Silverbeach Manor by Margaret S. Haycraft Read Free Book Online Page A

beautiful and gifted young lady was, as usual,
attired in the perfection of taste, and elicited the most
enthusiastic applause by her rendering alike of classical studies
and lighter pieces on the exquisite instrument which has been presented to her
by Mrs. Adair. We understand that this lady objects to Miss Adair's
photographs being publicly sold; otherwise the fair face and form
of one so universally admired would before this have been seen amid
the portraits of society leaders and types of beauty.
    Pansy used to
read such words long ago, about ladies moving in a world that
seemed further from her then than Paradise itself. How she envied
the fashionable beauties of whom such descriptions were penned. But
now the homage is so customary that it only wearies her, and she
begins to understand that society, once the acme of her ambition,
is apt to prove, to those who have too much of it, a little
monotonous and tiresome.
    Surely the
zenith of Pansy's musical glory is reached when a special request
reaches Silverbeach that she will play before Royalty, and Mrs.
Adair in her excitement sends to Paris for a dress for her adopted
child, who is robed for the occasion in white and silver brocade,
draped with rare old lace, the flowers at her shoulder being the
choicest orchids.
    Looking at
herself in the tall mirror before her departure, Pansy gives no
thought to the elderly figure of her aunt, baking, washing, sewing
hour by hour in a dingy village shop, tireless, often sleepless,
that a little orphan girl might be comfortably fed and clad. She
shines resplendent before Royalty, and excels herself as to her
playing, till the aristocratic hearers are enraptured, and a
certain gracious Princess speaks to her kindly and admiringly, and
gives her a photograph of herself with her autograph in a charming
frame.
    But the
excitement has proved too much for Pansy. To be famous at the cost
of one's health is glory dearly bought, and whether her musical
triumphs or her heart-trouble assist in the breaking down, she
falls ill, and many weeks elapse before the Silverbeach doctor, a
specialist as to nerves, will permit her to leave her bed for the
couch in Mrs. Adair's snuggery.
    It is while
lying on her couch that vague, tender yearnings begin to stir
within her for the love that wrapped her childhood. The face that
comforted her early sorrows, smiled brighter sunlight into her
joys. She cannot forget the little gabled roof of the village shop,
the humble, old-fashioned garden, the homely, cosy kitchen. The
scene comes back before her, and instead of the cushioned lounge,
the artistic curtains about the mantel-board, the musical clock and
bronze Tunisian figures in the room where she is resting, she sees
once more Aunt Temperance putting on her glasses to sort the
letters, Deb weighing sweets and cheese with attentive face and
careful hand, and her pretty canary, once her pride and care. A
great longing seizes her to receive a letter from her aunt again,
to send them a little help, to let Aunt Temperance know and
understand she is not unforgetful, ungrateful.
    "She may be
ill -- in need," says Pansy, brokenly, venturing in her privileged
convalescence to breach the long-avoided subject to Mrs. Adair.
"Aunt Temperance denied herself so much to provide for me. I have
money. May I not send her a little?"
    "You may send
her a five pound note anonymously," says Mrs. Adair, yielding this
point because of the low state of Pansy's nerves; "but the
correspondence between you has ceased once and for all. Miss Piper
is no longer your aunt. You seem to forget that your name is Adair
and your home is Silverbeach Manor. You have made your choice, and
it is wrong to look back discontentedly. You have nothing more to
do with your past as long as you live. You must understand this,
Pansy, if you mean to continue my charge, my comfort, my child. I
will accept no divided affection."
    So the five
pound note goes anonymously to Miss Temperance Piper, Polesheaton
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