigh your home ? " "Oh, certainly," she said; which Wftß true, but might have been misleading. However, we arrived in harbour shortly after thie, and Mrs Prideaux drove to hor house, and I to my club. And having various affairs to arrange, some days slipped by before I went round to my sister's. I was hardly surprised to hear her say that Aunis Beecher, aa soon as Bhe was sufficiently restored, hed her eternal gratitude by announcing that she was going into a dressmaking establishment conneoted with a great dry goods firm, where she had called, feeling quite sure of her ability and,— referring to Mra Prideaux— that she had further declared that she knew Mrß Prideaux would he no obstacle in the way of her endeavour to mount another step on the ladder, that, although she should repay, the passage money that would not repay Mrs Prideaux's kindness, and meanwhile made no allusion whatever to her engagement aa a maid.

My Bister rather enjoyed it, as something unusual, and occasionally went to the Bhop, more to watch the little drama than for anything else. But Miss Beeoher alwayß fitfcod her beraelf ; and it wa9 evident that this espeoial attention paid her made Mrs Prideaux a parson of much more importance in the shop than ber carriage and footman •and all her nioney coald. Misa Beecher •waa a wonderful fitter, my sister aaid dolefully, with an undoubtod gift for her work. She had become rounded and wholesome and attractive ; and she had in tho courae of the year's designing and fitting being brought into clos * coutacc with bo tbauy fine ladies that she waa now really quilo a fipe lady herself". It wm » awmbsp of aonfcha ftitex the

passage money had bean repaid that, going over in the Gascogne, I saw Miss Beecher come aboard. She was escorted by a son of the head of the firm, which, I afterward learned, had sent her over to see the styles and to make purchases in Paris, her talents having won her the opportunity. "Oh, no," she was saying n reply to some question from the young man. "The house allows me but six weeks, and, with so much to do, it will not be possible for me to take in Saverleigh. And besides— " She hesitated and buried her face in the rosea she carried.

«« Ah, I see," said the youth. " The Earls and Earleases don't approve of people who strike out in the World for themselves."

" Quite so. But the dear Countess can neither approve nor disapprove now of what I do. Lady Saverleigh died last winter," with a downward glance at her gown- I noticed then that Miss Beecher wore mourning, against which her armful of red rosss waß effeotive. "But Lord Saverleigh knows," she went, on, "that many of the quality, I mean the nobility, and the country families," correcting herself in time, " auite our equals are in trade."

" And a very good thing for them." Prom my coign of vantage I took a survey of the young woman, for Bhe afforded me an object lesson. Good living, good expectations, fine ambitions, the receipt of deference, the experience of pleasure, a lively hope, had all done well by her. She was tall and finely rounded, her clean, fair English akin and white teeth, her bright, abundant hair, and clearly cut features, gave her a rather deoided beauty of a sort, and her appearance, while the long brown lashes Bwept the velvety cheek, was quite charming. But when she lifted the lids, the bold and steady gaza of a pair of cold blue eyes took much of the charm away. The fact that the child of a village labourer, bred from nothing, accustomed to nothing^, had each receptivity for much that aristocracy, wealth, breeding, long descent, implied, was an interesting feature in heredity. Where and how had the strain come in that made this possible ? Could it be the mere circumstance of sex, of femininity, that rendered her superior to the clod from which she sprung? Or was she a spontaneous ins tance of ne w departure ? I wondered for a little in what way the element that gave her those capabilities came into her blood. She had evidently found her chanco and improved it; she could have wasted no time; Bhe must have gone a great deal to the theatre, that picture and school of life ; she must have read and reasoned, watched, observed, and imitated : doubtless she could havo passed an examination on the heroines of the novels of fashionable life. And then, as she appeared no more during the passage, I forgot her. I saw her, however, by accident, just before the allotted six weeks of her absence ended ; but it was in London, after all, and at the opera. She was not caring for the play, I judged, or the music. Her whole attention was given to the boxes. It was a hight when royalty was in great evidence, and come one was with her pointing out the people of importance. I felt that not the beauty of Eames, nor the majesty of De Eeazke, nor tha marvellous echo of " Voi ehe sapete," but the pose of the Princess, the droop of the eyelash of the Duchess of Leinater, the gentle hauteur of Lady Brooke/remembrance of the clothes of the beauties and of the way they wore them, were what she would carry away with her. When I saw Misß Beecher again— she was at home, and at the horse show— it wae no longer the son of the head of the house, but the head of the house himself, who accompanied her. As faultlessly dressed as her patronß, Bhe was handsome, happy, brilliant, and beaming. Bather sure that she was of an impeccable social- morality, according to her code, I regarded it only bb a further step on her ladder. I had no doubt she was comparing the horseß to the Saverleigh stud, and was not surprised to overhear, as I passed round into an adjoining box. " Ah, no, it is quite broken up. Ours was a great hunting country, don't you know. But the stables are closed. Lord Saverleigh ia not living, you may have heard. The titles were in the male line, and they have lapsed, and an American has bought the castle. Fancy ! " "Hard on yon, now, I oall that," said her companion. ' "It is sad; bnt it is so," she sighed. " I shall never see Saverleigh again. I couldn't bear to see it, don't you know. And then Filemaker began to jump.

My sister showed me, shortly after this, a pretty trifle which Miss Beecher had brought her from Paris, where she now made the yearly trip for the establishment, and which she had begged Mrs Prideaux to accept as a token of sensibility to kind* ness received Bince first coming to this country, kindness which had made it possible for her to rise on the ladder of life, and kindness which ahe now felt would never fail her. And \ then I heard no more of this young woman till a year or so had passed, and I was called into a cbbo involving an attempt., tb defraud the Government of duties on a quantity of costly lace. The firm employing Miss Beecher were the parties answerable to the charges, and I went to represent my sister, whom Miss Beecher had requested to certify her respectability, she having brought over the lace.

Her distress was so evident, but her attestations were so quiet and well-bred, that her innocence impressed young Van Benthuysen, who appeared for the Government prosecutor. "I entered it as I thought I should— as I did last year," ahe said, the blue eyes softened with their brimming tears. " How can I expect to know your constantly changing laws?" "In these days," said the head of the firm, "when many of the nobility of Europe are bettering themselves in business, we have felt ourselves fortunate in having an English lady of Miss Beecher's rank and associations, and— and birth, at the head of our dress department. Bat it hardly seems to me that we should expect the same familiarity with our customs lawa as with laces and velvets, from one of the family of the Earl of Saverleigh. "This lady ?" said Van Benthuysen. She bowed. "A member of the Earl'a household," ahe murmured half inaudily, so that one heard only the word " earl " with distinctness. Then she raised her head haughtily— that was her innocence of the smuggling— and looked at me, her cold oyos melting into something like a i beseeching smile— that was her appeal for my silence. I havo no class prejudices. But I plead a love of truth in general. Here, however, it did not seem as if tho balance of tha universe were to be disturbed. Perhaps if I had foreseen t\e future— but lam not Bure. A pretty woman in distress has a olaim superior to some considerations of right and wrong, and nature enforces it. "My sister, Mrs Prideaux, has boon a friend of Miss Baecher'a for some yoara," I said. " And I beg to assure you that s|» iB quite impossible to consider this charge in relation to her. As the firm aro ready to meet the demands of the Government, I think you will be quite within tho law, Van Benthuysen, if you aocept their proposals." "I will make such report," said he. " And no one can regret moro than myself the unpleasant duty that was forced upon me here." And after a ehort conversation with ua in general, and a few words in particular to Miss Beecher, he took himself and his papers off.

" A fine fellow, young Van Benthuysen,," said the head of the firm. "In training for political life. Blood will tell — as I'm sure you make us feel, Mirjs Beecher* He ia one of the old Knickerbocker stock. His father, the general, fine, upright old fellow, was Minister at the Court of— concernod if I remember jnst where. Bat he's a millionaire times over,, and he boasts that there's no bluer blood than his this side of Amsterdam. But I reckon we can see him, and go one better, eh. Mias Beecher P"

A great bunch of orchids, of a species grown only in the Van Benthuysen'a orchid houses, that I saw on Miss Beecher' a dress at a Philharmonic, attested poßßibly young Van Beßthuyaan/a apprecifttiw of thii

sangre azul of hers, a little later. Some one said she had developed a quite surprising knowledge of orchids— orchids, she had said, were a fad of the Earl's ; and it waa said that it waa on a visit to these ■ orohid houses that she met other members j of the Van Benthuysen family. j I do not, however, know accurately anything about that. But in these days one ia surprised at nothing. And bo possibly I ought to have felt no astonishment when in the course of a few months my Bister, coming in from her carriage with Misa Cortlandfc, opened a billet containing wedding cards. "The old simpleton !" she exolaimed. "Think of it! General Van Benthuysen ! Ia it possible that he has married again ? And to whom P Let me see— Mies Anne Beauchamp. Very aristocratic sound- I wonder who she is now." I looked over Mrs Prideaux'e shoulder. "It ia the way they spell Beecher in England,'.' I said. " Why, haven't you heard ? " cried Miss Cortlandt. "It isn't half a bad thing, Brenton says. People thought it was Van at first. But he isn't in it. She hasn't any money— but then the old general haa enough for two, with a moderate degree of economy, you know. She is still young and very well-looking, dresses perfectly. Quite well-connected, too, I hear tho general will have her presented at the next drawing-room after they go over, unless they go first to Italy. She is a member of the family of the Earl of Saverleigh." And neither I nor Mrs Prideaux smiled. "Don't you think an impoverished and long-descended Italian prince would do woll by himself if he married the very wealthy widow of an American General ?" said my sister to me once after reading her foreign mail. "A connection of the Earl of Saverleigh has a right to marry among princes. Our Princess will not be exactly an example of ground and lofty tumbling » "No ; only of climbing a ladder into the olonde," I said. "Well, you cannot say my maid and I have not furnished you entertainmentvery pretty petite comedie." "If it is not rather that high tragedy which makes the angels weep," I said.