My Pretty Maid; or, Liane Lester — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
My Pretty Maid; or, Liane Lester
John Stuart Mill · en
"Miss Bray has sent home your silk cape, Miss Clarke."
"Ah? Then bring it upstairs, and let me see if it is all right. I have
very little confidence in these village dressmakers, though Miss Bray
has very high recommendations from the judge's wife," cried haughty
Roma Clarke, motioning the girl to follow her upstairs, adding cruelly:
"You should have gone round to the servants' entrance, girl. No one
brings bundles to the front door."
Liane's cheeks flamed and her throat swelled with resentful words that
she strove to keep back, for she knew she must not anger Miss Bray's
rich customer. But she hated her toilsome life more than ever as she
followed Roma along the richly carpeted halls to a splendid dressing
room, where the beauty sank into a cushioned chair, haughtily ordering
the box to be opened.
Liane's trembling white fingers could scarcely undo the strings, but
at last she held up the exquisite evening cape of brocaded cream silk,
lined with peach blossom and cascaded with billows of rare lace.
It was daintily chic, and had been the admiration of the workroom. All
the girls had coveted it, and Dolly Dorr had draped it over Liane's
shoulders, crying:
"It just suits you, you dainty princess."
The princess stood trembling now, for Roma flew into a rage the instant
her wonderful red-brown eyes fell on the cape.
"Just as I feared! It is ruined in the arrangement of the cascades of
lace. Who did it--you?" she demanded sharply.
"Oh, no, Miss Bray arranged it herself, I assure you," faltered Liane.
"It must be altered at once, for I need it walking out in the grounds
with my guests to-night. You're one of the dressmaker's girls,
aren't you? Yes? Well, you shall change it for me at once, under my
directions. Hurry and rip the lace off carefully."
Liane's heart fluttered into her throat, but she protested.
"I--I cannot stay. I should be afraid to go home after dark. I am sure
Miss Bray will alter it to-morrow."
"To-morrow! when I want it to-night? You must be crazy, girl! Do as I
bid you, or I'll report you to your employer to-morrow and have you
discharged."
Liane's throat choked with a frightened sob, and she dared not disobey
and risk dismissal from Miss Bray and a beating from granny.
"I will do it, but I am terribly afraid to go home alone," she
faltered, taking up the scissors and the garment.
"Nonsense! Nothing will hurt you. Here, this is the way I want it, and
be sure you do not botch it, or you will have to do it all over again!
Now, I am going down to dinner. I'll be back in an hour and a half, and
you ought to have it done by that time!" cried the imperious beauty,
sweeping from the room, though Liane heard her tell the maid in the
hall to keep an eye on that girl from the dressmaker's, that she did
not slip anything in her pocket.