CHAPTER XIII

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CINDERELLA.

The summer had turned round to autumn before Lady O'Brien broached her project about Esther. I think she waited till she had us all bound fast to her by ties of affection and gratitude. Things were much the same with us, except that Pierce had grown a little thinner, a little more pinched and peaked like an old man, and a little weaker every day.

His couch now was in Aline's octagon room, and, though the autumn was a fine one, fires were pleasant. We were there one day, Pierce and I, and Paudeen at Pierce's feet. A little wood fire sparkled in the grate, though outside the world was full of brightness--brightness of blue sky and yellow sun, and golden and scarlet woods. The leaves were beginning to fall, and old Brandon's shoulders were visible now, where a month ago we could only see the top of his head.

I was restless, and kept going round the panelling, as I had so often gone fruitlessly, pressing the spines of every rose, and the leaves and buds, in search of the hiding-place I always said must be there. Pierce lay watching me with contented eyes which had a spark of amusement in them.

"I am quite sure it is here," I said, pausing opposite to him. "Listen, doesn't the panel ring hollow?"

I tapped with my finger, and he listened.

"There may be only the wall behind," he said, "but it certainly does ring hollow."

"If there is a hiding-place it should be easily discovered," he said again. "I have always found a singular innocence in those contrivances."

Now each panel fitted in squarely, being carved separately and set into the wall, so that a door might be suspected of any one of them. I went tapping and pushing in a dissatisfied way round about the room, and finally came back again to the panel that rang hollow.

On the leaves in many places there were little beetles of the kind we call lady-birds. They had specially exercised my mind, for they stood much above the surface of the carving. But, after all, it was Pierce who discovered the little door, not I.

"Do you see that fellow about the middle of the left-hand side, Hilda?" he said. "Near your hand now? Yes, that is the one."

"I have tried him over and over, for he has tentacles, and the others have none."

"Try to twist him instead of pressing him."

I tried, and thought he moved ever so slightly. I tried again: yes, there was no doubt he turned with my hand, but I had little purchase on him.

"I know," said I. "I'll get Oona's hammer, and see what that will do."

The claw-end of the hammer just caught the little beetle. I gave it a wrench and a turn, and there was the click of a bolt. Then, a little clink, and the panel opened towards me. It was simply a door in the wall, where I had been looking for a sliding panel all the time.

I looked at Pierce with expectant triumph. He was nearly as excited as I. The light poured full into the little cupboard. There was an Indian box of lacquer inlaid with mother-of-pearl and gold. A little gold key stood in it. I handed it to Pierce, and drew out next a pair of white gloves with tarnished gilt tassels at the wrist. Then a tiny riding-whip. Next a case containing a miniature of a handsome young man. That was all. Not a scrap of writing--not a word by which we could guess at what time the girl had lived who must have gone away so suddenly leaving all her treasures hidden in the wall.

I opened the lacquer box with a hand that trembled. Inside it was divided into little square boxes, surrounding a larger box in the middle.

"This first," said I, lifting the cover.

Within there was nothing but a faint perfumed dust in the corners, and a tiny bit of blue ribbon.

"Ah!" said Pierce. "All that remains of Dulcinea's breast-knot."

We opened another. Within was a tiny gold bodkin and a thimble studded with turquoise. In another, an old vinaigrette. In a third a mother-of-pearl bobbin wound with green silk. In a fourth, a tablet of ivory, with a gold pencil. The last two were empty.

"So this is all your treasure-trove," said Pierce, looking down at the quaint box.

"Yes," said I, "aren't they lovely? I am so happy to have found them," for the romance of the discovery gratified me immensely.

"I don't quite think we have found all," said Pierce, who had been examining the box. "There must be a tray under here."

After a little search we found the tray, which slid outward. It was a flat receptacle for jewels, with, at one corner, a diamond-shaped box like those in the upper part.

"Garnets!" cried I, in an ecstasy when the tray had slid out. "They will look lovely on Esther, and will make up for her sapphires."

Fortunately Pierce was too interested to notice my slip. He took up the collar of garnets and looked at it.

"Exquisite setting," he said, turning it over and looking at the gold honey-combing at the back. "I wonder they put garnets in such a setting."

"Everything was worth doing well then," said I, lifting up the bracelets to match. The stones were laid on closely, almost like beads, except in the pendant, where a heart-shaped garnet was surrounded by diamonds, There was a whole set of the pretty things, including stars for the hair.

"Look at their soft fires," I cried, "how they will light up on Esther's creamy skin!"

"They are for Esther then?"

"Yes, I should like them to be for Esther. They are mine to give, Pierce, and ... yours."

"Oh, I waive all claim to them, little girl! What should I do with garnets? I think there's no doubt that the jewels belonged to the lady who left them there, and you, I should say, are her residuary legatee."

"I shall give Aline the thimble and bodkin," said I, "and all the rest I shall keep myself."

"What, the tablet and the vinaigrette, and the whip and gloves and the portrait! Aren't you rather greedy? And the bobbin--I had forgotten the bobbin."

But I saw he was laughing, and did not justify myself.

"Hullo, there is something we have forgotten!" said he, lifting the little corner-box. It was detached from the rest, and inside was lined softly with silk. It held a lock of brown hair, tied with a piece of green silk. That was all.

I lifted the hair reverentially, and put it beside the brown head of the miniature.

"Ah!" said I, "but she should not have tied it with green silk. Green is so unlucky."

I put back all the things in their hiding-place, except the jewels, and again slid the bolt.

"Now," I said, "no one is to know the secret, not even Aline. I like to think it is mine, and yours."

But even as I said it I felt that it would not be his for long.

"You will hoard your own treasures there," he said, "and in a century or two another Hilda will come upon your locks of hair, and your love-letters, and the portrait of Him, and wonder about the girl who treasured those things."

"What nonsense!" said I, blushing. "I shall never have such things. What she will discover will be piles of rejected manuscripts; and she will peep inside, and think how very dull they are."

Presently Aline came in, and I told her of my discovery.

"You must make me a present of that one panel in the room," said I, "but I will never tell you which one it is.

"Very well, Hilda," she said, laughing. "I'm sure you've earned that panel by your years of industrious search."

"And here is your tribute," said I, putting the bodkin and thimble into her hand.

Just then we heard that Lady O'Brien was downstairs; and, pushing the garnets into Aline's work-basket, for I didn't want them to be seen till they were Esther's own, I went downstairs to ask the old lady to come up. Since the fire had been lit in the octagon room, and Pierce had sat there, it had come to be a general assembling-place for the family.

After she had greeted us all, and perched herself in the big chair by Pierce, she said:

"You won't guess, my dears, what brings me over to-day. It is to ask a favour, Aline. There is the County Ball a week from now, and I want to take my god-daughter."

"But Esther has never been to a ball!"

"So much I heard her say the other day. That's what put it into my head. Never been to a ball! Why, I had worn out hundreds of slippers dancing at balls, aye, and on the hearts of my partners, before I was Esther's age."

"I wonder if she would like it?" said Aline doubtfully. You see it was such an unheard-of thing in our lives, and there was Pierce so ill; and then how was she to get a proper frock?

"Of course she will like it, not being a saint like you, nor a literary woman like Hilda," said the old lady with sparkling eyes.

Just then Esther appeared in the doorway.

"Come here, my dear," said the old lady, "and kiss me. Now tell us, would you like to put on your glass slippers, and step into my pumpkin, and be whirled off to the Ball?"

"Better finish it, Lady O'Brien," said I, while Esther stood turning red and white with excitement. "Cinderella has no frock."

"Tut!" said the old lady; "that must be left to the fairy godmother.... What do you say, my dear?" to Esther.

"I've never been to a ball," said Esther nervously.

"Well, you're asked to one now, and what do you say?"

Esther said nothing, but looked from Aline to Pierce, wistfully.

"That settles it, Lady O'Brien," said Pierce, speaking for the first time. "Essie would plainly like it, and she must go. Thank you very much."

"About the dress," said Aline. "I don't think we need trouble you, our kindest of friends. I have a few lengths of silk somewhere, and we have a dressmaker who can make it up...."

"I have a little Frenchwoman who'll do it in half the time, and with a thousandfold the wit. Put it up in a parcel with an old frock of Esther's, and throw it into my phaeton. There, my dear," impatiently, as Aline hesitated, "don't be too proud with the oldest friend you have in the world! There's a virtue in receiving as well as in giving."

So Aline yielded the point, and went off to find her silk. I wasn't quite satisfied about the silk myself, though it was a lovely bit of old gray silk gauze, powdered with violets. But gray is just the one colour that spoils Esther's looks; and then the garnets with those violets!

However, we can't have everything. I shall never forget Esther's face of joy when she came timidly to ask if I would lend her my sapphires, and I put the garnets into her hands, and told her they were her own.

The day of the ball Lady O'Brien sent over the phaeton for Esther with a note saying that if I would come over to dine and help her to dress, they would drop me at Brandon on the way back.

Now it was an ideal arrangement, for we were all anxious to see Esther dressed for the ball, and more especially the twins, for those little girls have a most amazing taste for finery, especially considering that they have hardly ever seen any.

When we arrived at Annagower, we found, instead of dinner, one of Lady O'Brien's delightful high teas, which was much more to our taste.

"I know girls always think dinner a dull meal," said our hostess. "It is only as they grow older that they discover how much consolation is to be found in it."

I noticed that the old lady looked a little excited, and I guessed that Esther was to be introduced to the pink room that evening, and I was right.

Towards the end of the meal, to which I did justice if Esther did not, Lady O'Brien left us, saying that she would have Martha's services first, and that when Esther rang, Martha would come and do her hair.

"But where am I to dress?" asked Esther.

"Hilda will show you the way to your room, my dear," said the old lady, going off rather hurriedly, as if to avoid any more questions.

Just as we had finished tea, the fat page-boy came in with a little covered dish, and set it before Esther.

"Her ladyship's love," he said, with a grin, "and she hopes Miss Esther will like the dish."

He whipped the lid off in a hurry, and there was a key with a little label to it.

"What is this?" asked Esther wonderingly.

"Better read the label," said I.

She read aloud, The key of Esther's room, with her god-mothers love; but looked as mystified as before.

"Never mind," I said, "come and see the room; I know the way,"--and off we went, to the disappointment of the page-boy, who would fain have seen the end of the affair.

I took a lighted candle from the hall-table and led the way upstairs. When we came to the door we found it locked, but Esther opened it with her key.

When the door swung back she gave a little cry of delight. There was a bright fire in the grate, and there were wax-candles, with rose-coloured shades, lit on the dressing-table. The room glowed rosily before us. I led the way to the dressing-table. On the glass was a piece of paper, on which was written in delicate, spidery, old hand-writing.

_This room and all it contains, a gift to Esther Brandon, from her old godmother._

Esther gazed at the piece of paper with her eyes full of tears, yet shining, and her lips parted.

"What! all this for me!" she said incredulously.

"Yes," said I, "and more,"--for I had been using my eyes.

On the back of a big chair by the fire was a cosy little dressing-gown of soft pink stuff; and before the chair a pair of pink silk-wadded slippers thrust themselves invitingly forward. We had hardly taken these in when our eyes wandered to the bed. I took a candle hastily from the dressing-table and held it high. There lay a most lovely frock, short-waisted and long-skirted, of palest yellow silk. Beside it a silk evening cloak, of the same colour. A little away stood a pair of silk shoes, flanked by silk stockings. Over the pillows lay an armful of under-linen, all laced and frilled in the daintiest way. Not one thing had been forgotten that Esther should wear that evening.

I left Esther staring, and went round the room peeping here and there. Nothing had been forgotten. On the toilet-table, or put away tidily in the drawers, were all the requirements of a girl's toilette,--hair-pins, pins, delicate soaps, perfumes, and all manner of things. Nothing seemed to have been forgotten.

"I feel like an enchanted princess," said Esther at last. "But, oh, Hilda, isn't it too much? Is it right to accept so much?"

"I wish Lady O'Brien were my godmother," said I.

Just then Martha knocked at the door to know if Miss Brandon would have her hair done, so we had to adjourn the discussion.

[Illustration: "GARNETS!" SAID THE OLD LADY, PEERING CLOSELY. "THEY ARE NO GARNETS."]

Martha was certainly a very clever maid. She piled Esther's hair in the most beautiful soft masses round her head, seeming to bring out the bronze shades that I think are so great a beauty in it. She did everything so quickly and expeditiously that in a very little while Esther was dressed, and looking so grand and stately a young lady as she stood in the middle of her little room that I could hardly recognize her.

"I was to tell my lady when you were ready, Miss," she said. "She wants to see you before you put on your cloak."

And then she went out, closing the door.

I clasped on Esther's neck the collar and pendant of garnets, and put the stars in her hair. They looked lovely with the pale yellow, and Esther, standing there with her head bent, I really thought must be one of the most beautiful creatures possible.

I had hardly done before Lady O'Brien came in, exclaiming at the lateness of the hour, in order, I guessed, to cover her embarrassment. But Esther ran to her and put her arms round the little old lady and kissed her without a word; and the two seemed to understand each other perfectly.

I noticed that Lady O'Brien had carried in a little packet with her, and presently, when she put back Esther, and stood a little way off to look at her, I saw that it was a jewel-case. Her eyes rested on the garnets.

"I brought you a little string of pearls, child," she said, "but you have far more beautiful jewels, and they go better with your frock."

"They are garnets," said Esther, "and Hilda's gift to me. I should like to wear them."

"Garnets!" said the old lady, peering closely. "They are no garnets. Take off the collar till I see it in the light."

I felt much abashed, for if the things were mere glass the pleasure of my gift to Esther would be gone. Lady O'Brien turned them this way and that way.

"H'mph! garnets indeed!" she cried contemptuously. "They are rubies, and exceedingly fine ones, if I know anything about it. There won't be a woman there to-night with finer jewels. I'm only afraid they're too fine for a girl."

Then Esther turned to me, and said that if the stones were indeed rubies that they must be mine and not hers; but I laughed at her, for to my mind and my love Esther is far above rubies, and I told her so.

But there was no time to continue the discussion, for just then the page-boy knocked at the door to say that the carriage was round; and Lady O'Brien took the cloak and wrapped Esther in it with great tenderness, as if she were her own child.

I noticed the pleasure and the gratitude shining in Esther's eyes, and said to myself that she would not refuse to become Lady O'Brien's adopted child.

What excitement there was at Brandon, where the twins sat demurely on chairs against the wall of the big bare drawing-room, and the boys stood on the rug pretending to feel bored, and Aline leant on the edge of Pierce's wheeled sofa, which had been brought in, all waiting for Esther's appearance! And peeping in at the door were Oona and her handmaidens.

I stood by the door, and whisked off Esther's cloak as she entered. I heard the twins' rapturous groan of delight, and the murmur of admiration from the others, and felt a share in Esther's triumph. Withal, she looked so sweet and modest, that we all felt she would never be spoilt by the world or its vain praises.

"But the frock!" said Aline, bewildered.

"Ah, my dear," said Lady O'Brien, who had a bright spot of excitement in each cheek, "that is a little liberty of mine; and nothing at all to what I shall be taking presently, nothing at all, my dear!"

"Come home early to-morrow, Essie," we cried, as the carriage drove off, "and tell us all about the ball."

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