 | THE PURPLE LADY Arabella |  |
15. THE PURPLE LADY
Next morning Silas Christie had relapsed into his wonted taciturnity, which was even increased by the calculations he was making about the quantity of lumber that would be required, and the number of men that could be set to work at once on the construction of the new wing. As he was going out the door, he turned back to say to his wife:
"You tell the girl what I said and find out if she cares to go to the expense of having that addition made to the house, and let me know when I come back."
Mrs. Christie had no doubt at all about that part of the matter. She knew that Arabella was to receive from that time forward a settled income, which she was free for the most part to expend as she saw fit. Silas was so far certain that, with characteristic energy, he occupied the interval of his absence in interviewing various mechanics, pricing the necessary materials and arranging, in fact, to have the work of construction rushed.
After the breakfast dishes were washed up and the ordinary household work done, with the assistance, of course, of "the help," a buxom lass from the village, Mrs. Christie summoned Arabella to a conference in the best parlor, whither the domestic was not likely to penetrate. As the elder woman had surmised, Arabella turned pale at the thought, not only that she was to be taught by, but actually to live in the house with the Purple Lady. Fear of the latter personage was deeply ingrained in all the children of the neighborhood. Arabella had often flown, tremblingly, past her house, where it stood isolated, in the dusk of summer evenings or in the wintry moonlight.
"I'm scared of her," she exclaimed, shudderingly, and Mrs. Christie very well knew that reasoning in such a matter was unavailing. Perhaps she was not altogether free herself from the superstition. But she had plenty of strong common sense, and as she knew there was much to be gained by overcoming what was probably an idle fear, she made up her mind to employ the very best means to that end.
"Look here," she decided, "I'll get a horse harnessed up and you and me'll drive right over there. Nothin' is so good for scary things as to get right close to them."
Arabella at first shrank back in alarm from this proposal. Still, in most respects, she was naturally fearless, and like many children she had a strong spice of the adventurous in her composition The very audacity of the project appealed to her. To enter that dwelling which had always haunted her by its fascinating mystery seemed in itself worth doing.
"When we've seen and spoken with her," continued Mrs. Christie, "you kin make up your mind. If she scares you after that, thar's no more to be said. The plan's got to fall to the ground, and I guess you'll have to go away to school for a spell.
Now, this was an alternative which Arabella by no means relished Boarding-school had always seemed to her inexperienced mind as a place but little removed from a jail. Every other detail of Silas Christie's plan had captivated her. To live at the old homestead and yet to have a place which she could call home, and whither she could invite whom she pleased, seemed to her an ideal settlement of the affair.
As the two drove along, Mrs. Christie, moreover, appealed to the sympathy of Arabella's generous and compassionate heart by detailing all that Mr. Christie had said concerning the Purple Lady's poverty and the danger of her house being sold over her head.
"Oh," cried Arabella, "even if we are too much scared to have her come and live with us, I'll pay for her house, that is, if I have enough money."
"Enough money, child?" echoed Mrs. Christie,"why, you could buy and sell pretty near the whole village if you'd a mind. But you mustn't run away with the idea that you kin pay everybody's debts and keep all the poor in the neighborhood."
The little, old house at which they presently arrived was invested with a peculiar air of privacy. It was surrounded by a little bit of ground fenced in with an iron railing, which lent it that exclusive, not to say mysterious, character which, no doubt, had done much to foster its ill reputation. For in sociable Kenoosha most of the houses were built close to the street, so that everybody could enjoy a gossip with the neighbors.
In the bit of ground the brown and seared grasses were plentifully sown with weeds; shrubs stood neglected and forlorn. The house itself, a wooden structure, almost bereft of paint, displayed a worn and shabby appearance. The door was opened by a little woman bent nearly double from age or illness, and she presently ushered them into a small room where a semblance of comfort and refinement banished the rude spectres of poverty and neglect. There, seated in a high-backed chair by the fire, was that personage of whom Arabella had hitherto caught only dim and shadowy glimpses, but whom she had never before beheld face to face — the Purple Lady herself. She was somewhat above the medium height, of fine, erect carriage, with unusually sloping shoulders, which gave her the appearance of an old portrait. Her hair, plentifully streaked with gray, was somewhat elaborately arranged, though in the fashion of an elder day. Her face had the languor and weariness, with a curious pallor, which might have come from sorrow or ill-health. Yet it was a striking countenance, once seen never to be forgotten. The eyes possessed a rare sweetness in their depths, as if they had looked only upon the beautiful things of life, her mouth was sensitive and gentle, her complexion of a roseleaf softness.
Her costume was of the inevitable hue which had procured for her from the people of Kenoosha her singular cognomen. It was of a deep tint of heliotrope shading into purple. She had never been known to wear any other color. She greeted her visitors with a perfect courtesy, which reminded both of Mrs. Winslow, only her manner far surpassed that other's in the warm kindliness, the gentleness, instantaneously felt by all who came into her presence. When she had heard Arabella's name, she took Arabella's roughened, stubby hand in both her own exquisitely soft and delicate ones.
"And this is the little girl of whom Clara Winslow wrote," she said, in her soft voice. "Perhaps you know, my dear, that your aunt and I were great friends long ago, when I lived in New York. I also knew your father and — others of your relatives."
Arabella continued to gaze at her with wide-open eyes, no longer of terror, but rather of admiration and of sympathy, born of the keen perception of childhood.
"Well, what do you think of me?" asked the Purple Lady, with that smile which, from its very sadness, was unusually winning. "Shall you care to let me teach you?"
"Yes, ma'am," answered Arabella, decidedly. "I would like you to teach me better than any one."
The lady smiled again, flushing slightly, as if pleased at the blunt declaration.
"Well," she said, "we shall have to see how it can be arranged. I may be moving away from here —"
Her voice trembled as she said those words, and Mrs. Christie interposed:
"If you're thinkin' of moving why I guess that'll make things pan out all right."
The Purple Lady looked inquiringly, and Mrs. Christie proceeded to give, at least, an outline of her husband's plan.
"So," murmured the lady, in a low voice, and as if speaking to herself, "it is ever thus with those who trust in Providence. If one door is shut, another opens wide."
And neither Arabella nor Catherine Christie understood precisely what the lady meant.
However, that visit settled the matter. There was never any doubt after that that the Purple Lady was to be the presiding genius of Arabella's future home, and it was, of course, arranged that she should bring with her her sole attendant, Margaret McCloskey, who had grown old in her service.
When Silas Christie came into dinner that day he was very much gratified to hear where the two had been and with what results. He warmly commended his wife's happy thought, and was much relieved at the information that Arabella had not only lost all fear of the Purple Lady, but had taken a great fancy to that mysterious personage, and was most anxious to be under her tuition.
Therefore, the work of building was hurried on with a degree of haste that had never been seen before in Kenoosha, and the new wing of the Christie household promised to be in a very short time an accomplished fact. Arabella wrote in her childish, unformed hand to Miss Alicia telling her of all that had been undertaken, and reminding her of her promise to pay a long visit to Kenoosha in the following summer. She also wrote to her cousins, a letter addressed to Carrie, but intended for the boys as well, and giving them all a cordial invitation to visit her whenever they chose, once her new quarters were completed. It may be supposed that she did not neglect her chief favorite amongst the new-found relatives, Mr. Frederick's crippled daughter.
Mrs. Winslow, taking Carrie's letter down to the library, where sat Uncle Frederick, regarded the rough paper, the ill-spelt and worse expressed ideas, the unformed, uneducated handwriting, and said to her brother:
"There is so very much to be done before we can make her presentable."
"But splendid soil on which to work, golden stores for the digging," added Uncle Frederick. "We may be thankful that, as matters stood, she fell into such safe hands, and that there is nothing perverted, nor mean, nor base about the child. Mark my words, she has the making of a fine woman. And," he added, after a moment's pause, "Millicent Van Brugh must have changed very much, if she cannot smooth rough places and temper the whole with her own fine culture."
Mrs. Winslow cast a hasty glance at her brother as he said those words. For long before Millicent Van Brugh had been unhappily married, and had buried the sorrows of a premature widowhood as the Purple Lady of Kenoosha, and before good Mr. Frederick had married Marion's mamma, it was generally supposed in the Allston's exclusive circle that the two were destined for each other.
"She was the sweetest, the purest, the noblest woman I ever met," Mr. Frederick continued, thinking, as it were, aloud and gazing abstractedly out of the window. "How strange it is that she whom I would have chosen out of the whole world to undertake such a task, should be thus providentially appointed to care for this poor waif, Jack's only child."
"Yes," assented Mrs. Winslow, "there could be, I feel assured, no better arrangement, and Millicent, if any one, can civilize the girl. I used to be very fond of Millicent. I should like to see her again. But as to this plan of Mr. —"
She referred to Arabella's letter, which she still held in her hand.
"Mr. Christie," said Mr. Frederick, somewhat curtly, supplying the information.
"Well, I think his plan a very good one, don't you?"
"In so far as I understand it, a capital one."
"It really shows," pursued Mrs. Winslow, "considerable tact and consideration on the part of this man. It will make it so much easier for the cousins to know each other. I am sure, if Millicent Van Brugh is once in charge, I shall have no hesitation whatever in allowing Carrie and the boys to pay her a visit."
"My Marion will give me no peace till I take her down there, whether the plan be carried out or not," declared Mr. Frederick, "but I suppose that can scarcely be before the summer."
"It will be summer before any of them can go," Mrs. Winslow agreed. "I shouldn't wish my children's lessons to be interrupted sooner, and I am sure they will enjoy it better then."
So that Silas Christie's plan met with the unanimous approval of every one of Arabella's grand relations, and it set them all to anticipating a delightful visit, for the young people, at least, as soon as the winter should have worn away, and the warm weather taken its place.
| THE PURPLE LADY Arabella | |