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ROSAMOND

OR

THE YOUTHFUL ERROR

A Tale of Riverside

AND OTHER STORIES

BY

MRS. MARY J. HOLMES
Author of "Tempest And Sunshine," "Lena Rivers,"
"Meadowbrook," Etc., Etc.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER I.

The Owner of Riverside

CHAPTER II.

Rosamond Leyton

CHAPTER III.

Ben's Visit

CHAPTER IV.

Rosamond's Education

CHAPTER V.

Brother and Sister

CHAPTER VI.

Marie Porter

CHAPTER VII.

Making Love

CHAPTER VIII.

News

CHAPTER IX.

The Guest at Riverside

CHAPTER X.

The Story

CHAPTER XI.

The End

-----

DIAMONDS

BAD SPELLING

MAGGIE LEE

THE ANSWERED PRAYER




ROSAMOND;

OR

THE YOUTHFUL ERROR.
A TALE OF RIVERSIDE.

CHAPTER I.

THE OWNER OF RIVERSIDE.


All the day long the September rain had fallen, and when the night
closed in it showed no sign of weariness, but with the same monotonous
patter dropped upon the roof, or beat against the windows of the
pleasantly lighted room where a young man sat gazing at the glowing
grate, and listening apparently to the noise of the storm without. But
neither the winds, nor yet the rain, had a part of that young man's
thoughts, for they were with the past, and the chain which linked them
to that past was the open letter which lay on the table beside him.
For that letter he had waited long and anxiously, wondering what it
would contain, and if his overtures for reconciliation with one who
had erred far more than himself, would be accepted. It had come at
last, and with a gathering coldness at his heart he had read the
decision,--"she would not be reconciled," and she bade him "go his way
alone and leave her to herself."

"It is well," he said; "I shall never trouble her again,"--and with a
feeling of relief, as if a heavy load, a dread of coming evil, had
been taken from his mind, he threw the letter upon the table, and
leaning back in his cushioned chair, tried to fancy that the last few
years of his life were blotted out.

"Could it be so, Ralph Browning would be a different man." he said
aloud; then, as he glanced round the richly furnished room, he
continued--"People call me happy, and so perhaps I might be, but for
this haunting memory. Why was it suffered to be, and must I make a
life-long atonement for that early sin?"

In his excitement he arose, and crushing the letter for a moment in
his hand, hurled it into the fire; then, going to his private drawer,
he took out and opened a neatly folded package, containing a long
tress of jet black hair. Shudderingly he wound it around his fingers,
laid it over the back of his hand, held it up to the light, and then
with a hard, dark look upon his face, threw it, too upon the grate,
saying aloud, "Thus perisheth every memento of the past, and I am free
again--free as air!"

He walked to the window, and pressing his burning forehead against the
cool, damp pane, looked out upon the night. He could not see through
the darkness, but had it been day, his eye would have rested on broad
acres all his own; for Ralph Browning was a wealthy man, and the house
in which he lived was his by right of inheritance from a bachelor
uncle for whom he had been named, and who, two years before our story
opens, had died, leaving to his nephew the grand old place, called
_Riverside_, from its nearness to the river. It was a most beautiful
spot; and when its new master first took possession of it, the maids
and matrons of Granby, who had mourned for the elder Browning as
people mourn for a good man, felt themselves somewhat consoled from
the fact that his successor was young and handsome, and would
doubtless prove an invaluable acquisition to their fireside circles,
and furnish a theme for gossip, without which no village can well
exist. But in the first of their expectations they were mistaken, for
Mr. Browning shunned rather than sought society, and spent the most of
his leisure hours in the seclusion of his library, where, as Mrs.
Peters, his housekeeper, said, he did nothing but mope over books and
walk the floor. "He was melancholy," she said; "there was something
workin' on his mind, and what it was she didn't know more'n the dead--
though she knew as well as she wanted to, that he had been crossed in
love, for what else would make so many of his hairs gray, and he not
yet twenty-five!"

That there was a mystery connected with him, was conceded by most of
the villagers, and many a curious gaze they bent upon the grave,
dignified young man, who seldom joined in their pastime or intruded
himself upon their company. Much sympathy was expressed for him in his
loneliness, by the people of Granby, and more than one young girl
would gladly have imposed upon herself the task of cheering that
loneliness; but he seemed perfectly invulnerable to maiden charms; and
when Mrs. Peters, as she often did, urged him "to take a wife and be
somebody," he answered quietly, "I am content to follow the example of
my uncle. I shall probably never marry."

Still he was lonely in his great house--so lonely that, though it hurt
his pride to do it, he wrote the letter, the answer to which excited
him so terribly, and awoke within his mind a train of thought so
absorbing and intense, that he did not hear the summons to supper
until Mrs. Peters put her head into the room, asking "if he were deaf
or what."

Mrs. Peters had been in the elder Browning's household for years, and
when the new owner came, she still continued at her post, and
exercised over her young master a kind of motherly care, which he
permitted because he knew her real worth, and that without her his
home would be uncomfortable indeed. On the occasion of which we write,
Mrs. Peters was unusually attentive, and to a person at all skilled in
female tactics, it was evident that she was about to ask a favor, and
had made preparations accordingly. His favorite waffles had been
buttered exactly right--the peaches and cream were delicious--the
fragrant black tea was neither too strong nor too weak--the fire
blazed brightly in the grate--the light from the chandelier fell
softly upon the massive silver service and damask cloth;--and with all
these creature comforts around him, it is not strange that he forgot
the letter and the tress of hair which so lately had blackened on the
coals. The moment was propitious, and by the time he had finished his
second cup, Mrs. Peters said, "I have something to propose."

Leaning back in his chair, he looked inquiringly at her, and she
continued: "You remember Mrs. Leyton, the poor woman who had seen
better days, and lived in East Granby?"

"Yes."

"You know she has been sick, and you gave me leave to carry her any
thing I chose?"

"Yes."

"Well, she's dead, poor thing, and what is worse, she hain't no
connection, nor never had, and her little daughter Rosamond hain't a
place to lay her head."

"Let her come and sleep with you, then," said Mr. Browning, rattling
his spoon upon the edge of his cup.

"Yes, and what'll she do days?" continued Mrs. Peters. "She can't run
the streets, that's so; now, I don't believe no great in children, and
you certainly don't b'lieve in 'em at all, nor your poor uncle before
you; but Rosamond ain't a child; she's _thirteen_--most a woman--and
if you don't mind the expense, I shan't mind the trouble, and she can
live here till she finds a place. Her mother, you know, took up
millinering to get a living."

"Certainly, let her come," answered Mr. Browning, who was noted for
his benevolence.

This matter being thus satisfactorily settled, Mrs. Peters arose from
the table, while Mr. Browning went back to the olden memories which
had haunted him so much that day, and with which there was not mingled
a single thought of the little Rosamond, who was to exert so strong an
influence upon his future life.




CHAPTER II.

ROSAMOND LEYTON.


Rosamond had been some weeks at Riverside, and during all that time
Mr. Browning had scarcely noticed her at all. On the first day of her
arrival he had spoken kindly to her, asking her how old she was, and
how long her mother had been dead, and this was all the attention he
had paid to her. He did not even yet know the color of her eyes, or
texture of her hair,--whether it were curly or straight, black or
brown; but he knew in various ways that she was there--knew it by the
sound of dancing feet upon the stairs, which were wont to echo only to
Mrs. Peters' heavy tread--knew it by the tasteful air his room
suddenly assumed--by the ringing laugh and musical songs which came
often from the kitchen, and by the thousand changes which the presence
of a merry-hearted girl of thirteen brings to a hitherto silent house.
Of him Rosamond stood considerably in awe, and though she could
willingly have worshipped him for giving her so pleasant a home, she
felt afraid of him and kept out of his way, watching him with childish
curiosity at a distance, admiring his noble figure, and wondering if
she would ever dare speak to him as fearlessly as Mrs. Peters did.

From this woman Rosamond received all a mother's care, and though the
name of her lost parent was often on her lips, she was beginning to be
very happy in her new home, when one day toward the middle of October
Mrs. Peters told her that Mr. Browning's only sister, a Mrs. Van
Vechten, who lived South, was coming to Riverside, together with her
son Ben. The lady Mrs. Peters had never seen, but Ben, who was at
school in Albany, had spent a vacation there, and she described him as
a "great, good-natured fool," who cared for nothing but dogs, cigars,
fast horses and pretty girls.

Rosamond pushed back the stray curls which had fallen over her face,
glanced at the cracked mirror which gave her _two_ noses instead of
one, and thinking to herself, "I wonder if he'll care for me,"
listened attentively while Mrs. Peters continued,--"This Miss Van
Vechten is a mighty fine lady, they say, and has heaps of niggers to
wait on her at home,--but she can't bring 'em here, for _I_ should set
'em free--that's, so. I don't b'lieve in't. What was I sayin'? Oh, I
know, she can't wait on herself, and wrote to have her brother get
some one. He asked me if you'd be willin' to put on her clothes, wash
her face, and _chaw her victuals_ like enough."

"Mr. Browning never said that," interrupted Rosamond, and Mrs. Peters
replied--"Well, not that exactly, but he wants you to wait on her
generally."

"I'll do anything reasonable," answered Rosamond. "When will she be
here?" "I'll do anything reasonable," answered Rosamond, "I must
hurry, or I shan't have them north chambers ready for her. Ben ain't
coming quite so soon."

The two or three days passed rapidly, and at the close of the third a
carriage laden with trunks stopped before the gate at Riverside, and
Mrs. Van Vechten had come. She was a thin, sallow-faced, proud-looking
woman, wholly unlike her brother, whose senior she was by many years.
She had seen much of the world, and that she was conscious of her own
fancied superiority was perceptible in every movement. She was Mrs.
Richard Van Vechten, of Alabama--one of the oldest families in the
state. Her deceased husband had been United States Senator--she had
been to Europe--had seen the Queen on horseback--had passed the
residence of the Duchess of Sutherland, and when Rosamond Leyton
appeared before her in her neatly-fitting dress of black and asked
what she could do for her, she elevated her eyebrows, and coolly
surveying the little girl, answered haughtily, "Comb out my hair."

"Yes, I will," thought Rosamond, who had taken a dislike to the grand
lady, and suiting the action to the thought, she did comb out her
hair, pulling it so unmercifully that Mrs. Van Vechten angrily bade
her stop.

"Look at me, girl," said she; "did you ever assist at any one's toilet
before?"

"I've hooked Mrs. Peters' dress and pinned on Bridget's collar,"
answered Rosamond, her great brown eyes brimming with mischief.

"Disgusting!" returned Mrs. Van Vechten--"I should suppose Ralph would
know better than to get me such an ignoramus. Were you hired on
purpose to wait on me?"

"Why, no, ma'am--I live here," answered Rosamond.

"Live here!" repeated Mrs. Van Vechten, "and pray, what do you do?"

"Nothing much, unless I choose," said Rosamond, who, being a great pet
with Mrs. Peters and the other servants, really led a very easy life
at Riverside.

Looking curiously into the frank, open face of the young girl, Mrs.
Van Vechten concluded she was never intended to take a negro's place,
and with a wave of her hand she said, "You may go; I can dress myself
alone."

That evening, as the brother and sister sat together in the parlor,
the latter suddenly asked, "Who is that Rosamond Leyton, and what is
she doing here?"

Mr. Browning told her all he knew of the girl, and she continued, "Do
you intend to educate her?"

"Educate her!" said he--"what made you think of that?"

"Because," she answered, with a sarcastic smile, "as you expect to do
penance the rest of your lifetime, I did not know but you would deem
it your duty to educate every beggar who came along."

The idea of educating Rosamond Leyton was new to Mr. Browning, but he
did not tell his sister so--he merely said, "And suppose I do educate
her?"

"In that case," answered the lady, "Ben will not pass his college
vacations here, as I had intended that he should do."

"And why not?" asked Mr. Browning.

"Why not?" repeated Mrs. Van Vechten. "Just as though you did not know
how susceptible he is to female beauty, and if you treat this Rosamond
as an equal, it will be like him to fall in love with her at once. She
is very pretty, you know."

Mr. Browning did not know any such thing. In fact, he scarcely knew
how the young girl looked, but his sister's remark had awakened in him
an interest, and after she had retired, which she did early, he rang
the bell for Mrs. Peters, who soon appeared in answer to his call.

"Is Rosamond Leyton up," he asked.

"Yes, sir," answered Mrs. Peters, wondering at the question.

"Send her to me," he said, and with redoubled amazement Mrs. Peters
carried the message to Rosamond, who was sitting before the fire,
trying in vain to undo an obstinate knot in her boot-string.

"Mr. Browning sent for me!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing up.
"Wants to scold me, I suppose, for pulling his sister's hair. I only
did what she told me to," and with a beating heart she started for the
parlor.

Rosamond was afraid of Mr. Browning, and feeling sure that he intended
to reprove her, she took the chair nearest to the door, and covering
her face with her hands, began to cry, saying--"It was ugly in me, I
know', to pull Mrs. Van Vechten's hair, and I did it on purpose, too;
but I won't do so again, I certainly won't."

Mr. Browning was confounded. This was the first intimation he had
received of the _barbaric_ performance, and for a moment he remained
silent, gazing at the little girl. Her figure was very slight, her
feet and hands were very small, and her hair, though disordered now
and rough, was of a beautiful brown, and fell in heavy curls around
her neck. He saw all this at a glance, but her face, the point to
which his attention was chiefly directed, he could not see until those
little hands were removed, and as a means of accomplishing this he at
last said, kindly--"I do not understand you, Rosamond. My sister has
entered no complaint, and I did not send for you to censure you. I
wish to talk with you--to get acquainted. Will you come and sit by me
upon the sofa?"

Rosamond's hands came down from her face, but she did not leave her
seat; neither did Mr. Browning now wish to have her, for the light of
the chandelier fell full upon her, giving him a much better view of
her features than if she had been nearer to him. If, as Mrs. Peters
had said, Ben Van Vechten was fond of pretty girls, he in a measure
inherited the feeling from his uncle, who was an ardent admirer of the
beautiful, and who now felt a glow of satisfaction in knowing that
Rosamond Leyton was pretty. It was a merry, sparkling, little face
which he looked upon, and though the nose did turn up a trifle, and
the mouth was rather wide, the soft, brown eyes, and exquisitely fair
complexion made ample amends for all. She was never intended for a
menial--she would make a beautiful woman--and with thoughts similar to
these, Mr. Browning, after completing his survey of her person, said--
"Have you been to school much?"

"Always, until I came here," was her answer; and he continued--"And
since then you have not looked in a book, I suppose?"

The brown eyes opened wide as Rosamond replied,--"Why, yes I have.
I've read over so much in your library when you were gone. Mrs. Peters
told me I might," she added, hastily, as she saw his look of surprise,
and mistook it for displeasure.

"I am perfectly willing," he said; "but what have you read? Tell me."

Rosamond was interested at once, and while her cheeks glowed and her
eyes sparkled, she replied--"Oh, I've read Shakespeare's Historical
Plays, every one of them--and Childe Harold, and Watts on the Mind,
and Kenilworth, and now I'm right in the middle of the Lady of the
Lake. Wasn't Fitz-James the King? _I_ believe he was. When I am older
I mean to write a book just like that."

Mr. Browning could not forbear a smile at her enthusiasm, but without
answering her question, he said,--"What do you intend to do until you
are old enough?"

Rosamond's countenance fell, and after tapping her foot upon the
carpet awhile, she said, "Mrs. Peters will get me a place by-and-by,
and I s'pose I'll have to be a milliner."

"Do you wish to be one?"

"Why, no; nor mother didn't either, but after father died she had to
do something. Father was a kind of a lawyer, and left her poor."

"Do you wish to go away from here, Rosamond?"

There were tears on the long-fringed eye-lashes as the young girl
replied, "No, sir; I'd like to live here always, but there's nothing
for me to do."

"Unless you go to school. How would you like that?"

"I have no one to pay the bills," and the curly head shook mournfully.

"But I have money, Rosamond, and suppose I say that you shall stay
here and go to school?"

"Oh, sir, _will_ you say so? _May_ I live with you always?" and
forgetting her fear of him in her great joy, Rosamond Leyton crossed
over to where he sat, and laying both her hands upon his shoulder,
continued--"Are you in earnest, Mr. Browning? May I stay? Oh, I'll be
so good to you when you are old and sick!"

It seemed to her that he was old enough to be her father, then, and it
almost seemed so to him. Giving her a very paternal look, he answered,
"Yes, child, you shall stay as long as you like and now go, or Mrs.
Peters will be wondering what keeps you."

Rosamond started to leave the room, but ere she reached the door she
paused, and turning to Mr. Browning, said, "You have made me _so_
happy, and I like you so much, I wish you'd let me kiss your hand--may
I?"

It was a strange question, and it sent the blood tingling to the very
tips of Mr. Browning's fingers.

"Why, ye-es,--I don't know. What made you think of that?" he said, and
Rosamond replied,--"I always kissed father when he made me very happy.
It was all I could do."

"But I am not your father," stammered Mr. Browning; "I shall not be
twenty-five until November. Still you can do as you please."

"Not twenty-five yet," repeated Rosamond;--"why, I thought you were
nearer _forty_. I don't believe I'd better, though I like you just as
well. Good night."

He heard her go through the hall, up the stairs, through the upper
hall, and then all was still again.

"What a strange little creature she is," he thought; "so childlike and
frank, but how queer that she should ask to _kiss me!_ Wouldn't Susan
be shocked if she knew it, and won't she be horrified when I tell her
I _am_ going to educate the girl. I shouldn't have thought of it but
for her. And suppose Ben does fall in love with her. If he knew a
little more, it would not be a bad match. Somebody must keep up our
family, or it will become extinct. Susan and I are the only ones left,
and _I_"--here he paused, and starting to his feet, he paced the floor
hurriedly, nervously, as if seeking to escape from some pursuing evil.
"It is terrible," he whispered, "but I _can_ bear it and will," and
going to his room he sought his pillow to dream strange dreams of
tresses black, and ringlets brown,--of fierce, dark eyes, and shining
orbs, whose owner had asked to kiss his hand, and mistaken him for her
sire.




CHAPTER III.

BEN'S VISIT.


The next morning, as Mrs. Van Vechten was slowly making her toilet
alone, there came a gentle rap at her door, and Rosamond Leyton
appeared, her face fresh and blooming as a rose-bud, her curls brushed
back from her forehead, and her voice very respectful, as she said--"I
have come to ask your pardon for my roughness yesterday. I can do
better, and if you will let me wait on you while you stay, I am sure I
shall please you."

Mrs. Van Vechten could not resist that appeal, and she graciously
accepted the girl's offer, asking her the while what had made the
change in her behavior. Always frank and truthful, Rosamond explained
to the lady that Mr. Browning's kindness had filled her with gratitude
and determined her to do as she had done. To her Mrs. Van Vechten said
nothing, but when she met her brother at the breakfast table, there
was an ominous frown upon her face, and the moment they were alone,
she gave him her opinion without reserve. But Mr. Browning was firm.
"He should have something to live for," he said, "and Heaven only knew
the lonely hours he passed with no object in which to be interested.
Her family, though unfortunate, are highly respectable," he added,
"and if I can make her a useful ornament in society, it is my duty to
do so."

Mrs. Van Vechten knew how useless it would be to remonstrate with him,
and she gave up the contest, mentally resolving that "Ben should not
pass his college vacations there."

When the villagers learned that Mr. Browning intended to educate
Rosamond and treat her as his equal, they ascribed it wholly to the
influence of his sister, who, of course, had suggested to him an act
which seemed every way right and proper. They did not know how the
lady opposed it, nor how, for many days, she maintained a cold reserve
toward the young girl, who strove in various ways to conciliate her,
and at last succeeded so far that she not only accepted her services
at her toilet, but even asked of her sometimes to read her to sleep in
the afternoon, a process neither long nor tedious, for Mrs. Van
Vechten was not literary, and by the time the second page was reached
she usually nodded her full acquiescence to the author's opinions, and
Rosamond was free to do as she pleased.

One afternoon when Mrs. Van Vechten was fast asleep, and Rosamond deep
in the "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner," (the former having selected
that poem as an opiate because of its musical jingle,) there was the
sound of a bounding step upon the stairs, accompanied by the stirring
notes of Yankee Doodle, which some one whistled at the top of his
voice. Rosamond was about going to see who it was, when the door
opened and disclosed to view a long, lank, light-haired, good-natured
looking youth, dressed in the extreme of fashion, with a huge gold
chain dangling across his vest, and an immense diamond ring upon his
little finger. This last he managed to show frequently by caressing
his chin, where, by the aid of a microscope, a very little down might
possibly have been found! This was Ben! He had just arrived, and
learning that his mother was in her room, had entered it
unceremoniously. The unexpected apparition of a beautiful young girl
startled him, and he introduced himself to her good graces by the very
expressive exclamation, "_Thunder!_ I beg your pardon, Miss," he
continued, as he met her surprised and reproving glance. "You scared
me so I didn't know what else to say. It's a favorite expression of
mine, but I'll quit it, if you say so. Do you live here?"

"I wait upon your mother," was the quiet answer, which came near
wringing from the young man a repetition of the offensive word.

But he remembered himself in time, and then continued, "How do you
know she's my mother? You are right, though. I'm Ben Van Vechten--the
veriest dolt in school, they say. But, as an offset, I've got a heart
as big as an ox; and now, who are you? I know you are not a waiting-
maid!"

Rosamond explained who she was, and then, rather pleased with his off-
hand manner, began to question him concerning his journey, and so
forth. Ben was delighted. It was not every girl who would of her own
accord talk to him, and sitting down beside her, he told her twice
that she was handsome, was cautiously winding his arm around her
waist, when from the rosewood bedstead there came the sharp, quick
word, "Benjamin!" and, unmindful of Rosamond's presence, Ben leaped
into the middle of the room, ejaculating, "Thunder! mother, what do
you want?"

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