At the Mercy of Tiberius | Page 7

gold
orchid nodding in dreams of its habitat, in some vanilla scented
Brazilian jungle, to a bed of vivid green moss, where skilful hands had
grouped great drooping sprays of waxen begonias, coral, faint pink, and
ivory, all powdered with gold dust like that which gilds the heart of
water-lilies.
Such treasures were reserved for the family of Dives; and counting her
pennies, Beryl entered the store, where instantaneously the blended
breath of heliotrope, tube-rose and mignonette wafted her across the
ocean, to a white-walled fishing village on the Cornice, whose gray
rocks were kissed by the blue lips of the Mediterranean.
"What is the price of that cluster of Niphetos buds?"

"One dollar."
"And that Auratum--with a few rose geranium leaves added?"
"Seventy-five cents. You see it is wonderfully large, and the gold bands
are so very deep."
She put one hand in her pocket and fingered a silver coin, but poverty
is a grim, tyrannous stepmother to tender aestheticism, and prudential
considerations prevailed.
"Give me twenty-five cents worth of those pale blue double violets,
with a sprig of lemon verbena, and a fringe of geranium leaves."
She laid the money on the counter, and while the florist selected and
bound the blossoms into a bunch, she arrested his finishing touch.
"Wait a moment. How much more for one Grand Duke jasmine in the
centre?"
"Ten cents, Miss."
She added the dime to the pennies she could ill afford to spare from her
small hoard, and said: "Will you be so kind as to sprinkle it? I wish it
kept fresh, for a sick lady."
Dusky shadows were gathering in the gloomy hall of the old tenement
house, when Beryl opened the door of the comfortless attic room,
where for many months she had struggled bravely to shield her mother
from the wolf, that more than once snarled across the threshold.
Mrs. Brentano was sitting in a low chair, with her elbows on her knees,
her face hidden in her palms; and in her lap lay paper and pencil, while
a sealed letter had fallen on the ground beside her. At the sound of the
opening door, she lifted her head, and tears dripped upon the paper. In
her faded flannel dressing-gown, with tresses of black hair straggling
across her shoulders, she presented a picture of helpless mental and
physical woe, which painted itself indelibly on the panels of her

daughter's heart.
"Why did you not wait until I came home? The exertion of getting up
always fatigues you."
"You staid so long--and I am so uncomfortable in that wretchedly hard
bed. What detained you?"
"I went to see the Doctor, because I am unwilling to start away, without
having asked his advice; and he has prescribed some new medicine
which you will find in this bottle. The directions are marked on the
label. Now I will put things in order, and try my hands on that
refractory bed."
"What did the Doctor say about me?"
"Nothing new; but he is confident that you can be cured in time, if we
will only be patient and obedient. He promised to see you in the
morning."
She stripped the bed of its covering, shook bolster and pillows; turned
over the mattress, and beat it vigorously; then put on fresh sheets, and
adjusted the whole comfortably.
"Now mother, turn your head, and let me comb and brush and braid all
this glossy black satin, to keep it from tangling while I am away. What
a pity you did not dower your daughter with part of it, instead of this
tawny mane of mine, which is a constant affront to my fastidious
artistic instincts. Please keep still a moment."
She unwrapped the tissue paper that covered her flowers, and holding
her hands behind her, stepped in front of the invalid.
"Dear mother, shut your eyes. There--! of what does that remind you?
The pergola--with great amber grape clusters--and white stars of
jasmine shining through the leaves? All the fragrance of Italy sleeps in
the thurible of this Grand-Duke."

"How delicious! Ah, my extravagant child! we cannot afford such
luxuries now. The perfume recalls so vividly the time when Bertie--"
A sob cut short the sentence. Beryl pinned the flowers at her mother's
throat, kissed her cheek, and kneeling before her, crossed her arms on
the invalid's lap, resting there the noble head, with its burnished crown
of reddish bronze braids.
"Mother dear, humor my childish whim. In defiance of my wishes and
judgment, and solely in obedience to your command, I am leaving you
for the first time, on a bitterly painful and humiliating mission.
To-night, let me be indeed your little girl once more. My heart brings
me to your knees, to say my prayers as of yore, and now while I pray,
lay