Ragged Lady, Complete

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Mrs. Lander took the word, "Well, I wouldn't say it to everybody. But
you're our doctor, and I guess you won't mind it. We don't like the way
Mrs. Milray acted to Clementina, in the ship, and we don't want to be
beholden to any of her folks. I don't know as Clementina wants me to tell
you just what it was, and I won't; but that's the long and sho't of it."

"I'm sorry," the doctor said. "I've never met Mrs. Milray, but Miss
Milray has such a pleasant house, and likes to get young people about
her. There are a good many young people in your hotel, though, and I
suppose you all have a very good time here together." He ended by
speaking to Clementina, and now he said he had done his errand, and must
be going.

When he was gone, Mrs. Lander faltered, "I don't know but what we made a
mistake, Clementina."

"It's too late to worry about it now," said the girl.

"We ha'n't bound to stay in Florence," said Mrs. Lander, thoughtfully. "I
only took the rooms by the week, and we can go, any time, Clementina, if
you are uncomf'table bein' here on Miss Milray's account. We could go to
Rome; they say Rome's a nice place; or to Egypt."

"Mrs. Milray's in Egypt," Clementina suggested.

"That's true," Mrs. Lander admitted, with a sigh. After a while she went
on, "I don't know as we've got any right to keep the letter. It belongs
to her, don't it?"

"I guess it belongs to me, as much as it does to her," said Clementina.
"If it's to her, it's for me. I am not going to send it, Mrs. Landa."

They were still in this conclusion when early in the following afternoon
Miss Milray's cards were brought up for Mrs. Lander and Miss Claxon.

"Well, I decla'e!" cried Mrs. Lander. "That docta: must have gone
straight and told her what we said."

"He had no right to," said Clementina, but neither of them was
displeased, and after it was over, Mrs. Lander said that any one would
have thought the call was for her, instead of Clementina, from the way
Miss Milray kept talking to her. She formed a high opinion of her; and
Miss Milray put Clementina in mind of Mr. Milray; she had the same hair
of chiseled silver, and the same smile; she moved like him, and talked
like him; but with a greater liveliness. She asked fondly after him, and
made Clementina tell her if he seemed quite well, and in good spirits;
she was civilly interested in Mrs. Milray's health. At the embarrassment
which showed itself in the girl, she laughed and said, "Don't imagine I
don't know all about it, Miss Claxon! My sister-in-law has owned up very
handsomely; she isn't half bad, as the English say, and I think she likes
owning up if she can do it safely."

"And you don't think," asked Mrs. Lander, "that Clementina done wrong to
dance that way?"

Clementina blushed, and Miss Milray laughed again. "If you'll let Miss
Claxon come to a little party I'm giving she may do her dance at my
house; but she sha'n't be obliged to do it, or anything she doesn't like.
Don't say she hasn't a gown ready, or something of that kind! You don't
know the resources of Florence, and how the dress makers here doat upon
doing impossible things in no time at all, and being ready before they
promise. If you'll put Miss Claxon in my hands, I'll see that she's
dressed for my dance. I live out on one of the hills over there, that you
see from your windows"--she nodded toward them--"in a beautiful villa,
too cold for winter, and too hot for summer, but I think Miss Claxon can
endure its discomfort for a day, if you can spare her, and she will
consent to leave you to the tender mercies of your maid, and--" Miss Milray
paused at the kind of unresponsive blank to which she found herself
talking, and put up her lorgnette, to glance from Mrs. Lander to
Clementina. The girl said, with embarrassment, "I don't think I ought to
leave Mrs. Landa, just now. She isn't very well, and I shouldn't like to
leave her alone."

"But we're just as much obliged to you as if she could come," Mrs. Lander
interrupted; "and later on, maybe she can. You see, we han't got any
maid, yit. Well, we did have one at Woodlake, but she made us do so many
things for her, that we thought we should like to do a few things for
ouaselves, awhile."

If Miss Milray perhaps did not conceive the situation, exactly, she said,
Oh, they were quite right in that; but she might count upon Miss Claxon
for her dance, might not she; and might not she do anything in her power
for them? She rose to go, but Mrs. Lander took her at her word, so far as
to say, Why, yes, if she could tell Clementina the best place to get a
dress she guessed the child would be glad enough to come to the dance.

"Tell her!" Miss Milray cried. "I'll take her! Put on your hat, my dear,"
she said to Clementina, "and come with me now. My carriage is at your
door."

Clementina looked at Mrs. Lander, who said, "Go, of cou'se, child. I wish
I could go, too."

"Do come, too," Miss Milray entreated.

"No, no," said Mrs. Lander, flattered. "I a'n't feeling very well,
to-day. I guess I'm better off at home. But don't you hurry back on my
account, Clementina." While the girl was gone to put on her hat she
talked on about her. "She's the best gul in the wo'ld, and she won't be
one of the poorest; and I shall feel that I'm doin' just what Mr. Landa
would have wanted I should. He picked her out himself, moa than three
yea's ago, when we was drivin' past her house at Middlemount, and it was
to humor him afta he was gone, moa than anything else, that I took her.
Well, she wa'n't so very easy to git, either, I can tell you." She cut
short her history of the affair to say when Clementina came back, "I want
you should do the odderin' yourself, Miss Milray, and not let her scrimp
with the money. She wants to git some visitin' cahds; and if you miss
anything about her that she'd ought to have, or that any otha yong lady's
got, won't you just git it for her?"

As soon as she imagined the case, Miss Milray set herself to overcome
Mrs. Lander's reluctance from a maid. She prevailed with her to try the
Italian woman whom she sent her, and in a day the genial Maddalena had
effaced the whole tradition of the bleak Ellida. It was not essential to
the understanding which instantly established itself between them that
they should have any language in common. They babbled at each other, Mrs.
Lander in her Bostonized Yankee, and Maddalena in her gutteral
Florentine, and Mrs. Lander was flattered to find how well she knew
Italian.

Miss Milray had begun being nice to Clementina in fealty to her brother,
who so seldom made any proof of her devotion to him, and to whom she bad
remained passionately true through his shady past. She was eager to humor
his whim for the little country girl who had taken his fancy, because it
was his whim, and not because she had any hopes that Clementina would
justify it. She had made Dr. Welwright tell her all he knew about her,
and his report of her grace and beauty had piqued her curiosity; his
account of the forlorn dullness of her life with Mrs. Lander in their
hotel had touched her heart. But she was still skeptical when she went to
get her letter of introduction; when she brought Clementina home from the
dressmaker's she asked if she might kiss her, and said she was already in
love with her.

Her love might have made her wish to do everything for her that she now
began to do, but it simplified the situation to account for her to the
world as the ward of Mrs. Lander, who was as rich as she was vulgar, and
it was with Clementina in this character that Miss Milray began to make
the round of afternoon teas, and inspired invitations for her at pleasant
houses, by giving a young ladies' lunch for her at her own. Before the
night of her little dance, she had lost any misgiving she had felt at
first, in the delight of seeing Clementina take the world as if she had
thought it would always behave as amiably as that, and as if she had
forgotten her unkind experiences to the contrary. She knew from Mrs.
Lander how the girls at their hotel had left her out, but Miss Milray
could not see that Clementina met them with rancor, when her authority
brought them together. If the child was humiliated by her past in the
gross lonely luxury of Mrs. Lander's life or the unconscious poverty of
her own home, she did not show it in the presence of the world that now
opened its arms to her. She remained so tranquil in the midst of all the
novel differences, that it made her friend feel rather vulgar in her
anxieties for her, and it was not always enough to find that she had not
gone wrong simply because she had hold still, and had the gift of waiting
for things to happen. Sometimes when Miss Milray had almost decided that
her passivity was the calm of a savage, she betrayed so sweet and
grateful a sense of all that was done for her, that her benefactress
decided that, she was not rustic, but was sylvan in a way of her own, and
not so much ignorant as innocent. She discovered that she was not
ignorant even of books, but with no literary effect from them she had
transmitted her reading into the substance of her native gentleness, and
had both ideas and convictions. When Clementina most affected her as an
untried wilderness in the conventional things she most felt her equality
to any social fortune that might befall her, and then she would have
liked to see her married to a title, and taking the glory of this world
with an unconsciousness that experience would never wholly penetrate. But
then again she felt that this would be somehow a profanation, and she
wanted to pack her up and get her back to Middlemount before anything of
the kind should happen. She gave Milray these impressions of Clementina
in the letter she wrote to thank him for her, and to scold him for
sending the girl to her. She accused him of wishing to get off on her a
riddle which he could not read himself; but she owned that the charm of
Clementina's mystery was worth a thousand times the fatigue of trying to
guess her out and that she was more and more infatuated with her every
day.

In the meantime, Miss Milray's little dance grew upon her till it became
a very large one that filled her villa to overflowing when the time came
for it. She lived on one of the fine avenues of the Oltrarno region, laid
out in the brief period of prosperity which Florence enjoyed as the
capital of Italy. The villa was built at that time, and it was much newer
than the house on Seventeenth street in New York, where she spent the
girlhood that had since prolonged itself beyond middle life with her. She
had first lived abroad in the Paris of the Second Empire, and she had
been one winter in Rome, but she had settled definitely in Florence
before London became an American colony, so that her friends were chiefly
Americans, though she had a wide international acquaintance. Perhaps her
habit of taking her brother's part, when he was a black sheep, inclined
her to mercy with people who had not been so blameless in their morals as
they were in their minds and manners. She exacted that they should be
interesting and agreeable, and not too threadbare; but if they had
something that decently buttoned over the frayed places, she did not
frown upon their poverty. Bohemians of all kinds liked her; Philistines
liked her too; and in such a place as Florence, where the Philistines
themselves are a little Bohemian, she might be said to be very popular.
You met persons whom you did not quite wish to meet at her house, but if
these did not meet you there, it was your loss.

XI.

On the night of the dance the line of private carriages, remises and
cabs, lined the Viale Ariosto for a mile up and down before her gates,
where young artists of both sexes arrived on foot. By this time her
passion for Clementina was at its height. She had Maddalena bring her out
early in the evening, and made her dress under her own eye and her French
maid's, while Maddalena went back to comfort Mrs. Lander.

"I hated to leave her," said Clementina. "I don't believe she's very
well."

"Isn't she always ill?" demanded Miss Milray. She embraced the girl
again, as if once were not enough. "Clementina, if Mrs. Lander won't give
you to me, I'm going to steal you. Do you know what I want you to do
tonight? I want you to stand up with me, and receive, till the dancing
begins, as if it were your coming-out. I mean to introduce everybody to
you. You'll be easily the prettiest girl, there, and you'll have the
nicest gown, and I don't mean that any of your charms shall be thrown
away. You won't be frightened?"

"No, I don't believe I shall," said Clementina. "You can tell me what to
do."

The dress she wore was of pale green, like the light seen in thin woods;
out of it shone her white shoulders, and her young face, as if rising
through the verdurous light. The artists, to a man and woman, wished to
paint her, and severally told her so, during the evening which lasted
till morning. She was not surprised when Lord Lioncourt appeared, toward
midnight, and astonished Miss Milray by claiming acquaintance with
Clementina. He asked about Mrs. Lander, and whether she had got to
Florence without losing the way; he laughed but he seemed really to care.
He took Clementina out to supper, when the time came; and she would have
topped him by half a head as she leaned on his arm, if she had not
considerately drooped and trailed a little after him.

She could not know what a triumph he was making for her; and it was
merely part of the magic of the time that Mr. Ewins should come in
presently with one of the ladies. He had arrived in Florence that day,
and had to be brought unasked. He put on the effect of an old friend with
her; but Clementina's curiosity was chiefly taken with a tall American,
whom she thought very handsome. His light yellow hair was brushed smooth
across his forehead like a well-behaving boy's; he was dressed like the
other men, but he seemed not quite happy in his evening coat, and his
gloves which he smote together uneasily from time to time. He appeared to
think that somehow the radiant Clementina would know how he felt; he did
not dance, and he professed to have found himself at the party by a
species of accident. He told her that he was out in Europe looking after
a patent right that he had just taken hold of, and was having only a
middling good time. He pretended surprise to hear her say that she was
having a first-rate time, and he tried to reason her out of it. He
confessed that from the moment he came into the room he had made up his
mind to take her to supper, and had never been so disgusted in his life
as when he saw that little lord toddling off with her, and trying to look
as large as life. He asked her what a lord was like, anyway, and he made
her laugh all the time.

He told her his name, G. W. Hinkle, and asked whether she would be likely
to remember it if they ever met again.

Another man who interested her very much was a young Russian, with
curling hair and neat, small features who spoke better English than she
did, and said he was going to be a writer, but had not yet decided
whether to write in Russian or French; she supposed he had wanted her
advice, but he did not wait for it, or seem to expect it. He was very
much in earnest, while he fanned her, and his earnestness amused her as
much as the American's irony. He asked which city of America she came
from, and when she said none, he asked which part of America. She
answered New England, and he said, "Oh, yes, that is where they have the
conscience." She did not know what he meant, and he put before her the
ideal of New England girlhood which he had evolved from reading American
novels. "Are you like that?" he demanded.

She laughed, and said, "Not a bit," and asked him if he had ever met such
an American girl, and he said, frankly, No; the American girls were all
mercenary, and cared for nothing but money, or marrying titles. He added
that he had a title, but he would not wear it.

Clementina said she did not believe she cared for titles, and then he
said, "But you care for money." She denied it, but as if she had
confessed it, he went on: "The only American that I have seen with that
conscience was a man. I will tell you of him, if you wish."

He did not wait for her answer. "It was in Naples--at Pompeii. I saw at
the first glance that he was different from other Americans, and I
resolved to know him. He was there in company with a stupid boy, whose
tutor he was; and he told me that he was studying to be a minister of the
Protestant church. Next year he will go home to be consecrated. He
promised to pass through Florence in the spring, and he will keep his
word. Every act, every word, every thought of his is regulated by
conscience. It is terrible, but it is beautiful." All the time, the
Russian was fanning Clementina, with every outward appearance of
flirtation. "Will you dance again? No? I should like to draw such a
character as his in a romance."

XXII.

It was six o'clock in the morning before Miss Milray sent Clementina home
in her carriage. She would have kept her to breakfast, but Clementina
said she ought to go on Mrs. Lander's account, and she wished to go on
her own.

She thought she would steal to bed without waking her, but she was
stopped by the sound of groans when she entered their apartment; the
light gushed from Mrs. Lander's door. Maddalena came out, and blessed the
name of her Latin deity (so much more familiar and approachable than the
Anglo-Saxon divinity) that Clementina had come at last, and poured upon
her the story of a night of suffering for Mrs. Lander. Through her story
came the sound of Mrs. Lander's voice plaintively reproachful, summoning
Clementina to her bedside. "Oh, how could you go away and leave me? I've
been in such misery the whole night long, and the docta didn't do a thing
for me. I'm puffectly wohn out, and I couldn't make my wants known with
that Italian crazy-head. If it hadn't been for the portyary comin' in and
interpretin', when the docta left, I don't know what I should have done.
I want you should give him a twenty-leary note just as quick as you see
him; and oh, isn't the docta comin'?"

Clementina set about helping Maddalena put the room, which was in an
impassioned disorder, to rights; and she made Mrs. Lander a cup of her
own tea, which she had brought from S. S. Pierces in passing through
Boston; it was the first thing, the sufferer said, that had saved her
life. Clementina comforted her, and promised her that the doctor should
be there very soon; and before Mrs. Lander fell away to sleep, she was so
far out of danger as to be able to ask how Clementina had enjoyed
herself, and to be glad that she had such a good time.

The doctor would not wake her when he came; he said that she had been
through a pretty sharp gastric attack, which would not recur, if she ate
less of the most unwholesome things she could get, and went more into the
air, and walked a little. He did not seem alarmed, and he made Clementina
tell him about the dance, which he had been called from to Mrs. Lander's
bed of pain. He joked her for not having missed him; in the midst of
their fun, she caught herself in the act of yawning, and the doctor
laughed, and went away.

Maddalena had to call her, just before dinner, when Mrs. Lander had been
awake long enough to have sent for the doctor to explain the sort of gone
feeling which she was now the victim of. It proved, when he came, to be
hunger, and he prescribed tea and toast and a small bit of steak. Before
he came she had wished to arrange for going home at once, and dying in
her own country. But his opinion so far prevailed with her that she
consented not to telegraph for berths. "I presume," she said, "it'll do,
any time before the icebugs begin to run. But I d' know, afta this,
Clementina, as I can let you leave me quite as you be'n doin'. There was
a lot of flowas come for you, this aftanoon, but I made Maddalena put 'em
on the balcony, for I don't want you should get poisoned with 'em in your
sleep; I always head they was dangerous in a person's 'bed room. I d'
know as they are, eitha."

Maddalena seemed to know that Mrs. Lander was speaking of the flowers.
She got them and gave them to Clementina, who found they were from some
of the men she had danced with. Mr. Hinkle had sent a vast bunch of
violets, which presently began to give out their sweetness in the warmth
of the room, and the odor brought him before her with his yellow hair,
scrupulously parted at the side, and smoothly brushed, showing his
forehead very high up. Most of the gentlemen wore their hair parted in
the middle, or falling in a fringe over their brows; the Russian's was
too curly to part, and Lord Lioncourt had none except at the sides.

She laughed, and Mrs. Lander said, "Tell about it, Clementina," and she
began with Mr. Hinkle, and kept coming back to him from the others. Mrs.
Lander wished most to know how that lord had got down to Florence; and
Clementina said he was coming to see her.

"Well, I hope to goodness he won't come to-day, I a'n't fit to see
anybody."

"Oh, I guess he won't come till to-morrow," said Clementina; she repeated
some of the compliments she had got, and she told of all Miss Milray's
kindness to her, but Mrs. Lander said, "Well, the next time, I'll thank
her not to keep you so late." She was astonished to hear that Mr. Ewins
was there, and "Any of the nasty things out of the hotel the'e?" she
asked.

"Yes," Clementina said, "the'e we'e, and some of them we'e very nice.
They wanted to know if I wouldn't join them, and have an aftanoon of our
own here in the hotel, so that people could come to us all at once."

She went back to the party, and described the rest of it. When she came
to the part about the Russian, she told what he had said of American
girls being fond of money, and wanting to marry foreign noblemen.

Mrs. Lander said, "Well, I hope you a'n't a going to get married in a
hurry, anyway, and when you do I hope you'll pick out a nice American."

"Oh, yes," said Clementina.

Mrs. Lander had their dinner brought to their apartment. She cheered up,
and she was in some danger of eating too much, but with Clementina's help
she denied herself. Their short evening was one of the gayest; Clementina
declared she was not the least sleepy, but she went to bed at nine, and
slept till nine the next day.

Mrs. Lander, the doctor confessed, the second morning, was more shaken up
by, her little attack than he had expected; but she decided to see the
gentleman who had asked to call on Clementina. Lord Lioncourt did not
come quite so soon as she was afraid he might, and when he came he talked
mostly to Clementina. He did not get to Mrs. Lander until just before he
was going. She hospitably asked him what his hurry was, and then he said
that he was off for Rome, that evening at seven. He was nice about hoping
she was comfortable in the hotel, and he sympathized with her in her wish
that there was a set-bowl in her room; she told him that she always tried
to have one, and he agreed that it must be very convenient where any one
was, as she said, sick so much.

Mr. Hinkle came a day later; and then it appeared that he had a mother
whose complaints almost exactly matched Mrs. Lander's. He had her
photograph with him, and showed it; he said if you had no wife to carry
round a photograph of, you had better carry your mother's; and Mrs.
Lander praised him for being a good son. A good son, she added, always
made a good husband; and he said that was just what he told the young
ladies himself, but it did not seem to make much impression on them. He
kept Clementina laughing; and he pretended that he was going to bring a
diagram of his patent right for her to see, because she would be
interested in a gleaner like that; and he said he wished her father could
see it, for it would be sure to interest the kind of man Mrs. Lander
described him to be. "I'll be along up there just about the time you get
home, Miss Clementina. Then did you say it would be?"

"I don't know; pretty ea'ly in the spring, I guess."

She looked at Mrs. Lander, who said, "Well, it depends upon how I git up
my health. I couldn't bea' the voyage now."

Mr. Hinkle said, "No, best look out for your health, if it takes all
summer. I shouldn't want you to hurry on my account. Your time is my
time. All I want is for Miss Clementina, here, to personally conduct me
to her father. If I could get him to take hold of my gleaner in New
England, we could make the blueberry crop worth twice what it is."

Mrs. Lander perceived that he was joking; and she asked what he wanted to
run away for when the young Russian's card came up. He said, "Oh, give
every man a chance," and he promised that he would look in every few
days, and see how she was getting along. He opened the door after he had
gone out, and put his head in to say in confidence to Mrs. Lander, but so
loud that Clementina could hear, "I suppose she's told you who the belle
of the ball was, the other night? Went out to supper with a lord!" He
seemed to think a lord was such a good joke that if you mentioned one you
had to laugh.

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