He looked around.
He had never been alone in Mr. Rushton"s sanctum before, and naturally regarded the objects before him with curiosity.
There was an old press, covered with dust and cobwebs, on the top of which huge volumes of Justinian"s Inst.i.tutes frowned at the ceiling; a row of shelves which were crammed with law books; an old faded carpet covered with ink-splotches on his right hand, splotches evidently produced by the lawyer"s habit of shaking the superfluous ink from his pen before he placed it upon the paper; a dilapidated chair or two; the rough walnut desk at which he sat, covered with papers, open law volumes, and red tape; and finally, a tall mantel-piece, on which stood a half-emptied ink bottle--which mantel-piece rose over a wide fire-place, surrounded with a low iron fender, on which a dislocated pair of tongs were exposed in grim resignation to the evils of old age.
There was little to interest Verty in all this--or in the old iron-bound trunks in the corners.
But his eye suddenly falls on a curtain, in the recess farthest from the door--the edge of a curtain; for the object which this curtain conceals, is not visible from the chair in which he sits.
Verty rises, and goes into the recess, and looks.
The curtain falls over a picture--Verty raises it, and stands in admiration before the portrait, which it covered.
"What a lovely child!" he exclaims. "I have never seen a prettier little girl in all my life! What beautiful hair she has!"
And Verty, with the curtain in his left hand, blows away the dust from the canvas.
The portrait is indeed exquisite. The picture represents a child of two or three years of age, of rare and surpa.s.sing beauty. Over its white brow hang long yellow ringlets--the eyes dance and play--the ripe, ruddy lips, resembling cherries, are wreathed with the careless laughter of infancy. The child wears a little blue frock which permits two round, fat arms to be seen; and one of the hands grasps a doll, drawn to the life. There is so much freshness and reality about the picture, that Verty exclaims a second time, "What a lovely little girl!"
Thus absorbed in the picture, he does not hear a growling voice in the adjoining room--is not conscious of the heavy step advancing toward the room he occupies--does not even hear the door open as the new comer enters.
"Who can she be!" murmurs the young man; "not Mr. Rushton"s little daughter--I never heard that he was married, or had any children.
Pretty little thing!"
And Verty smiled.
Suddenly a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a gruff, stern voice said:
"What are you doing, sir?"
Verty turned quickly; Mr. Rushton stood before him--gloomy, forbidding, with a heavy frown upon his brow.
"What are you prying into?" repeated the lawyer, angrily; "are you not aware, sir, that this is my private apartment? What has induced you to presume in such a manner?"
Verty was almost terrified by the sternness of these cold words, and looked down. Then conscious of the innocence of his action, raised his eyes, and said:
"I came in to give you the copy of the deed, sir,--and saw the curtain--and thought I would--"
"Pry into my secrets," said Mr. Rushton; "very well, sir!"
"I did not mean to pry," said Verty, proudly; "I did not think there was any harm in such a little thing. I hope, sir, you will not think I meant anything wrong," added Verty--"indeed I did not; and I only thought this was some common picture, with a curtain over it to keep off the dust."
But the lawyer, with a sudden change of manner, had turned his eyes to the portrait; and did not seem to hear the exclamation.
"I hope you will not think hard of me, Mr. Rushton," said Verty; "you have been very good to me, and I would not do anything to offend you or give you pain."
No answer was vouchsafed to this speech either. The rough lawyer, with more and more change in his expression, was gazing at the fresh portrait, the curtain of which Verty had thrown over one of the upper corners of the frame.
Verty followed the look of Mr. Rushton; and gazed upon the picture.
"It is very lovely," he said, softly; "I never saw a sweeter face."
The lawyer"s breast heaved.
"And what ringlets--I believe they call "em," continued Verty, absorbed in contemplating the portrait;--"I love the pretty little thing already, sir."
Mr. Rushton sat down in the chair, which Verty had abandoned, and covered his face.
"Did you know her?--but oh, I forgot!--how wrong in me!" murmured Verty; "I did not think that she might be--Mr. Rushton--forgive my--"
The lawyer, with his face still covered, motioned toward the door.
"Must I go, sir?"
"Yes--go," came from the lips which uttered a groan--a groan of such anguish, that Verty almost groaned in unison.
And murmuring "Anna! Anna!" the lawyer shook.
The young man went toward the door. As he opened it, he heard an exclamation behind him.
He turned his head.
"What"s this!" cried the lawyer, in a tone between a growl and a sob.
"What, sir?"
"This paper."
"Sir?"
"This paper with--with--"Trust in G.o.d" on it; did you write it?"
"I--I--must--yes--I suppose I did, sir," stammered Verty, almost alarmed by the tone of his interlocutor.
"What did you mean?"
"Nothing, sir!"
"You had the boldness to write this canting--hypocritical--"
"Oh, Mr. Rushton!"
"You wrote it?"
"Yes, sir; and it is right, though I did"nt mean to write it--or know it."
"Very grand!"