Rosamond; or, The Youthful Error | Page 9

to Atwater Seminary, a distance of more than
two hundred miles, and then, with a sense of desolation for which he
could not account, he had returned to his home, which was never so
lonely before. There was no merry voice within the walls,--no tripping
feet upon the stairs,--no soft, white hand to bathe his forehead when

suffering from real or fancied headaches,--no slippers waiting by his
chair,--no flowers on the mantel,--no bright face at the window,--no
Rosamond at the door.
Of all this was he thinking that November afternoon, and when at last
he reached his house, he went straight to his library, hoping to find a
letter there, telling him of her welfare. But letter there was none, and
with a feeling of disappointment he started to the parlor. The door was
ajar and he caught glimpses of a cheerfully blazing fire within the grate.
The shutters, too, were open and the curtains were put back just as they
used to be when she was there. It seemed like the olden time, and with
spirits somewhat enlivened he advanced into the room. His favorite
chair stood before the fire, and so near to it that her head was leaning
on its arm, sat a young girl. Her back was turned toward him, but he
knew that form full well, and joyfully he cried: "Rosamond, how came
you here?"
Amid her smiles and tears, Rosamond tempted to tell him the story of
her grievances. She was homesick, and she could not learn half so
much at the Atwater Seminary as at home--then, too, she hated the
strait- jacket rules, and hated the lady-boarder, who pretended to be
sick, and wouldn't let the school-girls breathe, especially Rosamond
Leyton, for whom she seemed to have conceived a particular aversion.
Pleased as Mr. Browning was to have Rosamond with him again, he
did not quite like her reasons for coming back, and he questioned her
closely as to the cause of her sudden return.
"I shouldn't have come, perhaps," said Rosamond, "if that sick woman
hadn't been so nervous and disagreeable. She paid enormous sums for
her board, and so Mrs. Lindsey would hardly let us breathe for fear of
disturbing her. My room was over hers, and I had to take off my shoes
and walk on tiptoe, and even then she complained of me, saying I was
rude and noisy, when I tried so hard to be still. I made some hateful
remark about her in the hall, which she overheard, and when Mrs.
Lindsey scolded me for it, saying she was a very wealthy lady from
Florida, and accustomed to every attention at home, I said back some
pert things, I suppose, for she threatened to write and tell you, and so I

thought I'd come and tell you myself."
There was a dizzy whirl in Mr. Browning's brain--a pallor about his
lips--for a terrible suspicion had flashed upon him, and leaning forward,
he said in a voice almost a whisper, "What was the Florida lady's
name?"
"Potter, or Porter--yes, Miss Porter, that was it. But what is the matter?
Are you sick?" Rosamond asked, as she saw how white he was.
"Only a sudden faintness. It will soon pass off," he said. "Tell me more
of her. Did she see you? Were you near her?"
"No," answered Rosamond. "She was sick all the time I was there, and
did not leave her room. The girls said, though, that she was rather
pretty, but had big, black, evil-looking eyes. I don't know why it was,
but I felt afraid of her--felt just as though she was my evil genius. I
couldn't help it--but you are sick, Mr. Browning--you are pale as a
ghost. Lie down upon the sofa, and let me bring the pillows, as I used
to do."
She darted off in the direction of his sleeping-room, unconscious of the
voice which called after her, asking if it were not dark in the hall, and
bidding her take a light.
"But what does it matter?" he said, as he tottered to the sofa. "She is not
here. Atwater Seminary is two hundred miles away. She can't harm
Rosamond now."
By this time Rosamond came with the pillows, which she arranged
upon the sofa, making him lie down while she sat by, and laid her hand
soothingly upon his burning forehead.
"We will have tea in here to-night," she said, "I told Mrs. Peters so, and
I will make it myself. Do you feel any better?" and she brought her rosy
face so near to his that he felt her warm breath upon his cheek.
"Yes, I am better," he replied, "but keep your hand upon my forehead.

It assures me of your presence, when my eyes are shut."
So Rosamond sat