"You think you can bring your articles weekly, now, Mademoiselle?"
"I think so, Monsieur Wilkins. I have nothing to occupy my time now, except a few little favors for poor grandpapa."
"Very well. Mr. G. has left, as you see. Henceforth Mr. Pratt will receive your work, and pay you for the same, as he has charge of this department. Let me make you acquainted. Guly, this is Blanche Duverne," said Wilkins, in his brief, peculiar manner.
Blanche held out her small hand, with an air of naïve and innocent frankness, and Guly took the rosy finger tips, as he bent across the counter, and pressed them to his lips.
It was an act totally unexpected by Blanche, but it was done with such a noble grace by the boy, and with an air of such delicate refinement, while a glow of boyish bashfulness swept over his fine face, that the most fastidious could not have found in it just cause for resentment, much less the guileless and innocent child-woman before him.
As Guly released her hand she looked at him more attentively than she had done before, and said, sweetly, in pure unaccented English-
"I hope we may be very good friends, Guly."
"Amen," said the boy, with a smile.
"And you will sell my work to your choice customers, won't you?"
"Invariably."
"Adieu."
"Adieu, Miss."
She flitted out of the door so like a spirit, that she was gone almost before Guly was aware she had left her seat. He longed to go to the door and look after her, but a sense of timidity withheld him; and having no customers just then he took down the box which contained her work, under pretence of arranging it more nicely, but in reality to look upon the delicate labor of those rosy fingers once again.
Wilkins was watching him, mischievously, from his desk, and Guly looked up, and caught his eye, with a blush and a smile.
"Tell me, Wilkins, who she is."
"A poor girl, and very pretty."
"And friendless?"
"Only her grandpapa, you heard her say."
"Poor thing, she does this for a living."
"For a living? Yes. And it's a hard one she gets, after all."
"You know all about her! What else? Tell me more."
"She is very good and pure."
"May she always be so. Go on."
Wilkins looked at him searchingly for a moment, but the boy met his glance steadily, and the head-clerk withdrew his eye with an air of one who is suddenly made aware of entertaining unjust suspicions; and he went on, with a smile, getting down from his desk, and standing near to Guly meanwhile.
"It would not be to every one, Guly, I would give poor Blanche's history, or what I know of it; but to you I am certain I can do so safely. To begin then at the beginning: She was the daughter of one of the wealthiest bankers in this city, who died several yeas ago insolvent, and left his wife and child destitute. Of course, their former friends cut them, all except a very few; and they took a suite of rooms in the Third Municipality, and removed thither with their few articles of furniture, and their blind and helpless relative. The mother's health began to fail, and after a little while she was unable to do anything toward their support; and all the duties of the household, together with the labor for a livelihood for the three, fell upon little brown-eyed Blanche. She went to work heroically, and turned her accomplishments to profit, and is, as you see, one of the very best brodeurs that can be found. She loved her mother devotedly, and I suppose it almost broke her little heart when she lost her. She has sickened and died within the last two months, as you heard her say. She had all that care upon her young shoulders, beside that of her old grandfather, yet she has neglected neither, and finished her work with it all. Think of it! As you perceive she has an innocent little heart, is a stranger to guile, and is ready to believe every one is what he professes to be. God help her, poor thing!"
"And is that all you know of her, Wilkins?"
"This is all. I know her well; for four years she has brought her work to this spot, and sold it at this counter."
Guly's eye dropped upon that counter almost reverently.
"Where are her relatives, Wilkins?"
"North, I believe. Her father was a poor but talented man when he came here, and his family, though highly estimable at the North, were also poor. He met his wife in some of the high circles, to which his letters admitted him, and they fell in love, and married, though in the face of decided opposition from all her family. Her friends never noticed her afterwards, though he rose, as I told you, to high station and standing; so when he died there was no one to apply to."
"How did you learn all this, Wilkins?"
"She told it to me herself."
"But her Northern friends, they may have grown rich by this time."
"No. She told me her father's family consisted only of his parents and one deformed brother. When he was making a fortune so rapidly here, I believe he received a letter from this brother, stating that he was coming on to try his fortune here, too. But Mr. Duverne, Blanche's father, wrote back to discourage his intentions, for he seemed to think it was too long a journey for one so helpless as he. They never heard from the brother again; for, soon after, Mr. Duverne died, and the state of his affairs became known, and all intercourse between the families ceased."
"And they never knew whether he came here or not?"
"Oh, he of course never came, or they would have heard of him, you know."
"Is Blanche French?"
"By the name, you see she is of French descent; and she speaks the language like a native born Francaise; however, her mother was purely American, and her father never spoke a word of French in all his life. She has acquired it by mingling, no doubt, with the Creoles here."
"You speak it yourself, Mr. Wilkins?"
"Yes; and I acquired it in that way."
"You know where Blanche lives?"
"Yes."
"And visit her sometimes?"
"Occasionally."
"Can I accompany you there some evening, sir? I would like to know her better."
"To be sure you may, Guly; especially, as you are henceforth to be somewhat associated in the business line. As I have told you, Blanche is a noble little girl; I respect her highly; very few know where she lives, and I wouldn't take every one there. You understand?"
"Certainly. I shan't name her residence to any one."
"Very well, then; whenever you say-you alone, remember."
"Thank you, Wilkins; when I can go I will tell you."
"Just so."
Wilkins stepped back to his desk, and Guly still stood arranging the new pieces of embroidery. There was for him a charm about them. Accustomed as he was to seeing such things, he could not get tired of looking at these. They were far more beautiful than any of those which were really French, and had come from over the seas; and from every graceful twig and twining tendril, there looked up at him a pair of soft brown eyes, whose gentle glances went down, and made themselves a home in the boy's pure heart.
CHAPTER XV.
"Mr. Delancey, will you wait one minute, sir!" exclaimed Arthur, coming in, apparently much excited, just as Guly replaced the box on the shelf.
The merchant stopped just as he was going out of the door, and planting his cane firmly down upon the floor, turned round with the frown between his eyebrows quite visibly deepened.