Page:Peterson Magazine 1869B.pdf/469

426 ANNETTE LYLE'S CHRISTMAS GIFT.

ends just touching her long, white, slender neck, which was encircled with a narrow, linen collar and little pin. Her dress was of cheap, black alpaca, but its folds fell with natural grace about her slight form; the dusty boots Violetta had remarked were small and exquisitely shaped; so were the lady-like hands-the fingers marked by toil with the needle- from which she had removed the neat gloves. His lawyer's eye, noting these details, he said to himself, "Poor thing! she can't be more than nineteen, is orphaned and friendless, and must have been delicately bred. Yet here she is, earning her living by needlework!"

He noticed, too, that she was not abashed by the elegance of his mother's parlor. She occupied her place with quiet submission, but did not seem uneasy in it, and was only shy and frightened when he addressed her. The books, the pictures, the piano standing near, seemed her natural surroundings ; she cast upon them the grateful, appreciative glance of long friendship. He observed the patient sweetness of her delicate face; the long lashes, and rare color of her eyes; the sad expression of her soft, unsmiling lips; the little, quick characteristic movement, like a bird shaking out its ruffled plumage, by which she seemed to order and compose her dress and mien in a moment into its settled place.

Already she had forgotten him, and her eyes had strayed to the enchanting scene without, where the croquet players still lingered. Those eyes were thoughtful even to sadness, but there was not the faintest shade of envy in their clear brown lids. " Oh! to be one of those bright, young creatures," she thought; "to have so fair a face, so fine a fortune, to wear such beautiful dresses, to reign in such a happy home as this, to be so loved, so cherished, adored, and protected!"

She came back to life with a deep sigh as the mistress of the house, in robes of heavy silk, rustled in.

Weeks passed, and Charles Dean had seen nothing more of the shy stranger he had ushered so romantically into the house. Probably she was at work, he thought, up in the lonely den at the top of the house, to which he sometimes saw solitary meals being carried on trays, as to a State prisoner. Charles Dean, a corner of whose heart those quiet eyes had strangely touched, thought how he should like to sweeten this "bread of dependence" with a little human kindness, or even to share the " crust" for the sake of looking in the "rare pale" face that had fascinated his fancy.

Thought is free, but his feet were fettered by etiquette, and so he never did penetrate to the lofty chamber where Annette Lyle sat and sewed- nor did Mr. Dean ever meet her in the grounds. Her natural shyness led her, when she went out for air and exercise, after her day's toil was over, into quite different ways from those the heir of the house would have chosen. She liked to wander away and sit down on the rocks by the river, a little stream whose waters flowed backward from the great waves of the sea, a few miles off, whose salt breath fanned her cheek and damped her hair.

In spite of the sedentary life she led, these walks, and the kindly atmosphere in which she lived, revived and benefited her. A tender pink dawned in the little face ; her movements lost their slowness and languor ; something of the elastic grace and life of the youth she had missed returned to her. Sewing in het rooms, under tireless task-mistresses, she had grown quiet and dull, with the weariness of age upon her, its weight and burden. Now she bloomed sweet as a rose-bud in the fostering air ; the very servants were kind to her. They liked the little stranger, and strove to show it ; she was so young, so utterly lonely, so pretty, and so gentle. Even the Scotch gardener, so gruff and stern, praised her for a "bonnie bit lassie," and was glad to see her linger over bis plants.

Mrs. Johnson was not slow in discovering what a treasure she had gained. She found those deft fingers, governed by an innate taste and skill, were apt to fashion far more than the simple uses to which at first she put them. From the plainer portions of the family wardrobe, the little seamstress passed to the intricate mysteries of dress-making and embroidery ; and the lady of the house, well pleased, was able to save the expense and waste of the French modiste, who had long ruled over her toilet. Finally, the toilet itself was referred to Annette's taste and judgment, and at very liberal wages, and with no prospect of dismissal, she found herself installed in the duties of her novel position.

All the gay summer visitors had departed to fashionable resorts; and Mrs. Johnson would have followed them but for her husband's indisposition. The warm weather, or some other exciting cause, brought on an attack of gout, which kept him confined to his wife's room, and herself in close attendance on his person.

Unable to visit the scene of her seamstress' labors, she had the work brought down and performed near by; and thus the little dressmaker was a daily witness of the sick man's sufferings, and often the quiet ministrant to his