The last words dropped from her lips as softly as if full of tender reminiscence, but they pricked pride, since they could not touch a relentless heart. Helwyze betrayed it by the sombre fire of his eye, the tone in which he answered.
“And I will ask of you the only gift I care to accept,—your new _protégée_, Gladys. Tell me where you found her; the child interests me much.”
“I know it;” and, stifling a pang of jealous pain, Olivia obeyed with the docility of one in whom will was conquered by a stronger power.
“A freak took me to the hills in March. My winter had been a vain chase after happiness, and I wanted solitude. I found it where chance led me,—in this girl’s home. A poor, bleak place enough; but it suited me, for there were only the father and daughter, and they left me to myself. The man died suddenly, and no one mourned, for he was a selfish tyrant. The girl was left quite alone, and nearly penniless, but so happy in her freedom that she had no fears. I liked the courage of the creature; I knew how she felt; I saw great capacity for something fine in her. I said, ‘Come with me for a little, and time will show you the next step.’ She came; time has shown her, and the next step will take her from my house to yours, unless I much mistake your purpose.”
Leaning in the low, lounging chair, Helwyze had listened motionless, except that the fingers of one thin hand moved fitfully, as if he played upon some instrument inaudible to all ears but his own. A frequent gesture of his, and most significant, to any one who knew that his favorite pastime was touching human heart-strings with marvellous success in producing discords by his uncanny skill.
As Olivia paused, he asked in a voice as suave as cold,—
“You say she interests you, and you watch her in a way that proves it. Have you not already resolved to win her for your amusement, by some bribe as cunning as that you gave Canaris for his liberty?”
“I have. You are a shrewd woman, Olivia.”
“Yet she is not beautiful;” and her eye vainly searched the inscrutable countenance, that showed so passionless and pale against the purple cushion where it leaned.
“Pardon me, the loveliest woman I have seen for years. A beautiful, fresh soul is most attractive when one is weary of more material charms. This girl seems made of spirit, fire, and dew; a mixture rare as it is exquisite, and the spell is all the greater because of its fine and elusive quality. I promise myself much satisfaction in observing how this young creature meets the trials and temptations life and love will bring her; and to do this she must be near at hand.”