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diff --git a/15778-8.txt b/15778-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c6a4208 --- /dev/null +++ b/15778-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10819 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Honorable Miss, by L. T. Meade + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Honorable Miss + A Story of an Old-Fashioned Town + +Author: L. T. Meade + +Illustrator: F. Earl Christy + +Release Date: May 7, 2005 [EBook #15778] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HONORABLE MISS *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed Proofreader Team. + + + + +[Illustration: Cover] + + + + + +THE HONORABLE MISS + +A Story of an Old-Fashioned Town + +BY + +L.T. MEADE + + + AUTHOR OF "THE YOUNG MUTINEER," "WORLD OF GIRLS," + "A VERY NAUGHTY GIRL," "SWEET GIRL GRADUATE," ETC. + + + NEW YORK + HURST & COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + + ======================================================================= + + L.T. MEADE SERIES + + UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME + + By MRS. L.T. MEADE + + + Bunch of Cherries, A. Merry Girls of England. + Daddy's Girl. Miss Nonentity. + Dr. Rumsey's Patient. Palace Beautiful. + Francis Kane's Fortune. Polly, a New-Fashioned Girl. + Gay Charmer, A. Rebels of the School. + Girl in Ten Thousand, A. Sweet Girl Graduate, A. + Girls of St. Wodes, The. Their Little Mother. + Girl of the People, A. Time of Roses, The. + Girls of the True Blue. Very Naughty Girl, A. + Heart of Gold, The. Wild Kitty. + Honorable Miss, The. World of Girls. + How It All Came About. Young Mutineers, The. + Little Princess of Tower Hill. + + _Price, postpaid, 50¢ each, or any three books for $1.25_ + + HURST & COMPANY + PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + ======================================================================= + + + + + + +THE HONORABLE MISS. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +BEATRICE WILL FIT. + + +"So," continued Mrs. Meadowsweet, settling herself in a lazy, fat sort +of a way in her easy chair, and looking full at her visitor with a +complacent smile, "so I called her Beatrice. I thought under the +circumstances it was the best name I could give--it seemed to fit all +round, you know, and as _he_ had no objection, being very +easy-going, poor man, I gave her the name." + +"Yes?" interrogated Mrs. Bertram, in a softly surprised, and but +slightly interested voice; "you called your daughter Beatrice? I don't +quite understand your remark about the name fitting all round." + +Mrs. Meadowsweet raised one dimpled hand slowly and laid it on top of +the other. Her smile grew broader. + +"A name is a solemn thing, Mrs. Bertram," she continued. "A name is, so +to speak, to fit the person to whom it is given, for life. Will you tell +me how any mother, even the shrewdest, is to prophecy how an infant of a +few weeks old is to turn out? I thought over that point a good deal when +I gave the name, and said I to myself however matters turn 'Beatrice' +will fit. If she grows up cozy and soft and petting and small, why she's +Bee, and if she's sharp and saucy, and a bit too independent, as many +lasses are in these days, what can suit her better than Trixie? And +again if she's inclined to be stately, and to hold herself erect, and to +think a little more of herself than her mother ever did--only not more +than she deserves--bless her--why then she's Beatrice in full. Oh! and +there you are, Beatrice! Mrs. Bertram has been good enough to call to +see me. Mrs. Bertram, this is my daughter Beatrice." + +A very tall girl came quietly into the room, bowed an acknowledgment of +her mother's introduction, and sat down on the edge of the sofa. She was +a dignified girl from the crown of her head to her finger-tips, and Mrs. +Bertram, who had been listening languidly to the mother, favored the +newcomer with a bright, quick, inquisitive stare, then rose to her +feet. + +"I am afraid I must say good-bye, Mrs. Meadowsweet. I am glad to have +made your daughter's acquaintance, and another day I hope I shall see +more of her. I have of course heard of you from Catherine, my dear," she +added, holding out her hand frankly to the young girl. + +"Yes. Is Catherine well?" asked Beatrice, in a sweet high-bred voice. + +"She is well, my dear. Good-bye, Mrs. Meadowsweet. I quite understand +the all-roundness and suitability of your choice in the matter of +names." + +Then the great lady sailed out of the room, and Beatrice flew to the +window, placed herself behind the curtain and watched her down the +street. + +"What were you saying about me, mother?" she asked, when Mrs. Bertram +had turned the corner. + +"I was only telling about your name, my dearie girl. _He_ always +gave me my way, poor man, so I fixed on Beatrice. I said it would fit +all round, and it did. Shut that window, will you, Bee?--the wind is +very sharp for the time of year. You don't mind my calling you Bee now +and then--even if it doesn't seem quite to fit?" continued Mrs. +Meadowsweet. + +"No, mother, of course not. Call me anything in the world you fancy. +What's in a name?" + +"Don't say that, Trixie, there's a great deal in a name." + +"Well, I get confused with mine now and then. Mother, I just came in to +kiss you and run away again. Alice Bell and I are going to the lecture +at the Town Hall. It begins at five, and it's half-past four now. +Good-bye, I shall be home to supper." + +"One moment, Bee, I am really pleased that your fine friend's mother has +chosen to call at last." + +Beatrice frowned. + +"Catherine is not my fine friend," she said. + +"Well, your _friend_, then, dearie. I am glad your friend's mother +has called." + +"I am not--that is, I am absolutely indifferent. Now, I really must run +away. Good-bye until you see me again." + +She tripped out of the room as lightly and carelessly as she had entered +it, and Mrs. Meadowsweet sat on by the window which looked into the +garden. + +Mrs. Meadowsweet had the smoothest and most tranquil of faces. She had +taken as her favorite motto in life, that somehow, if you only allowed +them, things did fit all round. Each event in her own career, to use her +special phraseology "fitted." As her husband had to die, he passed away +from this life at the most fitting moment. As Providence had blessed her +with only one child, a daughter was surely the most fitting companion +for a widowed mother. The house Mrs. Meadowsweet lived in fitted her +requirements to perfection. In short, she was fat and comfortable, both +in mind and body; she never fretted, she never worried; she was not +rasping and disagreeable; she was not fault-finding. If her nature +lacked depth, it certainly did not lack affection, generosity, and a +true spirit of kindliness. If she were a little too well pleased with +herself, she was also well pleased with her neighbors. She was not +especially appreciated, for she was considered prosy and commonplace. +Prosy she undoubtedly was, but not commonplace, for invariable +contentment and unbounded good-nature are more and more difficult to +find in this censorious world. + +Mrs. Meadowsweet now smiled gently to herself. + +"However Beatrice may take it, I _am_ glad Mrs. Bertram called," +she murmured. "_He'd_ have liked it, poor man! he never put himself +out, and he never interfered with me, no, never, poor dear. But he liked +people to show due respect--it's a respect to Beatrice for Mrs. Bertram +to call. It shows that she appreciates Beatrice as her daughter's +friend. Mrs. Bertram, notwithstanding her pride, is likely to be very +much respected in Northbury, and no wonder. She's a little above most of +us, but we like her all the better for that. We are going to be proud of +her. It's nice to have some one to be proud of. And she has no airs when +you come to know her, no, she hasn't airs; she's as pleasant as +possible, and seems interested too, that is, as interested as people +like us can expect from people like her. She didn't even condescend to +Beatrice. I wonder how my little girl would have taken it, if she had +condescended to her. Yes, Jane, do you want me?" + +An elderly servant opened the drawing-room door. + +"If you please, ma'am, Mrs. Morris has called, and she wants to know if +it would disturb you very much to see her?" + +"Disturb me? She knows it won't disturb me. Show her in at once. And +Jane, you can get tea ready half-an-hour earlier than usual. I daresay, +as Mrs. Morris has called she'd like a cup. How do you do, Mrs. Morris? +I'm right glad to see you, right glad. Sit here, in this chair--or +perhaps you'd rather sit in this one; this isn't too near the window. +And you'll like a screen, I know;--not that there's any draught--for +these windows fit as tight as tight when shut." + +Mrs. Morris was a thin, tall woman. She always spoke in a whisper, for +she was possessed of the belief that she had lost her voice in +bronchitis. She had not, for when she scolded any one she found it +again. She was not scolding now, however, and her tones were very low +and smothered. + +"I saw her coming in, my dear; I was standing at the back of the wire +blind, and I saw her going up your steps, so I thought I'd come across +quickly and hear the news. You'll tell me the news as soon as possible, +won't you? Mrs. Butler and Miss Peters are coming to call in a few +minutes. I met them and they told me so. They saw her, too. You'll tell +me the news quickly, Lucy, for I'd like to be first, and it seems as if +I had a right to that much consideration, being an old friend." + +"So you have, Jessie." + +Mrs. Meadowsweet looked immensely flattered. + +"I suppose you allude to Mrs. Bertram having favored me with a call," +she continued, in a would-be-humble tone, which, in spite of all her +efforts, could not help swelling a little. + +"Yes, dear, that's what I allude to; I saw her from behind the wire +screen blind. We were having steak and onions for dinner, and the doctor +didn't like me jumping up just when I had a hot bit on my plate. But I +said, it's Mrs. Bertram, Sam, and she's standing on Mrs. Meadowsweet's +steps! There wasn't a remonstrance out of him after that, and the only +other remark he made was, 'You'll call round presently, Jessie, and +inquire after Mrs. Meadowsweet's cold.' So here I am, my dear. And how +_is_ your cold, by the way?" + +"It's getting on nicely, Jessie. Wasn't that a ring I heard at the door +bell?" + +"Well, I never!" Mrs. Morris suddenly found her voice. "If it isn't that +tiresome Mrs. Butler and Miss Peters. And now I won't be first with the +news after all!" + +Mrs. Meadowsweet smiled again. + +"There really isn't so much to tell, Jessie. Mrs. Bertram was just +affable like every one else. Ah, and how are you, Mrs. Butler? Now, I do +call this kind and neighborly. Miss Peters, I trust your cough is +better?" + +"I'm glad to see you, Mrs. Meadowsweet," said Mrs. Butler, in a slightly +out-of-breath tone. + +"My cough is no better," snapped Miss Peters. "Although it's summer, the +wind is due east; east wind always catches me in the throat." + +Miss Peters was very small and slim. She wore little iron-gray, +corkscrew curls, and had bright, beady black eyes. Miss Peters was Mrs. +Butler's sister. She was a snappy little body, but rather afraid of Mrs. +Butler, who was more snappy. This fear gave her an unpleasant habit of +rolling her eyes in the direction of Mrs. Butler whenever she spoke. She +rolled them now as she described the way the east wind had treated her +throat. + +Mrs. Butler seated herself in an aggressive manner on the edge of the +sofa, and Miss Peters took a chair as close as possible to Mrs. Morris, +who pushed hers away from her. + +Each lady was anxious to engross the whole attention of Mrs. +Meadowsweet, and it was scarcely possible for the good-natured woman not +to feel flattered. + +"Now, you'll all have a cup of tea with me," she said. "I know Jane's +getting it, but I'll ring the bell to hasten her. Ah, thank you, Miss +Peters." + +Miss Peters had sprung to her feet, seized the bell-rope before any one +could hinder her, and sounded a vigorous peal. Then she rolled her eyes +at Mrs. Butler and sat down. + +Mrs. Morris said that when Miss Peters rolled her eyes she invariably +shivered. She shivered now in such a marked and open way that poor Mrs. +Meadowsweet feared her friend had taken cold. + +"Dear, dear--I only wish I had a fire lighted," she said. "Your +bronchitis will be getting worse, if you aren't careful, Jessie. Miss +Peters, a cup of tea will do your throat good. It always does mine when +I get nipped." + +"Don't encourage Maria in her fancies," snapped Mrs. Butler. "There's +nothing ails her throat, only she will wrap herself in so much wool that +she makes herself quite delicate. I tell her she fancies she is a +hothouse plant." + +"Oh, nothing of the kind," whispered Mrs. Morris. + +"That's what I say," nodded back Mrs. Butler. "More of the nature of the +hardy broom. But now we haven't come to discuss Maria and her fads. You +have had a visitor to-day, Mrs. Meadowsweet." + +"Ah, here comes the tea," exclaimed Mrs. Meadowsweet. "Bring the table +over here, Jane. Now this is what I call cozy. Jane, you might ask cook +to send up some buttered toast, and a little more cream. Yes, Mrs. +Butler, I beg your pardon." + +"I was remarking that you had a visitor," repeated Mrs. Butler. + +"Ah, so I had. Mrs. Bertram called on me." + +"And why shouldn't she call on you, dear?" suddenly whispered +Mrs. Morris. "Aren't you quite as good as she is when all's said and +done? Yes, dear, I'll have some of your delicious tea. Such a treat! +Some more cream? Thank you, yes; I'll help myself. Why shouldn't Mrs. +Bertram call on Mrs. Meadowsweet? That's what I say, ladies," continued +Mrs. Morris, looking over the top of her cup of tea in a decidedly +fight-me-if-you-dare manner. + +"Nobody said she shouldn't call," answered Mrs. Butler. "Maria, you'll +oblige me by going into the hall and fetching my wrap. There's rather a +chill from this window--and the weather is very inclement for the time +of year. No, thank you, Mrs. Morris, I wouldn't take your seat for the +world. As you justly remark, why shouldn't Mrs Bertram call on our good +friend here? And, for that matter, why shouldn't she cross the road, and +leave her card on _you_, Mrs. Morris?" + +Mrs. Morris was here taken with such a fit of bronchial coughing and +choking that she could make no response. Miss Peters rolled her eyes at +her sister in a manner which plainly said, "You had her there, Martha," +and poor Mrs. Meadowsweet began nervously to wish that she had not been +the honored recipient of Mrs. Bertram's favors. + +"She came to see me on account of Beatrice," remarked the hostess. "At +least I think that was why she came. I beg your pardon, did you say +anything, ladies?" + +"Oh! fie, fie! Mrs. Meadowsweet," said Miss Peters, "you are too modest. +In my sister's name and my own, I say you are too modest." + +"And in my name too," interrupted Mrs. Morris. "You are too humble, my +dear friend. She called to see you for _your own dear sake_ and for +no other." + +"And now let us all be friendly," continued Miss Peters, "and learn the +news. I think we are all of one mind in wishing to learn the news." + +Mrs. Meadowsweet smoothed down the front of her black satin dress. She +knew, and her friends knew, that she would have much preferred the honor +of Mrs. Bertram's call to be due to Beatrice's charms than her own. She +smiled, however, with her usual gentleness, and plunged into the +conversation which the three other ladies were so eager to commence. + +Before they departed they had literally taken Mrs. Bertram to pieces. +They had fallen upon her tooth and nail, and dissected her morally, and +socially, and with the closest scrutiny of all, from a religious point +of view. + +Mrs. Meadowsweet, who never spoke against any one, was amazed at the +ingenuity with which the character of her friend (she felt she must call +Mrs. Bertram her friend) was blackened. Before the ladies left Mrs. +Meadowsweet's house they had proved, in the ablest and most thorough +manner, that Mrs. Bertram was worldly and vain, that she lived beyond +her means, that she trained her daughters to think of themselves far +more highly than they ought to think, that in all probability she was +not what she pretended to be, and, finally, that poor Mrs. Meadowsweet, +dear Mrs. Meadowsweet, was in great danger on account of her friendship. + +"I don't agree with you, ladies," said the good woman, as they were +leaving the house, but they neither heeded nor heard her remark. + +The explanation of their conduct was simple enough. They were devoured +with jealousy. Had Mrs. Bertram called on any one of them, she would +have been in that person's estimation the most fascinating woman in +Northbury. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +MRS. BERTRAM'S WILL. + + +And Mrs. Bertram did not care in the least what anybody thought of her. +She was in no sense of the word a sham. She was well-born, +well-educated, respectably married, and fairly well-off. The people in +Northbury considered her rich. She always spoke of herself as poor. In +reality she was neither rich nor poor. She had an income of something +like twelve hundred a year, and on that she lived comfortably, educated +her children well, and certainly managed to present a nice appearance +wherever she went. + +There never was a woman more full of common sense than Mrs. Bertram. She +had quite an appalling amount of this virtue; no one ever heard her say +a silly thing; each step she took in life was a wise one, carefully +considered, carefully planned out. She had been a widow now for sis +years. Her husband had nearly come into the family estate, but not +quite. He was the second son, and his eldest brother had died when his +heir was a month old. This heir had cut out Mrs. Bertram's husband from +the family place, with its riches and honors. He himself had died soon +after, and had left his widow with three children and twelve hundred a +year. + +The children were a son and two daughters. The son's name was Loftus, +the girls were called Catherine and Mabel. Loftus was handsome in +person, and very every-day in mind. He was good-natured, but not +remarkable for any peculiar strength of character. His mother had +managed to send him to Rugby and Sandhurst, and he had passed into the +army with tolerable credit. He was very fond of his mother, devotedly +fond of her, but since he entered the army he certainly contrived to +cost her a good deal. + +She spoke to him on the subject, believed as much as she chose of his +earnest promises to amend, took her own counsel and no one else's, gave +up her neat little house in Kensington, and came to live at Northbury. + +Catherine and Mabel did not like this change, but as their mother never +dreamt of consulting them, they had to keep their grumbles to +themselves. + +Mrs. Bertram considered she had taken a wise step, and she told the +girls so frankly. Their house in Kensington was small and expensive. In +the country they had secured a delightful old Manor--Rosendale Manor was +its pretty name--for a small rent. + +Mrs. Bertram found herself comparatively rich in the country, and she +cheered the girls by telling them that if they would study economical +habits, and try to do with very little dress for the present, she would +save some money year by year, so that by the time Catherine was twenty +they might have the advantage of a couple of seasons in town. + +"Catherine will look very young at twenty," remarked the mother. +"By that time I shall have saved quite a fair sum out of my income. +Catherine looked younger at twenty than Mabel at eighteen. They can both +come out together, and have their chances like other girls." + +Catherine did not want to wait for the dear delights of society until +she had reached so mature an age. But there was no murmuring against her +mother's decree, and as she was a healthy-minded, handsome, good-humored +girl, she soon accommodated herself to the ways and manners of country +folk, and was happy enough. + +"I shall live on five hundred a year at Rosen dale Manor," determined +Mrs. Bertram. "And I have made up my mind that Loftie shall not cost me +more than three. Thus I shall save four hundred a year. Catherine is +only seventeen now. By the time she is twenty I shall have a trifle over +and above my income to fall back upon. Twelve hundred pounds is a +bagatelle with most people, but I feel I shall effect wonders with it. +Catherine and Mabel will be out of the common, very out of the common. +Unique people have an advantage over those who resemble the herd. +Catherine and Mabel are to be strongly individual. In any room they are +to be noticeable. Little hermits, now, some day they shall shine. They +are both clever, just clever enough for my purpose. Catherine might with +advantage be a shade less beautiful, but Mabel will, I am convinced, +fulfil all my expectations. Then, if only Loftie," but here Mrs. Bertram +sighed. She was returning from her visit to Mrs. Meadowsweet, walking +slowly down the long avenue which led to the Manor. This avenue was kept +in no order; its edges were not neatly cut, and weeds appeared here and +there through its scantily gravelled roadway. The grass parterre round +the house, however, was smooth as velvet, and interspersed with gay +flower-beds. It looked like a little agreeable oasis in the middle of a +woodland, for the avenue was shaded by forest trees, and the house +itself had a background of two or three acres of an old wood. + +Mrs. Bertram was tired, and walked slowly. She did not consider herself +a proud woman, but in this she was mistaken. Every line of her upright +figure, each glance of her full, dark eyes, each word that dropped from +her lips spoke of pride both of birth and position. She often said to +herself, "I am thankful that I don't belong to the common folk; it would +grate on my nerves to witness their vulgarities,--their bad taste would +torture me; their want of refinement would act upon my nature like a +blister. But I am not proud, I uphold my dignity, I respect myself and +my family, but with sinful, unholy pride I have no part." + +This was by no means the opinion held of her, however, by the Northbury +folk. They had hailed her advent with delight; they had witnessed her +arrival with the keenest, most absorbing interest, and, to the horror of +the good lady herself, had one and all called on her. She was petrified +when this very natural event happened. She had bargained for a life of +retirement for herself and her girls. She had never imagined that +society of a distinctly lower strata than that into which she had been +born would be forced on her. Forced! Whoever yet had forced Mrs. Bertram +into any path she did not care to walk in? + +She was taken unawares by the first visitors, and they absolutely had +the privilege of sitting on her sofas, and responding to a few icy +remarks which dropped from her lips. + +But the next day she was armed for the combat. The little parlor-maid, +in her neat black dress, clean muslin apron, large frilled, picturesque +collar, and high mob-cap, was instructed to say "Not at home" to all +comers. She was a country girl, not from Northbury, but from some still +more rusticated spot, and she thought she was telling a frightful lie, +and blushed and trembled while she uttered it. So apparent was her +confusion that Miss Peters, when she and her sister, Mrs. Butler, +appeared on the scene, rolled her eyes at the taller lady and asked her +in a pronounced manner if it would not be well to drop a tract on the +heinousness of lying in the avenue. + +This speech was repeated by Clara to the cook, who told it again to the +young ladies' maid, who told it to the young ladies, who narrated it to +their mother. + +Mrs. Bertram smiled grimly. + +"Don't repeat gossip, my dears," she said, Then after a pause she +remarked aloud: "The difficulty will be about returning the calls." + +Mabel, the youngest and most subservient of the girls, ventured to ask +her mother what she intended to do, but Mrs. Bertram was too wise to +disclose her plans, that is, if she had made any. + +The Rector of Northbury was one of the first to visit the new +inhabitants of the Manor. To him Mrs. Bertram opened her doors gladly. +He was old, unmarried, and of good family. She was glad there was at +least one gentleman in the place with whom she might occasionally +exchange a word. + +About a fortnight after his visit the Rector inclosed some tickets for a +bazaar to Mrs. Bertram. The tickets were accompanied by a note, in which +he said that it would gratify the good Northbury folk very much if Mrs. +Bertram and the young ladies would honor the bazaar with their presence. + +"Every soul in the place will be there," said Mr. Ingram. "This bazaar +is a great event to us, and its object is, I think, a worthy one. We +badly want a new organ for our church." + +"Eureka!" exclaimed Mrs. Bertram when she had read this note. + +"What is the matter, mother?" exclaimed Mabel. + +"Only that I have found a way out of my grand difficulty," responded +their mother, tossing Mr. Ingram's note and the tickets for the bazaar +into Catherine's lap. + +"Are you so delighted to go to this country bazaar, mother?" asked the +eldest daughter. + +"Delighted! No, it will be a bore." + +"Then why did you say Eureka! and look so pleased?" + +"Because on that day I shall leave cards on the Northbury folk--not one +of them will be at home." + +"Shabby," muttered Catherine. Her dark cheek flushed, she turned away. + +Mabel put out her little foot and pressed it against her sister's. The +pressure signified warning. + +"Then you are not going to the bazaar, mother?" she questioned. + +"I don't know. I may drop in for a moment or two, quite at the close. It +would not do to offend Mr. Ingram." + +"No," replied Mabel. "He is a dear, _gentlemanly_ old man." + +"Don't use that expression, my love. It is my object in life that +_all_ your acquaintances in the world of men should be gentlemen. +It is unnecessary therefore to specify any one by a term which must +apply to all." + +Mrs. Bertram then asked Mabel to reply to Mr. Ingram's note. The reply +was a warm acceptance, and Mr. Ingram cheered those of his parishioners +who pined for the acquaintance of the great lady, with the information +that they would certainly meet her at the bazaar. + +Accordingly when the fateful day arrived the town was empty, and the +Fisherman's Hall (Northbury was a seaport), in which the bazaar was held +was packed to overflowing. Accordingly Mrs. Bertram in a neat little +brougham, which she had hired for the occasion, dropped her cards from +house to house in peace; accordingly, too, she caught the +maids-of-all-work in their undress toilets, and the humble homes looking +their least pretentious. + +The bazaar was nearly at an end, when at last, accompanied by her two +plainly-dressed, but dainty looking girls, she appeared on the scene. + +The Northbury folk had all been watching for her. Those who had been +fortunate enough to enter the sacred precincts of the Manor watched with +interest, mingled with approval. (Her icy style was quite +_comme-il-faut_, they said.) Those who had been met by the +frightened handmaid's "not at home" watched with interest, mixed with +disapproval, but all, all waited for Mrs. Bertram with interest. + +"How late these fashionable people are," quote Miss Peters. "It's +absolutely five o'clock. My dear Martha, do sit down and rest yourself. +You look fit to drop. I'll keep an eye on the door and tell you the very +moment Mrs. Bertram comes in. Mrs. Gorman Stanley has promised to +introduce us. Mrs. Gorman Stanley was fortunate enough to find Mrs. +Bertram in. It was she who told us about the drawing-room at the Manor. +Fancy! Mrs. Bertram has only a felt carpet on her drawing-room. Not even +a red felt, which looks warm and wears. But a sickly green! Mrs. Gorman +Stanley told me _as a fact_ that the carpet was quite a worn-out +shade between a green and a brown; and the curtains--she said the +_drawing room_ curtains were only cretonne. You needn't stare at +me, Martha. Mrs. Gorman Stanley never makes mistakes. All the same, +though she couldn't tell why, she owned that the room had a +_distingué_ effect. _En règle_, that was it; she said the room +was _en règle_." + +"Maria, if you could stop talking for a moment and fetch me an ice, I'd +be obliged," answered Mrs. Butler. "Oh!" standing up, "there's Mrs. +Gorman Stanley. How do you do, Mrs. Gorman Stanley? Our great lady +hasn't chosen to put in her appearance yet. For my part I don't suppose +she's any better than the rest of us, and so I say to Maria. Well, +Maria, what's the matter now?" + +"Here's your ice," said Miss Peters; "take it. Don't forget that you +promised to introduce us to Mrs. Bertram, Mrs. Gorman Stanley." + +Mrs. Gorman Stanley was the wealthy widow of a retired fish-buyer. She +liked to condescend; also to show off her wealth. It pleased her to +assume an acquaintance with Mrs. Bertram, although she thoroughly +despised that good lady's style of furnishing a house. + +"I'll introduce you with pleasure, my dear," she said to Mrs. Butler. +"Yes, I like Mrs. Bertram very much. Did you say she was out when you +called? Oh! she was in to me. Yes, I saw the house. I don't think she +had finished furnishing it. The drawing-room looked quite bare. A +made-up sort of look, you understand. Lots of flowers on the tables, and +that nasty, cold, cheap felt under your feet. Not that _I_ mind how +a house is furnished." (She did very much. Her one and only object in +life seemed to be to lade her own mansion with ugly and expensive +upholstery.) "Now, what's the matter, Miss Peters? Why, you are all on +wires. Where _are_ you off to now?" + +"I see the Rector," responded Miss Peters. "I'll run and ask him when he +expects Mrs. Bertram. I'll be back presently with the news." + +The little lady tripped away, forcing her slim form through the +ever-increasing crowd. The rector was walking about with a very favorite +small parishioner seated on his shoulder. + +"Mr. Ingram," piped Miss Peters. "Don't you think Mrs. Bertram might +favor us with her presence by now? We have all been looking for her. +It's past five o'clock, and--" + +There was a hush, a pause. At that moment Mrs. Bertram was sailing into +the room. Miss Peters' exalted tones reached her ears. She shuddered, +turned pale, and also turned her back on the eager little spinster. + +Nobody quite knew how it was managed, but Mrs. Bertram was introduced to +very few of the Northbury folk. They all wanted to know her; they talked +about her, and came in her way, and stared at her whenever they could. +There was an expectant hush when she and the Rector were seen +approaching any special group. + +"I do declare it's the Grays she's going to patronize," one jealous +matron said. + +But the Grays were passed over just as sedulously as the Joneses and the +Smiths. Excitement, again and again on the tenter-hooks, invariably came +to nothing. Even Mrs. Gorman Stanley, who had sat on Mrs. Bertram's +sofa, and condemned her felt carpet was only acknowledged by the most +passing and stately recognition. Little chance had the poor lady of +effecting other introductions; she realized for the first time that she +was only a quarter introduced to the great woman herself. + +The fact was this: There was not a soul in Northbury, at least there was +not an acknowledged soul who could combat Mrs. Bertram's will. She had +made up her mind to talk to no one but Mr. Ingram at the bazaar. She +carried out her resolve, and that though the Rector had formed such +pleasant visions of making every one cheerful and happy all round, for +he knew the simple weaknesses and desires of his flock, and saw not the +smallest harm in gratifying them. Why should not the Manor and the town +be friendly? + +Mrs. Bertram saw a very good reason why they should not. Therefore the +Rector's dreams came apparently to nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A GENTLEMAN, MADAM. + + +Only apparently. Every one knows how small the little rift within the +lute is. So are most beginnings. + +Mrs. Bertram felt, that in her way, she had effected quite a victory. +She stepped into her brougham to return to Rosendale Manor with a +pleasing sense of triumph. + +"I am thankful to say that ordeal is over," she remarked. "And I think," +she continued, with a smile, "that when the Northbury people see my +cards, awaiting them on their humble hall-tables, they will have learnt +their lesson." + +Neither of the girls made any response to this speech. Mabel was leaning +back in the carriage looking bored and cross, but Catherine's expression +was unusually bright. + +"Mother," she exclaimed suddenly, "I met such a nice girl at the +bazaar." + +"You made an acquaintance at the bazaar, my dear Catherine," answered +Mrs. Bertram with alacrity. "You made an acquaintance? The acquaintance +of a girl? Who?" + +"Her name is Beatrice Meadowsweet. She is a dear, delightful, fresh +girl, and exactly my own age." + +Catherine's dark face was all aglow. Her handsome brown eyes shone with +interest and pleasure. + +"Catherine, how often, how very often have I told you that expressions +of rapture such as you have just given way to are underbred." + +"Why are they underbred, mother?" Catherine's tone was aggressive, and +Mabel again kicked her sister's foot. + +The kick was returned with vigor, and Catherine said in an earnest +though deliberate voice: + +"Why are expressions of rapture underbred? Can enthusiasm, that fire of +the gods, be vulgar?" + +"Kate, you are cavilling. Expressions of rapture generally show a lack +of breeding because as a rule they are exaggerated, therefore untrue. In +this case they are manifestly untrue, for how is it possible for you to +tell that the girl you have just been speaking to is dear, delightful, +and fresh?" + +"Her face is fresh, her manners are fresh, her expression is delightful. +There is no use, mother, you can't crush me. I am in love with Beatrice +Meadowsweet." + +Mrs. Bertram's brow became clouded. It was one of the bitter defeats +which she had ever and anon to acknowledge to herself that, in the midst +of her otherwise victorious career, she could never get the better of +her eldest daughter Catherine. + +"Who introduced you to this girl?" she asked, after a pause. + +"The Rector. He saw me standing by one of the stalls, looking what I +felt--awfully bored. He came up in his kind way and took my hand, and +said: 'My dear, you don't know any one, I am afraid. You would like to +make some acquaintances, would you not?' I replied: 'I am most anxious +to know some of the nice people all around me.'" + +"My dear Catherine! The _nice_ people! And when you knew my express +wishes!" + +"Yes, mother, but they weren't mine. And I had to be truthful, at any +cost. Beatrice was standing not far off, and when I said this my eye met +hers, and we both smiled. Then the rector introduced me to her, and we +mutually voted the bazaar close and hot, and went out to watch the +tennis players in the garden. We had a jolly time. I have not laughed so +much since I came to this slow, poky corner of the world." + +"And what were you doing, Mabel?" questioned her mother. "Did you, too, +pick up an undesirable acquaintance and march away into the gardens with +her? Was your new friend also fresh, delightful and dear?" + +"I wish she had been, mother," answered Mabel, her tone still very +petulant. "But I hadn't Kate's luck. I was introduced to no one, +although lots of people stared at me, and whispered about me as I +passed." + +"And you saw this paragon of Catherine's?" + +"Yes, I saw her." + +"What did you think of her, May? I like to get your opinion, my love. +You have a good deal of penetration. Tell me frankly what you thought of +this low-born miss, whom Catherine degraded herself by talking to." + +Mabel looked at her sister. Catherine's eyes flashed. Mabel replied +demurely: + +"I thought Miss Meadowsweet quiet-looking and graceful." + +Catherine took Mabel's hand unnoticed by their mother and squeezed it, +and Mrs. Bertram, who was not wholly devoid of tact, thought it wisest +to let the conversation drop. + +The next day the Rector called, and Mrs. Bertram asked him, in an +incidental way what kind of people the Meadowsweets were. + +"Excellent people," he replied, rubbing his hands softly together. +"Excellent, worthy, honorable. I have few parishioners whom I think more +highly of than Beatrice and her mother." + +Mrs. Bertram's brow began to clear. + +"A mother and daughter," she remarked. "Only a mother and a daughter, +Mr. Ingram?" + +"Only a mother and a daughter, my dear madam. Poor Meadowsweet left us +six years ago. He was one of my churchwardens, a capital fellow, so +thoroughgoing and reliable. A sound churchman, too. In short, everything +that one could desire. He died rather suddenly, and I was afraid Mrs. +Meadowsweet would leave Northbury, but Bee did not wish it. Bee has a +will of her own, and I fancy she's attached to us all." + +"I am very glad that you can give us such a pleasant account of these +parishioners of yours, dear Mr. Ingram," responded Mrs. Bertram. "The +fact is, I am in a difficult position here. No, the girls won't overhear +us; they are busy at their embroidery in that distant corner. Well, +perhaps, to make sure. Kate," Mrs. Bertram raised her voice, "I know the +Rector is going to give us the pleasure of his company to tea. Mr. +Ingram, I shall not allow you to say no. Kate, will you and Mabel go +into the garden, and bring in a leaf of fresh strawberries. Now, Mr. +Ingram I want you to see our strawberries, and to taste them. The +gardener tells us that the Manor strawberries are celebrated. Run, +dears, don't be long." + +The girls stepped out through the open French window, interlaced their +arms round one another and disappeared. + +"They are good girls," said the mother, "but Kate has a will of her own. +Mr. Ingram, you will allow me to take you into my confidence. I am often +puzzled to know how to act towards Catherine. She is a good girl, but I +can't lead her. She is only seventeen, only just seventeen. Surely that +is too young an age to walk quite without leading strings." + +Mr. Ingram was an old bachelor, but he was one of those mellow, gentle, +affectionate men who make the most delightful companions, whose sympathy +is always ready, and tact always to the fore. Mr. Ingram was full of +both sympathy and tact, but he had also a little gentle vanity to be +tickled, and when a handsome woman, still young, appealed to him with +pathos in her eyes and voice, he laid himself, metaphorically, at her +feet. + +"My dear madam," he responded, "it is most gratifying to me to feel that +I can be of the least use to you. Command me at all times, I beg. As to +Miss Catherine, who can guide her better than her excellent mother? I +don't know much about you, Mrs. Bertram, but I feel--forgive me, I am a +man of intuition--I feel that you are one to look up to. Miss Catherine +is a fortunate girl. You are right. She is far too young to walk alone. +Seventeen, did you say--pooh--a mere child, a baby. An immature +creature, ignorant, innocent, fresh, but undeveloped; just the age, Mrs. +Bertram, when she needs the aid and counsel of a mother like you." + +Mrs. Bertram's dark eyes glowed with pleasure. + +"I am glad you agree with me," she said. "The fact is, Mr. Ingram, we +have come to the Manor to retrench a little, to economize, to live in +retirement. By-and-bye, I shall take Catherine and Mabel to London. As a +mother, I have duties to perform to them. These, when the time comes, +shall not be neglected. Mr. Ingram, I must be very frank, I _don't_ +want to know the good folk of Northbury." + +Mr. Ingram started at this very plain speaking. He had lived for thirty +years with the Northbury people. They had not vulgarized him; their +troubles and their pleasures alike were his. His heart and soul, his +life and strength were given up to them. He did not feel himself any the +less a gentleman because those whom he served were, many of them, lowly +born. He started, therefore, both inwardly and outwardly at Mrs. +Bertram's plain speech, and instantly, for he was a man of very nice +penetration, saw that the arrival of this lady, this brilliant sun of +society, in the little world of Northbury, would not add to the +smoothness of his lot. + +Before he could get in a word, however, Mrs. Bertram quickly continued: + +"And Catherine is determined to make a friend of Beatrice Meadowsweet." + +"She is quite right, Mrs. Bertram. I introduced Miss Catherine to +Beatrice yesterday. They will make delightful companions; they are about +the same age--I can vouch for the life and spirit possessed by my friend +Bee, and if I mistake not Miss Catherine will be her worthy companion." + +Mrs. Bertram laughed. + +"I wish I could tell you what an imp of mischief Kate is," she said. +"She is the most daring creature that ever drew the breath of life. Dear +Mr. Ingram, forgive me for even doubting you for a moment. I might have +known that you would only introduce my daughter to a lady." + +The Rector drew himself up a very little. + +"Certainly, Beatrice Meadowsweet is a lady," he replied. "If a noble +heart, and frank and fearless ways, and an educated mind, and a refined +nature can make a lady, then she is one--no better in the land." + +"I am charmed, _charmed_ to hear it. It is such a relief. For, +really Mr. Ingram, some people from Northbury came and sat on that very +sofa which you are occupying, who were quite too--oh, well, they were +absolutely dreadful. I wonder if Mrs. Meadowsweet has called. I don't +remember the name, but I suppose she has. I must look amongst the cards +which have absolutely been showered on us and see. I must certainly +return her visit and at once. Poor Mr. Meadowsweet--he was in the army +perhaps! I am quite glad to know there are people of our position here. +Did you say the army? Or perhaps a retired gentleman,--ah, I see +Catherine and Mabel coming back. Which was Mr. Meadowsweet's regiment?" + +Poor Mr. Ingram's face grew absolutely pink. + +"At some time in his life poor Meadowsweet may have served in the local +volunteers," he replied. "He was however, a--ah, Miss Catherine, what +tempting strawberries!" + +The rector approached the open French window. Mrs. Bertram followed him +quickly. + +"A--what?" she repeated. "The girls needn't know whom we are talking +about. A gentleman who lived on his private means?" + +"A gentleman, madam, yes, a _gentleman_,--and he lived on his +means,--and he was wealthy. He kept a shop, a draper's shop, in the High +Street. Now, young ladies, young ladies--I call this wrong. _Such_ +strawberries! Strawberries are my special weakness. Oh, it is cruel of +you to tempt me. I ought to be two miles from here now." + +"You ought not," said Catherine in a gay voice. "You must sit with us on +the lawn, and drink our tea, and eat our strawberries." + +Catherine had given a quick, lightning glance at her mother's face. +She saw a cloud there, she guessed the cause. She felt certain that her +mother would consult Mr. Ingram on the subject of Beatrice. Mr. Ingram's +report was not satisfactory. Delightful! She felt the imp of mischief +taking possession of her. She was a girl of many moods and tenses. +At times she could even be sombre. But when she chose to be gay and +fascinating she was irresistible. She was only seventeen, and in several +ways she was unconventional, even unworldly. In others, however, she was +a perfect woman of the world, and a match for her mother. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +TWO LETTERS. + + +Northbury was so completely out of the world that it only had a postal +delivery twice a day. The early post was delivered at eight o'clock, so +that the good people of the place could discuss their little items of +outside news over their breakfast-tables. The postman went round with +his evening delivery at seven. He was not overwhelmed by the aristocracy +of Rosendale Manor, and, notwithstanding Mrs. Bertram's open annoyance, +insisted on calling there last. He said it suited him best to do so, and +what suited Sammy Benjafield he was just as determined to do, as Mrs. +Bertram was to carry out her own schemes. + +Consequently, the evening letters never reached the Manor until between +eight and half-past. Mrs. Bertram and her daughters dined at seven. They +were the only people in Northbury who ate their dinner at that +aristocratic hour; tea between four and five, and hot, substantial and +unwholesome suppers were the order of the day with the Northbury folk. +_Very_ substantial these suppers were, and even the Rector was not +proof against the hot lobster and rich decoctions of crab with which his +flock favored him at these hours. + +For the very reason, however, that heavy suppers were in vogue at +Northbury, Mrs. Bertram determined to adhere to the refinement of a +seven-o'clock dinner. Very refined and very simple this dinner generally +was. The fare often consisting of soup made out of vegetables from the +garden, with a very slight suspicion of what housekeepers call stock to +start it; fish, which meant as often as not three simple but fresh +herrings; a morsel of meat curried or hashed would generally follow; and +dessert and sweets would in the summer be blended into one; +strawberries, raspberries or gooseberries from the garden forming the +necessary materials. Cream did not accompany the strawberries, and the +rich wine in the beautiful and curiously-cut decanters was placed on the +table for show, not for use. + +But then the dinners at the Manor were so exquisitely served. Such +napery, such china, such sparkling and elegant glass, and such +highly-polished plate. Poor little Clara, the serving-maid, who had not +yet acquired the knack of telling a lie with _sang froid_ +absolutely trembled, as she spread out her snowy table-cloths, and laid +her delicate china and glass and silver on the board. + +"It don't seem worth while," she often remarked to the cook. "For what's +an' erring? It seems wicked to eat an' erring off sech plates as them." + +"It's a way the quality have," retorted Mrs. Masters, who had come from +London with the Bertrams and did not mean to stay. "They heats nothing, +and they lives on _sham_. Call _this_ soup! There, Clara, you'll be +a sham yourself before you has done with them." + +Clara thought this highly probable, but she was still young and +romantic, and could do a great deal of living on make-beliefs, like many +other girls all the world over. + +As the Bertrams were eating their strawberries off delicate Sevres +plates on the evening of the day when Mr. Ingram had disclosed the +parentage of poor Beatrice Meadowsweet, the postman was seen passing the +window. + +Benjafield had a very slow and aggravating gait. The more impatient +people were for their letters, the more tedious was he in his delivery. +Benjafield had been a fisherman in his day, and had a very sharp, +withered old face. He had a blind eye, too, and walked by the aid of a +crutch but it was his boast that, notwithstanding his one eye and his +lameness, no one had ever yet got the better of him. + +"There's Benjafield!" exclaimed Mabel. "Shall I run and fetch the +letters, mother?" + +Mrs. Bertram rose slowly from her seat at the head of the board. + +"The post is later than ever," she remarked; "it is past the half-hour. +I shall go myself and speak to Benjafield." + +She walked slowly out through the open window. She wore an evening dress +of rusty black velvet with a long train. It gave her a very imposing +appearance, and the effect of her evening dress and her handsome face +and imperious manners were so overpowering that the old postman, as he +hobbled toward her, had to mutter under his breath: + +"Don't forget your game leg, Benjafield, nor your wall eye, and don't +you be tooken down nor beholden to nobody." + +"Why is the post so late?" inquired Mrs. Bertram. "It is more than +half-past eight." + +"Eh!" exclaimed Benjafleld. + +"I asked why the post was so late." + +"Eh? I'm hard of hearing, your ladyship." + +He came a little nearer, and leered up in the most familiar way into the +aristocratic face of Mrs. Bertram. + +"Intolerable old man," she muttered, aloud: "Take the letters from him, +Catherine, and bring them here." + +Then raising her voice to a thin scream, she continued: + +"I shall write to the general post-office on this subject; it is quite +intolerable that in any part of England Her Majesty's Post should be +entrusted to incapable hands." + +Old Benjafield, fumbling in his bag, produced two letters which he +presented to Catherine. He did so with a dubious, inquiring glance at +her mother, again informed the company generally that he was hard of +hearing, and hobbled away. + +One of the letters, addressed in a manly and dashing hand, was for +Catherine. The other, also in manly but decidedly cramped writing, was +addressed to Mrs. Bertram. + +She started when she saw the handwriting, instantly forgot old +Benjafield, and disappeared into the house. + +When she was gone Mabel danced up to her sister's side, and looked over +her shoulder at the thick envelope addressed in the manly hand. + +"Kate, it's from Loftie!" she exclaimed. + +"Yes, it's from Loftie," responded Catherine. "Let us come and sit under +the elm-tree and read what he says, May." + +The girls seated themselves together on a rustic bench, tore open the +thick letter, and acquainted themselves with its contents. + + + "Dearest,--I'm coming home to-morrow night. _Must_ see the mater. + Have got into a fresh scrape. Don't tell anyone but May--I mean about + the scrape. + + "Your devoted brother, + + "LOFTUS." + + +Catherine read this letter twice, once to herself, then aloud for +Mabel's benefit. + +"Now, what's up?" exclaimed Mabel. "It must be very bad. He never calls +you 'dearest;' unless it's awfully bad. Does he, Kitty?" + +"No," said Catherine. "Poor mother," she added then, and she gave a +profound and most ungirlish sigh. + +"Why, Catherine, you have been grumbling at mother all day! You have +been feeling so cross about her." + +"You never will understand, Mabel! I grumble at mother for her +frettiness, but I love her, I pity her for her sorrows." + +Mabel looked full into her sister's face. + +"I confess I don't understand you," she said. "I can't love one side of +a person, and hate the other side; I don't know that I love or hate +anybody very much. It's more comfortable not to do things very much, +isn't it, Kitty?" + +"I suppose so," replied Catherine, "but I can't say. That isn't my +fashion. I do everything very much. I love, I hate, I joy or sorrow, all +in extremes. Perhaps it isn't a good way, but it's the only way I've +got. Now let us talk about Loftus. I wonder if he is going to stay long, +and if he will make himself pleasant." + +"No fear of that," responded Mabel. "He'll be as selfish and exacting as +ever he can be. He'll keep mother in a state of fret, and you in a state +of excitement, and he'll insist on smoking a cigarette close to the new +cretonne curtains in the drawing-room, and he'll make me go out in the +hot part of the day to gather fresh strawberries for him. Oh, I do think +brothers are worries! I wish he wasn't coming. We are very peaceful and +snug here. And mother's face doesn't looked harassed as it often did +when we were in town. I do wish Loftus wasn't coming to upset +everything. It was he turned us away from our nice, sprightly, jolly +London, and now, surely he need not follow us into the country. Yes, +Catherine, what words of wisdom or reproof are going to drop from your +lips?" + +"Not any," replied Catherine. "I can't make blind people see, and I +can't bring love when there is no love to bring. Of course, it is +different for me." + +"How is it different for you?" + +"I love Loftus. He gives me pain, but that can be borne, for I love +him." + +At this moment Mrs. Bertram's tall figure was seen standing on the steps +of the house. It was getting dark; a heavy dew was falling, and the air +was slightly, pleasantly chill after the intense heat of the day. Mrs. +Bertram had wrapped a white fleecy cloud over her head. She descended +the steps, stood on the broad gravel sweep, and looked around her. + +"We are here, mother," said May, jumping up. "Do you want us?" + +"I want Catherine. Don't you come, Mabel. I want Catherine alone." + +"Keep Loftus's letter," said Catherine, tossing it into her sister's +lap. "I know by mother's tone she is troubled. Don't let us show her the +letter to-night. Put it in your pocket, May." + +Aloud she said,-- + +"Yes, mother, I'm coming. I'll be with you directly." She ran across the +grass, looking slim and pale in her white muslin dress, her face full of +intense feeling, her manner so hurried and eager that her mother felt +irritated by it. + +"You need not dash at me as if you meant to knock me down, Kate," she +said. + +"You said you wanted me, mother." + +"So I did, Catherine. I do want you. Come into the house with me." + +Mrs. Bertram turned and walked up the steps. She entered the wide hall +which was lit by a ghostly, and not too carefully-trimmed, paraffin +lamp. Catherine followed her. They went into the drawing-room. Here also +a paraffin lamp gave an uncertain light; very feeble, yellow, and +uncertain it was, but even by it Catherine could catch a glimpse of her +mother's face. It was drawn and white, it was not only changed from the +prosperous, handsome face which the girl had last looked at, but it had +lost its likeness to the haughty, the proud, the satisfied Mrs. Bertram +of Catherine's knowledge. Its expression now betokened a kind of inward +scare or fright. + +"Mother, you have something to worry you," said Kate, "I see that by +your face. I am sorry. I am truly sorry. Sit down, mother. What can I do +for you?" + +"Nothing, my dear, except to be an attentive daughter--attentive and +affectionate and obedient. Sometimes, Catherine, you are not that." + +"Oh, never mind now, when you are in trouble, I'd do anything in the +world for you when you are in trouble. You know that." + +Mrs. Bertram had seated herself. Catherine knelt now, and took one of +her mother's hands between her own. Insensibly the cold hand was +comforted by the warm steadfast clasp. + +"You are a good child, Kate," said her mother in an unwonted and gentle +voice. "You are full of whims and fancies; but when you like you can be +a great support to one. Do you remember long ago when your father died +how only little Kitty's hand could cure mother's headaches?" + +"I would cure your heartache now." + +"You can't, child, you can't. And besides, who said anything about a +heartache? We have no time, Kate, to talk any more sentimentalities. I +have had a letter, my dear, and it obliges me to go to town to-night." + +"To-night? Surely there is no train?" + +"There is. One stops at Northbury to take up the mails at a quarter to +twelve. I shall go by it." + +"Do you want me to go with you?" + +"By no means. Of what use would you be?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps not of any use, and yet long ago when you had +headaches, Kitty could cure them." + +There was something so pathetic and so unwonted in Catherine's tone that +Mrs. Bertram was quite touched. She bent forward, placed her hand under +the young chin, raised the handsome face, and printed a kiss on the +brow. + +"Kitty shall help her mother best by staying at home," she said. +"Seriously, my love. I must leave you in charge here. Not only in charge +of the house, of the servants, of Mabel--but--of my secret." + +"What secret, mother?" + +"I don't want any one here to know that I have gone to London." + +Catherine thought a moment. + +"I know you are not going to give me your reasons," she said, after a +pause. "But why do you tell me there is a secret?" + +"Because you are trustworthy." + +"Why do tell _me_ that you are going to London?" + +"Because you must be prepared to act in an emergency." + +"Mother, what do you mean?" + +"I will tell you enough of my meaning to guide you, my love. I have had +some news that troubles me. I am going to London to try and put some +wrong things right. You need not look so horrified, Kate; I shall +certainly put them right. It might complicate matters in certain +quarters if it were known that I had gone to London, therefore I do it +secretly. It is necessary, however, that one person should know where to +write to me. I choose you to be that person, Catherine, but you are only +to send me a letter in case of need." + +"If we are ill, or anything of that sort, mother?" + +"Nothing of that sort. You and Mabel are in superb health. I am not +going to prepare for any such unlikely contingency as your sudden +illness. Catherine, these are the _only_ circumstances under which +you are to communicate with your mother. Listen, my dear daughter. +Listen attentively. A good deal depends on your discretion. A stranger +may call. The stranger may be either a man or a woman. He or she will +ask to see me. Finding I am away this person, whether man or woman, will +try to have an interview with either you or Mabel, and will endeavor by +every means to get my address. Mabel, knowing nothing, can reveal +nothing, and you, Kate, you are to put the stranger on the wrong scent, +to get rid of the stranger by some means, and immediately to telegraph +to me. My address is in this closed-up envelope. Lock the envelope in +your desk; open it if the contingency to which I have alluded occurs, +not otherwise. And now, my dear child, I must go upstairs and pack." + +Catherine roused herself from her kneeling position with difficulty. She +felt cold and stiff, queer and old. + +"Shall I help you, mother," she asked. + +"No, my dear, I shall ring for Clara. I shall tell Clara that I am going +to Manchester. A train to Manchester can be taken from Fleet-hill +Junction, so it will all sound quite natural. Go out to Mabel, dear. +Tell her any story you like." + +"I don't tell stories, mother. I shall have nothing to say to Mabel." + +"Tell her nothing, then; only run away. What is the matter now?" + +"One thing before you go, mother. I too had a letter to-night." + +"Had you, my dear? I cannot be worried about your correspondence now." + +"My letter was from Loftie." + +"Loftus! What did he write about?" + +"He is coming here to-morrow night." + +Catherine glanced eagerly into her mother's face as she spoke. It did +not grow any whiter or any more careworn. + +She stood still for a moment in the middle of the drawing-room, +evidently thinking deeply. When she spoke her brow had cleared and her +voice was cheerful. + +"This may be for the best," she said. + +Catherine stamped her foot impatiently. + +"Mother," she said, "you quite frighten me with your innuendoes and your +half-confidences. I don't understand you. It is very difficult to act +when one only half understands." + +"I cannot make things plainer for you, my dear. I am glad Loftie is +coming. You girls must entertain him as well as you can. This is +Wednesday evening. I hope to be back at the latest on Monday. It is +possible even that I may transact my business sooner. Keep Loftus in a +good temper, Kate. Don't let him quarrel with Mabel, and, above all +things, do not breathe to a soul that your mother has gone to London. +Now, kiss me, dear. It is a comfort to have a grown-up daughter to lean +on." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE USUAL SORT OF SCRAPE. + + +On the following evening Loftus Bertram made his appearance at Rosendale +Manor. Catherine and Mabel were both waiting for him under the shade of +the great oak tree which commanded a view of the gate. His train was due +at Northbury at seven o'clock. He was to come by express from London, +and the girls concluded that the express would not be more than five +minutes late. Allowing for this, and allowing also for the probability +that Loftus would be extremely discontented with the style of hackney +coach which alone would await him at the little station and might in +consequence prefer to walk to the Manor, the girls calculated he might +put in an appearance on the scene at about twenty minutes past seven. +They had arranged to have dinner at a quarter to eight, and sat side by +side now, looking a little forlorn in the frocks they had grown out of, +and a little lonely, like half-fledged chicks, without their mother's +august protection. + +"Loftie will wonder," said Mabel, "at mother going off to Manchester in +such a hurry." + +It was the cook who had told Mabel about Manchester, Clara having +informed her. + +"There's Loftus!" suddenly exclaimed Catherine. "I knew he'd walk. I +said so. There's the old shandrydan crawling after him with the luggage. +Come, Mabel. Let's fly to meet the dear old boy." + +She was off and away herself before Mabel had time to scramble to her +feet. Her running was swift as a fawn's--in an instant she had reached +her brother--threw herself panting with laughter and joy against him, +and flung one arm round his neck. + +"Here you are!" she said, her words coming out in gasps. "Isn't it +jolly? Such a fresh old place! Lots of strawberries--glad you'll see it +in the long days--give me a kiss, Loftie--I'm hungry for a kiss!" + +"You're as wild an imp as ever," said Loftus, pinching her cheek, but +stooping and kissing her, nevertheless, with decided affection. "Why did +you put yourself out of breath, Kitty? Catch May setting her precious +little heart a-beating too fast for any fellow! Ah, here you come, lazy +Mabel. Where is the mater? In the house, I suppose? I say, Kate, what a +hole you have pitched upon for living in? I positively couldn't ride +down upon the thing they offered me at the station. It wasn't even +_clean_. Look at it, my dear girls! It holds my respectable +belongings, and not me. It's the scarecrow or ghost of the ordinary +station-fly. Could you have imagined the station-fly could have a +ghost?" + +"No," retorted Mabel, "being so scarecrowy and ghost-like already. +Please, driver, take Captain Bertram's things up to the house. He heard +you speak, Loftie. These Northbury people are as touchy as if they were +somebodies. Oh, Loftus, you will be disappointed. Mother has gone to +Manchester." + +"To Manchester?" retorted Loftus. "My mother away from home! Did she +know that I was coming?" + +"Yes," answered Kate, "I told her about your letter last night." + +"Did you show her my letter?" + +"No." + +"Why didn't you? If she had read it she wouldn't have gone. I said I was +in a scrape. I was coming down on purpose to see the mater. You might +have sent me a wire to say she would not be at home, or you might have +kept her at home by showing her my letter. You certainly did not act +with discretion." + +"I said you'd begin to scold the minute you came here, Loftie," remarked +Mabel. "It's a way you have. I told Kitty so. See, you have made poor +Kitty quite grave." + +Loftus Bertram was a tall, slim, young fellow. He was well-made, +athletic, and neat in appearance, and had that upright carriage and +bearing which is most approved of in her Majesty's army. His face was +thin and dark; he had a look of Kate, but his eyes were neither so large +nor so full; his mouth was weak, not firm, and his expression wanted the +openness which characterized Catherine's features. + +He was a selfish man, but he was not unkind or ill-natured. The news +which the girls gave him of their mother's absence undoubtedly worried +and annoyed him a good deal, but like most people who are popular, and +Loftus Bertram was undoubtedly very popular, he had the power of +instantly adapting himself to the exigencies of the moment. + +He laughed lightly, therefore, at Mabel's words, put his arm round his +younger sister's unformed waist, and said, in a gay voice: + +"I won't scold either of you any more until I have had something to +eat." + +"We live very quietly at the Manor," remarked Mabel, "Mother wants to +save, you know. She says we must keep up our refinement at any cost, but +our meals are very--" she glanced with a gay laugh at Catherine. + +"Oh, by Jove! I hope you don't stint in the matter of food," exclaimed +the brother. "You'll have to drop it while I'm here, I can tell you. I +thought the mater would be up to some little game of this kind when she +buried you alive in such an out-of-the-way corner. She makes a great +mistake though, and so I shall tell her. Young girls of your age ought +to be fed up. You'll develop properly then, you won't otherwise. That's +the new dodge. All the doctors go upon it. Feed up the young to any +extent, and they'll pay for it by-and-bye. Plenty of good English beef +and mutton. What's the matter, Kate? What are you laughing in that +immoderate manner for?" + +"Oh, nothing, Loftie. I may laugh, I suppose, without saying why. I wish +you would not put on that killing air, though. And you know perfectly +there is no use in laying down the law in mother's house." + +The three young people were now standing in the hall, and Clara tripped +timidly forward. + +"We want dinner as quickly as possible, Clara," said Mabel. "Come, +Loftus, let us take you to your room." + +That night the choicely served repast was less meagre than usual. Caller +herring graced the board in abundance, and even Loftus did not despise +these, when really fresh and cooked to perfection. The hash of New +Zealand mutton, however, which followed, was not so much to this +fastidious young officer's taste, but quantities of fine strawberries, +supplemented by a jug of rich cream, put him once more into a good +humor. He did not know that Kate had spent one of her very scarce +sixpences on the cream, and that the girls had walked a mile-and-a-half +through the hot sun that morning to fetch it. + +The decanters of wine did not only do duty as ornaments that evening, +and as the black coffee which followed was quite to Loftus' taste, he +forgot the New Zealand mutton, or, at least, determined not to speak on +the subject before the next morning. + +After Mabel went to bed that night Kate asked her brother what the fresh +scrape was about. He was really in an excellent humor then; the +seclusion and almost romance of the old place soothed his nerves, which +were somewhat jaded with the rush and tear of a life not lived too +worthily. He and Kitty were strolling up and down in the moonlight, and +when she asked her question and looked up at him with her fine, +intelligent, sympathetic face, he pulled her little ear affectionately, +and pushed back the tendrils of soft, dark hair from her brow. + +"The usual thing, Kitty," he responded. "I'm in the usual sort of +scrape." + +"Money?" asked Catherine. + +"Confound the thing, yes. Why was money invented? It's the plague of +one's life, Catherine. If there was no money there'd be no crime." + +"Nonsense," answered Catherine, with shrewdness. "If there wasn't money +there would be its equivalent in some form or other. Are you in debt +again, Loftie?" + +"How can I help it? I can't live on my pittance." + +"But mother gives you three hundred a year." + +"Yes--such a lot! You girls think that a fine sum, I suppose! That's all +you know. Three hundred! It's a pittance. No fellow has a right to go +into the army with such small private means." + +"But, Loftie, you would not accept Uncle Roderick Macleod's offer. He +wrote so often, and said he could help you if you joined him in India." + +"Yes, I knew what that meant. Now, look here, Kate. We needn't rake up +the past. My lot in life is fixed. I like my profession, but I can't be +expected to care for the beggary which accompanies it. I'm in a scrape, +and I want to see the mater." + +"Poor mother! I _wish_ you weren't going to worry her, Loftie." + +"It doesn't worry a mother to help her only son." + +"But she has helped you so often. You know it was on account of you that +we came down here, because mother had given you so much, and it was the +only way left to us to save. It wasn't at all a good thing for Mabel and +me, for we had to leave our education unfinished. But mother thought it +best. What's the matter, Loftie?" + +"Only if you're going on in this strain I'm off to bed. It is hard on a +fellow when he comes once in a while to see his sisters to be called +over the coals by them. You know I'm awfully fond of you, Kitty, and +somehow I thought you'd be a comfort to me. You know very little indeed +of the real worries of life." + +Loftus spoke in a tone of such feeling that Catherine's warm heart was +instantly touched. + +"I won't say any more," she answered. "I know it isn't right of me. I +always wished and longed to be a help to you, Loftie." + +"So you can. You are a dear little sis when you like. You're worth +twenty of May. I think you are going to be a very handsome girl, Kate, +and if you are only fed up properly, and dressed properly, so that the +best points of your figure can be seen--well--now what's the matter?" + +"Only I won't have you talking of me as if I were going to be put up to +auction." + +"So you will be when you go to London. All girls are. The mothers are +the auctioneers, and the young fellows come round and bid. Good +gracious, what a thunder-cloud! What flashing eyes! You'll see what a +famous auctioneer mother will make! What is the matter, Kitty?" + +"Nothing. Good-night. I'm going to bed." + +"Come back and kiss me first. Poor little Kit! Dear, handsome, +fiery-spirited little Kit! I say though, _what_ a shabby frock +you've got on!" + +"Oh, don't worry me, Loftie! Any dress will do in the country." + +"Right, most prudent Catherine. By the way, when did you say mother +would come back?" + +"Perhaps on Monday." + +"What did she go to Manchester for?" + +"I can't tell you." + +"Well, I trust she will be back on Monday evening, for I am due at the +Depot on Tuesday. Lucky for me I got a week's leave, but I didn't mean +to see it out. It will be uncommonly awkward if I cannot get hold of the +mater between now and Tuesday, Kate." + +"Loftus--_are_ you going to ask her to give you much money?" + +"My dear child, you would think the sum I want enormous, but it isn't +really. Most fellows would consider it a trifle. And I don't want her +really to give it, Kate, only to lend it. That's altogether a different +matter, isn't it? Of course I could borrow it elsewhere, but it seems a +pity to pay a lot of interest when one's mother can put one straight." + +"I don't know how you are to pay the money back, Loftus." + +Loftus laughed. + +"There are ways and means," he said. "Am I going to take all the bloom +off that young cheek by letting its owner into the secrets of Vanity +Fair? Come Kitty, go to bed, and don't fret about me, I'll manage +somehow." + +"Loftus, how much money do you want mother to lend you?" + +"What a persistent child you are. You positively look frightened. Well, +three fifty will do for the present. That oughtn't to stump anyone, +ought it?" + +"I suppose not," answered Kate, in a bewildered way. + +She put her hand to her forehead, bade her brother good-night, and +sought her room. + +"Three hundred and fifty pounds!" she murmured. "And mother won't buy +herrings more than eightpence a dozen! And we scarcely eat any meat, and +lately we have begun even to save the bread. Three hundred and fifty +pounds! Well, I won't tell Mabel. Does Mabel really know the world +better than I do, and is it wrong of me in spite of everything to love +Loftus?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +FOR MY PART, I AM NOT GOING TO TAKE ANY NOTICE OF THE BERTRAMS. + + +But notwithstanding all worries, the world in midsummer, when the days +are longest and the birds sing their loudest, is a gay place for the +young. Catherine Bertram stayed awake for quite an hour that night. An +hour was a long time for such young and bright eyes to remain wide open, +and she fancied with a wave of self-pity how wrinkled and old she would +look in the morning. Not a bit of it! She arose with the complexion of a +Hebe, and the buoyant and gladsome spirit of a lark. + +As she dressed she sang, and when she ran downstairs she whistled a +plantation melody with such precision and clearness that Loftus +exclaimed, "Oh, how shocking!" and Mabel rolled up her eyes, and said +sagely, that no one ever could turn Kate into anything but a tom-boy. + +"Girls, what are we to do after breakfast?" asked the brother. + +"Have you any money at all in your pocket, Loftie?" demurely asked +Mabel, "for if so, if so--" her eyes danced, "I can undertake to provide +a pleasant day for us all." + +"Well, puss, I don't suppose an officer in her Majesty's Royal +Artillery--is quite without some petty cash. How much do you want?" + +"A few shillings will do. Let us pack up a picnic basket. Kate, you +needn't look at me. I have taken Mrs. Masters into confidence, and +there's a cold roast fowl downstairs--and--and--but I won't reveal +anything further. We can have a picnic--we can go away an hour after +breakfast, and saunter to that place known as the Long Quay, and hire +the very best boat to be had for money, and we can float about on this +lovely harbor, and land presently on the shore over there where the +ruins of the old Port are; and we can eat our dinners there and be +jolly. Remember that we have never but once been on the water since we +came. Think how we have pined for this simple pleasure, Loftie, and fork +out the tin." + +"My dear Mabel, I must place my interdict on slang." + +"Nonsense. When the cat's away. Oh, don't look shocked! Are we to go?" + +"Go! of course we'll go. Is there no pretty girl who'll come with us? +It's rather slow to have only one's sisters." + +"Very well, Loftus. We'll pay you out presently," said Kate. + +"And there is a very pretty girl," continued Mabel, "At least Catherine +considers her very pretty--only--" her eyes danced with mischief. + +"Only what?" + +"The mother doesn't like her. There's a dear old Rector here, and he +introduced the girl to Kitty, and mother was wild. Mother sounded the +Rector the next day and heard something which made her wilder still, but +we are not in the secret. Kate fell in love with the girl." + +"Did you, Kate? When a woman falls in love with another woman the +phenomenon is so uncommon that a certain amount of interest must be +roused. Describe the object of your adoration, Kitty." + +"Her name," responded Kate, "is Beatrice Meadowsweet. I won't say any +more about her. If ever you meet her, which isn't likely, you can judge +for yourself of her merits." + +"Kitty is rather cross about Beatrice," said Mabel; then she continued, +"Loftie, what do you think? Mother has cut all the Northbury folk." + +"Mabel, you talk very wild nonsense." + +It was Kate who spoke. She rose from the breakfast-table with an annoyed +expression. + +"Wild or not--it is true," replied Mabel. "Mother has cut the Northbury +people, cut them dead. They came to see us, they came in troops. Such +funny folk! The first lot were let in. Mother was like a poker. She +astonished her visitors, and the whole scene was so queer and +uncomfortable, although mother was freezingly _polite_, that Kate +and I got out of the room. The next day more people came--and more, and +more every day, but Clara had her orders, and we weren't 'at home.' +Kitty and I used to watch the poor Northburians from behind the +summer-house. One day Kitty laughed. It was awful, and I am sure they +heard. + +"Another day a dreadful little woman with rolling eyes said she would +leave a tract on _Lying_ in the avenue--I wish she had. But I +suppose she thought better of it. + +"Then there came a bazaar, a great bazaar, and the Rector invited us, +and said all the Northburians would be there. What do you think mother +did? She returned their calls on that day. She knew they'd be out, and +they were. Wasn't that a dead cut, Loftie?" + +"Rather," responded Loftus. + +He rose slowly, looked deliberately at Kate, and then closed his lips. + +"Mother is away, so we won't discuss her," said Kate. "Run and pack the +picnic basket, Mabel, and then we'll be off." + +The picturesque little town of Northbury was built on the slope of a +hill. This hill gently descended to the sea. Nowhere was there to be +found a more charming, landlocked harbor than at Northbury. It was a +famous harbor for boating. Even at low tide people could get on the +water, and in the summer time this gay sheet of dark blue sparkling +waves had many small yachts, fishing smacks, and row-boats of all sizes +and descriptions skimming about on its surface. In the spring a large +fishing trade was done here, and then the steamers whistle? and +shrieked, and disturbed the primitive harmony of the place. But by +midsummer the great shoals of mackerel went away, and with them the dark +picturesque hookers, and the ugly steamers, and the inhabitants were +once more left to their sleepy, old-fashioned, but withal pleasant life. + +Rosendale Manor was situated on high ground. It was surrounded by a +wall, and the wide avenue was entered by ponderous iron gates. It was +about eleven o'clock when the girls and their brother started gayly off +for their day on the water. Loftus carried a couple of rugs, so that the +fact of Mabel lugging a heavy picnic basket on her sturdy left arm did +not look specially remarkable. They went down a steep and straggling +hill, passed through an old-fashioned green, with the local club at one +side, and a wall at the other which seemed to hang right over the sea. + +They soon reached the Long Quay, and made their bargain for the best +boat to be had. A man of the name of Driver kept many boats for hire, +and he offered now to accompany the young party and show off the +beauties of the place. + +This, however, Mabel would not hear of. They must go alone or not at +all. Loftus did not like to own to his very small nautical experience; +the sea was smooth and shining, and apparently free from all danger, and +the little party embarked gayly, and put out on their first cruise in +high spirits. + +Miss Peters and Mrs. Butler watched them with intense interest from +their bay window. Miss Peters had possession of the spy-glass. With this +held steadily before her eyes, she shouted observations to her sister. + +"There they go! No, Dan Driver is _not_ going with them! Any one +can see by the way that young man handles the oar that he doesn't know a +great deal about the water. Good gracious, Martha, they're taking a sail +with them! Now I do call that tempting Providence. That young man has a +very elegant figure, Martha, but mark my words he knows nothing at all +about the management of a boat. The girls know still less." + +"Put down your spy-glass for a moment, and let me speak to you, Maria," +exclaimed Mrs. Butler in an exasperated voice. "I never knew such a +tongue as yours for clap, clap, clapping. Did you say those two Bertram +girls were going out alone with a _man_! Well, I have known what to +think for some time! Alone on the water with a _young man_. Surely, +Maria, you must have made a mistake." + +"It's just like you, Martha, you never believe in any one's eyes but +your own. Here's the glass, look for yourself. If that isn't a man, and +a young man, and a stylish, handsome man, my name isn't Maria Peters." + +"You'd be very glad if your name wasn't Peters," replied the irate +sister. "But I fear me there's little likelihood of your changing it +now. Ah, here's Beatrice Meadowsweet. Good-morning, Bee, my dear. How's +your dear mother? Is her poor precious cough any better?" + +"Come here, Bee," said Miss Peters. "Come over to the window this +minute, and use your young eyes. Who are those people in Dan Driver's +boat? There, you tell Martha, she wont believe me." + +"Those are the Bertrams," exclaimed Beatrice. + +She put up her hand to shade her eyes, and took a long steadfast look +over the shining water. + +"Those are the Bertrams, and of course, their brother." + +"Oh, my dear Bee, how you have relieved me!" exclaimed Mrs. Butler. + +She re-seated herself on a settee which stood near, and took her +handkerchief to wipe out some wrinkles of anxiety from her stout face. + +Beatrice stared in astonishment. + +"I don't quite understand," she said. + +"My dear! I feared something improper was going on. A young man, not a +relation, out alone on the water with two girls! That's the kind of +thing we don't allow, in Northbury, Bee. Now, what's the matter?" + +"Look," said Beatrice, "look! They are putting up the sail, and they are +not doing it right. They oughtn't all three to stand up in the boat +together. It will capsize! Oh, I must fly to them. Good-bye, Mrs. +Butler. Mother would like to see you at tea, to-night. Good-bye, Miss +Peters." + +She rushed away, and the next moment was down on the quay. Three moments +later she was speeding with swift long strokes across the harbor in her +own beautifully appointed row-boat. + +Her dress was of dark blue serge, with white collar and cuffs. Her hat +was a simple sailor one. The exercise brought the color into her cheeks, +and her big somewhat pathetic gray eyes were bright. + +"There she goes!" exclaimed Miss Peters. "Never saw such a girl. Doesn't +she handle her oars with a touch? Oh, of course she is off to the rescue +of those poor bunglers. And I daresay they don't think her good enough +to speak to." + +"Good enough!" exclaimed Mrs. Butler. "She's twice too good for any one +of them. Didn't her dress fit neat, Maria? Well, I hope she won't get +let in by their fine ways. For my part, I'm not going to take any notice +of the Bertrams. The way they behaved was past enduring. Not at homing +when I called, and then leaving their cards on the day when I was at the +bazaar. Highty-tighty, says I, who's Mrs. Bertram that she should look +down on us in this fashion? Isn't the widow of a good honest butter +merchant who paid his way, and left a comfortable fortune behind him, +fit to associate with any lady of the land? Mrs. Bertram, indeed! A nice +way she has treated us all. It isn't every newcomer we Northbury folks +would take up. We hold ourselves high, that we do. Now, what's the +matter, Maria?" + +"We didn't hold ourselves high about Mrs. Bertram," replied Miss Peters. +"It isn't fair to say that we did. We all rushed up to call before she +had the carpets well down. I did say, Martha, and you may remember too +that I said it, for you were helping me to the tail of the salmon at the +time, and I remarked that there was little or nothing to eat on it, +you'll remember that I said to you: 'let them put their carpets straight +at least.' But you wouldn't--you were all agog to be off, when you saw +that Mrs. Gorman Stanley had gone up there in her new bonnet, with the +red and yellow poppies--the bonnet you know that she said she got from +London." + +"Which she didn't," snapped Mrs. Butler; "for I saw those identical +poppies in Perry's shop on the quay. Well, well, Maria, I may have been +a bit hasty in rushing after those who didn't want me, but the result +would have been all the same. Maria, there's only one solution of the +way we have been treated by that proud, stuck-up, conceited body. Maria, +she doesn't pay her way." + +Miss Peters rolled her eyes with a quick dart at her sister. + +"They do say she's very close in the kitchen," she remarked; "and the +butcher told Susan that they only go in for New Zealand." + +Mrs. Butler rose from her seat, to express more markedly her disgust for +colonial viands. + +"Ugh!" she said. "Catch me putting a morsel of that poisonous stuff +inside my mouth. Well, well, you'll see I'm right, Maria. She don't pay +her way, so she's ashamed, and well she may be, to look honest folk in +the face." + +"Beatrice has got up to the other boat," interrupted Miss Peters. Give +me the glass, quickly, Martha. My word, the two boats are touching. +And--would you believe it?--one of the young ladies is getting into +Bee's boat, Martha. She's towing Driver's boat after her own! Well, +well, that will be nuts to Mrs. Bertram. I declare, Martha, I shouldn't +be one bit surprised if that young jackanapes of a brother fell in love +with our Bee." + +"He won't get her for his pains," retorted Mrs. Butler. "Those who don't +pay their way won't touch Beatrice Meadowsweet's fortune. But, there, +I'm sick of the subject. Let's talk of something else. Isn't that Mrs. +Gorman Stanley coming down the street? Open the window and call out to +her, Maria. Ask her if she wants me to send her round one pound of +butter, or two from the farm?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +REPLY FOR US, KATE. + + +Beatrice Meadowsweet and the Bertrams spent a delightful day together. +The Bertrams frankly owned their inability to manage a boat. They +welcomed her timely assistance, and thanked her for offering it, and +then the young folk laughed and joked together, the Bertrams secretly +finding Beatrice all the more interesting and fascinating because they +knew that their mother would not quite approve of their being found in +her society. + +Beatrice told them about the harbor, took Kate into her boat, instructed +Loftus how to manage his sail, and showed him the difference between +rowing on a river and on the sea. Finally, she frankly accepted their +suggestion that she should join their impromptu picnic. They landed on +the green banks of that part of the coast which contained the ruins of +an ancient Danish fort. There they kindled a fire, boiled a kettle of +water, made tea, enjoyed bread-and-butter, cold chicken and +strawberries, and had an exceedingly festive time. + +When the meal was over Bertram asked Miss Meadowsweet to show him over +the fort. She complied at once, in that easy, unconcerned manner which +gave her a certain charm, and which in itself was the perfection of +good-breeding. Mabel was about to follow, but Kate caught hold of her +skirt. + +"Help me to wash up," she said. + +When the girls were alone, Mabel burst into a peal of laughter. + +"Oh, what a time the little mice are having!" she exclaimed. "What a +time! I only wish that nice Beatrice of yours had a couple of brothers +as charming as herself. Then our state would approach perfection." + +"May, you oughtn't to talk in that silly fashion. No one hates +leading-strings as I do, and I'm determined that mother shall allow me +to make Miss Meadowsweet my friend. But this meeting seems like taking +advantage of mother's absence; it does really, and although we could not +help ourselves, I am sorry about it." + +"Well, I'm not. We have had a delicious time, and I think, too, we owe +our lives to Miss Bee. Loftie was making an awful mess of that sail, and +you know, Kate, none of us can swim. Now look at Loftie, do look at him! +See how he's bending towards Miss Meadowsweet. He is quite taken with +her, I can see. Oh, what a flirt he is. Doesn't she hold herself nicely, +Kate? And hasn't she an independent sort of way?" + +"Yes," responded Catherine. "I think even mother must own that Beatrice +is in good style. I knew that the moment she spoke to me." + +"They are coming back," said Mabel. "Just toss me over that towel, +please, Kate. Don't you think I provided a very nice little lunch? Mrs. +Masters and I managed it between us, and you none of you knew, no none +of you, how very ancient that chicken was." + +"Didn't I?" replied Kate. "I had one of the drumsticks. That chicken +has woke me in a very lusty manner more than once in the morn. 'Up, Up!' +cries the crowing cock. Oh, Mabel, it was cruel of you to deprive us of +his clarion note." + +"Never mind. I saw that Loftie and Miss Meadowsweet had the breast to +eat. I nearly died when I saw you attacking the drumstick, but I knew +you wouldn't split. Now, do look up, Kate? Doesn't Loftus look radiant? +Isn't he a handsome fellow when he is pleased? What can Miss Meadowsweet +be saying to him? How he does laugh!" + +"Miss Meadowsweet has a good deal of fun in her," responded Kate. "I +think it is a certain tone in her voice. Well, here they come. How did +you like the ruins, Loftus?" + +"Very much--I mean as much as I care for any ruins. And I have had a +capital guide. Miss Meadowsweet wants to propose something to you +girls." + +"Yes," said Beatrice, in her bright, quick way. "It will be so nice if +you can do it. Captain Bertram says he is fond of tennis, and we have +four very good courts at home. Will you all come and have supper this +evening? Mother will be delighted to see you--Do come, Miss Bertram." + +She looked sympathetically and eagerly at Catherine. Catherine in her +shabby, ill-fitting dress was not nearly such a distinguished figure as +Miss Meadowsweet, whose serge costume fitted her like a glove. Yet +Catherine drew herself up as if the invitation half offended her. + +"I?" she began. She looked at Loftus. Her color came and went. + +"Catherine is overpowered," remarked the brother, with a smile at Miss +Meadowsweet, but a certain expression about his mouth which Kate too +well interpreted. "Catherine is overpowered. She and this little woman," +taking Mabel's hand, "have had very few invitations lately. Never mind, +Kate, I'll support you, and if we hurry home now, you can polish up your +rusty tennis powers at Rosendale. We must make a proper court there, +Miss Meadowsweet. In the meantime, we are all delighted to accept your +kind invitation." + +"Be with us at seven," said Beatrice. "Mother doesn't like supper to be +later than half-past-eight, but if you are with us by seven we shall +have time for a good game first. And now, I think I must go home, or my +mother will wonder what has become of me." + +Mabel picked up the luncheon basket. Loftus flung the rugs over his +shoulder, and the four young people went down to the boats. + +Loftus and Mabel lingered a little behind. Catherine and Beatrice led +the way. + +"You don't want to come to-night," suddenly said Beatrice to her +companion. + +Catherine started and colored. + +"Why do you say that? I--I am glad to come." + +"Don't come if you don't want to. I shall understand." + +They had reached the boats. The Bertrams seated themselves in their own. +Miss Meadowsweet advised them not to put up the sail, but thought if she +kept within easy distance, they might manage the oars. Loftus and Mabel +rowed. Kate sat in the stern and steered. Beatrice Meadowsweet +applauded, and rowed her own boat with skill. She reached the shore +before them, and called out in her clear voice: + +"I sha'n't wait now. I shall see you all at seven this evening." + +"Reply for us, Kate," whispered Loftus. "Reply for us all, quickly." + +"Yes--we'll come," called Catherine across the water. + +Beatrice smiled. Her smile was of the sunniest. It flashed back a look +of almost love at Catherine. Then she turned to walk up the steep steps +which led from the quay to the little High Street. + +"We ought not to go," instantly began Catherine. + +Loftus stopped rowing, bent forward and put his hand across her mouth. + +"Not another word," he said. "I'll undertake to conciliate the mother, +and I think she can trust to my ideas of good-breeding." + +Meanwhile Beatrice walked quickly home. The Meadowsweets lived at the +far end of the town in a large gray stone house. The house stood back a +little from the road, and a great elm tree threw its protecting shade +over the porch and upper windows. It was, however, an ordinary house in +a street, and looked a little old-fashioned and a little gloomy until +you stepped into the drawing-room, which was furnished certainly with no +pretension to modern taste or art, but opened with French windows into a +glorious, big, old-world garden. + +The house was known by the name of the Gray House, and the old garden as +the Gray Garden, but the garden at least bore no resemblance to its +neutral-tinted name. It had green alleys, and sheltering trees, and a +great expanse of smoothly kept lawn. It possessed flower-beds and flower +borders innumerable. There was more than one bower composed entirely of +rose-trees, and there were very long hedges of sweet briar and Scotch +roses. + +The tennis-courts were kept to perfection in the Gray Garden, and all +the lasses and boys of Northbury were rejoiced when an invitation came +to them to test their skill at a tournament here. There was no girl in +Northbury more popular than Beatrice. This popularity was unsought. It +came to her because she was gracious and affectionate, of a generous +nature, above petty slanders, petty gossips, petty desires. Life had +always been rich and plentiful for her, she possessed abundant health, +excellent spirits, and a sunny temper not easily ruffled; she was +sympathetic, too, and although, in mind and nature she was many steps +above the girls with whom she associated, she was really unconscious of +this difference and gave herself no superior airs. A companion who would +have been her equal, whose intellect would have sharpened hers, whose +spirit would have matched her own, whose refinement would have delighted +and whose affection would have been something to revel in, she had never +hitherto known. + +Unconscious of her loss she had not deplored it. It was not until she +and Catherine Bertram had flashed a look of delight and sympathy at one +another that she first felt stirring within her breast the wings of a +new desire. For the first time she felt unsatisfied and incomplete. She +scarcely knew that she thirsted for Catherine, but this was so. +Catherine awakened all sorts of new emotions in her heart. She had spent +a delightful day with the Bertrams, and hurried home now in the highest +spirits. + +In the High Street she met three girls, whose names were Matty, Alice, +and Sophy Bell. Their father was a retired coal merchant. There was +scarcely any active trade down in Northbury, almost all the inhabitants +having retired to live there on their fortunes. The Bells were small, +rather thickly-made girls, with round faces and round eyes. They always +dressed alike, and one was never seen without the other two. They +generally walked through the streets with their arms linked, and each +one echoed the sentiments of the other, so that the effect produced was +a sense of medley and multiplicity. + +To such an extent was this felt that the three girls were spoken of by +the wits of the town as the "four-and-twenty Miss Bells." They adored +Beatrice, and bore down upon her now in a neat phalanx. + +"Delighted to see you, Bee!" exclaimed Matty. + +"Delighted!" echoed Alice. + +"Lighted!" exclaimed Sophy. + +"Where have you been?" began Matty, again. + +Beatrice told. While she spoke, three pairs of lips were raised for a +salute. + +People kissed in the streets or anywhere at Northbury. + +"You were with those Bertrams! Those _rude_ Bertrams! Oh, fascinating--" + +"Fascinating--" + +"Nating," burst from the three. + +"Tell us about them, darling!" exclaimed one. + +"Tell us!" said the other. + +"--Us"--gasped the third. + +Beatrice narrated her morning adventure with some spirit, praised her +new friends, defended them from any score of rudeness, and altogether +conjured up an interesting picture of them. + +The Bells turned to walk with her. Matty hung on one arm, Alice on +another, Sophy hopped backwards in front. Before she quite knew that she +meant to do so, Beatrice had asked the Bells to join the tennis party +that evening. They accepted the invitation rapturously. + +"Might Polly and Daisy Jenkins come too, and might Polly's brother come, +and if they met Mr. Jones, the curate--Mr. Jones did so love +tennis--might _he_ come?" + +"Is the brother an officer in the real army?" inquired Matty. + +"Real army--" + +"Army--" echoed the others + +Beatrice was able to assure them that Captain Bertram had nothing +spurious about him. + +"I'll see you at seven," she added, nodding to her companions. "Yes, you +can bring the Jenkinses and the boys, and Mr. Jones. I really must hurry +home now." + +She reached the Gray House, found her mother nodding, as usual, in her +great easy-chair, and told her what she had done. + +"I met the Bertrams on the water, and had lunch with them, and they are +coming to tennis to-night, and to supper afterwards, mother," she said. + +Mrs. Meadowsweet always approved of her daughter's doings. She approved +now, nodding her kind old head, and raising her face with a smile. + +"Quite right, Trixie," she said. "How many Bertrams are there? Is Mrs. +Bertram coming? If so, I had better put on my cap with the Honiton +lace." + +"Mrs. Bertram is not coming, mother, but you must put on your best cap +all the same. Mrs. Bertram is from home. It was the girls I met this +morning--the girls, and their brother, Captain Bertram." + +"Oh, well, child, if they are all young folk the cap with Maltese lace +will do. I don't wear Honiton, except for those who know." + +"Mother, I thought we might have supper in the garden. The weather is so +lovely now, and it is quite light at half-past eight. Shall I give the +order, and take all the trouble off you?" + +Mrs. Meadowsweet rose with a slight effort to her feet. + +"Do you think I am going to let you be worried, child?" she said. "No, +no, what good is the old mother if she can't manage a thing of that +sort? Of course you shall have supper in the garden, and a good supper, +too. I am glad you have asked your friends, Bee. How well and bright you +look. I am very glad you have made nice friends at last, child." + +"All my friends are nice, mother, at least I think so. By the way, I met +the little Bells, and they were dying to come, so I asked them, and they +said perhaps they would bring the Jenkinses, and Mr. Jones, and of +course, the boys will drop in." + +"My word, child, but that's quite a party! I had better send out at once +for a salmon, and two or three lobsters and some crabs. There's cream +enough in the house, and eggs, and plenty of stuff in the garden for +salads. Oh, I'll manage, I'll manage fine. I got in a couple of chickens +and a pair of ducks this morning; I'll warrant that your grand friends +have enough to eat, Trixie. But now I must go and have a talk with +Jane." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +NOBODY ELSE LOOKED THE LEAST LIKE THE BERTRAMS. + + +It was the fashion to be punctual at Northbury, and when Catherine, +Mabel and Loftus Bertram arrived about ten minutes past seven at the +Gray House they found the pleasant old drawing-room already full of +eager and expectant guests. + +Beatrice would have preferred meeting her new friends without any +ceremony in the garden, but Mrs. Meadowsweet was nothing if she was not +mistress of her own house, and she decided that it would be more +becoming and _comme il faut_ to wait in the drawing-room for the +young visitors. + +Accordingly Mrs. Meadowsweet sat in her chair of state. She wore a +rose-colored silk dress, and a quantity of puffed white lace round her +neck and wrists; and a cap which was tall and stiff, and had little +tufts of yellow ribbon and little rosettes of Maltese lace adorning it, +surmounted her large, full-blown face. That face was all beams and +kindliness and good-temper, and had somehow the effect of making people +forget whether Mrs. Meadowsweet was vulgar or not. + +She sat in her chair of state facing the garden, and her visitors, all +on the tip-toe of expectation, stationed themselves round her. The Bells +had taken possession of the Chesterfield sofa. By sitting rather widely +apart they managed to fill it; they always looked alike. To-night they +so exactly resembled peas in a pod that one had a sense of ache and +almost fatigue in watching them. This fatigue and irritation rose to +desperation when they spoke. The Bells were poor, and their dresses bore +decided signs of stint and poverty. They wore white muslin jackets, and +pale green skirts of a shining substance known as mohair. Their mother +fondly imagined that the shine and glitter of this fabric could not be +known from silk. It was harsh, however, and did not lie in graceful +folds, and besides, the poor little skirts lacked quantity. + +The Bells had thin hair, and no knack whatever with regard to its +arrangement. They looked unprepossessing girls, but no matter. Beatrice +thought well of them. Mrs. Meadowsweet bestowed one or two broad glances +of approval upon the inseparable little trio, and their own small hearts +were dancing with expectation. + +Would Bee, their darling, delightful, beautiful Bee, introduce them to +Captain Bertram? Would he speak to them and smile upon them? Would he +tell them stories of some of his gallant exploits? The Bells' round +faces seemed to grow plumper, and their saucer eyes fuller, as they +contemplated this contingency. What supreme bliss would be theirs if +Captain Bertram singled them out for attention? Already they were in +love with his name, and were quite ready to fall down in a phalanx of +three, and worship the hero of many imaginary fights. + +Standing by the open window, and with no shyness or stiffness whatever +about them, Daisy and Polly Jenkins were to be seen. Daisy was a +full-blown girl with a rather loud voice, and a manner which was by some +considered very fascinating; for it had the effect of instantly taking +you, as it were, behind the scenes, and into her innermost confidence. + +Daisy was rather good-looking, and was the adored of Albert Bell, the +little round-faced girls' brother. She was dressed in voluminous muslin +draperies, and was a decidedly large and comfortable-looking young +woman. + +Polly was a second edition of her sister, only not so good-looking. She +had made up her mind to marry Mr. Jones, the curate, who for his part +was deeply in love with Beatrice. + +"They are frightfully late, aren't they?" exclaimed Daisy Jenkins, +giving a slight yawn, and looking longingly out at the tennis courts as +she spoke. "I suppose it's the way with fashionable folk. For my part, I +call it rude. Mrs. Meadowsweet, may I run across the garden, and pick a +piece of sweet brier to put in the front of my dress? Somehow I pine for +it." + +"I'll get it for you," said Albert Bell, blushing crimson as he spoke. + +He was a very awkward young man, but his heart was as warm as his +manners were uncouth. + +"I'll get it for you, Daisy," he said. His dull eyes had not the power +of shining or looking eloquent. He stepped from behind the sofa where +his sisters sat, and stumbled over Mrs. Meadowsweet's footstool. + +"I think, my dears, we'll just wait for our guests," said the old lady. +"We'll all just be present, please, when they come. It's my +old-fashioned ideas, my loves, just for us all to be ready to give them +a right-down, good welcome." + +"Bother!" exclaimed Miss Daisy. She flounced her full skirts, cast a +withering glance at young Bell, and once more looked out of the open +window. + +"Come here, Beatrice," exclaimed Polly. + +Mr. Jones was talking to Beatrice, and Polly hoped they would both +approach the window together. + +"Come and tell us about that Adonis you went rowing with to-day," called +the girl in her shrill, half-jealous voice. + +It was just at that moment that the door was flung open by Jane, and the +Bertrams made their appearance. + +Catherine and Mabel wore the simplest white washing-dresses. Their +girlish waists were encircled by sashes of pale gold. Catherine's thick +dark hair was coiled tightly round her head--Mabel's more frizzy and +paler locks fell in wavy curls round her forehead and on her shoulders. +Nobody else looked the least like the Bertrams. Their dresses were as +cheap as any other girl's dresses in the room. Daisy and Polly Jenkins +had really much handsomer and finer hair, but somehow the effect +produced by the Bertrams was altogether different. + +Mrs. Meadowsweet addressed them in a deferential tone as "Miss," and it +went like an electric flash through the minds of all the other visitors +that the old lady was quite right when she thought it her duty to +receive them in state. + +Bertram was in flannels, and these were cut not exactly after the +pattern of those worn by young Bell, who looked with a sort of despair +at his true love, Daisy, whose eyes, in company with the three pairs of +eyes of the Bells, were directed full upon the aristocratic face of +Captain Bertram. + +"Come into the garden," said Beatrice, stepping forward in her usual +bright way, forgetting herself completely, and in consequence putting +every one else at their ease. "We are very punctual people at +Northbury," she continued, "and we are all wild to begin our game +Captain Bertram, these are my friends, the Bells. May I introduce you? +This is Miss Matty, and this is Miss Alice, and this is Miss Sophy. +Matty, I put Captain Bertram into your charge. Albert," she continued, +looking at young Bell, "will you and Daisy arrange a set for tennis?" + +How Albert Bell did bless Beatrice! In a moment or two all the visitors +were perambulating about the garden. Mr. Jones was escorted on one side +by Polly Jenkins, on the other, he, in his turn, tried to escort Mabel +Bertram, who did not talk a great deal and seemed somewhat out of her +element. Catherine and Beatrice walked together, and Mrs. Meadowsweet, +still sitting in her arm-chair, smiled as she saw them. + +"That's a nice girl, and a fine looking girl," she murmured, "and very +good company for my Bee. Very good company for her. Yes, the Bertrams +are stylish but not of our set. My word, not a bit of our set. Bee, of +course, might talk to anybody, but the rest of us--no, no, I'm the first +to see the fitness of things, and the Bertrams don't belong to us nor we +to them. Bee takes after her father, poor man, but the rest of us, we +have no right to know the Bertrams. Now, do look at that young captain. +Why, he's making the little Bells laugh themselves into fits. Dear me, +I'd better go out. These girls don't know manners, and their heads will +be turned by that fine young spark. They are certain to believe any +rubbish he talks to them." + +Mrs. Meadowsweet rose with difficulty, stepped out of the open window, +and sailed in her rose-colored satin across the grass. + +"Now, what's up?" she said. "Fie, fie, Matty, your laugh is for all the +world like a hen cackling." + +"He, he!" exclaimed the younger girls. + +"Now, there you are off again, and all three of you this time!" + +"It's Captain Bertram, ma'am," began Matty. + +"Captain Bertram!" echoed Alice. + +"Bertram," sighed Sophy. + +"He says," continued Matty, "that we are all alike, and he doesn't know +one from the other, and we are trying to puzzle him. It is such +delicious fun." + +"Delicious fun!" said Alice. + +"Fun!" gasped Sophy, through her peals of mirth. + +"Now," continued Alice, "he shall begin again. He shall go through his +catechism. Here we three stand in a row. Which is Matty, which is Alice, +which is Sophy?" + +Captain Bertram pulled his mustache, swept his dark eyes over the little +eager palpitating group, and in a languid tone pronounced the wrong one +to be Matty. + +The cackling rose to a shriek. + +"You shall pay a forfeit, you bad man," said the real Matty. She shook +her little fat finger at him. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Meadowsweet, he really +shall--he _must_. This really is too sweetly delicious,--fancy his +not knowing me from Alice--I call it ungallant. Now what shall the +forfeit be, Alice and Sophy. Let's put our fingers on our lips and +think." + +"He shall tell us," exclaims Alice, "he shall describe at full length +his--" + +She looked at her sisters. + +"His first battle," prompted Matty. + +"No, no, better than that, better than that--" came from Sophy's girlish +lips. "Captain Bertram shall tell us about his--his first love." + +It may have been rude, but at this remark Captain Bertram not only +changed color but turned in a very marked way from the Misses Bell, and +devoted himself to his hostess. + +He was attacked by a complaint somewhat in vogue in high life--he had a +sudden fit of convenient deafness. He said a few words in a cold voice +to Mrs. Meadowsweet, crushed the little Bells by his icy manner, and +took the first opportunity of finding more congenial society. + +An eager game of tennis was going on, and Beatrice, who did not play, +stood by to watch. Northbury was accustomed to Beatrice, and did not +therefore observe, what was very patent to Captain Bertram, that this +girl was as perfectly well-bred as his own sisters. She wore a long, +gray cashmere dress, slightly open at her throat, with ruffles of soft, +real lace. + +As she watched the game, her sensitive and speaking face showed +interest, sympathy, keen appreciation. She heard Captain Bertram's step, +and turned to welcome him with a smile. + +"Would not you like to play?" + +"Will you be my partner?" + +"When they make up a fresh set I will, with pleasure; although," she +added, looking down at her long dress, "I did not expect to play +to-night, and did not dress for it." + +"Thank goodness. I hate tennis dresses. All girls should wear trains." + +Beatrice raised her bright eyes to his face. Their open expression said +plainly, "It is a matter of indifference to me what you think about my +dress." Aloud she said: + +"What have you done with my friends, the Bells?" + +"I am afraid, Miss Meadowsweet, that long intercourse with those young +ladies would be too severe a strain on my intellect." + +"Captain Bertram, you don't mean what you are saying." + +"I do, on my honor. They are too intellectual for me." + +"They are not! You are laughing at them." + +Beatrice stepped back a pace, and looked at him with a heightened color +coming into her face. + +Captain Bertram began to explain. Before he could get in a word she +said, abruptly: + +"Pardon me," and flew from his side. + +Her movement was so fleet and sudden that he had not realized her +departure before the impulsive girl was standing by the despised Matty, +talking to her in a cheery and affectionate voice, and making fresh +arrangements for the pleasure and satisfaction of all three. + +"By Jove, she's a fine creature!" thought the captain. "I don't mind how +much I see of her--but as to the rest of this motley herd, my mother is +quite right in not letting the girls have anything to do with them. I +suppose I put my foot in it bringing them here to-night. Well, that +can't be helped now. I hope Miss Beatrice will soon come back. Her eyes +flashed when I said even a word against those terrible little friends of +hers. I should like her eyes to flash at me again. I suppose she'll soon +return. She promised to be my partner in the next set at tennis. That +girl doesn't care a bit for fine speeches. She won't take a compliment +even when it is offered to her--won't stretch out her hand for it or +touch it. Cool? I should think she is cool. Might have been through two +or three London seasons. What a queer lot surround her! And how unlike +them she is. There's the old mother--I had better go and talk to her. +She's quite as vulgar as the rest, but somehow she doesn't jar on a +man's nerves like those charming Miss Bells. Positively, I should have a +fever if I talked much longer to them. My first love, too! I'm to tell +them about _her_. Oh, yes, that's so likely." + +Again the angry flame mounted to Captain Bertram's thin cheek. He +strolled across the grass, and joined his hostess. + +"Now I call this a shame!" exclaimed the good lady, "you don't tell me +that you are all by yourself, captain, and no one trying to make +themselves agreeable to you! Oh, fie! this will never do--and you, so to +speak, the lion of the party." + +"Pray don't say that, Mrs. Meadowsweet, I hate being a lion." + +"But you can't help it, my good young sir. You, who represent our +Gracious Sovereign Lady's Army. Now, where's that girl of mine? +Beatrice! Trixie! Bee!" + +Captain Bertram was amazed at the shrill and far-sounding quality of +Mrs. Meadowsweet's voice. It distressed him, for anything not ultra +refined jarred upon this sensitive young officer's nerves; but he +trusted that the result would be satisfactory, and that Beatrice, whose +motions he began to liken to a poem, would put in a speedy appearance. + +She was talking to Mr. Jones, however, and when her mother called her, +she and the curate approached together. + +"Beatrice, this poor young man--Captain Bertram, the hero of the +evening, is all alone. Not a soul to amuse him or entertain him." + +"Mother, you mistake," answered Beatrice, "Captain Bertram is being +entertained by you." + +"Hoots, child! What should an old lady have to say to a gay young lad?" + +"Plenty, I assure you. I am being delightfully amused," replied the +captain. + +He gave Beatrice an angry look which she would not see. + +"I want to talk to Jane about the supper," said the young lady in a calm +voice. "Captain Bertram, may I introduce you to Mr. Jones?" + +Again she flew lightly away, and the captain owned to himself that the +tennis party at the Gray House was a very dull affair. + +Supper, however, made amends for much. The incongruous elements were not +so apparent. Everybody was hungry, and even the most fastidious had to +acknowledge the fare of the best. Captain Bertram quite retrieved his +character in Beatrice Meadowsweet's eyes, so well did he help her in +serving her guests. Matty, Alice and Sophy Bell forgave him for his +abrupt departure earlier in the evening from the charms of their +society, when he helped them each twice to lobster salad. + +Captain Bertram was not at all averse to the charms of a small +flirtation. He was forced to remain for a few days in the remote little +world-forgotten town of Northbury, and it occurred to him as he helped +the Bells to lobster salad, and filled up Miss Matty's glass more than +once with red currant wine, that Beatrice could solace him a good deal +during his exile from a gayer life. He was absolutely certain at the +present moment that the best way to restore himself to her good graces +was once again to endure the intellectual strain of the Bells' society. +Accordingly when supper was over, and people with one consent, and all, +as it were, moved by a sudden impulse, joined first in a country dance, +then formed into sets for quadrilles, and finally waltzed away to the +old-fashioned sound of Mrs. Meadowsweet's piano, played with vigor by +the good lady herself, Captain Bertram, with a beseeching and +deprecatory glance at Beatrice, who took care not to see it, led out +Miss Matty Bell as his partner. + +How much that young lady giggled! How badly she danced--with what +rapture she threw up her round eyes at her partner's dark face, this +chronicle need not record; so _naïve_ was she, into such ecstasies +did every word spoken by the captain throw her, that he quite feared for +the result. + +"It is awful when a girl falls in love in five minutes!" he mentally +soliloquized. "I wonder if I have satisfied Miss Meadowsweet now? I do +honestly think I have done my duty by Miss Matty Bell." + +So he conveyed the gushing young person back to her sisters, and sought +for Beatrice who was once more frank and friendly, but gave him +excellent reasons for not dancing with him. + +At this moment Catherine came up and touched her brother. Her cheeks had +a bright color in them, she looked animated and happy. + +"Loftus, it is close on twelve o'clock. We must go home. Look at Mabel," +she added, seeing her brother hesitate, "she is frightfully sleepy. +Mother never allows her to be up so late. We have had a happy evening," +continued Catherine, looking full into Miss Meadowsweet's face, "and we +are very much obliged to you. Now I must go and say good-night to your +mother." + +She tripped away, and Beatrice looked after her with affectionate eyes. + +"It is unkind of you not to give me one dance," said the captain. + +She had forgotten his presence. + +"It is not unkind," she said. "The dancing is altogether an impromptu +affair, and I had to attend to my guests. I was talking to your sister, +Catherine, who did not care to dance." + +"Very ungenerous to me," pursued the captain. "A poor return for all my +efforts to please you." + +"Your efforts--pray, what efforts?" + +"Did you not observe me with your friend, Miss Matty Bell? I assure you +she and I are now excellent friends." + +"I do not suppose in my mother's house you would be anything else, +Captain Bertram." + +Her tone irritated the captain. His manner changed. + +"Do you think I _wanted_ to dance with her?" + +"I don't think about it. Here is your sister. I will help you to find +your wraps, Catherine." + +She linked her hand through Catherine Bertram's arm, and went with her +into the hall. A few moments later the brother and sisters were walking +quickly home. + +"So you have come to Christian names already, Catherine," said Loftus. + +"Yes," replied Catherine. "She is the very dearest girl. Have we not had +a delightful evening?" + +"Delightful, truly. How did you enjoy yourself, Mab?" + +"Middling," replied Mabel. "I was with Mr. Jones, and he talked about +vestments, and deplored the Rector's decision against High Church +practices. He thought we were kindred souls, but we weren't, and I told +him so. Then he turned crusty. I waltzed twice with Mr. Bell, and he +kicked my ankle, and hurt me very much. I don't think I cared much for +the party, Catherine, the people were so queer." + +"Were they?" answered Catherine. "I didn't notice anything the matter +with them. I talked for a short time with Mrs. Meadowsweet, and found +her most interesting. She told me a lot about Beatrice. She thinks +Beatrice the noblest creature in the world. As I very nearly agreed with +her we got on capitally." + +"What a romantic puss you are, Kate," said her brother. + +She was leaning on him, and he gave her arm a playful pinch. + +"You met Miss Meadowsweet on Tuesday, wasn't it? This is Friday, and she +is the 'very dearest girl in the world,' and already you are Catherine +and Beatrice to one another. Upon my word, hearts move rapidly towards +each other in certain quarters." + +"In more quarters than one," replied Kate, with an arch smile. "How you +did flatter that poor little Miss Bell, Loftie. Her cheeks were like +peonies while you talked to her. You certainly had an air of great +tenderness, and I expect you have turned the poor little thing's head." + +"Yes, Loftus," interrupted Mabel. "I remarked you, too, with Miss Bell. +What a little fright she is--I never could have supposed she was in your +style." + +"Good gracious," began Loftus, "you didn't think--" + +But Catherine in her sedate voice interrupted him. + +"Beatrice and I were watching you. I laughed when I saw that expression +of tenderness filling your glorious dark eyes, but I think Bee was +vexed." + +"Vexed? No, Kate, surely not vexed?" + +"I think so, Loftus. She said to me--'I hope your brother is not +laughing at my little friend, Matty Bell.' Then she added, 'I know Matty +is not beautiful nor specially attractive, but she has the kindest +heart.' I said perhaps you were flirting, and that I knew you could +flirt. She did not make any answer, only she looked grave, and turned +away when you and Miss Bell came near us." + +"That accounts," began Loftus. He did not explain himself further and +by-and-by the little party reached the Manor. + +There was an old tumble-down lodge at the gates. It was inhabited by a +very poor man, who, for the sake of getting a shelter over his head, now +and then undertook to clean up and do odd jobs in the Rosendale gardens. +Mrs. Bertram thought it well to have some one in the lodge, and she was +pleased with the economical arrangement she had made with David Tester. + +One of his duties was to lock the old gates at night. There was a small +and a large gate leading into the avenue, and it was one of Mrs. +Bertram's special whims that both should be locked at night. Old Tester +thought his mistress foolishly particular on this point, and wondered at +so close a lady going to the expense of new locks, which were sent down +from London, and were particularly good and expensive. + +The small gate was furnished with a latch-lock as well. This arrangement +was made for Tester's convenience, so that if Mrs. Bertram and her +daughters chose to be absent from home a little later than usual, he +could still close the gate and go to bed. + +When the girls and their brother left home that evening Catherine had +not forgotten the latch-key. + +"We may be late," she said, "so I will put it in my pocket." + +They were late, and as they approached the old gates Catherine gave the +key to Mabel, who hastened to fit it into the lock of the side gate. + +To her surprise it opened at a touch. + +"Kate!" exclaimed the young girl, "Tester has been very careless; he has +never closed the side gate." + +"I will call him up and speak to him now," said Catherine, who had a +certain touch of her mother's imperious nature. "He shall do it now. +Mother is always most particular about the gates, and she ought not to +be disobeyed in her absence." + +Catherine was running across the avenue to wake old Tester when Loftus +laid his hand on her arm. + +"You really are too absurd, Kitty," he said. "I simply won't allow that +poor, infirm, old man to be got out of his bed for such a ridiculous +reason. Who cares whether the gates are locked, or not locked?" + +"Mother cares," said Catherine, her eyes flashing. + +"Now, Kate, you must use your common-sense. That fad about locking the +gates is a pure and simple whim on the mother's part. Of course we'll +humor it, but not to the extent of waking up old Tester. Come, Kitty, +you shall give the old man any amount of blowing up in the morning, only +now you really must leave him alone." + +"I'm going on," said Mabel; "I can scarcely keep my eyes open. Will +you come with me, Loftie? If Kate likes to stay by herself with the +dark trees and the ghosts, why, let her. I'm off to bed." + +She ran laughing and singing up the old avenue. + +Loftus turned to resume his argument with Catherine, Mabel's gay voice +echoed more faintly as she ran on. Suddenly it stopped. Patter, patter, +came back the swift feet, and, trembling and shivering, she threw +herself into Loftus's arms. + +"I heard something--there's something in the avenue!" + +The moon was shining, and showed Mabel's face as white as a sheet. + +"You silly child," said Loftus, "you heard a rabbit scuttling home. +Here, take my arm, and let us all get home as fast as we can. Why, you +are trembling from head to foot. You are tired out, that's it. Take her +other arm, will you, Kate?" + +"They say Rosendale is haunted," panted Mabel. + +"Folly! Don't listen to such rubbish. Your rabbit was hurrying to bed, +and was as much afraid of you as you of it." + +"It--it wasn't a rabbit," said Mabel. "Rabbits don't sigh." + +"Oh--sighs only belong to ghosts?" + +"I don't know. Don't laugh at me, Loftie. I heard a real sigh and a +rustle, and something white flashed." + +"Then you flashed back to us. Never talk of being a brave girl again, +May." + +"Let us walk very quickly," said Mabel. "It was just there I saw it. +Just by that great clump of Lauristinus. Don't let us speak. There, +that's better. I own I'm frightened, Loftie. You needn't laugh at me." + +Loftus Bertram had many faults, but he was not ill-natured. He took +Mabel's little cold hand, and pressed it between his warm fingers, and +ceased to laugh at her, and walked quickly, and was even silent at her +bidding. By degrees, Mabel leaned all her weight on Loftus, and took no +notice of Kate, who, for her part, held herself erect, and walked up the +avenue with a half-aggrieved, half-scornful look on her face, and with +some anxiety in her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE GHOST IN THE AVENUE. + + +Rosendale Manor had heaps of rooms. It was an old house, added to at +many times; added to by builders, who had little or no knowledge of +their craft, who were prodigal of space, and illiberal in all matters of +convenience. + +The Manor was the sort of house which might best be described as +inadequate for the wants of ordinary people. For instance, its +drawing-rooms were large out of all proportion, whereas its dining-room, +morning-room and library were ridiculously small. It had a spacious hall +and wide landings, but its stairs were steep and narrow, and there was +not even one decent-sized bedroom in the house. All the rooms had low +ceilings and were small. Their only virtue was that there were such a +number of them. + +Catherine and Mabel liked the bedrooms at the Manor, because being +rather distinct in their tastes, and decidedly given to quarrel over the +arrangements of their separate properties, it was impossible for them to +sleep together. Each girl had a room of her own, and these rooms did not +even touch, for Mabel slept near her mother, and Catherine away in a +wing by herself. This wing could only be reached by a spiral staircase, +and was pronounced by the timid Mabel to be odiously lonely. + +Catherine, however, knew no fears, and enjoyed the privacy of her quaint +little bedroom with its sloping roof and lattice window. + +She bade her brother and sister good-night, and went up to it, now. + +"You'll go to bed at once, won't you, Kitty?" said Mabel, whose eyes +were half-shut. "Perhaps it _was_ only a rabbit I heard. Only why +did it flash white, and why did it sigh? Well, I won't think of it any +more. Good-night, Kitty, how wide awake you look." + +Catherine kissed her sister and sought her distant chamber. She waited +until all was silent in the house, then slowly and cautiously she +unbarred her door and went downstairs. + +In the large square entrance hall she took a white shawl from a stand. +She hung it across her arm, and still walking very softly reached the +hall door, drew back its bolts, removed its chain, opened it, and went +out into the porch. + +Her mother had stood in that porch two nights fgo. Catherine thought of +her now. The remembrance of her mother's face caused her to sigh and +shiver as if she had been struck with sudden cold. Leaving the hall door +ajar she wrapped the white shawl about her shoulders, and then walked a +little way across the wide gravel sweep in front of the house. + +Her footsteps crunched the gravel, but her brother and sister slept in +distant bedrooms and could hear nothing. The moon was riding full and +high in the heavens, and its reflection caused intense light and dark +shadows. Catherine's own shadow stalked heavy and immense by her side. + +She walked a little way down the avenue, listening intently. Even the +crunching of the gravel disturbed her, so she stepped on the grass, and +walked noiselessly on its velvet path. + +Suddenly she stopped, threw up her head, flung her shawl off, and with a +movement quick as lightning, put out her hand and caught something. + +She was holding a girl's slender and round arm. She drew her forward, +pushed back her somewhat tawdry hat, and looked into her face. + +"What are you doing here? What is your name? Speak at once. Tell me the +truth." + +The girl had queer, half-wild eyes. She looked down and began to mutter +something indistinct. The next instant she went on her knees, caught +Catherine's white dress and pressed it to her lips. + +"Don't," said Miss Bertram, with a movement both of decision and +repulsion. "You aren't even clean. Don't touch my dress. What are you +doing here?" + +"I have travelled a long way. I am only dirty because I am travel-sore. +I have come to see the lady, your mother. I have come from far to see +her. I have a message for her. Is she at home?" + +"Would she see you, if she were at home, at this hour? Tell me your name +first, and then go away. You cannot see my mother." + +"You are Miss Bertram, are you not?" + +"Yes--and Rosendale Manor is my home. It is not yours. Go away. Never +come back here again. You are not to see my mother." + +The girl rose to her feet. Her dress was dirty, her face was begrimed +with the dirt of travel, but Catherine noticed that the dress was whole, +not patched anywhere, also that her accent was pure, and almost refined. + +"Miss Bertram," she said, "I must see the lady, your mother. I have an +important message for her; I am not a spy, and I don't come in any +unkindness, but I must see the lady who lives here, and who is your +mother. I have waited for hours in the avenue, hours and hours. I will +wait until morning. The nights are not cold, and I shall do very well. +Let me see your mother then." + +"You cannot. She is from home. It was you then, who bribed Tester to +keep the lodge gate open?" + +"I gave the man a shilling. Yes, I confess it. I am doing no harm here. +Put yourself in my place." + +"How dare you? How can you?" said Catherine, stepping away from the +travel-stained figure. + +"Ah, you are very proud, but there's a verse of Scripture that fits you. +'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.' I know your +age--you are just seventeen, I'm only nineteen, just two years older +than you. You have no feeling for me. Suppose I had none for you?" + +The refinement of the girl's voice became more and more apparent to +Catherine. There was a thrill and a quality in it which both repelled +and fascinated. This queer waif and stray, this vagabond of the +woodside, was at least as fearless as herself. + +"I don't know what you mean," she said, in a less imperious tone than +she had hitherto used. + +"I could explain what I mean, but I won't. I have too kind a heart to +crush you. I could crush you. I could take that dainty white hand of +yours, and feel it tremble in mine--and if you knew all that I could say +you wouldn't leave me out here in the avenue, but you'd take me in, and +give me the best to eat, and the softest bed to lie upon. Don't you +think it's very kind of me when I could use such power over you that I +don't use it? Don't you think it's noble of me? Oh, you are a dainty +girl, and a proud, but I could bring you and yours to the very dust." + +"You must be mad," said Catherine. "Absolutely mad. How can you possibly +expect me to listen to this wild nonsense? You had better go away now. +I'll walk with you as far as the gate, and then I'll wake up Tester to +lock it after you. You needn't suppose that I'm afraid." + +"Don't taunt me," said the girl. "If you do I'll use my power. Oh, I am +hungry, and thirsty, and footsore. Why shouldn't I go into that house +and sleep there, and eat there, and be rested?" + +Her words were defiant, but just at the last they wavered, and Catherine +saw by the moonlight that her face grew ghastly under its grimness, and +she saw the slender young figure sway as if it would fall. + +"You are hungry?" said Catherine, all her feelings merged in sudden +pity. "Even though you have no right to be here, you sha'n't go hungry +away. Sit down. Rest against that tree, and I will fetch you something." + +She ran into the house, returning presently with a jug of milk, and some +thick bread and butter. + +"Eat that," she said, "and drink this milk, then you will be better. I +slipped a cup into my pocket. It is not broken. I will pour you out a +cup of milk." + +The girl seized the bread and butter, and began devouring it. She was so +famished that she almost tore it as she ate. Catherine, who had quite +forgotten her dignified _rôle_ in compassion for the first real +hunger she had ever witnessed, knelt on the grass by her side, and once, +twice, thrice, filled the cup full of milk, and held it to her lips. + +"Now you are better," she said, when the meal had come to an end. + +"Yes, thank you, Miss Bertram, much better. The horrible sinking is +gone, and the ground doesn't seem to reel away when I look at it. Thank +you, Miss Catherine Bertram, I shall do nicely now. I do not at all mind +sleeping here on the cool grass till the morning." + +"But you are not to stay. Why are you obstinate when I am good to you? +And why do you call me Miss Catherine Bertram? How can you possibly know +my name?" + +The girl laughed. Her laugh was almost cheerful, it was also young and +silvery. + +"You ask me a lot of questions," she said. "I'll answer them one by one, +and the least important first. How I know your name is my own secret; I +can't tell that without telling also what would crush you. But I may as +well say that I know all about you. I know your appearance, and your +age, and even a little bit about your character; and I know you have a +younger sister called Mabel, and that she is not so pretty as you, and +has not half the character, and in short that you are worth two of her. + +"Then you have a brother. His name is Loftus. He is like you, only he is +not so fearless. He is in the army. He is rather extravagant, and your +mother is afraid of him. Ah, yes, I know all about you and yours; and I +know so much in especial about that proud lady, your mother, that if +there were daylight, and I had pencil and paper, I could draw a portrait +of her for you. There, have I not answered your first question? Now you +want to know why I don't go away. If you had no money in your purse, and +if you had walked between twenty and thirty miles to effect an object of +the greatest possible importance to yourself, would you give it up at +the bidding of a young girl? Would you now?" + +"You are very queer," said Catherine; "I fail to understand you. I don't +know how you have got your extraordinary knowledge about us. You talk +like a lady, but ladies don't starve with hunger, nor walk until they +are travel-sore and spent. Ladies don't hide at midnight in shrubberies, +in private grounds that don't belong to them. Then you say you have no +money, and yet you gave Tester a shilling." + +"I gave him my last shilling. Here is my empty purse. Look at it." + +"Well, you are very, very queer. You have not even told me your name." + +"Josephine. I am called Josephine." + +"But you have another name. I am called Catherine, but I am also +Bertram. What are you besides Josephine?" + +"Ah, that's trenching into the darkness where you wouldn't like to find +yourself. That's light for me, but dark ruin for you. Don't ask me what +my other name is." + +"Listen," said Catherine, suddenly, "you want to see my mother?" + +"Yes, I certainly want to see her." + +"Listen again. I am absolutely determined that you shall not see her." + +"But I have a message for her." + +"You shall not see her. My mother is not well. I stand between my mother +and trouble. I know you are going to bring her trouble; and you shall +not see her." + +"How can you prevent me?" + +"In this way. My mother is away from home. I will take care that she +does not return until you have left this place. I am determined." + +"Is that true?" asked the girl. "Is she really away from home?" + +"Am I likely to tell you a lie? My mother is from home." + +The strange girl had been sitting on the grass. Now she rose, pushed +back her thick hair, and fixed her eyes on Catherine. Catherine again +noticed the singular brightness, the half-wild light in her eyes. +Suddenly it was quenched by great tears. They splashed down on her +cheeks, and made clean channels where the dust had lain. + +"I am deadly tired," she said, with a half moan. + +"Listen, Josephine," said Catherine. "You shall not spend your night +here. You shall not stay to see my mother. I will take you down to the +lodge and wake up Tester, and his wife shall get a bed ready for you, +and you shall sleep there, and in the morning you are to go away. You +can have breakfast before you start, but afterwards you are to go away. +Do you promise me? Do you agree to this?" + +The girl muttered something, and Catherine took her hand and led her +down to the lodge. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE REASON OF THE VISIT. + + +On the evening of the next day Mrs. Bertram came home. She looked very +tired and worn, but her manner to her children was less stern, and more +loving than usual. Loftus, in especial, she kissed with rare tenderness; +and even for one brief moment laid her head on her tall son's broad +shoulder, as if she wanted to rest herself there. + +On the evening of her mother's return Catherine was particularly bright +and cheerful. As a rule, Catherine's will and her mother's were two +opposing elements. Now they were one. This conjunction of two strong +wills gave an immense sense of rest and harmony to the whole +establishment. No one knew particularly why they felt peaceful and +satisfied, but this was the true cause. + +After dinner, Mrs. Bertram saw Catherine by herself. She called her into +the big drawing-room; and while Loftus and Mabel accurately measured out +a new tennis-court, asked her daughter many and various questions. + +"She has really gone away, mother," said Catherine in conclusion. "I +went to the lodge early this morning, and Tester told me that she got up +early, and took a bit of bread in her pocket; but she would not even +wait for a cup of tea. Tester said she was out of the house by six +o'clock. She washed herself well first, though, and Mrs. Tester said +that she came out of her bath as fair as a lily, and her hair shining +like red gold. I thought last night, mother," concluded Catherine, "that +Josephine must be a pretty girl. I should like to have seen her this +morning when her hair shone and her face was like a lily." + +"You are full of curiosity about this girl, are you not, Catherine?" +asked her mother. + +"It is true, mother. I conjecture much about her." + +"I can never gratify your curiosity, nor set your conjectures right." + +"You know about her then, mother?" + +"Yes, I know about her." + +"Is Josephine an impostor?" + +Mrs. Bertram paused. + +"She is an impostor," she said then, in a slow, emphatic voice. + +"Mother," said her daughter, suddenly. "You look very ill." + +"I have gone through a bad time, Kate. I have been worried. My dear +child, be thankful you are not a middle-aged woman with many cares." + +"The thing I should be most thankful for at this moment, mother, would +be to share in all your worries." + +"God forbid, child. Heaven forbid that such a lot should be yours. Now, +my dear, we will keep our secret. It is only yours and mine. And--come +here--kiss me--you have acted well, my darling." + +The rare caress, the unwonted word of love, went straight to Catherine +Bertram's deep heart. She put her firm young arm round her mother's +neck, and something like a vow and a prayer went up to God from her +fervent soul. + +"Come out," said Mrs. Bertram. "The others will wonder what we are +doing. Look as usual, Kitty, and fear nothing. I have been in peril, but +for the present it is over." + +When Mrs. Bertram appeared Loftus went up to her at once. She took his +arm, and they paced slowly under the trees. If Mrs. Bertram loved her +daughters, and there is no doubt she had a very real regard for them, +Loftus Bertram was as the apple of her eye. She adored this young man, +she was blind to his faults, and she saw his virtues through magnifying +glasses. + +Loftus could always talk his mother into the best of humors. He was not +devoid of tact, and he knew exactly how to manage her, so as to bring +her round to his wishes. Having two ends in view to-night he was more +than usually fascinating. He wanted money to relieve a pressing +embarrassment, and he also wished to cultivate his acquaintance with +Beatrice Meadowsweet. He was not absolutely in love with Beatrice, but +her cool indifference to all his fascinations piqued him. He thought it +would be pleasant to see more of her, delightful to make a conquest of +her. He was not the sort of man to thwart his own inclinations. Beatrice +had contrived to make Northbury interesting to him, and he thought he +could easily manage to get leave to visit it soon again. + +That evening, therefore, Mrs. Bertram not only found herself arranging +to put her hand to a bill, payable at the end of six months, for her +son's benefit, but further, quite complacently agreeing to call the very +next day on Mrs. Meadowsweet, the wife of the ex-shopkeeper. + +Hence that visit which had aroused the jealous feelings not only of Mrs. +Morris, of Mrs, Butler and Miss Peters, but more or less of the whole +society of Northbury. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +SOMEBODY ADMIRED SOMEBODY. + + +"Then, if that's the case," said Mrs. Bell, "if that's really and truly +the case, and no mistake about it, Matty must have some new frocks made +up for her at once. I have no idea of a child of mine looking shabby or +behind any one else, but you must tell me truly, Alice, if he really was +attentive. Bless you, child, you know what I mean. Was there any +hand-squeezing, and was he always and forever making an excuse to have a +look at her. No one could have been more genteel than your father during +courtship, but the way his eyes did follow me wherever I turned, over +and over put me to the blush." + +"Don't say anything to Matty," responded Alice Bell. "She'll be sure to +giggle awfully when next they meet, if you do. She can't keep anything +in, and she owned to Sophy and me that he had got her heart. Well, yes, +I suppose he was particular with her. He danced with her, and he looked +at her, only, I do think it was _she_ squeezed _his_ hand." + +"Oh, fie, Alice, to say such things of your sister. Well, anyhow the +town is full of it. When I went out yesterday Mrs. Morris asked me +point-blank if I hadn't news for her, and Miss Peters has taken so +frightfully to rolling her eyes whenever Matty and Captain Bertram are +seen together, that I'm quite afraid she will contract a regular squint. +How long was he with Matty on the green last night, Alice?" + +"About half-an-hour, I should say," responded Alice. "They walked round +the Green five times, with me and Sophy doing gooseberry behind. I don't +think Matty stopped laughing for a single minute, and the captain he did +quiz her frightfully." + +"Poor man, he was trying to wheedle her heart out of her!" remarked the +gratified mother. "And he has all my sympathies, and what's more, we +must have him to supper, and lobsters and crabs, and anything else he +fancies. It isn't for me to be hard-hearted, and not give the poor +fellow his opportunities; and no doubt Matty will relent by-and-bye." + +"Oh, dear me, mother, she has relented now. She's only waiting and dying +for him to pop the question." + +"If I were you, Alice, I wouldn't make so light of your own sister. Of +course she is gratified by being spoken to and appreciated, but if you +think a girl of mine is going to let herself down cheap--well, she'll be +very different metal from her mother before her. Three times Bell had to +go on his knees for me, and he thought all the more of me for having to +do it. If I'm not mistaken, there are some in this town who are jealous +of Matty. Who would have thought that handsome friend of yours, Bee +Meadowsweet, would be looked over and made nothing of, and my girl be +the favored one? Well, I must own I'm pleased, and so will her father +be, too. It's a nice genteel connection, and they say there's lots of +money somewhere in the background.--Oh, is that you, Matty?--Goodness, +child, don't get your face so burnt,--you shouldn't go out without a +veil in the sun. Now come here, pet, sit down and keep cool, and I'll +bring in some buttermilk presently to bathe your neck and cheeks. +There's nothing like buttermilk for burns. Well, well, what were we +talking about, Alice, when Matty came in?" + +"About the person we're always talking about," replied Alice, rather +crossly. "About Captain Bertram. Good gracious, Matty, it isn't at all +becoming to you to flame up in that sudden way. Lor' ma, look at her, +she's the color of a peony." + +[It may be remarked in passing that the Bells did not echo one another +when at home.] + +"Never mind, never mind," retorted Mrs. Bell, who, with true delicacy, +would not look at her blushing daughter. + +"I was thinking Matty, my love, that you wanted a new evening dress. I +don't like you to be behind any one else, my dear, and that green skirt +with the white jacket, though genteel enough, doesn't seem quite the +thing. I can't tell what's the matter with it, for the mohair in the +skirts cost nine-pence half-penny a yard, and the first day you wore +those dresses, girls, they shone as if they were silk, and your father +asked me why I was so extravagant, and said that though he would like it +he hadn't money to dress you up in silk attire. Poor Bell has a turn for +poetry, and if he had not lost his money through the badness of the coal +trade, he'd make you look like _three poems_, that's what he said +to me. Well, well, somehow the dresses are handsome, and yet I don't +like them." + +"They're hideous," said Matty, kicking out her foot with a petulant +movement. "Somehow, those home-made dresses never look right. They don't +sit properly. We weren't a bit like the other girls at Mrs. +Meadowsweet's a fortnight ago." + +"No," said Alice, "we weren't. The Bertrams had nothing but full skirts +and baby bodies, and sashes round their waists, just like little girls. +Mabel Bertram's dress was only down to her ankles--nothing could have +been plainer--no style at all, and yet we didn't look like them." + +"Well," said the mother, bristling and bridling, "handsome dresses or +not, _somebody_ admired _somebody_ at that party, or I'm greatly +mistaken. Well, Matty dear, what would you fancy for evening wear? If my +purse will stand it you shall have it. I won't have you behind no one, +my love." + +It was at this critical moment, when Matty's giggles prevented her +speaking, and Alice was casting some truly sarcastic and sisterly shafts +at her, that Sophy burst open the door, and announced, in an excited +voice, that Mrs. Middlemass, the pedler, had just stepped into the hall. + +"She has got some lovely things to-day," exclaimed Sophy. "Shall we have +her up, mamma? Have we anything to exchange?" + +"It's only a week since she was here," replied Mrs. Bell. "And she +pretty nearly cleared us out then. Still it would be a comfort if we +could squeeze a frock for Matty out of her. I could buy the trimmings +easy enough for you, Matty, at Perry's, if I hadn't to pay for the +stuff. Dear, dear, now what can we exchange? Look here, Sophy, run, like +a good child, to your father's wardrobe, and see if there are a couple +of pairs of old trousers gone at the knees, and maybe that great-coat of +his that had one of the flaps torn, and the patch on the left sleeve. It +was warm, certainly, but it always was a show, that great-coat. Maybe he +wouldn't miss it, or at any rate he'd give it up to help to settle +Matty." + +"Lor, ma, I really do think you are indelicate, when the man hasn't even +proposed!" exclaimed Alice. "There's Matty, she's off giggling again. I +do believe she'll soon laugh day and night without stopping." + +"Are we to have Mrs. Middlemass up or not, mother?" exclaimed Sophy. + +"Yes, child, yes. Bring her up by all means. We'll contrive to make some +sort of a bargain with her." + +Sophy disappeared, and a moment or two later she ushered Mrs. Middlemass +into the bedroom where the above conversation had taken place. + +The pedler was a very stout person, with a red face, and the bundle +which she carried in front of her and propelled first into the room, was +of enormous dimensions. + +"Good-day, Mrs. Bell," she said. "Good-day, young ladies. And what may I +have the pleasure of serving you with to-day, Mrs. Bell? I've got some +elegant goods with me, just the style for your beautiful young ladies." + +With this speech, which was uttered with great gravity, Mrs. Middlemass +proceeded to open her bundle, and to exhibit the worst muslin, cashmere, +French merino, and other fabrics, which she offered for the highest +price. + +"There," she said, "there's a cashmere for you! Feel it between your +finger and thumb, Mrs. Bell, mum, there's substance, there's quality. It +would make up lovely. Shall I cut a length a-piece for the three young +ladies, ma'am?" + +"No, no," said Mrs. Bell, "that cashmere is dark and heavy, and coarse, +too. I don't expect it's all-wool. It's shoddy, that's what it is." + +"Shoddy, ma'am! That a lady whom I've served faithful for years should +accuse me of selling shoddy! No, Mrs. Bell, may Heaven forgive you for +trying to run down a poor widow's goods. This is as pure all-wool +cashmere as is to be found in the market, and dirt cheap at three and +elevenpence a-yard. Have a length for yourself, ma'am; it would stylish +you up wonderful." + +"No," said Mrs. Bell, "I don't want a dress to-day, and that cashmere +isn't worth more than one and six. What we are wishing for--though I +don't know that we really _want_ anything--do we, girls? But what +we might buy, if you had it very cheap, is a bit of something light and +airy that would make up very elegantly for the evening. Do you care to +have another evening-dress, Matty? I know you have a good few in your +wardrobe." + +"I don't know," said Matty, "until I see what Mrs. Middlemass has. I +don't want anything common. I can get common things at Perry's; and +perhaps I had better send for my best dress to London, ma." + +This remark of giggling Miss Matty's was really astute for she knew that +Mrs. Middlemass held Perry, the draper, in the most sovereign contempt. + +"Right you are, my dear," said the pedler, a smile of gratified vanity +spreading over her face, "you _can_ get your common things, and +very common things they'll be, at Perry's. But maybe old Auntie +Middlemass can give you something as genteel as the London shops. You +look here, my pretty. Now, then." + +Here Mrs. Middlemass went on her knees, and with slow and exasperating +deliberation, unfastened a parcel carefully done up in white muslin. +From the depths of this parcel she extracted a very thin and crackling +silk of a shade between brick and terra-cotta, which was further shot +here and there with little threads of pale blue and yellow. This texture +she held up in many lights, not praising it by any words, for she +guessed well the effect it would have on her company. She knew the Bells +of old: they were proof against anything that wasn't silk, but at the +glitter and sheen of real silk they gave way. They instantly, one and +all, fell down and worshipped it. + +"_It is_ pretty," said Matty at last, with a little sigh, and she +turned away as one who must not any longer contemplate so dazzling a +temptation. + +Mrs. Bell's heart quite ached for her eldest-born at this critical +juncture. It was so natural for her to wish for silk attire when the +hero was absolutely at the gates. And such a hero! So tall, so handsome, +such an Adonis--so aristocratic! But, alas! silk could not be had for +nothing. It would be an insult to offer Bell's old coat and the two +pairs of trousers gone at the knees for this exquisite substance. + +"Sixteen yards," solemnly pronounced Mrs. Middlemass, when the silence +had been sufficiently long. "Sixteen yards for three pound ten. There! +it's a present I'm making to you, Miss Matty." + +"I like it very much," said Matty. + +"Like it! I should think you do. It was the fellow of it I sold this +morning to Lady Georgiana Higginbotham, of Castle Higgins. She who is to +be married next month. 'Middlemass,' she said, when she saw it, 'I'm in +love with it. It has a sheen about it, and a quality. Cut me twenty +yards, Middlemass; I do declare I'll wear it for my travelling dress, +and no other.' She'll do it, too, Miss Matty, you'll see. And beautiful +she'll look." + +The three girls sighed. They sighed in unison. As there was a lover in +the question, the two younger were willing that Matty should have a new +frock. But a silk! Each girl wanted the silk for herself. + +"It is exquisite," said Matty. + +"Exquisite," repeated Alice. + +"Quisite," said Sophy. + +"I'll put it away for you, miss," said the pedler, beginning to pack up +her other things. "There, take it, miss," she said, flinging a long +sweep of the glittering texture over Matty's arm. "Now, it does become +you, my dear. Doesn't it, ma'am?" turning to the mother. "Well, now, +I never noticed it before, but Miss Matty has a great look of Lady +Georgiana. Remarkable likeness! You wouldn't be known from her, miss +when you had that dress on. Their eyes! the complexion! the figure! all +ditto, ditto, ditto." + +The girls smiled; but what amount of flattery will not one accept when +judiciously offered? They were all pleased to hear Mrs. Middlemass +compare one of their number to Lady Georgiana, although they knew +perfectly that the pedler had never in the whole course of her life even +spoken to that young lady, who was a head and shoulders taller than +Matty, and as unlike her in all particulars as a girl could be. + +"There!" said the pedler. "Three pound ten! Dirt-cheap. Going, you may +say, for nothing, and because it's the last piece I have of it. Lady +Georgiana paid me seven pounds for the length I cut her this morning. +I'd like to see you in this dress, Miss Matty, and, maybe, if all +reports is true, you'll want me to sell you something different, and +more--more--well, more, perhaps, bridal-like, by-and-bye, my pretty +young lady." + +This last speech finished the fate of the silk. If rumor had reached +down to the strata of pedlers, etc., it simply could not be disregarded. +Mrs. Bell bargained and haggled for the best part of an hour. She +stripped herself of many necessary garments, and even ransacked her very +meagre little collection of jewelry. Finally the purchase was completed +with the sale of the ring which Bell had given her on the day when he +had gone down on his knees for the third and successful time. That ring, +of a showy style, but made of real gold and real gems, was beloved by +Mrs. Bell above all her worldly goods. Nevertheless, she parted with it +to make up the necessary price for the shot silk; for, what will not a +mother do for her child? + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +NINA, YOU ARE SO PERSISTENT. + + +"I wish you wouldn't worry me so, miss." + +"Well, answer my question. Has Mr. Hart come back?" + +"Yes--no--I'm sure I can't say. Maybe he's in his room, maybe he's not. +You do look dirty, miss, and tired--my word, awful tired. Now, where +have you been, Miss Josephine, since early yesterday morning? After no +good, I'll be bound. Oh, dear me, yes, after no good! You're a wild one, +and you're a daring one; and you'll come to a bad end, for all your eyes +are so bright, if you don't mind." + +Josephine's queer, restless eyes flashed with an angry gleam. + +"Do you know what this is?" she said, doubling up her small hand, and +thrusting the hard-looking fist within an inch or two of her irate +landlady's nose. "I knocked a man down before now with this, and I have +no respect for women. You'd better not anger me, Mrs. Timms." + +"Oh, dear no, miss, I'm sure I meant no disrespect!" + +"That's right. Don't say what you don't mean in future." + +"I won't, Miss Josephine. Now I come to think of it, I expect Hart was at +home; I heard him shuffling about overhead last night." + +"I'll go up and see," said Josephine. + +She nodded to Mrs. Timms, and walked slowly, as though she were dead +tired, and every step was an effort to her, up the stairs. They were +rickety stairs, very dirty and dark, and unkept. Josephine went on and +on, until her upward ascent ended under a sloping attic roof. Here she +knocked at a closed door. + +"Come in," said a voice. + +She entered a long, low room, which did service as a sitting-room, +kitchen and studio, all combined. A little, old man with a long, white +beard and a bald head was bending over a stove, frying eggs. + +"Is that you, Nina?" he said, without looking round. "If it is, you may +as well fry these eggs while I lay the cloth for supper." + +"No, you can finish them yourself," replied Josephine. "I'm dead tired. +I'd rather eat no supper than cook it." + +She flung herself into a long, low wicker-work chair, folded her hands +and closed her eyes. The old man turned the tail of one eye to glance at +her. Then he resumed his cooking, attending to it very carefully, +removing each egg, as it was browned, to a hot and clean dish which +stood in readiness. + +"There," he said, at last, "supper's ready. Here's the vinegar, here's +the pepper, here's the salt, here's the pewter jug with the beer, here's +the bread and butter, and last, but not least, here's your tea, +Josephine. You're nowhere without your tea, are you, child?" + +"Pour it out for me," said Josephine. "Put an egg on a plate and give it +to me. I'll be better when I've eaten. I can't talk until I have eaten. +I was taken this way last night--I'll be better presently." + +The old man gave her a long, curious glance; then he fetched a tray, +piled it with refreshments, and brought it to her side. She ate and +drank ravenously. The food acted on her like magic; she sat upright--her +eyes sparkled, her pallor left her, and the slight shade of petulance +and ill-humor which had characterized her when she entered the room gave +place to a sunshiny and radiant smile. + +"Well, Daddy," she said, getting up, going to the old man and giving him +a kiss. "So you have come back at last. I was pretty sick of being a +whole fortnight by myself, with no one but that interesting Mrs. Timms +for company. You never wrote to me, and however careful I was, that five +shillings wouldn't go far. What did you do in London? And why didn't you +write?" + +"One question at a time, Nina. Don't strangle me, child. Sit down +quietly, and I'll tell you my news. I'm a good grandfather to you, +Josephine. I'm a very good and faithful grandfather to you." + +"So you tell me every day of my life. I'll retort back now--I'm a good +grandchild to you--the best in the world." + +"Bless me, what have you ever done, chit, but eat my bread and drink my +water? However, I have news at last. Now, how eager you look! You would +like to be a fine lady and forget your old granddad." + +"I'd like to be a fine lady, certainly," responded Josephine. + +She said nothing further, but sitting still, with her small hands +crossed in her lap, she absolutely devoured the old man's face with her +eyes. + +He was accustomed to her gaze, which glittered and shone, and never +wavered, and was by some people thought uncanny. He finished his supper +slowly and methodically, and until he had eaten the last mouthful, and +drained off the last drop of beer in the pewter mug, he didn't speak. + +Then with a sharp glance at the girl he said, suddenly: + +"So you wanted to take me unawares?" + +"What do you mean, Grandfather?" + +"You know what I mean well enough. However, I'll tell you, you have been +on the tramp; you have no money; but you thought your legs would carry +you where your heart wanted to be. Shall I go on?" + +"Oh, yes, you may say anything you fancy. Stay, I'll say it for you. +Yesterday I walked to Northbury. Northbury is over twenty miles from +here. I walked every step of the way. In the evening I got there--I was +footsore and weary. I had one and sixpence in my purse, no more for +food, no more for bribes, no more for anything. I went to Northbury to +see the Bertrams--to see that fine lady, that beloved friend of mine, +Mrs. Bertram. She was from home. You probably know where she really was. +I bribed the gatekeeper, and got into the grounds of Rosendale Manor. I +frightened a chit of a schoolgirl, a plain, little, unformed, timorous +creature. She was a Bertram, coming home from a late dissipation. She +spoke of her fright, and gave her sister the cue. About midnight +Catherine Bertram came out to seek me. What's the matter, Grand-dad?" + +"Good heavens! Nina, that glib tongue of yours has not been blabbing. +Catherine! What is Miss Bertram's Christian name to you?" + +"Never mind. Her Christian name, and she herself also, are a good deal +to me. As to blabbing, I never blab; I saw her, she spoke to me; I slept +at the lodge; I returned home to-day." + +"You walked home?" + +"Yes, and I am dead tired; I want to go to bed now." + +"You can't for a few minutes. I have a few words to say first. +Josephine, I have always been a good grandfather to you." + +"Perhaps you have done your best, Grand-dad, but your best has not been +much. I am clothed after a fashion, and fed after a style, and +educated!" she filliped her slender fingers scornfully; "educated! I +belong to the self-taught. Still, after your lights, you have been a +good Grand-dad. Now, what is all this preamble about? I can scarcely +keep my eyes open. If you are not quick your words will soon fall +unregarded, for I shall be in the arms of that god of delight, +Morpheus." + +"I have something very important to say, child. I want to lay a command +upon you." + +"What is that?" + +"You are not to act the spy on the Bertrams again." + +"The spy? What do you mean?" + +"What I say. You are not to do it. I have made arrangements, and the +Bertrams are to be unmolested. I have given my oath, and you must abide +by it." + +"What if I refuse?" + +"Then we part company. You go one way, I another. You are truly a +beggar, and can take up no other position without my aid. You have a +story to tell which no one will believe, for I alone hold the proofs. +Talk much about your fine secret, and what will be the result? People +will think you off your head. Be guided by me, and all comes right in +the end and in the meantime we share the spoils." + +"The spoils," said Josephine, "what do you mean? + +"I can give you a practical answer, Nina. I have made a good bargain, a +splendid bargain; seeing that I have only put on the first screw, my +success has largely anticipated my wildest hopes. Josephine, my poor +girl, you need no longer suffer the pangs of hunger and neglect. You and +I are no longer penniless. What do you say to an income? What do you say +to four hundred a year?" + +Josephine put up her thin, white hand to her forehead. + +"Four hundred a year?" she repeated, vaguely. "I don't quite know what +it means. What have we now?" + +"Anything or nothing. Sometimes a pound a week, sometimes two pounds, +sometimes five shillings." + +"And we have in the future?" + +"Didn't I tell you, child? Four hundred a year. One hundred pounds paid +regularly every quarter. Got without earning, got without toiling for. +Ours whether we are sick or well; ours under any circumstances from this +day forward; ours just for keeping a little bit of a secret to +ourselves." + +"A secret which keeps me out of my own." + +"We have no money to prove it, child, at present. In the meantime, this +is a certainty. Whenever we get our proofs complete we can cease to take +this annuity." + +"This bribe, you mean. I scorn it. I hate it. I won't touch it." + +Josephine's eyes again gleamed with anger. + +"I hate bribes," she repeated. + +"All right, child. You can go on starving. You can go your own way, I +mine. For myself, at least, I have accepted the annuity; and if you +anger me any more, I'll burn the documents tonight, which give you the +shadow of a claim." + +Josephine turned pale. There were moments when, fearless as she was, she +feared this queer old man. The present was one of them. She sat quite +still for a moment or two, during which she thought deeply. Then she +spoke in an altered tone. + +"Grandfather, if I consent to make no fuss, to say nothing, to reveal +nothing by word or action, will you give me half your annuity?" + +"Why so, Nina? Had we not better live together? When all is said and +done, I'd miss you, Grandchild, if you left me." + +"You'd get over that, Grand-dad. These are not the days when people are +especially affectionate. Will you give me two hundred a year, and let me +live away from you?" + +The old man looked down at the floor, and up at the ceiling; then +furtively into his granddaughter's face, then away from her. + +"It's late now, we'll talk of it to-morrow," he said. + +"No, I am not sleepy any longer. Two hundred a year is worth staying +awake for. Will you give it to me? You can promise to-night as well as +tomorrow." + +"This is an important thing. I can't make up my mind all in a minute. +I've got to think." + +"You can think now. I'll give you half-an-hour. I'll shut my tired eyes, +and you can think hard for half-an-hour." + +"Nina, you are so persistent." + +"Exactly, I am so persistent. Now my eyes are shut. Please begin to +think." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE WHITE BOAT AND THE GREEN. + + +About a fortnight after the events mentioned in the last chapter, the +landlady of the Blue Lion, the little slatternly village inn where Mr. +Hart and his granddaughter had their quarters, was somewhat +disappointed, somewhat puzzled, and certainly possessed by the demon of +curiosity when Hart told her that he and his granddaughter intended to +take their departure that evening. Hart often went away; Mrs. Timms was +quite accustomed to his sudden exits, but his granddaughter was always +left as a hostage behind. Hart with his queer ways, his erratic +payments, was perhaps not the most inviting lodger for an honest +landlady to count upon, but Mrs. Timms had grown accustomed to him. She +scolded him, and grumbled at him, but on the whole she made a good thing +out of him, for no one could be more generous than old Hart when he was +at all flush of cash. + +He came down, however, this morning, and told her he was going. + +"For a fortnight or so?" responded Mrs. Timms. "You'll leave Miss +Josephine behind as usual? I'll take good care of her." + +"No, Miss Josephine is also going. Make out our bills, my good Timms, +I can pay you in full." + +That evening there arrived at Northbury by the seven o'clock train a +single first-class passenger--a girl dressed in a long gray cloak, and a +big, picturesque shady hat stepped on to the platform. She was the only +passenger to alight at Northbury, and the one or two sleepy porters +regarded her with interest and admiration. She was very graceful, and +her light-colored eyes had a peculiar quick expression which made people +turn to watch her again. + +The strange girl had scarcely any luggage--only a small portmanteau +covered with a neat case of brown holland, and a little trunk to match. + +She asked one of the porters to call a cab, did not disdain the shaky +and ghastly-looking conveyance which Loftus Bertram had been too proud +to use; sprang lightly into it, desired the porter to put her luggage on +the roof, and gave the address of Rosendale Manor. + +"Oh, that accounts for it," said the man to his mate. "She's one of them +proud Bertram folk. I thought by the looks of her as she didn't belong +to none of the Northbury people." + +The other laughed. + +"She have got an eye," he said. "My word, don't it shine? Seems to +scorch one up." + +"There's the 7.12 luggage train signalled, Jim!" exclaimed the other. + +The men forgot the strange girl and returned to their duties. + +Meanwhile, she sat back in her cab, and gazed complacently about her. +She knew the scene through which she was passing--she had looked on it +before. Very travel-stained and weary she had been then; very fresh and +keen, and all alive she felt now. + +She threw open the windows of the close cab, and took a long breath of +the delicious sea air. It was a hot evening towards the middle of July, +but a slight breeze rippled the little waves in the harbor, and then +travelled up and up until it reached the girl in the dusty cab. + +The Northburians were most of them out on the water. No one who knew +anything of the ways of Northbury expected to see the good folk in the +streets on an evening like this. No, the water was their highway, the +water was their pleasure-scene. Each house owned a boat, each garden +ended in steps against which the said boat was moored. It was the +tiniest walk from the supper room or the high tea-table to the little +green-painted boat, and then away to float over the limpid waves. + +All the girls in Northbury could row, steer--in short, manage a boat as +well as their brothers. + +There was a view of the straggling, steep little High Street from the +water; and the Bells now, in a large white boat with four oars, and +occupied at the present moment by Mrs. Bell, fat and comfortable in the +stern, Alice and Sophy each propelling a couple of oars, and the +blushing, conscious Matty in the bow, where Captain Bertram bore her +company, all saw the old cab, as it toiled up the hill in the direction +of Rosendale Manor. + +"Do look at Davis's cab!" exclaimed Matty. "Look, Captain Bertram, it's +going in your direction. I wonder now, if any one has come by the train. +It's certainly going to the Manor. There are no other houses out in that +direction. Do look, Captain Bertram." + +"Lor, Matty, you are so curious!" exclaimed her sister Sophy, who +overheard these remarks from her position as bow oar. "As if Captain +Bertram cared! You always do so fuss over little things, Matty. Even if +there are visitors coming to the Manor, I'm sure the captain doesn't +care. He is not like us who never see anybody. Are you, Captain +Bertram?" + +"I beg your pardon," said the captain, waking put of a reverie into +which he had sunk. "Did you speak, Miss Bell?" he continued, turning +with a little courteous movement, which vastly became him, towards the +enamored Matty. + +"I said a cab was going up the hill," said Matty. + +"Oh, really! A cab _is_ an interesting sight, particularly a +Northbury cab. Shall I make a riddle for you on the spot, Miss Bell? +What is the sole surviving curiosity still to be found out of Noah's +ark?" + +Matty went off into her usual half-hysterical laughter. + +"Oh! I do declare, Captain Bertram, you are too killingly clever for +anything," she responded. "Oh, my poor side--I'll die if I laugh any +more. Oh, do have mercy on me! To compare that poor cab to Noah's ark!" + +"I didn't; it isn't the least like the ark, only I think it must once +have found a shelter within that place of refuge." + +"Oh! oh! oh! I am taken with such a stitch when I laugh. You are too +witty, Captain Bertram. Sophy, you must hear what the captain has said. +Oh, you killing, funny man--you must repeat that lovely joke to Sophy." + +"Excuse me, it was only meant for Miss Matty's ears." + +Matty stopped laughing, to blush all over her face, and Sophy thought it +more decorous to turn her back on the pair. + +"Does not that green boat belong to Miss Meadowsweet?" interrupted +Bertram. "Look, Miss Bell, I am sure that is Miss Meadowsweet's boat." + +(He had seen it for the last ten minutes, and had been secretly hoping +that Mrs. Bell would unconsciously steer in that direction; she was +going the other way, however, and he was obliged to speak.) + +"Yes, that's Beatrice," said Matty, in an indifferent tone. "She +generally goes for a row in the evening." + +"All alone like that?" + +"Yes, Mrs. Meadowsweet is such a coward. She is afraid of the water." + +"Poor Miss Meadowsweet, how sad for her to be by herself!" + +Matty gave a furtive and not too well-pleased glance at her captain. + +"Bee likes to be alone," she said. + +"I should never have thought it. She seems a sociable, bright sort of +girl. Don't you want to talk to her? I know you do. I see it in your +face. You think it will be irksome for me, but, never mind, we need not +stay long. I must not be selfish nor indulge in the wish to keep you all +to myself. I know you want to talk to Miss Meadowsweet, and so you +shall,--I _won't_ have you balked." + +Here he raised his voice. + +"Mrs. Bell, will you steer over to Miss Meadowsweet's boat? Miss Matty, +here, has something to say to her." + +Not an earthly thing had Matty to communicate to her friend, but the +captain had managed to put the matter in such a light that she could +only try to look pleased, and pretend to acquiesce. + +"Oh, yes, she had always lots to say to her darling Bee," she murmured. +And then, somehow, her poor little silly spirits went down, and she had +a sensation of feeling rather flat. + +As will be seen by the foregoing remarks, Captain Bertram had a rare +gift for making killing and funny speeches. + +Matty had over and over pronounced him to be the most brilliantly witty +person she had ever in the whole course of her life encountered. But his +talent as a supposed wit was nothing at all to the cleverness with which +he now managed to keep the large white boat by the side of the small +green one for the remainder of the evening. It was entirely managed by +the superior will of one person, for certainly none of the Bells wished +for this propinquity. + +Mrs. Bell, who like a watchful hen-mother was apparently seeing nothing, +and yet all the time was tenderly brooding over the little chick whom +she hoped was soon about to take flight from the parent nest, saw at a +glance that her chick looked nothing at all beside that superior chicken +of Mrs. Meadowsweet's. For Matty's little nose was sadly burnt, and one +lock of her thin limp hair was flying not too picturesquely in the +breeze. And her home-cut jacket was by no means remarkably becoming, and +one of her small, uncovered hands--why _would_ Matty take her +gloves off?--was burnt red, not brown by the sun. Beatrice, on the +contrary, looked as she always did, trim and neat, and bright and +gracious. She had on the gray cashmere dress which she had worn when +Captain Bertram first began to lose his heart to her, and over this, +tonight, she had twisted a long bright crimson scarf. Into her white +hat, too, she had pinned a great bunch of crimson roses, so that, +altogether, Beatrice in her pretty green boat made a beautiful picture. +She would have made this in any case, for her pose was so good, and her +figure fine, but when, in addition, there was a sweet intelligent face +without one scrap of self-consciousness about it, and two gray eyes full +of a tender and sympathetic light, and when the rosy lips only opened to +make the pleasantest and most appropriate speeches, and only to give +utterance to words of tact and kindness, Mrs. Bell was not very far +wrong when she felt a sense of uneasiness for her own poor chick. + +Shuffle, however, as she would up in the stern, viciously pull the +rudder string so as to incline the boat away from Beatrice, the +captain's will still kept the green boat and the white together. Was he +likely to give in or to succumb to a woman like Mrs. Bell? Had he not +planned this meeting in his own mind from an early hour that morning? +For had he not met Beatrice and incidentally gathered that she would be +sure to be on the water that night? And after receiving this +information, had he not carefully made his plans, wandering about on the +quay just when the Bells were getting into their boat, accepting the +invitation eagerly given that he should go on the water with them, and +afterwards come home to supper. + +"Sophy," Mrs. Bell had gasped, at that critical and triumphant moment in +a whisper, pulling her youngest daughter aside, "fly up to Gibb's at the +corner, and order in two lobsters for supper. The captain loves lobsters +with the coral in them. Be sure you see that they have the coral in +them, Sophy. Fly, child. We'll wait for you here." + +And Captain Bertram had overheard this whisper, and mentally determined +that Beatrice Meadowsweet should also eat lobster with coral in it for +supper. Was it likely, therefore, that he would now yield to that +impatient tug of Mrs. Bell's rudder? On the contrary, he put out his +hand in apparently the most unconscious way, and held the little green +boat to the side of the white. In his way he was a diplomat, and even +Matty did not suspect that he wanted to do anything but show her a +kindness by keeping her in such close conversation with her friend. + +"It's getting quite chill," suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Bell. "Girls, it's +time for us to be getting home. Your father likes his supper punctually. +Well, Bee, my dear, there's no use in asking you to supper, I suppose? +Of course, more than welcome you'd be if you would come, lovey, but +you're such a daughter--one in a thousand. I assure you, Captain +Bertram, I can hardly ever get that girl to leave her mother alone in +the evening." + +Beatrice laughed. + +"It so happens," she said, "that my mother is having tea and supper +to-night at Mrs. Butler's. So if you really care to have me, Mrs. Bell, +I shall be delighted to come." + +Beatrice, the popular, the beloved of all in the town, never knew, never +to her dying day, that on a certain memorable occasion, good-humored, +fat, pompous Mrs. Bell would have given half a sovereign to box her +ears. The astute captain, however, guessed her feelings, and chuckled +inwardly. He had also found out during his brief morning's conversation +that Mrs. Meadowsweet was going to sup from home. + +"How delightful you look, Miss Bell!" he said, suddenly, fixing his dark +eyes on Matty. + +Their glance caused her to start and blush. + +"Mrs. Bell," he said, raising his voice again, "Miss Matty has been so +anxious to have Miss Meadowsweet's company this evening. And now we are +all happy," he added, gayly. "Shall I give you another riddle, Miss +Matty?" + +Mrs. Bell's anxious brows relaxed, and she smiled inwardly. + +"Poor man! He is over head and ears in love," she murmured. "I suppose +he thinks Beatrice will play gooseberry with the other girls, and leave +him more chance to be alone with little Matty. She does _not_ look +her best, that I will say for her; but, poor fellow, he sees no faults, +that's evident. How beautiful the love-light in his eyes is--ah, dear +me, it reminds me of the time when I was young, and Bell used to go on +his knees to me--Bell hadn't eyes like Captain Bertram though. Dear, +dear, he is attentive, poor man, and how close he bends over Matty. I'll +help him, so I will. I'll take Beatrice and the other girls away when +once we get out of the boat. We four will walk up to the house together, +and let Captain Bertram and his little girl follow. Why, of course, +she's his little girl; bless her, the dear child! Then when we get in, +I'll get Bee and Alice and Sophy to come upstairs by way of consulting +how Matty's new dress is to be made, so the two poor things can have the +drawing-room to themselves. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if he popped +there and then. Well, I am gratified. Bertram is a pretty name--Matilda +Bertram! She won't like to be known as Matty, then. 'Mrs. Captain +Bertram'--it sounds very stylish. I wonder how much money pa will allow +for the trousseau. And how am I to manage about the breakfast? None of +our rooms are big, and all the town's people will want to be asked. It +isn't for me to turn my back on old friends; but I doubt if the Bertrams +will like to meet every one, of course, they are the first to be +considered. Lor, Sophy, how you startled me; what's the matter, child?" + +"You're in a brown study, ma. How much longer are you going to stay in +the boat? We have all landed." + +"Good gracious! mercy mother! Help me out quick, Sophy, quick! Bee, +Beatrice, come and lend me your hand. You are bigger than my girls, and +my legs are always a little unsteady in a boat. Oh, not you, Captain +Bertram, I beg, I pray. You just go on with Matty to the house, and +we'll follow presently. Go on like a good man, and don't bother +yourself." + +Here she winked broadly at Beatrice, who started and colored. + +"I don't want to keep him back," she said, in a broad whisper to the +young lady, who was helping her to alight on the steps. "He's over head +and ears, and I thought we would give them their chance. You stay close +to me, lovey. What a fine strong arm you have! There! Alice hasn't a bit +of gumption--as if Matty wanted Alice to walk with her! Alice, come back +and help your mother. I'm quite giddy from the motion of the water. Come +back, child, I say!" + +But it was not Alice who turned. Captain Bertram, with the most gracious +gallantry, proffered his arm to the fat old lady, and while he helped +her to the house looked again and again at Beatrice. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +AT HER GATES. + + +Mr. Bell was as thin as his wife was fat, and as quiet and unassuming as +she was bumptious and talkative. On the occasion of this memorable +supper he very nearly drove his better half into fits by his utter want +of observation. + +"It's that that worries me in Bell," the good woman was often heard to +say. "When a thing is as plain as the nose on his face he won't see it. +And not all my hints will make him see it. Hints!--You might hint +forever to Bell, and he wouldn't know what you were driving at." + +These remarks Mrs. Bell had made, times without number, concerning her +spouse, but never had ehe more cause to give utterance to them than on +the present occasion. For just when the whole party were seated at +supper, and she by the boldest manoeuvres had placed Captain Bertram +next to herself by the coffee-tray, and had planted Matty at his other +side, so that he was in a measure hemmed in, and if he did not talk to +Matty had no one to fall back on but herself, who, of course, would +quickly, using the metaphor of battledore and shuttlecock, toss him back +to her daughter--having arranged all this, what should Bell do but put +his foot in it? + +"Captain Bertram," he called in his thin voice across the table, "I hope +you enjoyed your row, and I'm proud to see you at my humble board. But +come up here, my good young sir; you're quite smothered by the missis +and the teacups. We have fine room at this end, haven't we, Beatrice? +You come away up here, Captain Bertram, where you'll have room to use +your elbows; the missis mustn't keep you to herself altogether, that +ain't fair play." + +"Oh, we're as comfortable as possible, Peter," almost screamed Mrs. +Bell. + +But in vain. The captain was too acute a person not to seize this +opportunity. He said a courteous word or two to Mrs. Bell, apologized +for having already crowded her, smiled at Matty, and then with a light +heart seated himself beside Beatrice. + +After this, matters seemed to go wrong as far as the Bells were +concerned. It is true that after supper Beatrice called Matty to her +side, and looked over a photographic album with her, and tried hard to +draw her into the gay conversation and to get her to reply to the light +repartee which Captain Bertram so deftly employed. But, alas for poor +Matty she had no conversational powers; she was only great at +interjections, at ceaseless giggling, and at violent and uncontrollable +fits of blushing. Even Beatrice felt a sense of repulsion at the very +open way in which Matty played her innocent cards. Matty was in love, +and she showed it by voice, look and gesture. Beatrice tried to shield +her, she was mortified for her, and felt a burning sense of resentment +against the captain. + +In spite, however, of the resentment of the one girl, and the too +manifest admiration of the other, this hero managed to have pretty much +his own way. Beatrice had to reply to his sallies, she was forced to +meet his eyes; now and then even he drew a smile from her. + +When the time came for Miss Meadowsweet to go home, Albert Bell was +eagerly summoned to accompany her. + +"This is unnecessary," said the captain; "I will see Miss Meadowsweet +back to the Gray House." + +"Oh, now, Captain! Bee, don't you think it's really too much for him?" + +"Of course I don't, dear Mrs. Bell," said Beatrice, stopping the good +lady's lips with a kiss; "but Albert shall come too, so that I shall be +doubly escorted." + +She nodded and smiled to her hostess, and Mrs. Bell felt a frantic +desire to send Matty with her brother, but some slight sense of decorum +prevented her making so bare-faced a suggestion. + +Albert Bell was very proud to walk with Beatrice, and Captain Bertram +felt proportionately sulky. To Albert's delight, who wanted to confide +his own love affairs to Bee, the captain said good-night at the top of +the High Street. + +"As you have an escort I won't come any further," he said. "When are we +to see you again? Will you come to the Manor to-morrow?" + +"I don't know," said Beatrice, "I've made no plans for to-morrow." + +"Then come to us; Catherine told me to ask you. Our tennis court is in +prime order. Do come; will you promise?" + +"I won't quite promise, but I'll come if I can." + +"Thanks; we shall look out for you." + +He shook hands, gave her an earnest glance, nodded to Bell and turned +away. His evening had been a partial success, but not a whole one. He +left Beatrice, as he almost always did, with a sense of irritation. It +was her frank and open indifference that impelled him to her side. +Indifference when Captain Bertram chose to woo was an altogether novel +experience to so fascinating an individual. Hitherto it had been all the +other way. He had flirted many times, and with success. Once even he had +fallen in love; he owned to himself that he had been badly hit, but +there had been no doubt at all about his love being returned, it had +been given back to him in full and abundant measure. He sighed to-night +as he thought of that passionate episode. He remembered ardent words, +and saw again a face which had once been all the world to him. +Separation had come, however; his was not a stable nature, and the old +love, the first love, had given place to many minor flirtations. + +"I wonder where my old love is now," he thought, and then again he felt +a sense of irritation as he remembered Beatrice. "She is quite the +coolest girl I have ever met," he said to himself. "But I'll win her +yet. Yes, I'm determined. Am I to eat the bread of humiliation in vain? +Faugh! Am I to make love to a creature like Matty Bell in the vain hope +of rousing the envy or the jealousy of that proud girl? I don't believe +she has got either envy or jealousy. She seemed quite pleased when I +spoke to that wretched little personage, although she had the grace to +look a trifle ashamed for her sex when Miss Matty so openly made love to +me. Well, this is a slow place, and yet, when I think of that +haughty--no, though, she's not haughty--that imperturbable Beatrice +Meadowsweet, it becomes positively interesting. + +"Why has the girl these airs? And her father kept a shop, too! I found +that fact out from Matty Bell to-day. What a spiteful, teasing little +gnat that same Matty is, trying to sting her best friend. What a little +mock ridiculous air she put on when she tried to explain to me the +social status of a coal merchant (I presume Bell is a coal merchant) +_versus_ a draper." + +As Bertram strolled along, avoiding the High Street, and choosing the +coast line for his walk, he lazily smoked a pipe, and thought, in that +idle indifferent way with which men of his stamp always do exercise +their mental faculties, about his future. His past, his present, his +possible future rose up before the young fellow. He was harassed by +duns, he was, according to his own way of thinking, reduced to an almost +degrading state of poverty. His mother had put her hand to a bill for a +considerable amount to save him. He was morally certain that she would +have to meet that bill, and when she met it that she would be half +ruined. Nevertheless, he felt gay, and light at heart, for men of his +class are seldom troubled with remorse. + +Presently he reached the lodge gates. His mother's fad about having them +locked was always religiously kept, and he grumbled now as he sought for +a latch-key in his waistcoat-pocket. + +He opened the side gate and let himself in; the gate had a spring, and +was so constructed that it could shut and lock itself by the same act. +Bertram was preparing to walk quickly up the avenue when he was startled +by a sudden morement; a tall slim apparition in gray came slowly out of +the darkness, caused by the shadow of the lodge, to meet him. + +"Good God!" he said; and he stepped back, and his heart thumped hard +against his breast. + +"It's me, Loftus--I'm back again--I'm with you again," said a voice +which thrilled him. + +The girl in gray flung her arms around his neck, and laid her head of +red gold on his breast. + +"Good God! Nina! Josephine! Where have you come from? I was thinking of +you only tonight. It's a year since we met. Where have you sprung from? +Out of the sky, or the earth? Look at me, witch, look in my face!" + +He put his hand under her chin, raised her very fair oval face; (the +moonlight fell full on it--he could see it well); he looked long and +hungrily into her eyes, then kissed her eagerly several times. + +"Where have you come from?" he repeated. "My God! to think I was walking +to meet you in such a calm fashion this evening." + +"You never were very calm, Loftie, nor was I. Feel my heart--I am almost +in a tempest of joy at meeting you again. I knew you'd be glad. You +couldn't help yourself." + +"I'm glad and I'm sorry. You know you intoxicate me, witch--I thought I +had got over that old affair. What: don't flash your eyes at me. Oh, +yes, Nina, I am glad, I am delighted to see you once again." + +"And to kiss me, and love me again?" + +"Yes, to kiss you and love you again." + +"How soon will you marry me, Loftie?" + +"We needn't talk about that to-night. Tell me why you have come, and +how. Where is your grandfather? Do you still sing in the streets for a +living?" + +"Hush, you insult me. I am a rich girl now." + +"You rich? What a joke!" + +"No, it is a reality. Riches go by comparison, and Josephine Hart has an +income--therefore she is rich compared to the Josephine who had none. +When will you marry me, Loftie?" + +"Little puss! We'll talk of that another day." + +He stroked her cheek, put his arm around her waist and kissed her many +times. + +"You have not told me yet why you came here," he said. + +She laughed. + +"I came here because my own sweet will directed me. I have taken rooms +here at this lodge. The man called Tester and his wife will attend on +me." + +"Good gracious! at my mother's very gates Is that wise, Nina." + +"Wise or unwise I have done it." + +"To be near me?" + +"Partly." + +"Nina, you half frighten me. You are not going to do me an injury? It +will prejudice my mother seriously if she finds out my--my--" + +"Your love for me," finished Josephine. + +"Yes." + +"Why will it prejudice her?" + +"Need I--must I tell you? My mother is proud; she--she would almost +disown me if I made a _mésalliance_." + +Nina flung back her head. + +"You talk like a boy," she said. "When you marry me you save, not +degrade, yourself. Ah, I know a secret. Such a secret! Such a blessed, +blessed, happy secret for me. It is turning me into a good girl. It +causes my heart to sing. When I think of it I revel in delight; when I +think of it I could dance: when I remember it I could shout with +exultation." + +"Nina, what do you mean?" + +"Nothing that you must know. I rejoice in my secret because it brings me +to you, and you to me. You degrade yourself by marrying me? You'll say +something else some day. Now, goodnight. I'm going back to Tester. He's +stone deaf, and he's waiting up for me. Good-night--good-night. No, +Loftus, I won't injure you. I injure those I hate, not those I love." + +She kissed her hand to him. He tried to catch the slim fingers to press +them to his lips, but with a gay laugh she vanished, shutting the lodge +door after her. Loftus Bertram walked up the avenue with the queerest +sensation of terror and rejoicing. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +JOSEPHINE LOOKED DANGEROUS. + + +In those days after her mysterious and secret visit to London Mrs. +Bertram was a considerably altered woman. All her life hitherto she had +enjoyed splendid health; she was unacquainted with headaches; neuralgia, +rheumatism, gout, the supposed banes of the present day, never troubled +her. + +Now, however, she had absolutely an attack of the nerves. Mabel found +her mother, on coming to wish her good-morning one day, shivering so +violently that she could not complete her dressing. Loftus was not at +home. He had rejoined his regiment for a brief spell, so Catherine and +Mabel had to act on their own responsibility. + +They did not hesitate to send for the local doctor. + +Dr. Morris, who was calmly shaving in his bedroom was very much excited +when his wife rushed in to tell him that he was summoned in haste to the +Manor. + +"And you might peep into the Manor drawing-room on your way downstairs, +doctor," whispered the good lady, in her muffled tone, "and find out if +the carpet is really felt. Mrs. Gorman Stanley swears that it is, but +for my part I can scarce give credence to such an unlikely story, for +surely no woman who could only afford a felt covering for the floor of +her best sitting-room would give herself the airs Mrs. Bertram has +done." + +"Just see that my black bag is ready, Jessie," was the husband's retort +to this tirade. "And you might hurry John round with the pony-chaise." + +Dr. Morris felt intensely proud as he drove off to see his august +patient. He drew up his rough pony once or twice to announce the fact to +any stray passer-by. + +"Good-day, Bell,--fine morning, isn't it? I'm just off to the Manor. +Mrs. B. not quite the thing. Ah, I see Mrs. Jenkins coming down the +street. I must tell her that I can't look in this morning." + +He nodded to Mr. Bell, and drove on until he met the angular lady known +by this name. + +"Good-morning, good-morning," he called in his cheery tones, and +scarcely drawing in the pony at all now. "I meant to look round in the +course of the forenoon to see how the new tonic agrees with Miss Daisy; +but I may be a little late; I'm summoned in haste to the Manor." + +Here he touched his little pony's head with the whip, and, before Mrs. +Jenkins could utter a word of either astonishment or interest, had +turned the corner and was out of sight. + +The fashionable disease of nerves had not yet become an epidemic at +Northbury, and Dr. Morris was a little puzzled at the symptoms which his +great patient exhibited. He was proud to speak of Mrs. Bertram as his +"great patient," and told her to her face in rather a fulsome manner +that he considered it the highest possible honor to attend her. He +ordered his favorite tonic of cod liver oil, told her to stay in bed, +and keep on low diet, and, having pocketed his fee drove away. + +Mrs. Bertram was outwardly very civil to the Northbury doctor, but when +he departed she scolded Catherine and Mabel for having sent for him, +tore up his prescription, wrote one for herself, which she sent to the +chemist to have made up, and desired Catherine to give her a glass of +port wine from one of a treasured few bottles of a rare vintage which +she had brought with her to Rosendale. + +"It was a few days after her visit to the Meadowsweets that Mrs. Bertram +had been taken ill. She soon became quite well again, and then rather +astonished Catherine by telling her that she had herself seen Beatrice +Meadowsweet; that she had found her daughter's judgment with regard to +her to be apparently correct, and that, in consequence, she did not +object to Beatrice visiting at the Manor. + +"You may make Miss Meadowsweet your friend," she said to both girls. +"She may come here, and you may sometimes go to see her. But remember, +she is the only Northbury young lady I will admit into my society." + +A few days afterwards, Loftus, who had again managed to obtain leave of +absence from his military duties, reappeared on the scenes. As has been +seen, Loftus would admit of no restrictions with regard to his +acquaintances, and after the remarkable fashion of some young men, he +tried to secure an interest in the affections of Beatrice by flirting +with Matty Bell. + +Mrs. Bertram knew nothing of these iniquities on the part of her son. It +never entered even into her wildest dreams that any son or daughter of +her could associate with people of the stamp of the Bells. Even had she +been aware of it, however, she knew better than to try to coerce her +captain. + +She had quite worries enough of her own, poor woman, and not the least +of them, in the eyes of the girls, was the fresh mania she took for +saving. Meals had never been too plentiful at Rosendale. Now, the only +remark that could be made in their favor was that they satisfied hunger. +Healthy girls will eat any wholesome food, and when Loftus was not at +home, Catherine and Mabel Bertram made their breakfast off porridge. + +Mabel ate hungrily, and grumbled not a little. Catherine was also +hungry, but she did not grumble. She was never one to care greatly for +the luxuries of life, and all her thoughts now were taken up watching +her mother. The effect of her mother's sudden confidence in her, the +effect of the trouble which had undoubtedly come to her mother had +altogether an extraordinary influence over Catherine. She ceased to be a +wild and reckless tom-boy, she ceased to defy her mother in small +matters; her character seemed to gain strength, and her face, always +strong in its expression and giving many indications of latent power of +character, looked now more serious than gay, more sweet and thoughtful +than fastidious and discontented. + +Catherine had plenty of tact, and she watched her mother without +appearing to watch her. She was loyal, too, in heart and soul, and never +even hinted to others of the confidence reposed in her. + +It was a lovely summer's morning. Catherine and Mabel were up early; +they were picking raspberries to add to the meagre provisions for +breakfast. It was always difficult to manage a pleasant breakfast hour +when Loftus was at home. Mrs. Bertram used to flush up painfully when +Loftus objected to the viands placed before him, and Catherine was most +anxious to spare her mother by satisfying the fastidious tastes of her +brother. + +"Why should Loftus have all the raspberries?" angrily queried Mabel. "I +should like some myself, and so would you, Kate. Why should Loftus have +everything?" + +"Nonsense, May, he's not going to have everything. This plate of special +beauties is for mother." + +"Well, that's quite right. Loftus and you and I can divide the rest." + +"May, I'm going to whisper a secret to you. Now, don't let it out, for +the lords of creation would be so angry if they knew. But I do think in +little things girls are much greater than men. Now what girl who is +worth anything cares whether she eats a few raspberries or not. While as +to the men--I consider them nothing but crybabies about their food. +Here, Mab, race me to the house." + +Mabel puffed and panted after her more energetic sister. It was a very +hot morning, and it really was aggravating of Kate to fly on the wings +of the wind, and expect her to follow. + +"Kate has no thought," she muttered, as she panted along. "I shall feel +hot and messy for the day now, and there's nothing nice for me to eat +when I do get in. It's all very fine to be Kate, who, I don't think, is +mortal at all about some things, but I expect I'm somewhat of a cry-baby +too, when I see all the nice appetizing food disappearing down a certain +manly throat. Hullo, what's the matter now, Kitty?" + +Catherine was standing by the window of the breakfast-room waving an +open note in her hand. + +"Three cheers for you, Mabel! You may be as greedy as you please. The +knight of the raspberry plantation has departed. Read this; I found it +on my plate." + +Catherine was about to toss the note to Mabel, when a hand was put +quietly over her shoulder, and Mrs. Bertram took Loftus's letter to +read. + +"Mother, I didn't know you were down." + +"I just came in, my dear, and heard you speaking to Mabel. What is +this?" + +She stood still to read the brief lines: + + "Dearest Sis,--I have had a sudden recall to Portsmouth. Will + write from there. Love to the mother and Mab.--Your affectionate + brother, + + "Loftus." + + +Mrs. Bertram looked up with a very startled expression in her eyes. + +"Now, mother, there's nothing to fret you in this," said Kate, eagerly. +"Was not Loftie always the most changeable of mortals?" + +"Yes, my dear, but not quite so changeable as not to know anything at +all about a recall in the afternoon yesterday, and to have to leave us +before we are out of bed in the morning. Did anybody see Loftus go? Had +he any breakfast?" + +Catherine flew away to inquire of Clara, and Mabel said in an injured +voice: + +"I dare say Loftie had a telegram sent to him to the club. Anyhow, he +has all the excitement and all the pleasure. I watched him through the +spy-glass last night. He was in the Bells' boat, and Beatrice was all +alone in hers. Beatrice was talking to Loftus and the boats were almost +touching. Mother, I wish we could have a boat." + +"Yes, dear, I must try and manage it for you at some future time. Well, +Catherine, have you heard anything?" + +"No, mother. Loftus must have gone away very, very early. No one saw him +go; he certainly had no breakfast." + +Mrs. Bertram was silent for a few moments; then, suppressing a sigh, she +said, in a would-be cheerful tone: + +"Well, my loves, we must enjoy our breakfasts, even without the recreant +Loftus. Mabel, my dear, what delicious raspberries! They give me quite +an appetite." + +"Kitty picked them for you, mother," said Mabel. "She has been +treasuring a special bush for you for a week past." + +Mrs. Bertram looked up at her eldest daughter and smiled at her. That +smile, very much treasured by Kate, was after all but a poor attempt, +gone as soon as it came. Mrs. Bertram leant back in her chair and toyed +with the dainty fruit. Her appetite was little more than a mockery. + +"It was very thoughtful of Loftus not to waken any one up to give him +breakfast," said Catherine. + +Her mother again glanced at her with a shadow of approval on her worn +face. Artful Kitty had made this speech on purpose; she knew that any +praise of Loftus was balm to her mother. + +After breakfast Mrs. Bertram showed rather unwonted interest in her +daughters' plans. + +"It is such a lovely day I should like you to go on the water," she +said. "At the same time, I must not think of hiring a boat this summer." + +"Are we so frightfully poor, mother?" asked Mab. + +Mrs. Bertram's brow contracted as if in pain, but she answered with +unwonted calm and gentleness: + +"I have a fixed income, my dear Mabel, but, as you know, we have come to +Northbury to retrench." + +She was silent again for a minute. Then she said: + +"I see nothing for it but to cultivate the Meadowsweets." + +"Mother!" said Catherine. The old fire and anger had come into her +voice. Unusual as it may be with any girl brought up in such a worldly +manner, Catherine hated to take advantage of people. + +"You mistake me, Kate," said her mother, shrinking back from her +daughter's eyes, as if she had received a blow. "I want you to have the +pleasure of Beatrice Meadowsweet's friendship." + +"Oh, yes," replied Catherine, relieved. + +"And," continued the mother, her voice growing firm and her dark eyes +meeting her daughter's fully, "I don't mean to be out in the cold, so I +shall make a friend of Mrs. Meadowsweet." + +Mabel burst into a merry girlish laugh. Catherine walked across the +grass to pick a rose. Mrs. Bertram took the rose from her daughter's +hand, although she knew and Catherine knew that it was never intended +for her. She smelt the fragrant, half-open bud, then placed it in her +dress, with a simple, "Thank you, my dear." + +"I am going to write a note to Mrs. Meadowsweet," she said, after a +minute or two. "I know Beatrice is coming here this afternoon. It would +give me pleasure if her mother accompanied her." + +"Shall we take the note to the Gray House, mother?" eagerly asked Mabel. +"It is not too long a walk. We should like to go." + +"No, my dear. You and Kate can amuse yourselves in the garden, or read +in the house, just as you please. I will write my note quietly, and when +it is written take it down to Tester at the lodge. No, thank you, my +loves, I should really like the walk, and would prefer to take it +alone." + +Mrs. Bertram then returned to her drawing-room, sat down by her +davenport, and wrote as follows: + + "Rosendale Manor. + + "Thursday. + + "Dear Mrs. Meadowsweet,--Will you and Miss Beatrice join the girls + and me at dinner this afternoon? Your daughter has already kindly + promised to come here to play tennis to-day--at least I understand + from Kate that such is the arrangement. Will you come with her? We + old people can sit quietly under the shade of the trees and enjoy + our tea, while the young folks exert themselves. Hoping to see you + both, + + "Believe me, + + "Yours sincerely, + + "Catherine de Clifford Bertram." + + +Mrs. Bertram put this letter into an envelope, directed it in her +dashing and lady-like hand, and then in a slow and stately fashion +proceeded to walk down the avenue to the lodge. She was always rather +slow in her movements, and she was slower than usual to-day. She +scarcely owned to herself that she was tired, worried--in short, that +the strong vitality within her was sapped at its foundation. + +A man or a woman can often live for a long time after this operation +takes place, but they are never the same again. They go slowly, with the +gait of those who are halt, through life. + +Mrs. Bertram reached the lodge, and after the imperious fashion of her +class did not even knock at the closed door before she lifted the latch +and went in. + +It was a shabby, little, tumble-down lodge. It needed papering, and +white-washing, and cleaning; in winter the roof let in rain, and the +rickety, ill-fitting windows admitted the cold and wind. Now, however, +it was the middle of summer. Virginia creeper and ivy, honeysuckle and +jasmine, nearly covered the walls. The little place looked picturesque +without; and within, honest, hard-working Mrs. Tester contrived with +plentiful scouring and washing to give a clean and cosy effect. + +Mrs. Bertram, as she stepped into the kitchen, noticed the nice little +fire in the bright grate (the lodge boasted of no range); she also saw a +pile of buttered toast on the hob, and the tiny kitchen was fragrant +with the smell of fresh coffee. + +Mrs. Bertram was not wrong when she guessed that Tester and his wife did +not live on these dainty viands. + +"I'm just preparing breakfast, ma'am, for our young lady lodger," said +good Mrs. Tester, dropping a curtsey. + +"For your young lady lodger? What do you mean, Mrs. Tester?" + +"Well, ma'am, please take a chair, won't you, Mrs. Bertram--you'll like +to be near the fire, my lady, I'm sure." (The Testers generally spoke to +the great woman in this way--she did not trouble herself to contradict +them.) "Well, my lady, she come last night by the train. It was Davis's +cab brought her up, and set her down, her and her bits of things, just +outside the lodge. Nothing would please her but that we should give her +the front bedroom and the little parlor inside this room and she is to +pay us fifteen shillings a week, to cover board and all. It's a great +lift for Tester and me, and she's a nice-spoken young lady, and pleasant +to look at, too. Oh, yes, miss---I beg your pardon, miss. I was just a +bringing of your breakfast in, miss." + +The door had been opened behind Mrs. Bertram. She started and turned, as +a tall, slim girl with a head of ruddy gold hair, a rather pale, fair +face, and big bright eyes, came in. + +The girl looked at Mrs. Bertram quickly and eagerly. Mrs. Bertram looked +back at her. Neither woman flinched as she gazed, only gradually over +Mrs. Bertram's face there stole a greeny-white hue. + +The girl came a little nearer. Old Mrs. Tester bustled past her with the +hot breakfast. + +"_You!"_ said Mrs. Bertram, when the old woman had left the room, +"you are Josephine Hart." + +"I am Josephine; you know better than to call me Hart." + +"Hush! that matter has been arranged between your grandfather and my +solicitor. Do you wish the bargain undone?" + +"I sincerely wish it undone." + +"I think you don't," said Mrs. Bertram, slowly. She laughed in a +disagreeable manner. "The old woman is coming back," she said suddenly; +"invite me into your parlor for a moment, I have a word or two to say to +you." + +Josephine led the way into the little sitting-room; she offered a chair +to Mrs. Bertram, who would not take it. Then she went and shut the door +between the kitchen and the parlor, and standing with her back to the +shut door turned and faced Mrs. Bertram. + +"How did you guess my name?" she said, suddenly. + +"That was not so difficult. I recognized you by the description my +daughter gave of you. She saw you, remember, that night you hid in the +avenue." + +"I did not know it was that," said Josephine softly; "I thought it was +the likeness. I am the image of _him_, am I not?" + +She took a small morocco case out of her pocket and proceeded to open +it. + +Mrs. Bertram put her hand up to her eyes as if she would shut away a +terrible sight. + +"Hush, child! how dare you? Don't show me that picture. I won't look. +What a wicked impostor you are!" + +"Impostor! You know better, and my grandfather knows better. What is the +matter, Mrs. Bertram?" + +Mrs. Bertram sank down into the chair which at first she had obstinately +refused. + +"Josephine," she said, "I am no longer a young woman; I have not got the +strength of youth. I cannot bear up as the young can bear up. Why have +you come here? What object have you in torturing me with your presence +here?" + +"I won't torture you; I shall live quietly." + +"But why have you come? You had no right to come." + +"I had perfect right to live where I pleased. I had all the world to +choose from, and I selected to live at your gates." + +"You did very wrong. Wrong! It is unpardonable." + +"Why so? What injury am I doing you? I have promised to be silent; I +will be silent for a little. I won't injure you or yours by word or +deed." + +"You have a story in your head, a false story; you will spread it +abroad." + +"I have a story, but it is not false." + +"False or true, you will spread it abroad." + +"No, the story is safe. For the present it is safe, my lips are sealed." + +"Josephine, I wish you would go away." + +"I am sorry, I cannot go away." + +"We cannot associate with you. You are not brought up like us. You will +be lonely here, you will find it very dull, you had better go away." + +"I am not going away. I have come here and I mean to stay. I shall watch +you, and your son, and your daughters; that will be my amusement." + +"I won't say any more to you, proud and insolent girl. My son, at least, +is spared your scrutiny, he is not at Rosendale; and my daughters, I +think, they can live through it." + +Mrs. Bertram turned and left the little parlor. She gave her note to +Mrs. Tester, desired it to be taken at once to the Gray House, and then +returned quietly and steadily to the Manor. When she got in she called +Catherine to her. + +"Kate, the girl you saw hiding in the avenue has come to live at the +lodge." + +"Mother!" + +"I have seen her and spoken to her, my dear daughter. She is nothing +either to you or me. Take no notice of her." + +"Very well, mother." + +Meanwhile, in her little parlor, in the old lodge, Josephine stood with +her hands clasped, and fiery lights of anger, disappointment, pain, +flashing from her eyes. Were that woman's words true? Had Loftus Bertram +gone away? If so, if indeed he had left because she had arrived, +then--Her eyes flashed once more, and with so wicked a light that Mrs. +Tester, who, unobserved, had come into the room, left it again in a +fright. She thought Josephine Hart looked dangerous. She was right. No +one could be more dangerous if she chose. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +A BRITISH MERCHANT. + + +Soon after four that afternoon, Davis's tumble-down cab might have been +seen standing outside the gate of the Gray House. Immediately afterwards +the door was opened, and Mrs. Meadowsweet, in her rose-colored satin, +with a black lace shawl, and a bonnet to match made her appearance. + +She stepped into the cab, and was followed by Beatrice, Jane, the little +maid, handing in after them a small band-box, which contained the cap +trimmed with Honiton lace. + +Mrs. Meadowsweet's cheeks were slightly flushed, and her good-humored +eyes were shining with contentment and satisfaction. + +"Oh, there's Mrs. Morris!" she said to Beatrice. "I'd better tell her +where we are going. She's always so interested in the Manor folks. +Davis, stop the cab a minute! Call to him, Bee. Da-vis!" + +The cap stopped, and Mrs. Morris, eager and bustling, drew nigh. + +"How are you, dear?" she said. "How do you do, Beatrice? Isn't it bad +for you, dear love," turning again to the elder lady, "to have the +window of the fly open? Although it is summer, and the doctor makes a +fuss about the thermometer being over eighty in the shade, I know for a +positive fact that the wind is east, and very treacherous." + +"I don't take cold easily, Jessie," replied Mrs. Meadowsweet. "No, I +prefer not to have the windows up, poor Bee would be over hot. We must +think of the young things, mustn't we, Jessie? Well, you'll wonder why I +am in my best toggery! Bee and I are off to the Manor, no less, I assure +you. And to dinner, too! There's news for you." + +"Well, I'm sure!" responded Mrs. Morris. Envy was in every tone of her +voice, and on every line of her face. As usual, when excited, she found +her voice, which came out quite thin and sharp. "Well, I'm sure," she +repeated. "I wish you all luck, Lucy. Not that it's such a +condescension, oh, by no means. The doctor said the bedrooms were very +shabby in their furniture, and such a meal as those poor girls were +eating for breakfast. He said his heart quite ached for them. Nothing +but stale bread, and the name of butter, and tea like water bewitched. +He said he'd rather never have a child than see her put down to such +fare." + +"Dear, dear, you don't say so," answered Mrs. Meadowsweet. "Bee, my +love, we must have those nice girls constantly to the Gray House, and +feed them up all we can. I'm very sorry to hear your news, Jessie. But +I'm afraid we can't wait to talk any longer now. Nothing could have been +more affable than Mrs. Bertram's letter, sent down by special messenger, +and written in a most stylish hand." + +"You haven't got it in your pocket, I suppose?" asked Mrs. Morris. + +"To be sure I have. You'd like to see it; well, here it is. You can let +me have it back to-morrow. Now, good-bye. Drive on, Davis." + +The cab jumbled and rattled over the paving stones, and Mrs. Meadowsweet +lay back against the cushions, and fanned her hot face. + +"I wonder if it's true about those poor girls being so badly fed," she +inquired of her daughter. "Dear, dear, and there's nothing young things +want like generous living. Well, it's grievous. When I think of the +quarts of milk I used to put into you, Bee, and the pounds and pounds of +the best beef jelly--jelly that you could fling over the house, for +thickness and solidity, and the fowls I had boiled down for you after +the measles--who's that coming down the street, Bee? Look, my love, I'm +a bit short-sighted. Oh, it's Miss Peters, of course. How are you, Miss +Peters? Hot day, isn't it? Bee and I are off to the Manor--special +invitation--letter--I lent it to Mrs. Morris. Oh, yes, to dinner. I have +my best cap in this band-box. What do you say? You'll look in +to-morrow--glad to see you. Drive on, Davis." + +"Really, mother, if you stop to speak to every one we won't get to the +Manor to-night," gently expostulated Beatrice. + +"Well, well, my love, but we don't go to see the Bertrams every day, and +when one feels more pleased and gratified than ordinary, it's nice to +get the sympathy of one's neighbors. I do think the people at Northbury +are very sympathetic, don't you, Bee?" + +"Yes, mother, I think they are," responded the daughter. + +"And she took care not to tell her parent of any little lurking doubts +which might come to her now and then with regard to the sincerity of +those kind neighbors, who so often partook of the hospitality of the +Gray House." + +When they reached the lodge, old Mrs. Tester came out to open the gates. +She nodded and smiled to Beatrice who had often been very kind to her, +and Mrs. Meadowsweet bent forward in the cab to ask very particularly +about the old woman's rheumatism. It was at that moment that Beatrice +caught sight of a face framed in with jasmine and Virginia creeper, +which looked at her from out of an upper casement window in Mrs. +Tester's little lodge. The face with its half-tamed expression, the +eager scrutiny in the eyes, which were almost too bold in their +brightness, startled Beatrice and gave her a sense of uneasiness. The +face came like a flash to the window and then disappeared, and at that +same moment Davis started the cab forward with a jerk. It was to the +credit of both Davis and his sorry-looking steed that they should make a +good show in the avenue. For this they had been reserving themselves, +and they went along now in such a heedless and almost frantic style that +Mrs. Meadowsweet had her bonnet knocked awry, and the band-box which +contained the precious cap absolutely dashed to the floor of the cab. + +Beatrice had therefore no time to make any remark with regard to Mrs. +Tester's unwonted visitor. + +"This is delightful," said Mrs. Meadowsweet, as she clasped her +hostess's hand, in the long, cool, refined-looking drawing-room. "I'm +very glad to come, and it's most kind of you to invite me. Dear, dear, +what a cool room! Wonderful! How do you manage this kind of effect, Mrs. +Bertram? Dearie me--_very_ pretty--_very_ pretty indeed." + +Here Mrs. Meadowsweet sank down on one of the sofas, and gazed round her +with the most genuine delight. + +"Where's Bee?" she said. "She ought to look round this room and take +hints from it. We spent a lot of money over our drawing-room, but it +never looks like this. Where are you, Beatrice?" + +"Never mind now," responded Mrs. Bertram, whose voice, in spite of +herself, had to take an extra well-bred tone when she spoke to Mrs. +Meadowsweet. Miss Beatrice has just gone out with my girls, and I +thought you and I would have tea here, and afterwards sit under the +shade of that oak-tree and watch the children at their game." + +"Very nice, I'm sure," responded Mrs. Meadowsweet. She spread out her +fat hands on her lap and untied her bonnet-strings. "It's hot," she +said. "Do you find the dog-days try you very much, Mrs. Bertram?" + +"I don't feel the heat particularly," said Mrs. Bertram. She was anxious +to assume a friendly tone, but was painfully conscious that her voice +was icy. + +"Well, that's lucky for you," remarked the visitor. "I flush up a good +deal. Beatrice never does. She takes after her father; he was +wonderfully cool, poor man. Have you got a newspaper of any sort about, +that you'd lend me, Mrs. Bertram?" + +"Oh, certainly," answered Mrs. Bertram, in some astonishment. "Here is +yesterday's _Times_." + +"I'll make it into a fan, if you have no objection. Now, that's better. +Dear, dear, what a nice room!" + +Mrs. Bertram fidgetted on her chair. She wondered how many more times +Mrs. Meadowsweet would descant on the elegancies of her drawing-room. +She need not have feared. Whatever Mrs. Meadowsweet was she was honest; +and at that very moment her eyes lighted on the felt which covered the +floor. Mrs. Meadowsweet had never been trained in a school of art, but, +as she said to herself, no one knew better what was what than she did; +above all, no one knew better what was _comme il faut_ in the +matter of carpets. Meadowsweet, poor man, had been particular about his +carpets. There were grades in carpets as in all other things, and felt, +amongst these grades, ranked low, very low indeed. Kidderminster might +be permitted in bedrooms, although Mrs. Meadowsweet would scorn to see +it in any room in _her_ house, but Brussels was surely the only +correct carpet for people of medium means to cover their drawing-room +floors with. The report that Mrs. Bertram's drawing-room wore a mantle +of felt had reached Mrs. Meadowsweet's ears. She had emphatically +declined to believe in any such calumny, and yet now her own eyes saw, +her own good-humored, kind eyes, that wished to think well of all the +world, rested on that peculiar greeny-brown felt, which surely must have +come to its present nondescript hue by the aid of many suns. The whole +room looked immediately almost sordid to the poor woman, and she felt no +longer anxious for Beatrice to appreciate its beauties. + +At that moment Clara appeared with the tea. Now, if there was a thing +Mrs. Meadowsweet was particular about it was her tea; she revelled in +her tea; she always bought it from some very particular and exclusive +house in London. She saw that it was served strong and hot; she was +particular to have it made with what she called the "first boil" +of the water. Water that had boiled for five minutes made, in Mrs. +Meadowsweet's opinion, contemptible tea. Then she liked it well +sweetened, and flavored with very rich cream. Such a cup of tea, as she +expressed it, set her up for the day. The felt carpet had given Mrs. +Meadowsweet a kind of shock, but all her natural spirits revived when +she saw the tea equipage. She approved of the exquisite eggshell china, +and noted with satisfaction that the teapot was really silver. + +"What a refreshment a cup of tea is!" exclaimed the good woman. "Nothing +like it, as I dare say you know, Mrs. Bertram." + +Mrs. Bertram smiled languidly, and raising the teapot, prepared to pour +out a cup for her guest. She was startled by a noise, which sounded +something like a shout, coming from the fat lady's lips. + +"Did you speak?" she asked. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bertram, but don't--it's cruel." + +"Don't do what?" + +"The tea isn't drawn. Let it rest a bit--why, it's the color of straw." + +"This peculiar tea is always of a light color," replied Mrs. Bertram, +her sallow face growing darkly red. "I hope you will appreciate it; but +perhaps it is a matter of training. It is, however, I assure you, quite +the vogue among my friends in London." + +Mrs. Meadowsweet felt crushed. She received the cup of flavorless, +half-cold liquid presented to her in a subdued spirit, sipped it with +the air of a martyr, and devoutly wished herself back again in the Gray +House. + +Mrs. Bertram knew perfectly well that her guest thought the tea +detestable and the cake stale. It was as necessary for people of Mrs. +Meadowsweet's class to go in for strong tea and high living as it was +for people of Mrs. Bertram's class to aspire to faded felt in the matter +of carpets, and water bewitched in the shape of tea. Each after her +kind, Mrs. Bertram murmured. But as she had an object in view it was +necessary for her to earn the good-will of the well-to-do widow. + +Accordingly, when the slender meal came to an end, and the two ladies +found themselves under the shelter of the friendly oak-tree, matters +went more smoothly. Mrs. Bertram put her guest into an excellent humor +by bestowing some cordial praise upon Beatrice. + +"She is not like you," continued the good lady, with some naïveté. + +"No, no," responded the gratified mother. "And sorry I'd be to think +that Beatrice took after me. I'm commonplace. Mrs. Bertram. I have no +figure to boast of, nor much of a face either. What _he_ saw to +like in me, poor man, has puzzled my brain a score and score of times. +Kind and affectionate he ever was, but he couldn't but own, as own I did +for him, that I was a cut below him. Beatrice features her father, Mrs. +Bertram, both in mind and body." + +Mrs. Bertram murmured some compliment about the mother's kind heart, and +then turned to a subject which is known to be of infallible interest to +all ladies. She spoke of her ailments. + +Mrs. Meadowsweet beamed all over when this subject came on the +_tapis_. She even laid her fat hand on Mrs. Bertram's lap. + +"Now, _did_ you ever try Eleazer Macjone's Pills of Life?" she +asked. "I always have a lot of them in the house; and I assure you, Mrs. +Bertram, they are worth all the doctor's messes put together; for years +I have taken the pills, and it's a positive fact that they're made to +fit the human body all round. Headaches--it's wonderful what Macjone's +pills do for headaches. If you have a low, all-overish feeling, +Macjone's pills pick you up directly. They are wonderful, too, for +colds; and if there's any infection going they nip it in the bud. I wish +you would try them, Mrs. Bertram; I know they'd pull you round, I'll +send for a box for you with pleasure when I'm having my next chest of +tea down from London. I always get my tea from London. I think what they +sell here is little better than dishwater; so I say to Beatrice, 'Bee, +my love, whatever happens, we'll get our tea from town." + +"And your pills from town, too," responded Mrs. Bertram. "I think you +are a very wise woman, Mrs. Meadowsweet. How well your daughter plays +tennis. Yes, she is decidedly graceful. I have heard of many pills in my +day, and patent pills invariably fit one all round, but I have never yet +heard of Eleazer Macjone's Life Pills. You look very well, Mrs. +Meadowsweet, so I shall recommend them in future. For my part, I think +the less drugs one swallows the better." + +"You are quite right, Mrs. Bertram, quite right. Except for the pills I +never touch medicine. And now I'd like to give you a wrinkle. I wouldn't +spend much money, if I were you, on Dr. Morris. He's all fads, poor man, +all fads. He speaks of the Life Pills as poison, and his terms--I have +over and over told his wife, Jessie Morris, that her husband's terms are +preposterous." + +"Then I am afraid he will not suit me," replied Mrs. Bertram, "I cannot +afford to meet preposterous terms, for I, alas! am poor." + +"Dear, dear, I'm truly sorry to hear it, Mrs. Bertram. And with your +fine young family, too. That lad of yours is as handsome a young fellow +as I've often set eyes on. And your girls, particularly Miss Catherine, +are specially genteel." + +"A great many people consider Catherine handsome," replied her mother, +who began to shiver inwardly under the infliction of Mrs. Meadowsweet's +talk. She tried to add something about Loftus, but for some reason or +other words failed her. After a moment's pause she resumed: + +"Only those who know what small means are can understand the constant +self-denial they inflict. + +"And that's true enough, Mrs. Bertram." + +"Ah, Mrs. Meadowsweet, you must be only assuming this sympathetic tone. +For, if all reports are true, you and Miss Beatrice are wealthy." + +Mrs. Meadowsweet's eyes beamed lovingly on her hostess. + +"We have enough and to spare," she responded. "Thank the good God we +have enough and to spare. Meadowsweet saw to that, poor man." + +"Your husband was in business?" gently in quired Mrs. Bertram. + +"He kept a shop, Mrs. Bertram. I'm the last to deny it. He kept a good, +thriving draper's shop in the High Street. The best of goods he had, and +he sold fair. I used to help him in those days. I used to go to London +to buy the Spring fashions, and pretty things I'd buy, uncommonly +pretty, and the prettiest of all, you may be sure, for little Beatrice. +Ah! you could get a stylish hat in Northbury in those days. Poor man, he +had the custom of all the country round. There was no shop like +Meadowsweet's. Well, he made his fortune in it, and he died full of +money and much respected. What could man do more?" + +"And your daughter Beatrice resembles her father?" + +"She does, Mrs. Bertram. He was a very genteel man--a cut above me, as I +said before. He was fond of books, and but for me maybe he'd have got +into trade in the book line. But I warned him off that shoal. I said to +him, scores of times, 'Mark my words, William, dress will last, and +books won't. People must be clothed, but they needn't read.' He was wise +enough to stick to my words, and he made his fortune." + +"I suppose," said Mrs. Bertram, in a slow, meditative voice, "that +a--um--merchant--in a small town like this, might, with care, realize, +say, two or three thousand pounds." + +Mrs. Meadowsweet's eyes almost flashed. + +"Two or three thousand!" she said, "dearie me, dearie me. When people +talk of fortunes, in Northbury, they _mean_ fortunes, Mrs. Bertram." + +"And your daughter will inherit?" asked the hostess of her guest. + +"There's full and plenty for me, Mrs. Bertram, and when Beatrice comes +of age, or when she marries with her mother's approval, she'll have +twenty thousand pounds. Twenty thousand invested in the funds, that's +her fortune, not bad for a shopkeeper's daughter, is it, Mrs. Bertram?" +Mrs. Bertram said that it was anything but bad, and she inwardly +reflected on the best means of absolutely suppressing the memory of the +shopkeeper, and how, by a little judicious training, she might induce +Mrs. Meadowsweet to speak of her late partner as belonging to the roll +of British merchants. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE WITCH WITH THE YELLOW HAIR. + + +A corner is a very pretty addition to a room, and a cleft-stick has been +known to present a more picturesque appearance than a straight one. But +to find oneself, metaphorically speaking, pushed into the corner or +wedged into the cleft of the stick is neither picturesque nor pleasant. + +This was Mrs. Bertram's present position. She had suddenly, and at a +moment when she least expected it, been confronted with the ghost of +a long ago past. The ghost of a past, so remote that she had almost +forgotten it, had come back and stared her in the face. This ghost had +assumed terrible dimensions, and the poor woman was dreadfully afraid +of it. + +She had taken a hurried journey to London in the vain hope of laying it. +Alas! it would not be laid. Most things, however, can be bought at a +price, and Mrs. Bertram had bought the silence of this troublesome ghost +of the past. She had bought it at a very heavy cost. + +Her money was in the hands of trustees; she dared not go to them to +assist her, therefore, the only price she could pay was out of her +yearly income. + +To quiet this troublesome ghost she agreed to part with four hundred +a year. A third of her means was, therefore, taken away with one fell +swoop. Loftus must still have his allowance, for Loftus of all people +must know nothing of his mother's anxieties. Mrs. Bertram and her girls +would, therefore, have barely five hundred a year to live on. Out of +this sum she would still struggle to save, but she knew she could save +but little. She knew that all chance of introducing Catherine and Mabel +into society was at an end. She had dreamed dreams for her girls, and +these dreams must come to nothing. She had hoped many things for them +both, she had thought that all her care and trouble would receive its +fruition some day in Catherine's establishment, and that Mabel would +also marry worthily. In playing with her grandchildren by-and-bye, Mrs. +Bertram thought that she might relax her anxieties and feel that her +labors had not been in vain. She must put these hopes aside now, for her +girls would probably never marry. They would live on at this dull old +Manor until their youth had left them, and their sweet, fresh bloom +departed. + +Mrs. Bertram thought of the girls, but no compunctions with regard to +them caused her to hesitate even for a moment. She loved some one else +much better than these bright-eyed lasses. Loftus was the darling of his +mother's heart. It was bad to sacrifice girls, but it was impossible to +sacrifice the beloved and only son. + +Mrs. Bertram saw her solicitors, confided to them her difficulties, and +accepted the terms proposed to her by the enemy, who, treacherous and +awful, had suddenly risen out of the ashes of the past to confront her. + +With four hundred a year she bought silence, and silence meant +everything for her. Thus she saved herself, and one at least belonging +to her, from open shame. + +She received Catherine's telegram, and was made aware that Josephine +Hart had come down to spy out the nakedness of the land. She felt +herself, however, in a position to defy Josephine, and she returned to +the Manor fairly well pleased. + +It was Loftus, for whom she had really sacrificed so much, who dealt her +the final blow. This idle scapegrace had got into fresh debt and +difficulty. Mrs. Bertram expostulated, she wrung her hands, she could +almost have torn her hair. The young man stood before her half-abashed, +half sulky. + +"Can you help me, mother? That's the main point," was his reiterated +cry. + +Mrs. Bertram managed at last to convince him that she had not a farthing +of ready money left. + +"In that case," he replied, "nothing but ruin awaits me." + +His mother wept when he told her this. She was shaken with all she had +undergone in London, poor woman, and this man, who could cringe to her +for a large dole out of her pittance, was the beloved of her heart. + +He begged of her to put her hand to a bill; a bill which should not +become due for six months. She consented; she was weak enough to set +him, as he expressed it, absolutely on his feet. All debts would be paid +at once, and he would never exceed his allowance again; and as to his +mother's difficulty, in meeting a bill for six hundred pounds, it was +not in Loftus Bertram's nature to trouble himself on this score six +months ahead. + +That bill, however was the proverbial last straw to Mrs. Bertram. It +haunted her by day and night; she dreamt of it, sleeping, she pondered +over it, waking. Six short months would speedily disappear, and then she +would be ruined; she could not meet the bill, exposure and disaster must +follow. + +Even very honorable people when they get themselves into corners often +seek for means of escape which certainly would not occur to them as the +most dignified exits if they were, for instance, not in the corner, but +in the middle of the room. + +Mrs. Bertram was a woman of resources, and she made up her mind what to +do. She made it up absolutely, and no doubts or difficulties daunted her +for an instant. Loftus should marry Beatrice Meadowsweet long before the +six months were out. + +Having ascertained positively not only from her mother's lips, but also +from those of Mr. Ingram, that the young girl could claim as her portion +twenty thousand pounds on her wedding day, Mrs. Bertram felt there was +no longer need to hesitate. Beatrice was quite presentable in herself; +she was handsome, she was well-bred, she had a gracious and even +careless repose of manner which would pass muster anywhere for the +highest breeding. It would be quite possible to crush that fat and +hopelessly vulgar mother, and it would be easy, more than easy, to talk +of the wealthy merchant's office instead of the obnoxious draper's shop. + +Bertram, who had just moved with the _dépot_ of his regiment to +Chatham, on returning to his quarters one evening from mess saw lying on +his table a thick letter in his mother's handwriting. He took it up +carelessly, and, as he opened it, he yawned. Mother's letters are not +particularly sacred things to idolized sons of Bertram's type. + +"I wonder what the old lady has got to say for herself," he murmured. +"Can she have seen Nina? And has Nina said anything. Not that she can +seriously injure me in the mater's eyes. No one would be more lenient to +a little harmless flirtation which was never meant to lead anywhere than +my good mother. Still it was a great bore for Josephine to turn up when +she did. Obliged me to shorten my leave abruptly, and see less of Miss +Beatrice. What a little tiger Nina would be if her jealousy was +aroused--no help for me but flight. Yes, Saunders, you needn't wait." + +Bertram's servant withdrew; and taking his mother's letter out of its +envelope, the young man proceeded to acquaint himself with its contents. +They interested him, not a little, but deeply. The color flushed up into +his face as he read. He made one or two strong exclamations, finally he +laughed aloud. His laugh was excited and full of good humor. + +"By Jove! the mother never thought of a better plot. Beatrice--and +fortune. Beatrice, and an escape into the bargain from all my worries. +Poor mater! She does not know that that six hundred of hers has only +just scraped me through my most pressing liabilities. But a small dip +out of Beatrice Meadowsweet's fortune will soon set me on my feet. The +mater's wishes and mine never so thoroughly chimed together as now. Of +course I'll do it. No fear on that point. I'll write off to the dear old +lady, and set her heart at rest, by this very post. As to leave, I must +manage that somehow. The mother is quite right. With a girl like +Beatrice there is no time to be lost. Any fellow might come over to +Northbury and pick her up. Why, she's perfectly splendid. I knew I was +in love with her--felt it all along. Just think of my patrician mother +giving in, though. Well, nothing could suit me better." + +Bertram felt so excited that he paced up and down his room, and even +drank off a brandy and soda, which was not in his usual line, for he was +a sober young fellow enough. + +As he walked up and down he thought again of that night when he had last +seen Beatrice. How splendid she had looked in her boat on the water; how +unreserved, and yet how reticent she was; how beautiful, and yet how +unconscious of her beauty. What a foil she made to that dreadful little +Matty Bell! + +Bertram laughed as he remembered Matty's blushes and affected giggles +and simpers. He conjured up the whole scene, and when he recalled poor +Mrs. Bell's frantic efforts to get the white boat away from the green, +his sense of hilarity doubled. Finally he thought of his walk home, of +the meditations which had occupied his mind, and last of all of the girl +in the gray dress who had put her arms round his neck, laid her head on +his breast, and whose lips he had passionately kissed. That head! He +felt a thrill now as he remembered the sheen of its golden locks, and he +knew that the kisses he had given this girl had been full of the passion +of his manhood. He ceased to laugh as he thought of her. A growing sense +of uneasiness, of even fear, took possession of him, and chased away the +high spirits which his mother's acceptable proposal had given rise to. + +He sat down again in his easy chair and began to think. + +"It is not," he said to himself, "that I have got into any real scrape +with Nina. I have promised to marry her, of course, and I have made love +to her scores and scores of times, but I don't think she has any letters +of mine, and in any case, she is not the sort of girl to go to law with +a fellow. No, I have nothing really to fear on that score. But what +perplexes and troubles me is this: she has got a great power over me. +When I am with her I can't think of any one else. She has an influence +over me which I can't withstand. I want her, and her only. I know it +would ruin me to marry her. She has not a penny; she is an uneducated +poor waif, brought up anyhow. My God, when I think of how I first saw +you, Nina! That London street, that crowd looking on, and the pure young +voice rising up as it were into the very sky. And then the sound +stopping, and the shout from the mob. I got into the middle of the ring +somehow, and I saw you, I saw you, my little darling. Your hand was +clenched, and the fellow who had dared to insult you went down with that +blow you gave him to the ground. Didn't your eyes flash fire, and the +flickering light from that fishmonger's shop opposite lit up your hair +and your pale face. You looked half like a devil, but you were +beautiful, you were superb. Then you saw me, and you must have guessed +that I felt with you and for you. Our souls seemed to leap out to meet +one another, and you were by my side in an instant, kissing my hand, and +raining tears on it. We loved each other from that night; our love began +from the moment we looked at each other, and I love you still--but I +mustn't marry you, little wild, desperate, bewitching Nina, for that +would ruin us both. My God! I wish I had never met you; I am afraid of +you, and that is the fact." + +Perhaps it was the unwonted beverage in which he had just indulged, +which gave rise to such eager and impetuous thoughts in the breast of +Captain Bertram. It is certain when he had slept over his mother's +letter he felt much more cool and collected. If he still feared +Josephine Hart, he was absolutely determined not to allow his fears to +get the better of him. He ceased even to say to himself that he was in +love with this pretty witch of the yellow hair, and his letter to his +mother was as cool and self-possessed as the most prudent among parents +could desire. + +Bertram told his mother that he thought he could manage to exchange with +a brother officer, so as to secure his own leave while the days were +long and the weather fine. He said that if all went as he hoped, he +would be at the Manor by the end of the following week, and he sent his +love to his sisters, and hoped the mater was quite herself again. + +Not once did he mention the name of Beatrice, but Mrs. Bertram read +between the lines. She admired her son for his caution. Her heart leaped +with exultation, her boy would not fail her. + +If she had known that the old postman Benjafield had left a letter by +the very same post for Miss Hart at the lodge, and that this letter in a +disguised hand bore within the undoubted signature of her own beloved +captain, her rejoicing would not have been so keen. But as people are +very seldom allowed to see behind the scenes Mrs. Bertram may as well +have her short hour of triumph undisturbed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +"WHEN DUNCAN GRAY CAME HOME TO WOO." + + +Most people go away for change of air in the month of August, but this +was by no means the fashion in the remote, little old-world town of +Northbury. In November people left home if they could, for it was dull, +very dull at Northbury in November, but August was the prime month of +the year. + +It was then the real salt from the broad Atlantic came into the limpid +waters of the little harbor. August was the month for bathing, for +yachting, for trawling. Some denizens of the outside world even came to +Northbury in August; the few lodging-houses were crammed to overflowing; +people put up with any accommodation for the sake of the crisp air, and +the lovely deep blue water of the bay. For in August this same water was +often at night alight with phosphorescent substances, which gave it the +appearance in the moonlight of liquid golden fire. It was then the girls +sang their best, and the young men said soft nothings, and hearts beat a +little more quickly than ordinary, and in short the mischievous, +teasing, fascinating god of love was abroad. + +In preparation for these August days Perry the draper did a roaring +trade, for all the Northbury girls had fresh ribbons put on their sailor +hats, and fresh frills in their blue serge dresses, and their tan +leather gloves had to be neat and new, and their walking shoes trim and +whole, for the entire little world would be abroad all day and half the +night, in company with the harvest moon and the glittering golden waves, +and all the other gay, bright things of summer. + +This was therefore just the most fitting season for Captain Bertram to +come back to Northbury, on wooing intent. More than one girl in the +place rejoiced at his arrival, and Mrs. Bertram so far relaxed her rigid +hold over Catherine and Mabel as to allow them to partake, in company +with their brother and Beatrice Meadowsweet, of a certain portion of the +general merry-making. + +Northbury was a remarkably light-hearted little place, but it never had +entered into quite so gay a season as this memorable August when Captain +Bertram came to woo. + +It somehow got into the air that this gay young officer had taken his +leave for the express purpose of getting himself a wife. Nobody quite +knew how the little gossiping whisper arose, but arise it did, and great +was the commotion put into the atmosphere, and severe the flutterings it +caused to arise in more than one gentle girl heart. + +Catherine and Mabel Bertram were in the highest possible spirits during +this same month of August. Their mother seemed well once more, well, and +gay, and happy. The hard rule of economy, always a depressing +_régime_, had also for the time disappeared. The meals were almost +plentiful, the girls had new dresses, and as they went out a little it +was essential for them in their turn to entertain. + +Mrs. Bertram went to some small expense to complete the tennis courts, +and she even endured the sight of the Bells and Jenkinses as they +struggled with the intricacies of the popular game. + +She herself took refuge in Mr. Ingram's society. He applauded her +efforts at being sociable, and told her frankly that he was glad she was +changing her mind with regard to the Northbury folk. + +"Any society is better than none," he said. "And they really are such +good creatures. Not of course in the matter of finish and outward manner +to compare with the people you are accustomed to, Mrs. Bertram, but--" + +"Ah, I know," interrupted Mrs. Bertram in a gay voice. "Rough diamonds +you would call them. But you are mistaken, my dear friend; there is, I +assure you, not a diamond in this motley herd, unless I except Miss +Beatrice." + +"I never class Beatrice with the other Northbury people," replied Mr. +Ingram; "there is something about her which enables her to take a stand +of her own. I think if she had been born in any rank, she would have +kept her individuality. She is uncommon, so for that matter is Miss +Catherine." + +The two girls were standing together as Mr. Ingram spoke. They were +resting after a spirited game, and they made a pretty picture as they +stood under the shelter of the old oak tree. Both were in white, and +both wore large drooping hats. These hats cast picturesque shadows on +their young faces. + +Mrs. Bertram looked at them with a queer half-jealous pang. Beatrice was +the child of a lowly tradesman, Catherine the daughter of a man of +family and some pretension; and yet Mrs. Bertram had to own that in any +society this tall, upright, frank, young Beatrice could hold her own, +that even Catherine whose dark face was patrician, who bore the +refinement of race in every point, could scarcely outshine this country +girl. + +"It is marvellous," said Mrs. Bertram after a pause; "Beatrice is one of +nature's ladies. There are a few such, they come now and then, and no +circumstances can spoil them. To think of that girl's mother!" + +"One of the dearest old ladies of my acquaintance," replied Mr. Ingram. +"Beatrice owes a great deal of her nobleness of heart and singleness of +purpose to her mother. Mrs. Bertram, I have never heard that woman say +an unkind word. I have heard calumny of her, but never from her. Then, +of course, Meadowsweet was quite a gentleman." + +"My dear friend! A draper a gentleman?" + +"I grant the anomaly is not common," said the Rector. "But in +Meadowsweet's case I make a correct statement. He was a perfect +gentleman after the type of some of those who are mentioned in the +Sacred Writings. He was honest, courteous, self-forgetful. His manners +were delightful, because his object ever was to put the person he was +speaking to completely at his ease. He had the natural advantage of a +refined appearance, and his accent was pure, and not marred by any +provincialisms. He could not help speaking in the best English because +he was a scholar, and he spent all his leisure studying the classics. +Therefore, although he kept a draper's shop, he was a gentleman. By the +way, Mrs. Bertram, do you know anything of the young girl who has been +staying at your lodge? You--you are tired, my dear lady?" + +"A little. I will sit on this bench. There is room for you too, Rector. +Sit near me, what about the girl at my lodge?" + +"She is no longer at your lodge. She has left. Do you happen to know +anything about her?" + +"Nothing." + +"Ah, that seems a pity. She is the sort of young creature to excite +one's sympathy. I called to see her a week ago, and she talked prettily +to me and looked sorrowful. Her name, she says, is Hart." + +"Really? I--I confess I am not interested." + +"But you ought to be, my dear friend, you ought to be. The girl seems +alone and defenceless. She is reserved with regard to her history, won't +make confidences, although I begged of her to confide in me, and assured +her that I, in my position, would receive what she chose to tell under +the seal of secrecy. Her eyes filled with tears, poor little soul, but +her lips were dumb." + +"Oh, she has nothing to confide." + +"Do you think so? I can't agree with you. Although my lot has been cast +in this remote out-of-the-world town, I have had my experiences, Mrs. +Bertram, and I never yet saw a face like Miss Hart's which did not +conceal a history." + +"May I ask you, Mr. Ingram, if you ever before saw a face like Miss +Hart's?" + +"Well, no, now that you put it to me, I don't think that I ever have. It +is beautiful." + +"Ugly, you mean." + +"No, no, Mrs. Bertram. With all due deference to your superior taste I +cannot agree with you. The features are classical, the eyes a little +wild and defiant, but capable of much expression. The hair of the +admired Rossetti type." + +"Oh, spare me, Rector, spare me. I don't mean this low girl's outward +appearance. It is that which I feel is within which makes her altogether +ugly to me." + +"Ah, poor child--women have intuitions, and you may be right. It would +of course not be judicious for your daughters to associate with Miss +Hart. But you, Mrs. Bertram, you, as a mother, might get at this poor +child's past, and counsel her as to her future." + +"She has gone away, has she not?" asked Mrs. Bertram. + +"I regret to say she has, but she may return. She promised me faithfully +to come to church on Sunday, and I called at the lodge on my way up to +leave her a little basket of fruit and flowers, and to remind her of her +promise. Mrs. Tester said she had left her, but might return again. I +hope so, and that I may be the means of helping her, for the poor +child's face disturbs me." + +"I trust your wish may never be realized," murmured Mrs. Bertram, under +her breath. Aloud she said cheerfully, "I must show you my bed of +pansies, Rector. They are really quite superb." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE RECTOR'S GARDEN PARTY. + + +A few days after the tennis party at the Manor, at which Bertram had +talked a good deal to Beatrice, and in a very marked way snubbed Matty +Bell, the Rector gave his customary annual treat. He gave this treat +every year, and it was looked upon by high and low alike as the great +event of the merry month of August. The treat lasted for two days, the +first day being devoted to the schools and the humble parishioners, the +second to the lads and lasses, the well-to-do matrons and their spouses, +who formed the better portion of his parishioners. + +Every soul in the place, however, from the poorest fisherman's child to +the wealthy widow, Mrs. Meadowsweet, wag expected to come to the Rectory +to be feasted and petted, and made much of, at Mr. Ingram's treat. + +With the small scholars and the fishermen and their wives, and all the +humbler folk of the place, this story has nothing to do. But it would +not be a true chronicle of Northbury if it did not concern itself with +the Jenkinses and their love affairs, with Mrs. Gorman Stanley and her +furniture, with Mrs. Morris and her bronchitis, with Mrs. Butler and her +adorable sister, Miss Peters, and last, but not least, with that young, +_naïve_, and childish heart which beat in the breast of Matty Bell. + +There are the important people in all histories, and such a place in +this small chronicle must the Bertrams hold, and the Meadowsweets. But +Matty, too, had her niche, and it was permitted to her to pull some not +unimportant wires in this puppet show. + +It is not too strong a word to say that Matty, Alice and Sophy Bell, +received their invitation to play tennis at the Manor with a due sense +of jubilation. Matty wore the shot silk which had been partly purchased +by the sale of good Mrs. Bell's engagement ring. This silk had been +made, at home, but, with the aid of a dressmaker young Susan Pettigrew, +who had served her time to the Perrys. Susan had made valuable +suggestions, which had been carried into effect, with the result that +the shot silk was provided with two bodies--a high one for morning wear, +and one cut in a modest, demi-style for evening festivities. The evening +body had elbow-sleeves, which were furnished with raffles of +coffee-colored lace, and, when put on, it revealed the contour of a +rather nice plump little throat, and altogether made Matty Bell look +nicer than she had ever looked in anything else before. + +The wonderful Miss Pettigrew had also supplied the dress with a train, +which could be hooked on with safety hooks and eyes for evening wear, +and removed easily when the robe was to act as a tennis or morning +costume. Altogether, nothing could have been more complete than this +sinning garment, and no heart could have beat more proudly under it than +did fair Matty's. + +When the captain went suddenly away this little girl and her good mother +had both owned to a sense of depression; but his speedy return was soon +bruited abroad, and at the same time that little whisper got into the +air with regard to the gallant captain, that, like Duncan Gray, he was +coming back to woo. It did not require many nods of Mrs. Bell's head to +assure all her acquaintances whom she considered the favored young lady. +Matty once more blushed consciously, and giggled in an audible manner +when the captain's name was mentioned. The invitation to play tennis at +the Manor completed the satisfaction of this mother and daughter. + +"There's no doubt of it," said Mrs. Bell; "I thought my fine lady would +have to come down from her high horse. I expect the captain makes his +mother do pretty much what he wishes, and very right, too, very right. +He wants to show his little girl to his proud parent, and, whether she +likes it or not, she'll have to make much of you, my love. Sophy and +Alice, it's more than likely Matty will be asked to dine and spend the +evening, at the Manor, and I think we'll just make up the evening body +of her silk dress and her train in a bit of brown paper, and you can +carry the parcel up between you to the Manor. Then, if it's wanted, it +will come in handy, and my girl won't be behind one of them." + +"Lor, ma, what are we to do with such a bulky parcel?" objected Sophy, +who was not looking her best in a washed-out muslin of two years' date. +"What can we do with the parcel when we get to the Manor?" + +"Take it up, of course, to the house, child, and give it to the servant, +and tell her it's to be kept till called for. She'll understand fast +enough; servants always guess when there's a sweetheart in the question. +Most likely she'll place the things ready for Matty in one of the +bedrooms. I'll put in your best evening shoes too, Matty, love, and my +old black lace fan, in case you should flush up dreadful when the +captain is paying you attention. And now, Sophy, you'll just be +good-natured, and leave the parcel with the parlor maid, so your sister +will be prepared for whatever happens." + +Sophy, having been judiciously bribed by the loan of a large Cairngorm +brooch of her mother's, which took up a conspicuous position at her +throat, finally consented to carry the obnoxious parcel. Alice was +further instructed, in case Mrs. Bertram so far failed in her duty as to +neglect to invite Matty to stay to dine at the Manor to try and bring +Captain Bertram back with them to supper. + +"You tell him that I'll have a beautiful lobster, and a crab done to a +turn ready for him," whispered the mother. "You'll manage it, Alice, and +look sympathetic when you speak to him, poor fellow. Let him know that +I'll give him his chances, whether that proud lady, his mother, does or +not. Now then, off you go, all three of you. Kiss me, Matty, my pet. +Well, to be sure, you do look stylish." + +The three little figures in their somewhat tight shoes toddled down the +street. In the evening they toddled back again. The brown paper parcel +tossed, and somewhat torn, was tucked fiercely under Sophy's arm, and +Alice was unaccompanied by any brave son of Mars. + +Sophy was the first to enter her expectant mother's presence. + +"There, ma," she said, flinging the paper parcel on the table. "I hope +we have had enough of those Bertrams and their ways. The fuss I had over +that horrid parcel. I thought I'd never get it back again. In the end I +had to see Mrs. Bertram about it, and didn't she crush me just! She's an +awful woman. I never want to speak to her again all my life, and as to +the captain caring for Matty!" + +"Where is Matty?" here interrupted Mrs. Bell. "She was not asked to stay +behind after all, then?" + +"_She_ asked to stay behind? You speak for yourself, Matty. For my +part, I think it was very unfair to give Matty that silk. We might all +have had nice washing muslins for the price of it. Where are you, Matty? +Oh, I declare she has gone upstairs in the sulks!" + +"You're in a horrid bad temper, Sophy; that I can see," expostulated the +mother. "Well, Alice, perhaps you can tell me what all this fuss is +about? I hope to goodness you gave the captain my message, child." + +"I didn't see him to give it, mother," answered Alice. "He never spoke +once to us the whole time. He just shook hands when we arrived, but even +then he didn't speak." + +"Captain Bertram never spoke to Matty during the entire evening?" gasped +Mrs. Bell. "Child, you can't be speaking the truth, you must be joking +me." + +"I'm not, truly, mother. Captain Bertram didn't even look at Matty. He +was all the time following Beatrice Meadowsweet about like a shadow." + +Mrs. Bell gave her head a toss. + +"Oh, that's it, is it?" she said. "I didn't think the captain would be +so artful. Mark my word, girls, he behaved like that just as a blind to +put his old mother off the scent." + +But as Mrs. Bell spoke her heart sank within her. She remembered again +how Beatrice had looked that evening in the green boat, and she saw once +more Matty's tossed locks and sunburnt hands. + +After a time she went upstairs, and without any ceremony entered her +daughter's room. + +Matty had tossed off the gaudy silk, and was lying on her bed. Her poor +little face was blistered with tears, and, as Mrs. Bell expressed it, it +"gave me a heart-ache even to look at her." She was not a woman, +however, to own to defeat. She pretended not to see Matty's tears, and +she made her tone purposely very cheerful. + +"Come, come, child," she said, "what are you stretched on the bed for, +as if you were delicate? Now, I wouldn't let this get to Captain +Bertram's ears for the world." + +"What do you mean, mother?" asked the astonished daughter. + +"What I say, my love. I wouldn't let the captain know that you were so +tired as to have to lie down after a game of tennis, for a ten pound +note. Nothing puts a man off a girl so soon as to hear that she's +delicate." + +"Oh, he--he doesn't care," half sobbed Matty. + +"Oh, doesn't he, though? I never knew anything more like caring than for +him to be too shy to come near you. Things have gone pretty far when a +man has to blind his mother by pretending to be taken up with another +girl. I knew the captain was in love, Matty, but I did not suppose he +was deep enough to play his cards after that fashion. You get up now, +lovey, and come down, and have a nice hot cup of tea. It will revive you +wonderfully, my pet." + +Matty allowed her mother to coax her off the bed, and to assist her on +with her every-day brown holland frock. She was a good deal comforted +and inclined to reconsider the position which had seemed so hopeless +half-an-hour ago. + +"Only he did neglect me shamefully," she said, with a little toss of her +head. "And I don't see why I should take it from him." + +"That's right, my girl. You show Captain Bertram you've got a spirit of +your own. There's nothing brings a man to the point like a girl giving +him a little bit of sauce. Next time he speaks to you, you can be as +stand-off as you please, Matty." + +"Yes, mother," said Matty, in a languid tone. + +She knew, however, that it was not in her nature to be stand-off to any +one, and beneath all the comfort of her mother's words she could not +help doubting if Captain Bertram would care how she behaved to him. + +The next morning the Rector's invitation came for the annual treat, and +the hopes of the Bells once more rose high. On this occasion Mrs. Bell +was to accompany her daughters. Bell would also be present, but, as he +was never of much account, this small fact scarcely rested on any one's +mind. All the town was now in state of ferment. The Rector's party was +the only thing spoken about, and many were the prognostications with +regard to the weather. + +The day of festival came at last; the sun arose gloriously, not a cloud +was in the sky, all the merry-makers might go in their best, and all +hearts might be jubilant. It was delightful to see Northbury on this +day, for so gay were the costumes worn by its inhabitants that as they +passed through the narrow old streets they gave the place of their birth +a picturesque and even a foreign appearance. + +The Rectory was just outside the town, and, of course, all the footsteps +were bending thither. The Rector had invited his guests to assemble at +three o'clock, and punctually at a quarter to that hour Miss Peters +seated herself in her bay window, armed with a spy-glass to watch the +gathering crowd. + +Miss Peters was already arrayed in her festive clothes, but she and Mrs. +Butler thought it ungenteel not to be, at least, an hour late. "The +Bertrams will be sure to be late," remarked the good lady to her sister, +"and we, too, Martha, will show that we know what's what." + +"Which we don't," snapped Mrs. Butler. "We are sure and certain to be +put in the wrong before we are half-an-hour there. However, I agree with +you, Maria; we won't be among the hurryers. I hate to be one of those +who snap at a thing. Now, what's the matter? How you do startle me!" + +"It's Mrs. Gorman Stanley," gasped Miss Peters; "she's in red velvet, +with a beaded bodice--and--oh, do look at her bonnet, Martha! +Positively, it's hideous. A straw-green, with blue forget-me-nots, and +those little baby daisies dropping over her hair. Well, well, how that +woman does ape youth!" + +Mrs. Butler snatched the spy-glass from her sister, and surveyed Mrs. +Gorman Stanley's holiday attire with marked disapproval. She threw down +her glasses presently with a little sniff. + +"Disgusting," she said with emphasis. "That woman will never see fifty +again, and she apes seventeen. For my part, I think, when women reach a +certain age they should not deck themselves with artificial flowers. +Flowers are for the young, not for poor worn-out, faded types of +humanity. Now you, Maria----" + +"Oh, don't," said Miss Maria, stepping back a few paces in alarm, and +putting up her hand to her bonnet, "don't say that wallflowers aren't +allowable, Martha; I always did think that wallflowers were so +_passé_. That's why I chose them." + +"Who's that now?" exclaimed Mrs. Butler. "My word, Maria, get quick +behind the curtain and peep! Give me the spy-glass; I'll look over your +head. Why, if it isn't--no--yes--it is, though--it's that young Captain +Bertram, a _most_ stylish young man! He looks elegant in flannels--quite +a noble face--I should imagine him to be the image of Julius +Caesar--there he comes--and Bee--Bee Meadowsweet with him." + +"Just like her name," murmured Miss Peters; "just--just like her name, +bless her!" + +The poor, withered heart of the little old maid quite swelled with love +and admiration as the beautiful girl, dressed simply all in white, with +roses on her cheeks, and sparkles in her eyes, walked to the scene of +the coming gayeties in the company of the acknowledged hero of the town. + +"Poor Matty Bell, I pity her!" said Mrs. Butler. "Oh, it has been a +sickening sight the way the mother has gone on lately, perfectly +sickening; but she'll have her come down, poor woman, and I, for one, +will say, serve her right." + +"We may as well be going, Martha," said Miss Peters. + +"Well, I suppose so, since our betters have led the way. Now, Maria, +don't drag behind, and don't ogle me with your eyes more than you can +help. I have made up my mind to have a seat next to Mrs. Bertram at the +feast, and to bring her down a peg if I can. Now, let's come on." + +The ladies left the house and joined the group of holiday-seekers, who +were all going in the direction of the Rectory. When they reached the +festive scene, the grounds were already thronged. Mr. Ingram was very +proud of his gardens and smoothly-kept lawns. He hated to see his velvet +swards trampled on and made bare by the tread of many feet. He disliked +the pet flowers in his greenhouses being pawed and smelt, and his trim +ribbon borders being ruthlessly despoiled. But on the day of the annual +treat he forgot all these prejudices. The lawns, the glass-houses, the +flower-beds, might and would suffer, he cared not. He was giving supreme +pleasure to human flowers, and for two days out of the three hundred and +sixty-five they were free to do as they liked with the vegetable kingdom +over which on every other day he reigned as monarch supreme. Marquees +now dotted the lawns, and one or two brass bands played rather shrill +music. There were tennis-courts and croquet lawns, and fields set aside +for archery. Luxurious seats, with awnings over them, were to be found +at every turn, and as the grass was of the greenest here, the trees of +the shadiest, and the view of the blue harbor the loveliest, the +Rector's place, on the day of the feast, appeared to more than one +enthusiastic inhabitant of Northbury just like fairyland. + +Matty Bell thought so, as, accompanied by her sisters and mother she +stepped into the enchanted ground. The girls were in white to-day, not +well made, and very bunchy and thick of texture. But still the dresses +were white, and round each modest waist was girdled a sash of virgin +blue. + +"It makes me almost weep to look at the dear children," whispered Mrs. +Bell to her husband. "They look so innocent and lamb-like, more +particularly Matty." + +Here she sighed profoundly. + +"I don't see why you should single out Matty," retorted the spouse. +"She's no more than the others, as far as I can see, and Sophy has the +reddest cheeks." + +"That's all you know," said Mrs. Bell. Here she almost shook herself +with disdain. "Well, Peter, I often do wonder what Pas are for--not for +observation, and not for smoothing a girl's path, and helping an ardent +young lover. Oh, no, no!" + +"Helping an ardent young lover, Tilly! Whatever are you talking about? +Where is he? I don't see him." + +"You make me sick, Peter. Hold your tongue, do, and believe your wife +when she says that's about all you are good for. Matty's on the brink, +and that's the truth." + +Poor Bell looked as mystified as he felt. Presently he slunk away to +enjoy a quiet smoke with some congenial spirits in the coal trade, and +Mrs. Bell marshalled her girls to as prominent a position as she could +find. + +It was her object to get on the terrace. The terrace was very broad, and +ran not only the length of the front of the house, but a good way beyond +at either side. At each end of the terrace was a marquee, decorated with +colored flags, and containing within the most refined order of +refreshments. On the terrace were many seats, and the whole place was a +blaze of gay dresses, brilliant flowers, and happy, smiling faces. + +It was here the _élite_ of the pleasure-seekers evidently meant to +congregate, and as Mrs. Bell intended, on this occasion at least, to +join herself to the select few, her object was to get on the terrace. +She had not at first, however, the courage to mount those five sacred +steps uninvited. The battery of eyes which would be immediately turned +upon her would be greater than even her high spirit could support. Mr. +Ingram had already spoken to her, she did not know Mrs. Bertram, +although she felt that if Catherine or Mabel were near she might call to +one of them, and make herself known as Matty's mother. + +Catherine and Mabel were, however, several fields away engaged in a +vigorous game of archery. Mrs. Bell raised her fat face, and surveyed +the potentates of the terrace with anxiety. + +"Keep close to me, Matty," she said to her eldest daughter. "Don't go +putting yourself in the background. It isn't becoming, seeing what will +be expected of you by-and-by. Now I wonder where the captain is! Mr. +Ingram is sure to make a fuss about those Bertrams, and that young man +will be expected to be at the beck and call of everybody all day long. +But never you mind, Matty, my pet. He shall have his chances, or my name +is not Tilly Bell." + +"I wish ma wouldn't," whispered Sophy to Alice. "I don't believe Captain +Bertram cares a bit for Matty. Now, what are we all going to do! Oh, +dear, I quite shake in my shoes. Ma is awfully venturesome, and I know +we will be snubbed." + +"Come on, girls," said Mrs. Bell looking over her shoulder. "What are +you loitering for? I see Mrs. Gorman Stanley at the back there, by one +of the big refreshment booths. I'm going to make for her." + +"Oh, ma, she doesn't care a bit for us." + +"Never mind, she'll do as an excuse. Now let's all keep close together." + +Amongst the select company on the terrace Mrs. Bertram of course +found a foremost place. She was seated next to Lady Verney, whose +daughter, the Lady Georgiana Higginbotham also stood near, languidly +pulling a splendid gloire de Dijon rose to pieces. She was a tall, +sallow-faced girl, with the true aristocratic expression of +"I-won't-tell-you-anything-at-all" stamped on her face. She was to be +married the following week, and had all the airs of a bride-elect. + +This young lady raised her pince nez to watch the Bells as they ascended +the steps. + +"Who _are_ those extraordinary people?" she whispered to her mother. + +"I'm sure I don't know, my dear. How intolerably hot it is. Really our +good Rector ought not to ask us to submit to the fierce rays of the sun +during this intense weather. Georgiana, pray keep in the shade. Yes, +Mrs. Bertram, you must find the absence of all society a drawback here." + +"I sha'n't stay here long," responded Mrs. Bertram. "Catherine is still +so young that she does not want society. Ah, there is Loftus. I should +like to introduce him. Loftus, come here." + +Captain Bertram, raising his hat to the Bells as he passed, approached +his mother's side. He was introduced in due form to Lady Verney and the +Lady Georgiana, and the two young people, retiring a little into the +background, began to chat. + +"Who are those extraordinary folk?" asked Lady Georgiana of her +companion. + +She waved her fan in the direction of Mrs. Bell's fat back. + +"Do you know them, Captain Bertram?" + +His eyes fairly danced with mirth as he swept them over the little +group. + +"I must confess something, Lady Georgiana. I do know those young ladies +and their mother. I have supped with them." + +"Oh, horrors! And yet, how entertaining. What were they like?" + +"Like themselves." + +"That is no answer. Do divert me with an account of them all. I am sure +they are deliciously original. I should like to sketch that mother's +broad back beyond anything." + +It was at this moment that Beatrice and Catherine appeared together on +the scene. Captain Bertram, who thought himself an adept in a certain +mild, sarcastic description, was about to gratify Lady Georgiana with a +graphic account of the Bells' supper-table, when his gaze met the kind, +clear, happy expression of Beatrice Meadowsweet's eyes. He felt his +heart stir within him. The Bells were her friends, and she was so good, +bless her--the best girl he had ever met. No, he could not, he would +not, turn them into fun, just to while away an idle five minutes. + +Mrs. Bertram called Catherine over to introduce her to Lady Verney, and +Bertram, in a moment, was by Beatrice's side. + +"This is lucky," he said. "I thought you had left me for the day." + +"Why should you think that?" she replied. "It would be impossible for +people not constantly to come against each other in a small place like +this." + +"May I come with you now? You seem very busy." + +"You can come and help me if you feel inclined. I always have a great +deal to do at these feasts; I have been at them for years, and know all +about them, and the Rector invariably expects me to keep the ball +going." + +"What ball?" + +"The ball of pleasure. Each hand must grasp it--everyone must be happy. +That is the Hector's aim and mine." + +"I think it is your aim not only to-day, but every day." + +"Yes, if I can manage it. I can't always." + +"You could always make me very happy." + +Beatrice turned her eyes and looked at him. Her look made him blush. + +"You are mistaken when you say that," she responded, in a grave tone. +"You are not the sort of person to be made happy by a simple country +girl like me. The Northbury people only need small things, and many +times it is within my power to supply their desires. But you are +different. You would not be content with small things." + +"Assuredly not from you." + +Then he paused; and as she blushed this time, he hastened to add: + +"You can help me not in a small, but in a big way, and if you grant me +this help, you will save my mother, and--yes--and Catherine." + +"I love Catherine," said Beatrice. + +"I know it--you would like to save her." + +"Certainly; but I did not know she was in peril." + +"Don't whisper it, but she is. You can put things straight for her. May +I talk to you? May I tell you what I mean?" + +"You look very solemn, and this is a day of pleasure. Must you talk to +me to-day?" + +"I won't talk of anything to worry you today. But I may some time?" + +"I suppose you may. At least it is difficult to reply in the negative to +any one who wants my help." + +"That is all I need you to say. You will understand after I have spoken. +May I come to see you to-morrow?" + +"Yes, you may come to-morrow. I shall be at home in the morning." + +"Beatrice," said a voice, "Bee--Trixie--I do think it's unkind to cut an +old friend." + +Beatrice turned. + +Mrs. Bell, puffed and hot, accompanied by Matty, who was also a little +blown, and by the younger girls, looking very cross, had been chasing +Captain Bertram and Miss Meadowsweet from one lawn to another. Mrs. +Bell, after receiving a somewhat severe snubbing from Mrs. Gorman +Stanley, had just retired into the marquee to refresh herself with +strawberry ices, when Sophy, laying a hand on her mother's shoulder, +informed her in a loud whisper that Captain Bertram and Bee Meadowsweet +had gone down the steps of the terrace to the tennis lawn side by side. + +"We'll make after them!" exclaimed the good lady. "Girls, don't finish +your ices; come quick." + +Mrs. Bell took her eldest daughter's hand, and rushed out of the tent. +Sophy and Alice stayed behind to have one parting spoonful each of their +delicious ices. Then the whole family went helter-skelter down the five +sacred steps and on to the lawn. They saw the objects of their desire +vanishing through a gap in the hedge into a distant field. They must +pursue, they must go hotly to work. Mrs. Bell panted and puffed, and +Matty stopped once to breathe hard. + +"Courage, child," said the mother. "We'll soon be up with them. I'm not +the woman to leave an innocent young man alone with that siren." + +"Mother! You call Beatrice a siren?" + +"Well, and what is she, Matty, when she takes your lawful sweetheart +away before your very eyes? But here, we're in hailing distance, now, +and I'll shout. Beatrice--Bee--Trixie!" + +Beatrice turned. She came up at once to Mrs. Bell, took her hand, and +asked all four why they had run so fast after her. + +"For I was coming back at once," she said, in a _naïve_ tone. +"Captain Bertram was kind enough to walk with me to the archery field. +Then I was coming to arrange some tennis sets." + +"My girls have had no tennis yet to-day, Beatrice," said Mrs. Bell, +fixing her eyes solemnly on Miss Meadowsweet. "And they are all partial +to it, more especially Matty. You're a devotee to tennis too, aren't +you, Captain Bertram?" + +"Well, ah, no, I don't think I am," said the captain. + +"You'd maybe rather have a quiet walk, then. For my part I approve of +young men who are prudent, and don't care to exercise themselves too +violently. Violent exercise puts you into too great a heat, and then +you're taken with a chill, and lots of mischief is done that way. Bee, +lend me your arm, love. I'm more recovered now, but I did have to hurry +after you, and that's a fact." + +Determined women very often have their way, and Mrs. Bell had the +satisfaction of walking in front with Beatrice, while Captain Bertram +brought up the rear in Matty's company. + +Sophy and Alice Bell no longer belonged to the group. They had found +matters so intolerably dull that they started off on their own hook to +find partners for tennis. + +Mrs. Bell, as she walked in front with Beatrice heard Matty's little and +inane giggles, and her heart swelled within her. + +"Poor young man, he is devoted," she whispered to her companion. "Ah, +dear me, Beatrice, I know you sympathize with me; when one has a dear +child's fate trembling in the balance it's impossible not to be +anxious." + +Mrs. Bell's face was so solemn, and her words so portentous, that +Beatrice was really taken in. It was stupid of her to misunderstand the +good woman, but she did. + +"Is anything the matter?" she asked, turning to look at Mrs. Bell. +"Whose fate is trembling in the balance?" + +If it had been possible for light blue eyes of a very common shade and +shape to wither with a look, poor Beatrice would never have got over +that terrible moment. + +Stout Mrs. Bell dropped her companion's arm, moved two or three paces +away, and accompanied her scorching glance with words of muffled +thunder. + +"Beatrice Meadowsweet, you are either green with jealousy, or you are a +perfect goose." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +YOU CAN TAKE ANY RANK. + + +Beatrice was not, in any sense of the word, a conventional girl. Her +nature was independent, and from her earliest days she had been allowed +a great deal of liberty. While her father lived he had trained her to +love his tastes, to respond to his ideas; he had shared his thoughts +with her, and as these thoughts happened to be original, and even +slightly tinged with latent genius, the young girl had from the first +taken a broad view of life. She was naturally intelligent; and to read +and think for herself became a delight to her. + +Mr. Meadowsweet died when Beatrice was twelve and then that further +thing happened which so often makes an unselfish woman really noble. +Beatrice had to support the burdens of another. Mrs. Meadowsweet was a +most loving and affectionate character; but she was not as strong +mentally as her daughter. She did not know that she leant on Beatrice, +but she did. The effect of all this was that Miss Meadowsweet grew up +something as the wild flowers do, with perfect liberty, and yet governed +by the gracious and kindly laws which nature sets about her children. + +Beatrice did not know what it was to be proud of her reputed wealth. +When she looked at her sweet face in the glass she was not vain of it. +Altogether, she was a very simple-hearted girl, as yet untouched by real +trouble, for, except when her father died, its shadow had not approached +her. + +The passionate, childish sorrow for her father was no longer poignant. +She revered his memory, she loved to dwell on his gentleness and +goodness, and in her own manner she tried to plant her young footsteps +in his. + +On the morning after the Rector's feast, Beatrice sat at home and waited +for Captain Bertram. She almost always wore white in the hot days, and +she was in white now. She chose natural flowers as her invariable +adornment, and two crimson roses were now daintily fastened into her +girdle. + +Beatrice could not help wondering what special thing Captain Bertram had +to communicate. She was not particularly troubled or roused in any way +by his admiration of her. He was certainly pleasant to talk to; she had +never met a refined man of the world before, and Captain Bertram was +handsome to look at, and had a charming way of saying charming nothings. +Beatrice did not object to his talking to her, but her heart had never +yet in the smallest degree responded to any beat of his. + +More than one young man in Northbury had fallen in love with Beatrice. +She had been very kind to these would-be lovers, and had managed +skilfully to get rid of them. No man yet had secured even a small place +in her affections. + +"Are you going out this morning, Bee?" asked her mother. "It's very +fine, and you are fond of a row on the water in the sunshine. It's +wonderful to me how your skin never tans nor freckles, child. You might +be out in all weathers without its doing you harm." + +Mrs. Meadowsweet was seated in her arm-chair. In her hand she held a +piece of knitting. She was making a quilt for Beatrice's bed. This quilt +was composed of little squares of an elaborate pattern, with much +honey-combing, and many other fancy and delicate stitches ornamenting +it. Mrs. Meadowsweet liked to feel her fingers employed over Beatrice's +quilt. + +"With each stitch I give her a thought," she said to herself. "Beatrice +will sleep soft and warm under this covering when it is finished," the +old mother used to say, "for every bit of it is put together with love." + +She was knitting Beatrice's quilt now, her chair drawn up as usual to +face the sunny garden, and on the footstool at her feet her favorite +tabby cat was curled. + +"It is too hot for me to go out this morning," replied Beatrice. "So for +that reason I don't go, and also for another. Captain Bertram has +promised to call." + +"Eh?" queried Mrs. Meadowsweet. To call, has he? Maybe you'd like to ask +him to lunch, child?" + +"No, mother, I don't think so." + +"You can if you like, Trixie. Say the word, and I'll have a spring +chicken done to a turn, and a cream, and a jelly put in hand." + +"Oh, no, mother, he won't want to pay such a long call." + +"Well, he's a nice young man. I have nothing to say against him, he +carries himself nearly as upright as your poor father did, and he has a +pleasant, affable way with old and young alike. I haven't a word to say +against the young man, not a word. When he comes I'll just step into the +garden, for you two young things would rather have your chatter alone. +Oh, you needn't tell me, Trixie, I know. I was young once, and I never +cared to have my nonsense listened to. By the way, I might ask Captain +Bertram to take a box of Eleazer's Life-pills to his poor mother. I was +recommending them to her, and I'm convinced they are just the medicine +for her complaint. And, Bee, I wish you'd remind me to tell Jane to send +over a jug of buttermilk to the Bells. I did think that poor child Matty +looked so frightfully burnt yesterday, and there's nothing like bathing +the face and neck in buttermilk, to get rid of the ugly redness. My +word, child, is that a ring at the hall door? Then I'll be off, but I'll +be in the garden handy within call, in case you should want me, my pet." + +As Captain Bertram entered the drawing-room Mrs. Meadowsweet's trailing +skirts might have been seen disappearing down the steps which led from +the French window to the garden. Beatrice said to herself with an inward +smile: + +"From the dear old mother's way, any one would suppose I was going to +receive a lover," and then she raised her eyes, and a very lover-like +gaze met hers. + +The expression in Captain Bertram's dark eyes joined to the thought +which had flown into her heart, made the young girl flush up almost +painfully. This sudden blush caused the gallant wooer's heart to beat +with rapture, and he instantly changed his tactics and resolved, instead +of giving Beatrice a half confidence with regard to his troubles, to +take the apparently unapproachable fortress by storm. + +"I had a long story to tell you, but I find I can't tell it," he said. + +Then he looked at her again, as he knew how momentous were the words +which must follow, he turned pale. + +"Sit down," said Beatrice. "Come over to the window and sit down. We +have such a pretty view of the garden from here. Mother and I are very +proud of our garden." + +"Are you? Miss Meadowsweet, I want to say something. Look at me, will +you look at me?" + +"Of course I will. I expected you to say something when you called this +morning. You had some sort of trouble you wanted to confide in me. What +is the matter?" + +"I don't feel now as if I had any trouble to confide in you. I can only +say one thing." + +Beatrice began to wish that her mother had not left the drawing-room. +She moved forward as if to step through the open French window. + +"And I must tell you this thing," pursued the captain's voice. + +Its tone arrested her. + +"But I am mad to say it." + +"Don't say it then," she began. + +"I can't help myself. You must listen. I love you better than all the +world. I won't marry any one but you. I will marry you, I am +determined." + +"You are determined," repeated Beatrice, slowly. "_You_--determined--and +about me? I am obliged." + +Her lips took a scornful curl. She sat down. She was quiet enough now; +the worst was over. + +Beatrice, however, was only a country girl, and she had very little idea +with whom she had to deal. No one could plead better his cause than +Loftus Bertram. Defeat here meant the ruin of his worldly prospects as +well as of his love. He was the kind of man with whom the present must +always be paramount; for the time being he had absolutely forgotten +Josephine Hart, for the time being he thought himself honestly, deeply +in love with Beatrice. + +So he talked and talked, until poor Beatrice felt both her head and +heart aching. + +"I am not in your rank of life," she said at last, as her final thrust. +"My set is not the same as yours; my people can never belong to +yours--my dear old mother is a lady at heart, but she has not the +outward polish of your mother. You want me to be your wife now, but +by-and-bye you will remember the gulf which socially lies between us." + +"How can you talk such nonsense? You are one of nature's ladies. Ask my +mother what she thinks of you. Ask Catherine. Don't you think Catherine +would be happy to put her arms round you and call you sister?" + +When Bertram mentioned Catherine a sweet light came for the first time +into Beatrice's eyes. + +"I love your sister Catherine," she said. + +"You will love me too. You will make me the happiest of men." + +"I have not even begun to love you. I have not a shadow of affection for +you." + +"If you saw me very unhappy you would pity me." + +"Yes, I pity all unhappy people." + +"Then pity me, for I am miserable." + +"Pity won't do you any good; and you have no right to be miserable." + +"Still, pity me; for I am, I can't help it--I am wretched beyond words." + +His face had grown really haggard, for he was beginning to think she +would never yield, and this look won her to say: + +"Well, yes, if it comforts you to know it. I do pity you." + +"Pity is akin to love. You will love me next." + +"I don't see the smallest prospect; you mustn't delude yourself." + +"I do, I will. I will trust you. I know your heart. You will pity me and +then you will love me. I am not a good fellow." + +His words and looks were the soul of sincerity now. He took her hand. + +"I have never been a really good man. I have not been a dutiful son, and +I have made my mother unhappy. If you were my wife I think I should +become good, for you, Beatrice, you are very good." + +He was telling her the old, old story, and she was half believing him, +half believing that it might be in her power to redeem him. Beatrice +Meadowsweet was just the sort of woman to love such work, to glory in +such martyrdom. + +She did not withdraw her hand from his, and her gray eyes, already dark +and misty with emotion, filled with tears. + +"I have never been spoken to like this before," she said. + +Here she rose and stood before him. + +"Your words trouble me. It is not right for a girl to marry without +love, and yet most surely I pity you." + +"Carry your pity a little further, and believe that the love will come. +You cannot receive all and give nothing in return--the love will come, +Beatrice, believe me, do believe me." + +"I am not of your rank," she said, going back to her old objection, +which in itself was a sign of weakness. + +"See what my mother says of your rank and of you. You can take any rank. +Oh, Beatrice, how happy you will make my mother." + +She was not moved at all by this. + +"And Catherine, I can see her eyes sparkle." + +At Catherine's name Beatrice clasped her hands before her, and began to +pace slowly up and down the little enclosure which contained the wide +French windows opening into the garden. + +"And you will make me good, Beatrice." + +Captain Bertram was astute enough to see that he played his best card +here. + +Half an hour later he left her. She had apparently consented to +nothing--but she had agreed to see him again the following day. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +WITH CATHERINE IN THE ROSE BOWER. + + +Mrs. Meadowsweet was not the least like Mrs. Bell. She was not +constantly on the watch for lovers for her only daughter. She was +naturally such a contented and easy-going woman that she never troubled +herself to look far ahead. The time being was always more or less +sufficient to her. No two people could be snugger or more absolutely +comfortable together than she and her Bee. It was no use therefore +worrying her head about the possible contingency that the girl might +marry and leave her. + +Mrs. Meadowsweet, as she walked about her old-fashioned garden on that +summer's morning was not at all put about by the fact that her pretty +daughter was having a solemn conference in the drawing-room with the +handsomest and most elegant young man of their acquaintance. She was not +curious nor anxious, nor perturbed in any way. She pottered round her +plants, pulling up a weed here, and removing a withered bud there, in +the most comfortable fashion, and only once she made a remark to herself +with regard to the occupants of the drawing-room. This was her sole +allusion to them. + +"I hope that young man won't forget to take the box of Eleazer'ss +Life-pills to his mother. I left it handy on the hall table, and I hope +he'll remember to slip it into his pocket." + +Presently Mrs. Meadowsweet re-entered the house. There she noticed two +things. The drawing-room was empty, and the box of pills lay untouched +on the hall table. + +She sighed a little over this latter circumstance, but reflecting that +she could send Jane with them in the evening she went slowly up to her +bedroom and busied herself putting on her afternoon gown, which was of a +large check pattern, the coloring being different shades in terra-cotta. + +Arrayed thus she came down to dinner, and then for the first time she +was really startled by perceiving that Beatrice's place was empty. Jane +immediately explained her young mistress's absence. + +"Miss Bee has a headache and is lying down, ma'am. I'm to take her a cup +of tea presently, but she doesn't want any dinner." + +"Dear, dear," ejaculated Mrs. Meadowsweet. + +"And the peas are lovely and tender to-day, and so for that matter is +the chicken. What a pity! Jane, you tell Miss Bee that if she has a +headache she had better take two of my pills immediately after she has +had her tea. You'll find them in the bottle on my dressing-table, Jane, +and you had better take her up some raspberry jam to swallow them in." + +Jane promised obedience, and Mrs. Meadowsweet ate her green peas and +tender, young chicken in great contentment. + +In the course of the afternoon Beatrice came downstairs again. She told +her mother that her headache was quite gone, but the old lady was acute +enough to observe a great change in the girl. She did not look ill, but +the brightness had gone out of her face. + +"Is anything wrong, dearie?" she asked. "Has any one been worrying you, +my treasure?" + +"I have got to think about something," replied Beatrice. "And I am just +a very little upset. I am going into the garden with a book, and you +won't mind if I don't talk to you, mother dear?" + +"Of course not, my pet. What is an old mother good for, but to humor her +child? Go you into the garden, Trixie, and no one shall fret or molest +you, I'll see to that." + +Beatrice kissed her mother, and book in hand went to the rose-bower, a +secluded spot where no one could see her or take her unawares. Mrs. +Meadowsweet sat upright in her chair, took out her knitting-bag, and +proceeded to add a few stitches to Beatrice's quilt. + +Presently there came a quick and somewhat nervous ring to the door-bell. +Mrs. Meadowsweet often said that there were rings and rings. This ring +made her give a little start, and took away the sleepiness which was +stealing over her. + +The next moment Catherine Bertram entered the room. Her eyes were +glowing, and her face, usually rather pale, was effused with a fine +color. She looked eager and expectant. + +Mrs. Meadowsweet stretched out her two hands to her, and gave her a few +warm words of welcome. The impulsive girl stooped down, and kissed the +old lady on the forehead. + +"You're just the person I'm glad to see, my dear," said Mrs. +Meadowsweet. "You'll take your mother back her pills. Poor dear, she +must have thought I had forgotten all about her." + +"I have come to see Beatrice," said Catherine. "It is important. Can I +see her?" + +"Well, my love, Bee is not quite herself. She is worried about +something; I don't know what for it's my aim in life to make her lot +smooth as velvet. She's in the garden with a book, and I said she +shouldn't be disturbed. But you, my dear----" + +"I must see Beatrice," repeated Catherine. "It's important. I've come +here on purpose." + +"Well, my love, you and Bee are always great friends. You haven't a +worrying way with you. She's in the rose-arbor. You can find her, child. +You walk straight down that path, and then turn to your left." + +Catherine did not wait another instant. She had the quick and graceful +motions of a young fawn, and when she reached Beatrice her eager face +was so full of light and excitement that the other girl sprang to her +feet, her unopened book tumbled to the floor, and in one moment the two +friends had their arms round each other. + +They did not kiss. This was not the moment for outward expressions of +affection. They looked at one another, then Catherine said: + +"Well, Beatrice?" and, taking her friend's hand, she sat down by her. + +"You know what happened this morning, Catherine?" said Beatrice, looking +at her sadly. + +"Yes, I know. I have come about that. Loftus came home, and he told +mother. I heard him talking to her, and I heard mother crying; I came +into the room then, for I cannot bear the sound of my mother's sobs when +she is in distress, and she at once looked up when she heard nay step, +and she said: + +"'It is all hopeless, Catherine; Beatrice Meadowsweet will not marry +Loftus.' + +"'Nay, mother,' interrupted Loftus, 'there's a chance for me, she has +consented to see me again to-morrow.' + +"I flew up to mother when Loftus had done speaking, and I knelt by her +and looked into her face and said, 'You make my heart beat so hard, I +never, never thought of this.' Mother went on moaning to herself. She +did not seem to care about me nor to notice that I was with her. + +"'It was my last hope,' she said; 'the only chance to avert the trouble, +and it is over.' + +"She went on saying that until I really thought she was almost +light-headed. At last Loftus beckoned me out of the room. + +"'What is it, Loftus, what is wrong?" I asked. + +"'Poor mother,' he replied; 'she loves Beatrice, and she had set her +heart on this. Her nerves are a good deal shaken lately. Poor mother! +she has had a more troubled life than you can guess about, Catherine.' + +"'Loftie,' I answered, 'I have long guessed, I have long feared.' + +"'If I could win Beatrice,' said Loftus, 'my mother should never have +another ache nor pain.' + +"Then he went back into mother's room, and I stayed outside and thought. +After a time I resolved to come to you. No one knows that I am here." + +"What have you come for, Catherine?" asked Beatrice. + +"I have come to know what you mean to do. When you see Loftus to-morrow +what will you say to him?" + +"What would you say, Catherine? If you did not love a man at all, if he +was absolutely nothing to you, would you give yourself to him? Yourself? +That means all your life, all your days, your young days, your +middle-aged years, your old age, always, till death parts you. Would you +do that, Catherine? Speak for yourself; would you?" + +"How old are you, Beatrice?" asked Catherine. + +"I am nineteen; never mind my age, that has nothing whatever to say to +the question I want you to answer." + +"I asked you about your age on purpose--because I can't answer your +question. You are nineteen, I am seventeen. I feel like a child still; I +don't understand anything about loving people as you talk of love; but I +could be kind, and if it lay in my power to keep hearts from breaking I +think I'd be very glad to do it, and then Loftie _is_ nice, Bee." + +Beatrice sighed. For the first time there was a gulf between her and +Catherine. As an intelligent and intellectual companion, as an +affectionate friend, Catherine was perfect; but in matters pertaining to +love--that great mystery which comes into most lives--her unawakened +heart was as a blank. + +"You ask a great deal," said Beatrice, rising to her feet with +irritation. "For some reason, I don't know what, I am of value to you +and yours. I am not in your rank of life, still you want me. Your mother +is troubled, and in some inexplicable way I, an ignorant and uninformed +country girl, can relieve her. This is all very fine for you, but what +about me? I sacrifice myself forever to give temporary relief. +Catherine, you must tell me the truth. Why do you want me? Is it because +of my money?" + +"Have you money?" asked Catherine. Her big, innocent, honest eyes looked +full at her friend, their expression showed bewilderment. When she +looked at her in this way Beatrice suddenly burst into a fit of +laughter. Then she put her arms round Catherine and kissed her two or +three times. + +"Kate, you are the sweetest girl I ever met in all my life. You are +good, you are innocent. Kitty, I would do much for you." + +"And Loftus is very kind," repeated Catherine; "and he's handsome, too. +He often told me that girls fell in love with him." + +Beatrice patted Catherine's cheek. + +"Little puss!" she said, "he ought not to breathe such words in your +innocent ears. So it is not for my money your mother and Loftus want me +so badly, Kitty." + +"I never heard either of them breathe the subject of your money. Have +you any?" + +"Yes, some." + +"That would be nice, for somehow lately we seem to be dreadfully poor." + +"If I were turned into a grand and patrician Bertram, and made into your +sister, sweet little Kitty, you shouldn't be poor. I'd see to that. I'd +dress you and pet you, and lade you with gifts." + +"Beatrice, how bright your eyes are." + +"Yes, I am excited when I think of the possible benefit I may be to +you." + +"I only want you to be my sister, and to make my mother and Loftus +happy. My mother has a hidden trouble about which I must not speak; and +for some reason which I cannot in the least understand, if you marry +Loftus that trouble will disappear." + +"And you want it to disappear?" + +"I would give all I possess to make my mother happy." + +"Good, dear, little Kitty! You don't incline then to the belief that +your brother wants me for the guineas' worth!" + +"Beatrice, I don't think Loftus is really sordid and he loves you. Oh, +how earnestly he told me that he loved you. And my mother, she often, +often talks of you, and I know she cares for you, Bee." + +"Come into the house," said Beatrice, suddenly. "Now that you have come +you must spend the evening with me. We can send a messenger to the Manor +to tell them, and after tea you and I will go on the water. We'll have a +happy evening together, Kate, and we won't talk any more about Loftus, +no, not another word. If I do a thing I do it generously, but I will not +discuss the _pros_ and _cons_ even with, you any more." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +SPARE THE POOR CHILD'S BLUSHES. + + +It was Miss Peters who first spread the news. She heard it whispered at +the fishmonger's, spoken of aloud at the butcher's, and confirmed at the +baker's. She could doubt this combined testimony no longer, and hurried +home to put on her best bonnet with the wallflowers in it, and go forth +on a visiting tour. + +Miss Peters was in the seventh heaven of delight. To have news, and such +news, to convey, would make her a welcome inmate that afternoon of every +house in Northbury. She was intensely anxious to go out and convey her +news without being accompanied by her large sister, Mrs. Butler. In Mrs. +Butler's presence Miss Peters was only a shadow, and she had no wish to +be a shadow on this occasion. + +_She_ had heard the gossip, not Martha--why, therefore, should she +tell Martha for the sole satisfaction of having it repeated by Martha in +her own tiresome way to each neighbor she met, while she, poor Miss +Peters, who had really got the information first-hand--for the baker who +served the two families with bread was so absolutely reliable--could +only nod her head and roll her eyes in confirmation. + +Miss Peters resolved, therefore, to tell her news to Mrs. Butler last of +all; and her object now was to slip softly out of doors without being +heard by her sister. She nearly accomplished this feat, but not quite. +As she was going downstairs, with her best bonnet on, her lavender +gloves drawn neatly over her hands, and her parasol, which was jointed +in the middle and could fold up, tucked under her arm, she trod on a +treacherous board which creaked loudly. + +This was enough. Mrs. Butler popped her head out of the drawing-room +door and confronted the little spinster. + +"Where now, Maria?" she asked. "Dear, dear, and I've been wondering what +was keeping you all this time. Where are you off to? Why, I declare you +have on your visiting things?" + +"I thought I'd just go round and see one or two friends, as the +afternoon is fine," answered Miss Maria, in a meek voice. + +"The afternoon fine!" retorted Mrs. Butler. Have we any but fine +afternoons in the month of August? I don't feel disposed to visit +to-day. The lobster salad I ate last night disagreed with me. I shall +stay at home." + +"Well, that's all right, Martha. I can take your compliments to any one, +of course, and just mention that you are a little indisposed." + +"_You_ take _my_ compliments? No, thank you. You'll just have the +goodness to take off your bonnet and come and sit in the drawing-room +with me. I have had enough of my own company today, and I want you to +pick up some stitches in my knitting. Come, you needn't ogle me any +more. Go back and take off your bonnet and be quick about it." + +Very slowly Miss Peters turned and went up the stairs. She took off her +neat little chip bonnet, adorned with the sprigs of wallflower, folded +up her lavender gloves, and put back her heavily-fringed old-fashioned +parasol in its case. Then she went down to the drawing-room; she sighed +heavily as she did so. Poor thing; she had no money of her own, and was +absolutely dependent on Mrs. Butler, who tyrannized over her as is the +usual fashion in such cases. + +The day was a glorious one, and from where Miss Peters sat she could get +a splendid view of the bright and sparkling harbor. Little boats skimmed +about on its surface, and Miss Peters longed to be in one of +them--anywhere away from the tyrannical sister who would not allow her +to go out and disburden herself of her news. + +That news, bottled up within her breast, almost drove the little woman +crazy. Suppose the baker told some one else? He had promised not; but +who can depend on bakers? Suppose she was not the first to startle and +electrify her fellow town's people after all? She felt so fretted and +miserable that her sighs at last became audible. + +"Well, Maria, you certainly are a lively companion!" exclaimed Mrs. +Butler. "Fidget, fidget sigh, sigh, and not a word out of your lips! +I'll thank you to hand me my knitting, and then you may read me a +chapter from that book of sermons on the table. I often think it's in +fine weather we should remember our souls most." + +This remark was so startling that Miss Maria's grievance was forgotten +for a moment in her surprise. + +"Why in fine weather?" she ventured to ask. + +"Because, being prosperous and comfortable, they are like to sleep +within us. Now, get the sermons and read. Turn to sermon five, page +four, begin second paragraph; there's a telling bit there, and I think +the cap will fit your head." + +Miss Maria was rising meekly to comply, when happening again to glance +at the blue bosom of the water, she uttered a shriek, threw down Mrs. +Butler's knitting, caught up the spy-glass, and sprang to the window. + +"Good gracious! Maria, have you gone mad?" exclaimed her sister. + +"It is--it is--" gasped Miss Peters. "There they are! It's beautiful; +and it's true!" + +"What's beautiful, and what's true? Really, Maria, you are enough to +turn a person crazy. What _are_ you talking about, and who +_are_ you looking at? Give me the glass." + +"Sister," said Miss Peters, "they're in a boat together. Out there in +the harbor. _Both_ of them! In a boat!" + +"If they weren't in a boat they'd be drowned to a certainty," snapped +Mrs. Butler. "And who are they? And why shouldn't they be in a boat +together?" + +"Look for yourself, sister--there they are! And beautiful they +look--beautiful!" + +Mrs. Butler seized the spy-glass and tried to adjust it. + +"Where?" she asked. "What part of the harbor?" + +"Over there, just under the old Fort." + +"My good gracious, Maria, you always do something to these glasses to +make them go wrong. I can see nothing. Who, in the name of charity, are +in the boat?" + +"Martha, it's a secret. I heard it to-day." + +"Oh, you heard it to-day! And you kept it from your own only sister +whose bread you eat! _Very_ nice, and very grateful. I'm obliged to +you Maria, I have cause to be." + +"It was the baker who told me, sister." + +"The baker? Hunt, the baker. And pray what had he to tell?" + +"Well, you know, he delivers bread at the Meadowsweets." + +"I neither know nor care." + +"And at the Manor. He takes bread every day to the Manor, Martha." + +"H--m--only his seconds, I should say. Well, this is all very +interesting, but I can't see what it has to say to two people being in a +boat on the harbor." + +"Oh, Martha, you see the baker must know, and he told me for a positive +fact. They're engaged." + +"What! Has Hunt made it up with Gracie Jones? It's time for him. He has +been hanging after her long enough." + +"Oh, sister, I am not alluding to anything plebeian." + +"Well, my dear Maria, I'd be glad to know once for all to what you are +alluding, for, to be frank with you, I think your brain is going fast." + +"It's Bee," said Miss Maria. "It's our Bee. She's engaged. It's all +settled." + +"Beatrice engaged? I don't believe a word of it." + +"It's true. Hunt said there wasn't a doubt of it, and he ought to know, +for he takes bread--" + +"You needn't go on about the bread. To whom is Beatrice Meadowsweet +affianced?" + +"To no less a person, Martha, than Captain Bertram, and there they are +in a boat by themselves on the water." + +Mrs. Butler snatched up the spy-glass again, and after considerable +difficulty, and some mutterings, focussed it so as to suit her sight. +She was absolutely silent, as she gazed her fill at the unconscious +occupants of the green boat. + +After a long time she put down the glass, and turned to her sister. + +"We'll go upstairs and put on our bonnets, Maria, I should like to go +out. I want to call on the Bells." + +Mrs. Bell had lately tried to connect herself with the outside world by +adopting a few of its harmless and inexpensive little fashions. She had +a day at home. This universal mode of receiving one's friends was not +generally adopted in Northbury, but Mrs. Bell, who had heard of it +through the medium of a weekly fashion paper which a distant cousin in +London was kind enough to supply her with, thought it would be both +distinguished and economical to adopt the system of only receiving her +friends on Thursdays. + +She was laughed at a good deal, and considered rather upstartish for +doing so; but nevertheless, on Thursdays the friends came, being sure of +a good dish of gossip as well as sugared and creamed tea and home-made +cakes in abundance. + +On Thursdays Mrs. Bell put on every ring and ornament she possessed. Her +one and only dark red tabinet--this was her wedding-gown let out and +dyed--adorned her stout figure, and then she sat in her drawing-room, +and awaited her company. Her daughters always sat with her, and they, +too, on these occasions, made the utmost of their poor wardrobes. + +Mrs. Bell was in particularly good spirits on this special afternoon, +for rumors had as yet cast no shadows before, and the preceding evening +she had been lucky enough to meet Mabel Bertram, and had almost +extracted a promise from that young lady that she would come to her +reception in the company of her gallant brother. + +"Thank you, for Matty's sake," Mrs. Bell had responded to Mabel. "Matty +will be delighted to see you both,--delighted." + +Mabel had gone home a little bewildered and a little amused, and Mrs. +Bell felt herself altogether in high feather. + +When Mrs. Butler and Miss Peters appeared on the scene there had already +arrived a fair sprinkling of guests. Mrs. Gorman Stanley who did most of +her eating at her friends' houses, was enjoying her second cup of tea, +and asking Alice for the third time to pass her the sponge-cakes. Mrs. +Morris, considerably wrapped up on account of her bronchitis, was +shivering by an open window, and Mrs. Jenkins and the two Misses +Jenkins, and Mr. Jones the curate, were also in the room. + +The eldest Miss Jenkins had managed, for the first time, to establish +herself in the vicinity of Mr. Jones, when the maid--no one kept two +maids at Northbury--threw open the door. + +"Mrs. Butler, ma'am, and Miss Peters, ma'am." + +Whereupon the two ladies, portentous with their great news, came in. + +As they walked down the street Mrs. Butler had warned her sister not to +leak out a word. + +"_I'll_ tell," she said, with simple gravity which impressed. + +"But it was _my_ news," said poor Miss Peters. + +"I prefer to tell," said Mrs. Butler. + +And Miss Peters was demolished. + +Accordingly when they entered the room Mrs. Butler made straight for the +sofa beside Mrs. Bell. She took her friend's hand, looked at her +solemnly, and said: + +"How are you?" in a lugubrious voice. + +Mrs. Bell assured Mrs. Butler that she was in excellent health, and +Matty was called forward to administer the tea and cake. + +Mrs. Butler also favored Matty with a portentous glance. + +"Has that girl got over the cough which she was so troubled with a year +back?" she queried of the parent. + +Mrs. Bell bridled at this. Never had her Matty looked stronger or more +blooming, and after all the cough so solemnly inquired after, just for +all the world, muttered the poor mother, as if it were a graveyard +cough, had been but the remains of the whooping cough. + +"Matty blooms," replied Mrs. Bell. "Don't you, Matty, my love? I don't +suppose, Mrs. Butler, you ever saw my girl looking better." + +"I'm glad of it," said Mrs. Butler. "No more tea, I thank you, Matty. +Well, then, as you are so pressing, just a tiny drop. You can put it on +what's in my cup, if you like. Oh, yes, certainly more cream. I'm +partial to cream, if it's good. It agrees with me. It doesn't agree with +Maria, so I never give it her. Well, as I was saying, I'm glad you are +in good health, Matty, for a girl who has a real fine constitution can +stand up against shocks." + +"Shocks?" said Mrs. Bell. "I don't think we need talk of shocks at this +time of day, unless indeed, they are joyful ones. Matty, my love," here +Mrs. Bell raised her voice to a high and penetrating key, "I wonder when +our dear friends the Bertrams will be here." + +Matty blushed and giggled as only Matty could blush and giggle. Poor +Miss Peters felt herself turning crimson. She ogled her eyes round at +her sister, who rose solemnly and put down her cup and saucer. + +The whole company had been impressed by Mrs. Bell's words. They ceased +to talk, they seemed to know something was impending, and Mrs. Butler +felt that her hour had come. She cleared her throat and looked around at +her audience. + +"H--m! ladies, I have called here with a little piece of news. I daresay +you have not heard it yet, for it's fresh. It was told to me in +confidence, but my source is a most reliable one. What's the matter, +Maria? Oh, good gracious, I see you are taking cream. You know how ill +cream always makes you. Will no one be kind enough to give Maria another +cup of tea? Well, ladies, I've come with news. We're to have a wedding +soon!" + +Here Mrs. Bell, who had felt, as she afterwards expressed it, cold +shivers going down her back, while Mrs. Butler was firing off her +preamble, now bridled and even blushed. It was a little premature, +certainly, but reports always did a trifle exceed the truth, and, as +Matty was so certain to be engaged immediately she could scarcely blame +Mrs. Butler for alluding to it prematurely. + +She bent forward therefore and touched her friend on the arm. + +"Spare the poor child's blushes," she whispered. "She's such a sensitive +little thing." + +"Spare whose blushes, my good friend? The girl isn't in the room. Do you +think I'd be so indelicate as to mention the sacred subject of the +wedding before the bride-elect? No, no, Beatrice isn't by, unless she is +hiding behind one of the window curtains." + +At the word Beatrice Mrs. Bell felt her spirit sink down to zero. She +had an insane desire to take Mrs. Butler by main force, and drag her out +of the room. Poor Matty's blushes changed to pallor, and her hand shook +as she pessed Miss Peters her creamless tea. Mr. Jones also, who had +been listening to the conversation in a half-hearted way suddenly felt +himself turning very rigid and stiff, and the eyes which he fixed on +Daisy Jenkins took a glassy stare as though he were looking through that +young lady into futurity. + +Mrs. Butler liked to tell her news with effect and she felt now that she +had made a profound sensation. + +"Good-bye," she said, holding out her hand. "I thought I'd drop in and +tell you, as being old friends, but I must go on at once to congratulate +dear Mrs. Meadowsweet. There's no doubt at all; Bee is engaged, and we +saw them just now in a boat at the other side of the harbor, all alone, +and making love as hard as they could. It's a pretty match, and she's a +fine girl. Good-bye, Mrs. Bell; come, Maria." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Bell. "Yes. Not that I believe a word of the story--you +didn't tell us the name of the--the future bridegroom--not that I +believe a word." + +"Oh, yes, you do believe. Didn't I mention the bridegroom's name? Well, +somehow I thought that went without saying. He's Captain Bertram, of +course. Good-bye, Matty. Come, Maria." + +The two ladies disappeared, and the Bells and their other guests were +left to face each other, and discuss the news. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THAT FICKLE MATTY. + + +"Well, doctor, and where are you off to now?" The speaker was the +doctor's wife. "I do think it's unreasonable of people," continued this +good lady, "to send for you just when you are sitting down to your +comfortable breakfast, and you so particular as you are about your +coffee." + +"Who is it, Mary Anne? Who's the messenger from?" turning to the +maid-servant, who stood in a waiting attitude half-in, half-out of the +door. + +"Oh, it's only the Bells. You needn't hurry off to the Bells, Tom." + +"As well they as another," retorted Dr. Morris "Tell the messenger I'll +be round directly, Mary Anne. Now, what's the matter, old lady? Why +should you fidget yourself, and have such a spiteful tone when the Bells +are mentioned?" + +"Oh, I'm sick of them, and their airs and affectations," growled Mrs. +Morris, who suddenly put on her thickest and most bronchial tones. "What +with their afternoon tea, and their grand at-homes, and the ridiculous +way they've been going on about that little Matty lately, I really lose +all patience with them. What's the consequence of all this kind of +thing? Mrs. Bell chokes up her small drawing-room so full of visitors +who only come to laugh at her, that one can't breathe comfortably there +without the window open, and a fine fresh bronchitis I've got in +consequence. You feel me, doctor. I'm all shivering and burning, I'm +going to be very ill, there isn't a doubt of it." + +"Your pulse hasn't quickened," said the doctor, "it's as steady as my +own." + +"Oh, well, if you don't choose to believe in the sufferings of your +wife, exhibited before your very eyes, go to your Bells, and comfort +them." + +"Now, Jessie, don't talk nonsense, old lady. You know I'm the first to +believe you bad if you are. But what's this about Beatrice Meadowsweet? +Is she really engaged to young Bertram?" + +"It's the gossip, Tom. But maybe it isn't the case. I'll call to see +Mrs. Meadowsweet this morning, and find out." + +"I would if I were you. Beatrice is a fine girl, and mustn't throw +herself away." + +"Throw herself away! Why, it's a splendid match for her. A most +aristocratic young man! One of the upper ten, and no mistake." + +"That's all you women think about. Well, I'm off to the Bells now." + +The doctor presently reached that rather humble little dwelling where +the Bell family enjoyed domestic felicity. + +He was ushered in by the maid, who wore an important and mysterious +face. Mrs. Bell quickly joined him, and she looked more important and +mysterious still. + +"Matty isn't well," she said, sinking her voice to a stage whisper. +"Matty has been badly treated; she has had a blight." + +"Dear, dear!" said Doctor Morris. + +He was a fat, comfortable-looking man, his hands in particular were very +fat, and when he warred to show special sympathy he was fond of rubbing +them. + +"Dear, dear!" he repeated. "A blight! That's more a phrase to apply to +the potato than to a blooming young girl." + +"All the same, doctor, it's true. Matty has been blighted. She had set +her young affections where they were craved and sought, and, so to +speak, begged for. She gave them, _not willingly_, doctor, but +after all the language that melting eyes, and more melting words, could +employ. _The_ word wasn't spoken, but all else was done. She gave +her heart, doctor, not unasked, and now it's sent back to her, and she's +blighted, that's the only word for it." + +"I should think so," said the doctor, who was far too professional to +smile. "A heart returned like that is always a little difficult to +dispose of. Might I ask who--but perhaps you'd rather not tell me?" + +"No, Doctor Morris, I'd rather tell you; I've sent for you to tell you, +and it isn't so much that I blame him, poor young man, for it was all +managed between his mother and Beatrice, all, from the very first, and +it's my firm belief that he had neither part nor parcel in it. I did +what I could, as in duty bound, to give him his chances, but those +designers were too many for me." + +"You don't mean," said the doctor--he really did not concern himself +much about Northbury gossip, and no rumors of Matty's flirtations had +reached him--"You don't mean Captain Bertram? Why, I have just heard he +is engaged to Beatrice. You can't mean Captain Bertram? Impossible." + +"I do mean Captain Bertram, doctor. No more and no less. And I'll thank +you not again to mention the name of that siren, Beatrice, in my +presence. Now if you'll come upstairs, I'll show you the poor blighted +child." + +Mrs. Bell had insisted on Matty's staying in bed. After the first awful +shock of Mrs. Butler's news had subsided, she had made up her mind that +the only _rôle_ left to her daughter was that of the dying martyr. +All the town should know that Beatrice had robbed her friend, and that +this young and innocent friend was now at death's door. + +Alice and Sophy were both in the room with their sister, and they were +expatiating very loudly on what they considered "ma's cruelty." + +"You know perfectly, Matty, that he never cared for you," remarked the +candid Sophy. "It was all ma's folly from first to last." + +"First to last," echoed Alice. + +"And you're not really ill," pursued Sophy. "You slept very sound all +last night." + +"And snored," continued Alice. + +"Only ma will make a fuss, one way or other," proceeded Sophy. "Now +you're to be the forsaken one, and what ma would like would be for your +funeral bell to toll the day Bee has her wedding chimes." + +"And we all love Bee," said Alice. + +"And we'd like to go to her wedding," said Sophy. "Wouldn't you, Matty? +Say, now, if you were going to have a new white muslin for it?" + +It was at this juncture that the doctor and Mrs. Bell entered the room. + +For a blighted invalid Matty did not look pale, and the doctor, who +quickly discovered that there was no broken heart in the case, ordered +his _régime_ with a certain dry sense of humor, anything but +comforting to the poor little victim. + +"Miss Matty requires rest," he said. "Absolute rest. And freedom from +all undue excitement. I should recommend for the next few days, complete +confinement to her bed with a simple diet; _no_ tea nor coffee, nor +any stimulants. Keep her quiet, Mrs. Bell, for while the illness +lasts--I give it no name--under which she is laboring, she will have no +desire, except to keep herself solitary." + +"And you think that will effect a cure, doctor?" asked Mrs. Bell, whose +eyes had forced up a little moisture. "The child is frail, oughtn't she +to be nourished?" + +"In the way I prescribed, my dear madam. Milk diet, without stimulants. +I'll see you again in a couple of days, Miss Matty." + +"And you say she's not to get up, doctor?" + +"On no account, until I call again." + +The doctor departed, and Matty submitted to the remarkably dull life +laid out for her. + +In the course of the afternoon Mrs. Bell went out. To each friend she +met she made the same remarks: + +"Matty is very ill. I'm dreadfully anxious about her. Dr. Morris is in +close attendance. She's to be kept strictly to her bed, and the greatest +care has to be exercised to maintain her feeble strength. It's a heavy +trial to have one's child so ill--and from such a cause." + +"Dear, dear," the sympathizing neighbor would answer. "What can be the +matter, and Matty always looked so fresh and hearty? Do you think she +has gone and taken anything, Mrs. Bell? Some people prophesy that we are +to have an epidemic of small-pox. It can't be that, surely? Taken so +sudden too, for she was about yesterday." + +"Small-pox!" retorted Mrs. Bell, with withering scorn. "As if a child of +mine who had her vaccination beautifully would have small-pox! No, no, +it's heart-blight, neighbor, it's heart-blight, and I doubt if my girl +will ever get over it." + +"Eh, ah--you don't say so," the neighbor would instantly retort. Now the +listener was full of intense curiosity, and longing to learn everything. +Matty Bell ill with a heart affair! No wonder her mother looked +troubled. Ah, men were deceivers ever! And who had dared to trifle with +her young affections? + +Then Mrs. Bell would sigh deeply, and lower her voice, and point in the +direction of the Manor. It wasn't for her to name names, but a certain +young man had gone far, very far. Why, they could bring an action +against him, only they'd scorn to make public their poor child's +feelings. Well, well, he might lead another bride, a certain designer, +to the altar, but there would be no luck nor happiness for either of +them, that Mrs. Bell would say. + +It was in this manner that the good lady spread the report which she +desired through the gossiping little town. Rapidly did the little piece +of gossip swell and magnify. It even travelled into the country, and so +huge did its dimensions grow there, that it not only killed Matty, but +buried her, and placed a beautiful tablet in white marble over her +grave, erected by the repentant Captain Bertram and the remorseful +Beatrice Meadowsweet. + +Meantime the dying martyr had a very dull time in her bed. She was not +the kind of girl to love very deeply--her mother had done her utmost to +make the poor child fall in love with Captain Bertram, but when all was +said he had only managed to tickle her vanity. Now she considered that +he had put her to shame and derision, and she began to dislike him very +much. Her sisters fostered this dislike with the tales they brought in +from the outside world. + +"You're the laughing-stock of the town," Alice would say. "Everybody is +talking about you, and having a laugh at you. You needn't suppose that +you are pitied, for you are not." + +"Oh," groaned Matty. "How I wish, how I do wish, I had never met that +horrid, odious man." + +"He's not horrid nor odious at all," retorted the practical Sophy. "He +looks lovely when he walks about with Beatrice. I saw them yesterday in +the Green, and Beatrice came up at once and asked about you. What do you +think ma did, Matty? She turned her back on Bee and sailed away. Poor +Bee quite colored up, and didn't know what to make of it." + +"They say Beatrice is to have a lovely wedding," said Alice. "And Mr. +Ingram is going to have the whole church decorated with flowers. And a +bishop is coming down from London to marry them. And Mr. Ingram is going +to give Beatrice away himself, for he says she's like a daughter to him. +And there's to be another great party at the Rectory the day of her +wedding, Matty, and lots of fire-works in the evening." + +"Oh, dear," sighed Matty, "I think Captain Bertram is a very base man." + +"You'd better give up that idea," said Alice, "for no one else agrees +with you. You know perfectly he never paid you attentions. It was all ma +who would think so. And you know, Matty, you can't deny it--you did try +to squeeze his hand the first day he danced with you." + +"I didn't," said Matty, flushing all over with indignation. "I think you +both are cruel. I've had a very heavy trial, and you neither of you +sympathize a bit. And I'm sure," continued Matty, in a plaintive voice, +"not the least part of it is being stuck in bed now." + +"I wonder you stay," said Sophy. "You're in perfect health." + +"No, I'm not. Dr. Morris is very anxious about me." + +"He isn't. No one is anxious about you. There isn't a thing the matter, +except that you and ma like that you should pose as the dying martyr. +Well, good-bye. Sophy and I are going to have some fun this evening." + +"Fun, where? Do tell me." + +"At the Jenkinses. Their brother Gus has come home; you know how you and +Gus used to flirt long ago, Matty. Well, he's back for a fortnight. He +has a long red beard, and his face is all over freckles, but he's full +of fun, and he laughs like anything. We saw him and he asked for you. +It's a pity you can't come." + +"Why can't I come? I don't see why I can't come as well as you." + +"Oh, well, we thought you were the dying martyr. Mrs. Jenkins asked us +all in to tea, and we are to have tennis afterwards, and then high +supper, in honor of Gus. We said you couldn't come, but that we would be +there. Alice, it's time for us to dress now. We'll wear our muslins with +the pink spots, and those sweet new pink sashes that we got in exchange +for the old teapot from Mrs. Middlemass last week. Come along, Alice. +We'll show ourselves to you when we are dressed, Matty." + +The girls skipped lightly away, and Matty fidgeted and tossed in her +small hot bed. + +The house was intensely quiet. Mrs. Bell was away, having taken +advantage of a proffered lift from a neighbor to drive into the country +to purchase some plums. Matty thought how intolerably dull her evening +would be. She reflected on the pleasures of the Jenkinses' tea-party; +she thought it would be nice, more than nice, to shake hands again with +Mr. Gus. Why shouldn't she go? What was to prevent her? Only her +mother's whim. Only the doctor's orders. But both doctor and mother were +now far away. She would go, she would defy them both. + +Slipping out of bed she flew across the room and drew the bolt of the +door. Then she began to dress in quick and nervous haste. She put on her +daintiest shoes, and open-work stockings. She arranged her limp hair +with care, and finally she donned the gorgeous shot-silk. + +The few days in bed had taken away some of her burnt appearance, and +slightly moderated her high color. She looked really almost nice as she +skipped to the door, and showed herself to her astonished sisters. + +"I'm coming, too," she said. + +"Then you are cured," said Alice. "I'm glad of it, I'm sure. What did I +say, Sophy, when I was coming in." + +"You said if anyone could mend up Matty it would be Gus," retorted +Sophy. + +That fickle Matty blushed. It was a way she had. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +EVENTS MOVE APACE. + + +Mrs. Bell was very successful in her purchase of plums. In her way she +was a notable housewife, and she returned home about eight o'clock that +evening with a large basket of greengages, which were all to be boiled +down for preserving the following day. + +As soon as she entered the house the maid came to meet her. + +"You take these carefully down and put them in the larder, Hannah," said +her mistress. "Be careful you don't knock any of them, or the bloom will +go off. Why what's the matter, girl? Is Miss Matty worse?" + +"Lor, no, ma'am. Miss Matty is up, and out a-pleasuring, ma'am. But if +you please, there's a visitor in the drawing-room who would like to have +a word with you the minute you come in." + +"A visitor?" + +Mrs Bell felt her heart beat. The Northbury people did not stand on +ceremony with each other, nor wait in each other's drawing-rooms, for +the return of an absent hostess. A wild idea came across Mrs. Bell's +brain. Could Captain Bertram have quarrelled with Beatrice, and come +back to Matty, his first and only true love. + +"A visitor? Male or female?" she inquired of the girl. + +"A lady, ma'am. Dressed most elegant." + +"Dear, dear, dear! Then I suppose I must see her, and I so dead beat! +She didn't give her name, did she, Hannah?" + +"No, ma'am. But she have been a-setting in the drawing-room for over an +hour." + +"And Miss Matty, you say, is out!" + +"Oh, yes, ma'am; a-pleasuring in her shot silk, and the open-worked +stockings you ironed up a fortnight back." + +"Well, I feel bothered altogether, but I must go and see this visitor." + +Accordingly Mrs. Bell entered her drawing-room, where she was instantly +confronted by a tall girl who greeted her with warmth, flashed her +brilliant eyes into her face, subjugated her in a moment, and then made +a bold request. + +"My name is Josephine Hart. About a month ago I took rooms at the +Testers. I find Mrs. Bertram has forbidden them to receive me again. I +don't know where to go, as I am not acquainted with Northbury, but I can +pay for good rooms. Can you recommend any?" + +"My dear child, now let me think. The place is packed just at +present--simply packed. Dear, dear! I have heard of you, Miss Hart. And +so Mrs. Bertram doesn't like you?" + +"No, she hates me." + +"Well, I'm sure. You don't look like a young lady to be hated." + +"No one else hates me, Mrs. Bell, but she does, because she has a +reason. I have come back to Northbury on purpose to make her +uncomfortable, and I must stay." + +"So you shall, my dear. I applaud a girl with spirit. And so you hate +Mrs. Bertram? And you have a spite against her with reason. Well, I may +as well own that I don't love her, having good cause not to do so. She +has been the means of breaking my young daughter's heart. My child is +even now lying on her bed of--" but here Mrs. Bell remembered what +Hannah had said about the shot silk, and the open-worked stockings. +"I wish I could help you, my dear young lady," she said. + +"I was hoping you would help me. Might I not come and live with you +here? I would pay you well." + +Mrs. Bell started and blushed. Caste was a very marked feature in +Northbury society, and between the people who let lodgings for money, +and those who lived genteelly on their means was a great and awful gulf. +No people were poorer in their way than the Bells, and no one would have +more dearly liked to add to her little store of this world's pelf than +would poor Mrs. Bell. She could scarcely afford to take a fashionable +girl in for nothing, and yet--dared she accept payment? Bell, if he +knew, would never forgive her, and, as to the town, it would simply cut +her dead. + +The tall girl who was watching Mrs. Bell's face seemed, however, to be +able to read her through. She spoke in a moment in a very gentle and +pleading voice: + +"I understand your position; you are a lady, and you don't like to +accept money." + +"I couldn't do it, my dear. I couldn't really; Bell, he'd take on awful. +It isn't the custom in Northbury, Miss--Miss Hart." + +"And I couldn't come to you without paying. Now, suppose you and I +managed it between us and nobody knew." + +"Oh, Miss Hart, I'd be terrified. These things always leak out, they do +really." + +"Not if they are properly managed. You might leave that part to me. And +you need not name any sum. I shall see that all your expenses are +covered. Have you a private cupboard in your bedroom? Unlock it every +Monday. That's all you need do. You can give out to all your friends +that you have received me as a visitor, because you were kind to me, and +I wanted to come back to Northbury so badly." + +After considerable more parley on both sides, the matter was arranged, +and who more cheerful than Mrs. Bell as she tripped upstairs to prepare +Matty's room for her guest. She was quite obliged to Matty now for +having left her bed, for the thought of that little secret hoard, which +Monday by Monday she might collect, and no one be the wiser, had filled +her heart with rejoicing. So she helped Hannah to spread Josephine's bed +with her finest linen sheets, and altogether she made the little chamber +cosy and pleasant for its new inmate. All signs of poor Matty's illness +were removed, and that young lady's possessions were hastily carried +into her sisters' joint bedroom. Here they would be anything but wanted +or appreciated but what cared Mrs. Bell for that? + +Mrs. Meadowsweet, meanwhile, was having a somewhat exciting time. +Beatrice was engaged. That event had taken place which the widow had +only thought about as a distant and possible contingency. Captain +Bertram had himself come to his future mother-in-law, and said a few +words with such grace and real feeling that the old lady's warm heart +was touched. She laid her hands within those of the handsome lad, and +blessed him, and kissed him. + +She was not a woman who could see far beneath the surface, and she +thought Loftus Bertram worthy even of Beatrice. Beatrice herself said +very little on the subject. + +"Yes, I will marry him," she said once to her mother. "I have made up my +mind, and I will do it. They want the wedding to be soon. Let it be +soon. Where's the use of lingering over these things." + +"You speak somehow, Trixie, I mean Bee, my girl, as if you +didn't--didn't quite like it," said the mother, then a trace of anxiety +coming into her smooth, contented voice: "You shan't have him, I mean he +shan't have you, unless you want him with your whole heart, Bee, my +darling." + +"Mother," said Beatrice, kneeling down by her, and putting her arms +round her neck, "it is not given to all girls to want a thing with their +whole heart. I have always been happy, always filled, always content. +Therefore I go away without any special sense of rejoicing. But oh, not +unhappily--oh, far from that." + +"You're sure, Trixie--you are speaking the whole truth to your own +mother? Your words are sober to belong to a young girl who is soon to be +a bride. Somehow I wasn't like that when your father came for me." + +"No two girls are alike, mother. I speak the sober truth, the plain, +honest truth, when I tell you that I am happy. Still, my happiness is +not unmixed when I think of leaving you." + +"Hoots-toots, child, I'll do well enough. Jane will look after me, and +that nice little friend of yours, Catherine, will come and cheer me up +now and then. I shall have lots to do, too, this autumn, for I'm going +to have all the chintzes recalendered, and the carpets taken up and +darned in the weak places, and there are some sheets to be cut down the +middle and sewn up again. I won't have breathing-time, let alone +half-hours for fretting. So the thought of the old mother needn't +trouble you, my dearie dear. And the captain has promised to bring you +back as soon as ever he can get fresh leave, so I can look forward to +that, if I have a minute of time to look forward at all." + +Beatrice smiled and kissed her mother. + +"I don't think any one ever had a dearer mother than you are," she said, +"or a more unselfish one." + +"Oh, now, my pet," replied the crafty old lady, "you know you'd change +me for Mrs. Bertram any day; she's so stylish, Bee, and so--so genteel, +darling. You know I never did aim at being genteel. I always +acknowledged that I was a step below your father and you." + +"Hush! You were a step below no one. You stand on a pinnacle which no +other mother can reach, as far as I am concerned. Compare you with Mrs. +Bertram indeed!" + +Here Beatrice tried to look scornful. The expression was so foreign to +her face that her mother absolutely laughed and chuckled. Of course, she +had meant Bee to say the kind of thing she had said; it was balm to the +old lady to hear such words from her beautiful child. + +Up at the Manor now everything went smoothly. Mrs. Bertram was in +perfect health, and perfect spirits. The bustle of a coming wedding +excited and pleased the girls. There was that fuss about the place which +generally precedes an event of rejoicing. Such fuss was delicious to +Catherine and Mabel. Captain Bertram not only looked perfectly happy, +but all his best qualities appeared now on the surface. New springs of +feeling, depths hitherto untouched, had been awakened by Beatrice. She +had a power over this young man; she could arouse all the latent +nobility which he possessed. He thought he was very much in love with +her; he certainly did care for her, but more as his guardian-angel than +with the passionate love he might offer to a wife. He made all sorts of +good resolves when he was with Beatrice, and these resolves grew into +his face, and made it look pleasant, and touched it with a light never +before seen there, and strengthened it with a touch which banished for +a time the evil lines of irresolution and weakness. + +Captain Bertram had made up his mind--he had been rarely blessed--he was +unworthy, but a treasure of good price had been vouchsafed to him. He +would live worthy of her. He would cast away the useless life of the +past; he would cease to be extravagant--his debts should be wiped off +and never incurred again. He would be honorable, true--a gentleman in +every sense of the word--the girl who was lowly born, but whose heart +was so patrician, and whose spirit was so loyal, should guide him in all +things. + +Captain Bertram had only one uncomfortable corner in his heart just +then. He had one little secret chamber which he kept locked, and into +which, even in spirit, he never cared to enter. Men, when they are +turning over new leaves, often keep this little reserve-room of the past +uncleaned, unpurified. All else shall be swept and garnished, but this +room, carefully locked, can reveal no secrets. From its door the ghost +of past evil-doing can surely not escape to confront and destroy. So +Captain Bertram thought. He must forget Josephine; the wrong he had done +her, the vows he had made to her, could never be washed out or forgiven, +but in all else he would be perfect in the future. + +Before he returned to Northbury for the express purpose of wooing and +winning Beatrice Meadowsweet, he had written to Josephine. In his letter +he had promised to marry her; he had promised to confide all about her +to his mother. He said he should be at home for a month, and during that +month he would watch his opportunity and break the news of his +engagement to Josephine to his parent. He had asked Josephine to give +him a month to do this in, and he had begged of her to leave Northbury +for the time, assuring her that her presence at his mother's gates would +be highly detrimental to their mutual interests. + +Josephine had departed, and Bertram, after the fashion of men of his +class, had almost forgotten her existence in his pursuit of a new quest. + +Now he was engaged, and his wedding-bells would soon ring. If the +thought of Josephine Hart did flash now and then before his mental +vision, he could only hope devoutly that she would learn nothing of his +betrothal to Beatrice until after their marriage. "She may appear then, +and I may have to tell Bee everything," he soliloquized. "Well, well, +Bee could not be hard on a fellow, and we will both do what we can for +poor Josephine. No doubt I should not have made her a good husband--no +doubt, no doubt! Poor child--poor, beautiful child." But as he said the +words under his breath, Captain Bertram felt his heart beat hard and +fast. "My God--I love her madly--I must not think of her at all," he +murmured. "I must not; I dare not!" He was uncomfortable, and even +depressed, after these musings; and he was determined to keep the door +of that chamber within him where Josephine dwelt more firmly locked than +ever in the future. + +When all the people concerned are of one mind on a certain point it is +surprising how easily they can bring their wishes to bear fruit. It was +all important, both to Captain Bertram and his mother, that his marriage +should follow his engagement with the least possible delay. + +Having decided to marry him, Beatrice would allow her lover to lead her +to the altar the first day he cared to do so. Mrs. Meadowsweet was, of +course, like wax in the hands of her daughter. + +Accordingly, Beatrice would only be an engaged maiden for three short +weeks, and on the 10th of September, before Captain Bertram's leave +expired, Northbury was to make merry over the gayest wedding it had ever +been its lot to participate in. + +Mr. Ingram, who was one of Beatrice's guardians, and from whose house +the wedding was to take place, had insisted on all his parishioners +being invited. Both rich and poor were to partake of the good things of +life at the Rectory on that auspicious day, and Mrs. Bertram, whether +she liked it or not, must sit down to her son's wedding-breakfast in the +presence of Mrs. Gorman Stanley, Mrs. Morris, Mrs. Butler, Miss Peters, +and the other despised Northbury folk. + +"Your son is marrying into one of the Northbury families," the rector +had said, when the proud lady had frowned a little over this. "Beatrice +must and shall have her friends round her when she gives herself to +Bertram. Your son is making an excellent match from a money point of +view and from all other points of view, and if there is a bitter with +the sweet, he must learn to swallow it with a good grace." + +When the rector had mentioned "from a money point of view" Mrs. Bertram +had forced herself to clear her brows, and smile amiably. After all, +beside this great and important question of money what were these small +worries but pinpricks. + +The pin-prick, however, was capable of going somewhat deeper, when +Catherine informed her mother that Beatrice particularly wished to have +her friends, the Bells, and Daisy Jenkins as bride's-maids at her +wedding. + +"No, no, impossible," burst from Mrs. Bertram's lips. + +But in the end she had to yield this point also, for what will not a +woman do who is hard beset and pressed into a corner to set herself free +from so humiliating and torturing a position. + +Thus everything was getting ready for the great event. The bride's +trousseau was the wonder of all beholders. The subject of Beatrice's +wedding was the only one on the _tapis_, and no one saw a little +cloud in the sky, nor guessed at even the possibility of trouble ahead. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +WEDDING PRESENTS. + + +Notwithstanding her crushing disappointment Matty Bell did not sink into +an early grave. That report which had got into the country with regard +to her funeral and tombstone began to be very flatly contradicted. It +was now whispered on the breeze that Matty was not only in a fair state +of recovery but also that a substantial means of consolation had been +opportunely found her. + +Not only was Gus Jenkins very much to Matty's taste, but she proved, +which, perhaps, was more to the point, to suit him exactly. This hero, +who was doing a thriving trade in the oil business in London, delighted +in laughing, merry, giggling girls, and surely where could he find +another to equal Matty in that respect. Whenever he looked at her she +laughed, whenever he spoke to her she blushed and giggled. He began to +consider himself a wonder of wit and fascination. Really it was no +trouble at all to entertain a nice, little, soft, round thing like Matty +Bell. He pronounced the shot silk a splendid robe, and asked Matty +pointedly what place of amusement she would like best to see in London, +and in whose presence she would most happily enjoy it. + +Matty could scarcely speak when this remarkable question was addressed +to her, unless giggles, blushes, gasps, and "Oh, Gus, how killing you +are!" could be taken as a sensible reply. + +Under these circumstances Mrs. Bell felt that the less she said about +Captain Bertram and that old affair of his with Matty the better. She +always mentioned it now as "that old affair," and whispered in strictest +confidence to her friends that Gus, poor dear fellow, was so absurdly +jealous of Captain Bertram that she dared not breathe the captain's name +in his presence. + +"It's awful to see the thunder-clap that comes on Gusty's brow," the +good lady would say. "And what I'm so terrified of is that if he and the +captain meet they'll do each other a serious mischief. My poor child, +she is the innocent cause, Well, well, she has been much sought after." + +When Beatrice asked the Bells to become her bride's-maids, Mrs. Bell +thought the time had arrived to let bygones be bygones, and to accept +the proffered honor. + +"It was the captain's wish, I make no doubt," she said to her husband; +"he knew he hadn't a chance of winning the girl on whom his heart was +set, but he thought, at least, he might have the pleasure of seeing her +at his wedding, and, so to speak, looking his last on her. It's my +belief, too, that he'll relieve his feelings by giving Matty a very +beautiful present. She must hide it from Gusty, though; Gusty is so +terrible in the jealous excess of his feelings." + +As Beatrice had insisted on giving her bride's-maids their dresses, +no difficulty could be experienced on that head, and the Bells, +notwithstanding that stormy period which had gone before, enjoyed +themselves immensely during the brief season of Beatrice's engagement. + +Mrs. Bell certainly was happy during this time. If Matty was not engaged +to Bertram she soon would be to a better man. Gusty Jenkins, as she +invariably called him, was, of course, the better man now in her eyes. +The three girls were being supplied with new and lovely dresses, in +which Mrs. Bell assured her husband they'd look like angels wafted down +fresh from the skies--for the occasion. When she said this, Bell did not +agree with her, but that was not of the slightest consequence. + +Mrs. Bell also during these happy weeks was making a little secret hoard +of money, which further considerably added to the good lady's felicity. + +That young visitor of the Bell's, Miss Hart, proved herself a most +unobtrusive and retiring person. She was strangely reserved, no doubt, +and would reveal none of the secret which she had dimly alluded to on +the night of her arrival to Mrs. Bell, but she was chatty and pleasant +enough to the girls when quite alone with them. She put them up to many +small wrinkles with regard to their toilette, and insisted on dressing +Matty's hair in a way which made it look both thick and becoming. When +the Bells were quite alone she was present at their meals where she +quite subjugated the hearts of Bell and his son, Albert. But when +visitors appeared at the hospitable board Miss Hart would not present +herself. She had a curious reserve about her, which everyone noticed at +the time, and commented on largely by-and-bye. If the all-absorbing +topic of the day, Beatrice's wedding, was discussed, she invariably grew +grave, her face would become a shade paler than its wont, and her +bright, restless eyes would be lowered. + +Except on one occasion, she never asked questions about the approaching +wedding. On the contrary, she markedly avoided the subject. Once, +however, she inquired the date of the wedding from Matty. On hearing it +she turned very pale, and left the room. Matty remembered this fact +by-and-bye. + +Once, too, Sophy saw her standing in her bedroom with her two hands +pressed tightly to her side, as though something had given her an +intense pain there. She was close to the window, and must have been +looking out, and Sophy observed that Captain Bertram and Beatrice were +walking down the street together. + +Notwithstanding all Mrs. Bell's coaxings, Miss Hart would never go out +during the day-time, but when darkness fell, and it came early now, in +the beginning of September, she would wrap her gray cloak about her, and +go away for long, long walks all alone. + +Mrs. Bell thought this proceeding anything but proper, but Josephine +Hart minded very little what any one thought about her. + +As the days wore on, her white face seemed to grow whiter, and her big +bright eyes often looked pathetic as well as bright. She ate very +little, too, and scarcely spoke at all; but it never occurred to her or +any one else to suppose that she was ill. + +The weather during all this period continued very fine. Never had so +glorious a summer been remembered at Northbury, and the good folk said +it was a lucky omen for the young bride, who was a favorite with rich +and poor alike. Every one in Northbury made Beatrice a present, and she +began to collect quite a curious collection of gifts. None of these +presents were splendid, few of them possessed intrinsic value, but the +young girl treasured them, one and all, very much; for they were to her +symbols of the love which had shone about her path from her birth. + +Mrs. Bertram could not understand the joy Beatrice felt over the crude +gifts of the fishermen's wives, nor her ecstasy when a poor girl whom +she had once befriended, brought her a dozen yards of narrow and very +dirty crotchet edging. Beatrice almost kissed that edging, and her eyes +filled with tears as she folded it up and put it away. + +No such soft radiance came to them when her future mother-in-law +presented her with a beautiful diamond cross, which was an old family +heirloom, and must belong by right to Bertram's wife. + +"This is of great value," Mrs. Bertram said; "and it will suit you, my +dear, you are the sort of girl who can wear diamonds, and look well in +them." + +"But I like flowers best," said Beatrice, under her breath. + +She kissed Mrs. Bertram, and thanked her for her gift, which she locked +away very carefully, as she knew it was of much value. But her heart was +not stirred by it as it had been by the crotchet edging which Jenny Ray +had made for her. + +Mrs. Gorman Stanley gave Beatrice a large piece of Berlin wool-work; it +was not handsome, nor had it cost the good lady much, for she had picked +it up years ago at an auction. Mrs. Gorman Stanley was not a generous +person, and as the Berlin wool-work had always troubled her on account +of its magnificence, its uselessness, and the almost certainty that the +moths would get in and devour it, she thought it a good opportunity of +making an effective present, and getting rid of a household care. + +Once that wool-work had been put together with love and pride. The +impossible lilies and roses, the huge peonies, and gigantic hollyhocks +which composed its pattern, had been formed, stitch by stitch, by +unknown fingers, probably now crumbled to dust. + +The wool-work might have told a story could it speak, but it had never +imparted its secrets, pathetic or otherwise, to Mrs. Gorman Stanley, and +Beatrice received the gorgeous gift with little emotion, and some +shrinking away from its bad taste. + +Mrs. Butler, after a great deal of consultation with her sister Maria, +decided to give the bride-elect a huge white, carved ivory brooch. This +brooch was her own favorite ornament; it was of gigantic dimensions, and +consisted of an elaborate circle of flowers, supporting the word +"Martha" in the centre. + +"You'll wear it for me, love," said Mrs. Butler, "you'll never put it +on, but you'll give Martha Butler a thought." + +Beatrice assured her friend that this must certainly be the case. She +was really grateful to Mrs. Butler, for she knew the old lady adored +that brooch, and it had cost her much to deprive herself of it. + +Miss Peters smuggled her little gift into Beatrice's hand as they were +parting. It was a yard of Honiton lace, very old, and much darned. Bee +had often seen this lace round Miss Peters' little wintry throat. She +kissed it when she looked at it now, and placed it very near the +crotchet edging in her regard. + +But it would take a much longer space than this story can afford to +recount all the presents that came to Beatrice Meadowsweet. From the +Bertram connection the gifts were of money value, from the Northbury +people they were rich with something better than money. Not one of Bee's +friends forgot her at this time. + +September came on apace, and at last there wanted but a week of the +wedding day. + +On a certain evening when the wind blew rather fresh from the sea, +Captain Bertram asked Beatrice to walk with him. She complied. They took +a long walk over the cliffs, and it was quite late and dark when they +returned home. + +They had to pass the Manor on their way back to the Gray House, where +Bertram was to stay for supper. + +As they walked along, talking gravely, for Beatrice did not often laugh +when alone with her lover, a slender and tall figure passed them quickly +in the darkness. Bertram, who was walking very close to Bee, stumbled +against her, and uttered a smothered oath. + +"What is the matter?" she asked in astonishment. "Have you hurt +yourself?" + +"No, I thought I recognized a face, but I must be mistaken." + +"That slim girl who passed us so quickly just now? I, too, fancy I have +seen her before. Certainly she is a stranger here." + +"Don't talk about her, Beatrice. It was a casual likeness. People look +so different--distorted by the darkness. To-night it is very dark. There +is no moon." + +"Still, I can see," said Beatrice, pausing and looking back. "I can see, +and I fancy the stranger is standing still and looking at us. Back +there, by the hedge. Perhaps she is in trouble. Shall I run and speak to +her?" + +"No, not for the world. Come home. Forget her." + +His tone was almost rough. They walked on rapidly. The high wind of a +coming storm beat in their faces. Beatrice felt tired and dispirited, +and Bertram's agitation and complete change of manner puzzled her. + +Presently they reached the house. + +"Here we are at last; you will be glad of your supper," she said. + +"No, thanks, I am not coming in." + +"Not coming in? You promised. Mother expects you." + +"Excuse me to-night, Beatrice. I have a headache. I shall go straight +home. Good-night. I'll come down early in the morning." + +He took her hand, dropped it hastily, and almost before the door was +opened, had turned away. Beatrice did not go in at once. She heard his +quick, retreating steps. Presently they quickened into a run. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +WE WILL RETURN TO OUR SECLUSION. + + +"I am mad," said Bertram to himself. "Mad, as ever was the proverbial +March hare. That girl who passed us in the darkness was Josephine Hart. +Yes, that girl was Nina, and I must, I will, see her again." + +His heart was beating tumultuously; he felt the great passion of his +love tingling through all his veins. Money was nothing to him in this +hour, debts were forgotten, disgrace and dishonor were nowhere. Nina and +love were all in all. He _would_ see her, he would kiss her, he +would hold her in his arms, he would, he must. The very elements helped +him as he ran back to the place where he knew she had paused to watch +him. Why had she come back! She knew her power only too well. Why had +she come to exercise it? It was mad of her, wicked of her, it meant his +ruin, and yet he was glad, yet he rejoiced. + +The moments seemed endless until he could reach her. Beatrice was as +absolutely forgotten by him at this moment as if she had never existed. + +At last he gained the spot where Josephine had brushed past him in the +darkness. He knew it, he knew the sudden curve of the road, the bend in +the path where it began to dip downwards. He stood still, and strained +his eyes to look through the darkness. No one was there. Beatrice had +seen the slender figure leaning against the hedge, but all now was +emptiness and solitude. Not a soul was in sight. On this lonely road not +a being but himself breathed. + +He stood motionless, he listened hard. Once even he called aloud: + +"I am here, Nina! Here, Nina! waiting for you here!" + +But no one responded. He was alone; the vision, the delicious, +heart-stirring vision, had vanished. + +Captain Bertram wandered about, restless and miserable, for an hour or +two. Then he went home and retired straight to his room. + +That night he did not attempt to keep the secret chamber of his heart in +which Josephine dwelt, locked and barred. No, he opened the doors wide, +and bade her come out, and talked to her. Passionate and wild and loving +words he used, and Beatrice was nothing to him. He did not go to bed +that night. In the morning his face showed symptoms of the vigil he had +passed through. His mother noticed the haggard lines round his eyes, and +she gave vent to a sigh--scarcely audible, it is true, and quickly +smothered. + +Mrs. Bertram was happy, but still she lived on thorns. She felt that the +fairy palace she had built over that sepulchre of the past might crumble +at any moment. The lines of care on Bertram's brow gave her a sensation +of fear. Was anything the matter? Was the courage of the bride-elect +failing? At the eleventh hour could anything possibly injure the +arrangements so nearly completed? + +Catherine and Mabel were in good spirits. Their bride's-maids' dresses +had arrived from town the previous night. They were of gauzy white over +silk slips; the girls had never possessed such luxurious costumes +before. + +"You'd like to see us in them, wouldn't you, Loftie?" said Mabel. +"Catherine looks splendid in hers, and those big hats with Marguerites +are so becoming. Shall we put our dresses on, Loftie, for you to see +before you run away to Beatrice? Shall we?" + +Loftus raised his dark eyes, and looked full at his young sister. There +were heavy shadows round his eyes; their depths looked gloomy and +troubled. + +"What did you say?" he asked, in a morose voice. + +"What did I say? Well, really, Loftie, you are too bad. I do think you +are the most selfish person I know. At one time I thought Bee was +improving you, but you are worse than ever this morning. You never, +never, take a bit of interest in things that don't immediately concern +yourself. I thought our bride's-maids' dresses would have been +sufficiently important to rouse a passing interest even in--now, what's +the matter, Catherine? I _will_ speak out." + +"Forgive me, Mab, I have a headache and feel stupid," interrupted +Loftus, rising to his feet. "I'm going out for a stroll; the air will do +me good." + +He went up to the end of the table where his mother sat, kissed her +almost tenderly, and left the room. + +Catherine began to reprove Mabel. + +"It is you who are selfish," she said. "You know Loftie must have a +great deal on his mind just now." + +"Oh, well, I don't care. Every little pleasure is somehow or other +dashed to the ground. _I was_ pleased when I thought Bee was to be +my sister, and she was so sweet about the dresses, choosing just what +we'd look best in. Loftus was nice, too, until this morning. Now I don't +feel as if I cared about anything." + +Mabel never reflected on the possibility of her own words causing +annoyance. She ate her breakfast without observing that both her mother +and Catherine looked depressed. Presently, like the thoughtless child +she was, she looked up with laughing eyes: + +"Won't the Bells look funny in those grand robes. Do you know, Kate, I +heard such a ridiculous thing yesterday. It was Mrs. Gorman Stanley who +told me. She said Matty Bell was over head and ears in love with Loftie, +and that Mrs. Bell had quite made up her mind that Loftie was to marry +Mattie. She told such a funny story of the way Mrs. Butler broke the +news of Beatrice's engagement to the Bells. Now, what's up? Have I said +anything wrong again?" + +"You have, Mabel," said her mother. "You have been guilty of repeating +common and vulgar gossip. You ought never to have listened to it. I had +hoped that a daughter of mine, a Bertram, too, would have inspired too +much respect to have any such rubbish spoken of in her presence." + +"Oh, really, mother, I don't think people much care whether we are +Bertrams or not." + +"Hush, my dear, that is sufficient. I always feared the effect of the +low society of this place on you both, and in especial on you, Mabel. My +fears have been justified by the results. As soon as Loftus's wedding is +over we will return to our seclusion, my dears." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE LIGHTS WERE DIM. + + +Early on that very morning Miss Hart tapped at Mrs. Bell's door. That +good lady was not fully dressed, but she appeared in a voluminous +morning robe to answer her young visitor's summons. + +"I am going away, Mrs. Bell," said Miss Hart. + +"Oh, my dear!" Mrs. Bell's full-moon face turned absolutely pale. "Going +away, my love!" she said. She thought of her private hoard, not nearly +large enough, and her voice became absolutely pathetic. "Going away, +Miss Hart? I'm truly grieved to hear it. And haven't I made you +comfortable enough, my poor dear?" + +"Oh, you misunderstand me, Mrs. Bell. I am going away, but only for a +little--just for a day or two. I don't know exactly when I shall be +back, but probably in a day or two. I am going by the early train, and I +tapped at your door to say good-bye." + +Then Mrs. Bell in her delight and joy kissed Miss Hart, who soon +afterwards left the house. + +She walked to the station, the hour was early, and there was no special +person about. She took a first-class ticket to a small town about thirty +miles away, and immediately afterwards her train came up. + +During the greater part of her journey Miss Hart had the compartment to +herself. By-and-bye fellow-passengers got in, who almost started back at +the sight of the pale face of the girl, who sat with her veil thrown +back, looking straight out of the open window. + +There was a strange expression on her face; her brows were slightly +drawn together, and the curves of her lips had a, weary and pathetic +droop. She had taken off her gloves, and now and then she clasped her +slender white hands together with a nervous, passionate tension. Then +the look in her eyes became almost ugly, and her fellow passengers were +uncomfortable as they watched her. + +At the little country town of West Brockley, Miss Hart alighted. She had +brought all her luggage in a small handbag, and now she walked to her +destination. It was in the outskirts of the little town, and amongst a +row of poor houses. She stopped at one of these, and entered by the open +door. A woman met her in the passage. + +"Is Mr. Hart within?" + +"I don't know, madam, I'll inquire." + +"No, don't do that. I'll go to him myself. He's at the top of the house, +of course, as usual?" + +"Why, as usual, madam? Mr. Hart has never been my lodger before." + +"I know his ways. He invariably seeks the top." + +"From no prejudice, madam. He seems a very quiet gentleman." + +"Exactly. Treasure him, he is a valuable lodger. Now let me pass, +please. I am going to seek him." + +"Perhaps I had better tell him first, young lady." + +"I am his grandchild. It is all right. Let me pass." + +She brushed the woman aside, and flew lightly up the stairs. She knocked +at the door of the top attic, but followed her knock into the room +before any one had made response from within. + +Old Hart was, as usual, messing over some cooking. He stopped it when he +saw Josephine, and an iron spoon which he held in his hand clattered +noisily to the floor. + +"Now, Nina, what is the matter?" + +"I am going to spend the day with you, Granddad, and probably the night +as well. You can give me a bed in a corner of this delightful +sitting-room. Is that breakfast? I wish you would serve it up; I am +starving." + +"It's a very good breakfast, little Nina. Fried rabbit, done after a new +method. Bacon and eggs to follow, with a sauce of port wine. Olives and +sour claret for dessert. I know your taste, witch." + +"I love olives," said Nina. "Sit at the table, Grand-dad, and let us +begin. By the way, when did you shave last?" + +"Ha--ha, who have I to shave for now, my pretty Nina? Nobody cares for +the old man, nobody looks at him with eyes of admiration. Why should he +waste his money and his time over the barbarous rite of shaving? Nature +has her way with the old man now, sweet witch." + +"Nature doesn't improve you, Grand-dad. You require the refining touches +of art. Your beard is unkempt, your hair too long. You shall visit the +barber after we have concluded our meal. It is distressing to mankind in +general to behold a spectacle like you. You owe a duty to the world at +large. You must visit the barber." + +"Chut--chut! What a witch it is! Why didn't it stay at home, and not +worry the old man?" + +"Serve up the breakfast, Grand-dad, and believe in the salutary nature +of your granddaughter's visitations." + +The two sat down to their meal, and both ate for a time in unbroken +silence. After his third glass of sour claret, the old man spoke: + +"How are you, Nina? You don't look up to much?" + +"Would you be up to much if a fever consumed you day and night? Feel my +hand, Grand-dad." + +The old man gripped the slender fingers, then flung them away. + +"Good God! they burn!" he said. "Don't touch me, witch. You may have +contracted something catching." + +"No, nothing that the old man can catch. Now, let us be pleasant, and +enjoy the day together." + +"We can't. I am going to move to-day." + +"You must stay here to-day; you can move tomorrow." + +"Witch, how you order me. I won't be ordered. I shall move to-day." + +"You have no idea of moving, either to-day or to-morrow. Don't talk +nonsense. You have had your breakfast. I will wash the things up. Go and +visit the barber." + +The old man muttered and mumbled. Finally he tied a large crimson scarf +in a loose knot round his throat, shoved a soft felt hat on his head, +and donning a greasy and very old brown velvet cloak, he prepared to go +out. + +"It's a rare nuisance," he said; "I meant to try some Chinese cooking +for dinner; something with a subtle aroma, delicate, and hard to obtain. +You boil the leeks for so many hours, and catch the essence in a +distiller. Bah! you care nothing for eating, witch." + +"I like some of your dishes very well, Granddad, but I prefer +cleanliness to luxury. Now, go out and get shaved." + +"It will cost me sixpence." + +"Sixpence well spent. Don't talk any more; go!" + +He blew her a kiss, half of derision, half of pride, and shambled +downstairs. A crowd of little boys followed him up the street; some +pulled his cloak, some mocked him openly. He neither felt the pulls nor +heard the words. He was absorbed in the thought of that delicious +Chinese dinner which he could not now partake of to-day. + +As soon as he was gone, Nina, too, ran downstairs. She went to a +chemist's, and boldly asked for a small quantity of a certain drug. + +"Have you a prescription?" the man inquired. + +"No, but I understand the right proportions to take. Why do you +hesitate? I am not asking for poison." + +The man stared hard at the bright, queer face of his customer. + +"The drug is not poison," he slowly repeated, "but taken in too large +quantities it can inflict an injury. I will give it to you, but you must +enter your name and address in this book." + +Josephine laughed lightly, entered old Hart's address in the book, paid +for her medicine, and departed. As soon as she got home she took out of +a cupboard a decanter which contained a small portion of a very bright +and clear wine. She mixed a little of the powder with the wine. It +dissolved instantly, and did not disturb the rare amber of the liquid. +The rest of the powder Nina threw into the fire, burning both paper and +string. + +When Hart came back, shaven and neat, his hair shortened, his long +snow-white beard trimmed, he looked what he was--a strikingly handsome +man. His grand-daughter possessed his regular features, but, although +her eyes were as bright as his, they were not dark. She had black +eyelashes and black brows, but the eyes themselves were peculiarly +light. + +Nina was in an excellent humor now. She helped her grandfather with his +cooking, and by-and-by, as the day wore on, she tempted him to come for +a stroll with her. She spoke very little of her present life, nor did he +question her. He had a certain fondness for his grandchild, but it never +rose to the extent of a genuine interest in her concerns. Of late she +had been to him a valuable chattel--a trump-card, by which he could +extract the good things of life out of another. With Nina he was +powerful, without her he was a helpless and penniless old man. But he +did not love Nina because of this. He was proud of her for what she +brought him, proud of her because if he was lowly born she was not. But +he loved her, after the slight fashion with which alone he could bestow +love, because, notwithstanding that good birth, she also belonged to +him--she was bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh. The ties of blood +were strong with him, and because of these ties he loved her after his +fashion. + +The two came home presently and partook of supper together. Nina bought +some figs and peaches, and they had quite a dainty meal. Nina herself +prepared the board, and she put the decanter with the amber wine close +to the old man. He ate and drank. He said the wine was good, and he +helped himself twice to the sparkling contents of the decanter. "I feel +in spirits to-night, Nina," he said, looking at his grandchild. + +"Have a little more wine, Grand-dad," she said, in retort. + +In spite of all her efforts, her voice had an anxious ring in it as she +spoke. He looked at her keenly. He was as suspicious as man could be. He +half-stretched out his hand to seize the decanter, then with a sly smile +he replaced the stopper in the neck of the bottle. + +"No, no, witch," he said. "This wine is rare and precious. It raises the +spirit and warms the heart. I have not much more wine from so rare a +vintage, and I'll keep what's in the bottle for another night, when you, +pretty Nina, are far away, and the spirits of the old man fail him." + +"Do," she said. "Keep the precious wine, you don't need it to-night." + +Then she handed him his pipe, and after a time he became drowsy and went +to bed. + +Hart's bedroom was a small attic inside the larger one. He shut the +door, looked round for the key, for he generally locked himself in, +could not find it, and then, being very drowsy, undressed and went to +bed. + +Nina was to sleep on the sofa in the sitting-room. She lay down, took a +novel out of her pocket, and tried to read. Her heart was beating hard, +and that burning fever of unrest and longing which was consuming her +very life, kept coursing madly through her veins. + +"The fever is my wine," she muttered. "At first it supplies false +strength, false cheer, false hope. Afterwards--afterwards--" a queer +look came into her strange face--"I too, shall rest and sleep." + +Profound stillness reigned in the next room. Nina softly rose, and going +to the sideboard took out the decanter of wine, opened a window, and +emptied it into the area below. She washed the decanter afterwards and +then put it back into the sideboard. + +There was not a sound in the inner room. Candle in hand, she opened the +door and went in. She put the candle on the mantelpiece, and then going +to the bed, bent over it and looked at the sleeper. + +"Poor Grand-dad!" said the girl. She stooped and kissed the old man's +forehead. "You have been good to me after your lights--it was not your +fault that those lights were dim. Had you been an educated man, +Grand-dad, you'd have educated me; and had you been a good man, you'd +have taught me goodness; and a kind man, you'd have guarded your poor +Nina. Was it your fault that you were ignorant--and wanting in +goodness--and lacking in kindness? You did your best--, after your +lights." + +Then she stooped and kissed him again. He was heavy from the drug she +had put into the wine, and did not stir. She slipped her hand softly +under his pillow. + +"Poor old man, I am taking away your trump-card," she said. She drew a +thick letter, yellow with age, from under the pillow, put it into her +pocket, and taking up the candle left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +RIVALS. + + +A couple of days after this Beatrice Meadowsweet received a note from +Mrs. Bell, asking her to call to see her. The note came early in the +morning, and immediately after breakfast Beatrice went to the Bells' +house. + +Mrs. Bell took her into the drawing-room and shut the door behind them +both. + +"Beatrice," she said, "I owed you a grudge, but that is past. You +stepped in, where you had no right to step, and for a time, I won't deny +it, my heart was very sore. I haven't sent for you to-day, though, to +rip up past troubles. I'm inclined to think that all's for the best. It +has pleased the Almighty to provide you with a wild mate--and my girl +with a steady one. Last night as the clock struck nine, Gusty Jenkins +popped the question for Matty, and all being agreeable, the young man +torn with love, and rock-like as regards character, Gusty and Matty are +now an affianced pair. Therefore, Beatrice, I say let by-gones be +by-gones, and may you have what luck can await you in the future with +that wild young man." + +"I don't see why you should take away Captain Bertram's character," said +Beatrice, with some spirit. "You liked him very much once." + +"I'm not saying anything against him, my dear. I mean not anything more +than the truth can bear out. There was a time when I thought well of +Captain Bertram. I'm the last to deny there was such a time, but +handsome is that handsome does, and when a young man had not the courage +to obey his heart's promptings, and when rumors will travel on the +breezes of extravagant, not to say naughty ways, I say, Beatrice, a +woman can't become blind as a bat when these things stare her in the +face." + +No one in Northbury ever remembered seeing Beatrice in a passion. She +was acknowledged to be sweet-tempered, and slow to be provoked. On this +occasion, however, she was very nearly making the proverbial exception +to her general rule. Beatrice was very nearly angry. A flush of color +crimsoned her cheeks and brow, and an indignant light flashed from her +eyes. In time, however, she was able to murmur to herself: "This is only +Mrs. Bell's talk, and how could I be so silly as to mind Mrs. Bell?" So +after a pause she said with effort, "I must congratulate Matty on her +engagement; I am glad Matty is happy." + +"Ah, my dear, and well she may be! Glad should I be to know that other +girls had half so bright a future before them. Rich, handsome, and +young, that's what Gusty is! Devoted! he's like one of the old knights +for devotion. I have had my qualms about the jealousy of his nature, but +otherwise Gusty is, _song pear and song reproach_." + +At this moment the door was opened, some childish giggles and mirth were +heard in the passage, and Matty rushed in, followed by the redoubtable +Gusty. "Oh, Gus, you'll kill me!" she exclaimed; "you are too funny. +Why, ma, is that you? And--and--Bee? How do you do, Bee?" + +Matty came over and kissed her friend awkwardly. + +"I am very glad to hear of your happiness, Matty," said Beatrice; "and I +congratulate you, too, Augustus," she added, turning to the bashful +swain. + +"Oh, you want us to leave this room to yourselves, you two naughty +things!" said the mother, shaking her head in fat ecstasy over her two +turtle-doves. "Come, Bee; by-the-way, there's a young girl upstairs, a +Miss Hart, a friend of mine, who is very anxious to see you." + +Mrs. Bell and Beatrice left the drawing-room, and Augustus Jenkins +turned to his fiancée "By Jove," he said, "that girl _is_ a bouncer!" + +"What girl?" said Matty, in a quick jealous voice. She had flung herself +in a languid attitude on the sofa, now she sat bolt upright. + +"Killing, I call her," proceeded Gus; "simply killing. Such an eye, such +a curl of the lip! By Jove--she'd bowl any fellow over." + +Matty flushed deeply, and turned her head away to look out of the +window. + +"What's up, now, little duck?" said the lover. "Oh, she's jealous, is +she? By George, that's a good un! You were in luck, missy, to come in my +way first, or I don't know what mightn't have happened; and she's got +lots of the tin, too, I've been told! So she's Captain Bertram's fancy. +Well, he's a good judge and no mistake." + +"I don't know that she's his fancy at all, Gusty. Ma always said that +I--I--" + +"Oh, by Jove! Matty, don't you try to come it over me like that. What a +thunder-cloud? So she's frightfully jealous, is she, poor little duck? I +say, though, you'd better keep me out of that girl's way; engaged or +not, she'd mash any fellow. Now, what's up? Is that you, Alice? What a +noisy one you are, to be sure!" + +Alice had rushed into the room followed by Sophy, who was followed again +by Daisy Jenkins. + +"The bride's-maid dresses have come!" screamed Alice. "Let's all go and +try them on, Matty!" + +When Mrs. Bell took Beatrice out of the room, she said a few more words +about Miss Hart. Finally she took Beatrice upstairs, and ushered her +into her young visitor's bedroom. + +Amongst the other luxuries which Josephine's money had secured for her +in the Bells' house was an old-fashioned sofa, which was drawn across +the windows. On this sofa Josephine often lay for hours. She was lying +on it now, in a white morning dress. Mrs. Bell introduced the girls to +each other, and then left them. + +"I have seen you before," said Beatrice, the moment they were alone; +"once before I have seen your face. You were looking out of a window. +Stay," she added, suddenly, "I think I have seen you twice before. Are +you not the girl who brushed past Captain Bertram and me the other night +in the dark? Yes, I am sure you are the girl." + +"You are right," said Josephine; "I am the girl." She spoke in an eager +voice, two burning spots rose to her pale cheeks; her eyes always bright +now almost glittered. "I am the girl," she repeated. She half rose from +her sofa, but sat down on it again, and panted heavily, as though her +breath failed her. + +"You are ill," said Beatrice, with compunction; "you look very ill. Have +you been long here? Mrs. Bell says that you are a friend of hers, a +visitor." + +"Yes, I am a friend and visitor. Mrs. Bell is very good to me." + +"But you are ill. You ought to see a doctor." + +"I ought not--I will not." + +"Can I help you? It was kind of you to send for me. Can I do anything +for you?" + +"Wait until I get back my breath. I will speak in a minute. Sit quiet. +Let me be still. It is agitation enough to have you in the room." + +Her eyes glittered again. She pressed her white transparent hands to her +throbbing heart. + +Beatrice sat motionless. She had a queer feeling at her own heart, a +kind of premonition that a blow was about to be struck at her. Several +minutes passed. Then the girl on the sofa spoke. + +"The struggle of seeing you is past. I see--I endure. Your name is +Beatrice Meadowsweet--?" + +"Yes, I am Beatrice Meadowsweet." + +"You are engaged to Captain Bertram?" + +"Yes." + +"You are to be married on the 10th of this month." + +"Yes." + +"This is the 5th. You are to be married in five days!" + +"I am, Miss Hart. Do you want to congratulate me?" + +"I--yes--I congratulate you. You--are attached--to Loftus?" + +"To Captain Bertram? Do you know him?" + +"No matter. You--you love him?" + +"Why should I speak of my feelings? To marry a man is a proof of love, +is it not? Do you know my future husband?" + +"I--once I knew him." + +"He has never spoken to me about you. Did you know him well?" + +"No matter. I knew him--no matter how much. He loves you, does he not?" + +"I believe he faithfully loves me." + +"Yes, I saw you together. There is no doubt. I heard the tone in his +voice. You can't mistake that tone, can you?" + +"I don't know. I have not much experience." + +"You ought to have, for you are so beautiful. Yes, he loves you. It is +all over." + +"What is all over?" + +"Nothing. Did I say anything wild of that sort? Don't believe the +nonsense I speak. I am ill, and my brain sometimes wanders. There is a +great fire consuming me, and I am tired of being burned alive. Sometimes +in my pain I talk wildly. Nothing is over, for nothing really began. You +will be good to Captain Bertram, won't you? How you look at me! You have +very true eyes, very true. Now I will tell you the truth. Once I knew +him, and he was kind to me--a _little_ kind--you know the sort of +thing. I thought it meant more. He has forgotten me, of course, and +you'll be good to him, for he--he's not perfect--although he +suited--yes, he suited me very well. How my heart beats! Don't talk to +me for a minute." + +She lay back panting on the sofa. Beatrice got up and walked to the +window. There was a long view of the High Street from this window. The +street was straight and narrow, with few curves. + +At that moment Beatrice saw Captain Bertram. He was a long way off, but +he was walking down the street in the direction of the Bells' house. In +about three minutes he would pass the house. + +As Beatrice stood by the window she thought. A memory came over her. A +memory of a man's steps--they were leaving her--they were hurrying--they +were quickening to a run. In a flash she made up her mind. + +She came back to the sofa where Nina sat. + +"Can I do anything for you? Tell me quickly, for I earnestly desire to +help you." + +"You are good," said Nina. "You have a true voice, as well as a true +face. Yes, I sent for you. I do want you to be kind to me. I want you to +take a present from me to Captain Bertram." + +"A present? What?" + +"This little packet. It is sealed and addressed. Inside there is a +story. That story would make Captain Bertram unhappy. I know the story; +he does not know it. On your wedding-day, after you are married, give +him this packet. When you put it in his hands, say these words, 'Nina +sent you this, Loftus, and you are to burn it.' You must promise to see +him burn the packet. What is the matter? Aren't you going to take it?" + +"Yes, I will take it. Give it to me; I will put it in my pocket. Now, +wait a moment. I want to run downstairs. I will come back again." + +She softly closed the door of Nina's room, rushed downstairs, and out +into the street. + +Captain Bertram was passing the Bells' door when Beatrice ran up to him. + +"Loftus, I want you," she said. + +He turned in astonishment. He had been walking down the street, lost in +a miserable dream. Beatrice, in her sharp, clear tone awoke him. He +started, a wave of color passed over his dark face. + +"Is anything wrong?" he asked, almost in alarm. "Bee, you are excited!" + +"I am, fearfully. Come in, come upstairs!" + +"Into the Bells' house! I don't want to visit the Bells. Beatrice, you +look strange, and oh, how lovely!" + +"Don't talk of my looks. Come in, come upstairs. No, you are not to see +the Bells, nor are any of them about. Come--come at once." + +She ran quickly up the stairs. He followed her, wondering, perplexed and +irritated. + +"Beatrice, what is the matter?" he said, once. + +"Not much--or, rather, yes, everything. Inside that room, Captain +Bertram, is one you know. Go and see her--or rather, come and see her, +with me. You know her, and once, you were, after your fashion,--a +_little_ kind." + +Beatrice threw open the door. + +"Nina," she said, "Captain Bertram is here,"--then she paused,--her next +words came with a visible effort--"And his heart shall choose the girl +he loves." + +Beatrice walked straight across the room to the window. She heard a cry +from Nina, and something between a groan and an exclamation of joy from +Bertram. + +She did not look round. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +THE FEELINGS OF A CRUSHED MOTH. + + +"I don't think it's right for Maria to be in the room," said Mrs. +Butler. "I'll listen to all you've got to say in a moment, Mrs. Gorman +Stanley, but--Maria, will you have the goodness to leave us." + +"I'd rather stay," pleaded poor Miss Maria. "I always was deeply +interested in my darling Bee, and it's dreadful to think of her being +discussed and gossiped over, and me not present. You know, Martha, you +have a sharp tongue." + +"This from you, Maria? You, who eat my bread. Well! Mrs. Gorman Stanley, +you are witness to this ingratitude." + +"Oh, my dear good creatures, don't quarrel," said Mrs. Gorman Stanley. + +She was a very phlegmatic woman, and hated scenes. + +"If I were you, Mrs. Butler, I'd let poor Miss Peters stay," she added. +"I'm sure she's quite old enough." + +"Mrs. Gorman Stanley, my sister is never old enough to listen to improper +subjects. Faithless, she is, ungrateful, perverse, but her innocence at +least I will respect. Maria, leave the room." + +Poor Miss Maria slipped away. As she did so, she looked exactly like a +crushed brown moth. In the passage she stopped, glanced furtively around +her, and then, shocking to relate, put her ear to the key-hole. She felt +both sore and angry; they were saying horrid things of Beatrice, and +Miss Peters loved Beatrice. + +Soon she went away, and burying her face in her little handkerchief, +sobbed bitterly. + +Inside the drawing-room, Mrs. Butler and Mrs. Gorman Stanley were +holding awful conclave. + +"You don't say, my dear, that she took the young man up to Miss Hart's +_private_ room? And who _is_ Miss Hart? And what's all this +fuss about? No, I'm glad Maria isn't here! I always tried to do my duty +by Maria, and a scandal of this kind she must not listen to. What does +it all mean, Mrs. Gorman Stanley? Is Beatrice Meadowsweet to be married +on Tuesday, or is she not?" + +"My dear friend, I can't tell you. There are all sorts of rumors about. +I was at Perry's buying a yard of muslin, when Mrs. Morris came in. She +had her mouth pursed up, and her voice perfectly guttural from +bronchitis, so I knew she was keeping something in, and I made a point +of going up to her. I said, 'you have got some news, Mrs. Morris, and +you may as well out with it.' Then she told me." + +"What? Mrs. Gorman Stanley, I trust you don't feel the draught from that +window. I'll shut it if you like. But what--what did she say?" + +"Well, she said some queer things. Nobody can quite make out whether Bee +is to be married or not on Tuesday. Some say that Captain Bertram is +married already, and that his wife is living in seclusion at the +Bells'." + +"At the Bells'? I'll go over at once and poke that mystery out. Maria! +_Maria_! She's sure to to be eaves-dropping somewhere near. Maria, +come here quickly, I want you." + +"What is it, Martha?" + +The little crushed moth put in a face, which disclosed very red eyes, at +the door. + +"What is it, Martha? Do you want me?" + +"Ah, I thought you couldn't be far off. You'll oblige me, Maria, by +running upstairs, and fetching down my bonnet and mantle. My _old_ +gloves will do, and I'll have my fur boa, for the days are turning +wonderfully chilly. Yes, Mrs. Gorman Stanley," continued Mrs. Butler, +when Miss Peters had disappeared, "I'll soon get at the bottom of +_that_ bit of gossip. Are the Bells likely people to keep a close +secret to themselves; you tell me that, Mrs. Gorman Stanley? Aren't they +all blab, blab, blab? Ah, here comes Maria--and dressed to go out, too, +upon my word? Well, miss, I suppose I must humor you! You'll have the +decency, however, to remember to turn away your head if we matrons wish +to whisper a bit among ourselves. Good-bye, Mrs. Gorman Stanley. I'll +look in if I have any news for you this evening." + +"Do," said Mrs. Gorman Stanley. "I'm all a-gog to hear. It's no joke to +order a handsome dress for a chit of a girl's wedding, and then not wear +it after all. I meant to get new curtains for my back parlor, heavy +snuff-colored moreen, going a great bargain, but I had to buy the dress +instead. Well, you'll let me know the news. Good-bye." + +As they were walking down the street to the Bells' house Mrs. Butler +turned sharply to her little companion: + +"Maria," she said, "you are a perfect fool." + +"Well, really, Martha, I--I----" + +"For goodness' sake, don't begin to snivel. I hadn't finished my speech. +I'm a fool, too. We are both in the same box." + +"Oh, no, Martha, you always were----" + +"Folly. You needn't roll your eyes at me. Don't flatter. I said we were +both fools. I repeat it. We have been hoaxed." + +"Hoaxed?" said Miss Maria, with a high staccato note of inquiry. + +"Yes. Hoaxed. Hoaxed out of our wedding presents by a girl who is not +going to have a wedding at all. I miss my brooch. My throat feels naked +without it. Last week I had a hoarseness. I attribute it to the loss of +the brooch." + +"I don't miss my lace," said Miss Maria. "I am glad she has it. I am +very glad she has it, wedding or no wedding, bless her sweet heart." + +"Maria, your sentiments are sickly. Don't give me any more of them. Here +we are at the door now. You'll remember, Maria, my hint, and act as a +modest woman, if occasion requires." + +Here Mrs. Butler souded a loud rat-tat on the Bells' hall door. The +little maid opened it rather in a fright. She poked her head out. This +was a style usually adopted by the Northbury servants. + +"Is your mistress in, Hannah?" + +"I don't know, Mrs. Butler, ma'am. I'll inquire, ma'am. Will you walk +in, please, ma'am." + +"I will, Hannah, and so will Miss Peters. Show us into the drawing-room, +and tell your mistress we are here. If she should happen to be out we +will wait her return. You will be particular to remember that, Hannah. +We'll wait her return." + +"Oh, if you please, Mrs. Butler, will you--excuse me, ma'am, but +_will_ you come into the parlor, please, ma'am?" + +"Into the parlor? Why into the parlor, pray?" + +"It's Miss Matty, ma'am." + +"Oh! has Miss Matty become mistress of this house? And does she forbid +her mother's visitors admission to the drawing-room! Hoots, toots--I'll +soon put a stop to that sort of thing. Come on, Maria." + +"But really, Martha--do stop a moment, Martha--I'm sure Hannah ought to +know best." + +"Oh, indeed, yes, Miss Peters--thank you, Miss Peters--missis did give +orders most positive. These were her exact words: 'Hannah,' she said, +'the parlor is for callers. You remember that, Hannah, and the +drawing-room is for--'" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Butler, sweeping round, and confronting poor little +frightened Hannah. "Who is the drawing-room for?" + +"For Miss Matty, please, Mrs. Butler, ma'am. For Miss Matty and Mr. +Gusty Jenkins. They're a--they're a-lovering in the drawing-room, +ma'am." + +"Then they are engaged! That rumor also reached me. Come on, Maria. +We'll go and congratulate them." + +No poor little ignorant maid-of-all-work could keep Mrs. Butler back +now. She swept down the passage, followed by the shrinking, but curious +Miss Peters. She threw open the drawing-room door herself, and intruded +upon the abashed young people with a stately flourish. + +"How are you, Matty?" she said. "Oh, pray don't let us disturb you. Is +that you, Augustus? I'm pleased to see you, young man. I used to dandle +you when you were an infant--good gracious, what red hair you had, +and--it hasn't changed, not at all! Now, Matty, my dear, what are you +blushing about? You have caught your young man at last, and much luck +may you both have. If--' if at first you don't succeed, try, try, try +again.' You _have_ tried again, Matty, and I congratulate you. You +may kiss me, Matty, if you like. Maria, you may kiss Matty Bell. She's +engaged to Gusty. Well, Gusty, you _are_ a sly one. Never once have +you been near my house since your return. Better employed, you will say. +Ha, ha, _I_ know young men. Marry in haste and repent at leisure. +But come over now and sit near me by this window. I shouldn't object to +a dish of gossip with you, not at all. Do you remember that day when you +had your first tooth out? How you screamed? I held your hands, and your +mother your head. You were an arrant coward, Gusty, and I'm frank enough +to remind you of the fact." + +Just then, to Augustus Jenkins' infinite relief, Mrs. Bell entered the +room; he was spared any further reminiscences of his youth, and he and +Matty were thankful to escape into the garden. + +After the necessary congratulations had been gone through, and Mrs. Bell +had bridled, and looked important, and Mrs. Butler had slapped her +friend on the shoulder, and given her elbow a sly poke, and in short +gone through the pleasantries which she thought becoming to the +occasion, the ladies turned to the more serious business in hand. + +Mrs. Butler, who prided herself on being candid, who was the terror of +her friends on account of this said candor, asked a plain question in +her usual style. + +"Maria, go to the window and look out. Now, Mrs. Bell, you answer me yes +or no to this. Has Captain Bertram a wife concealed in this house, or +has he not? In short, is my throat naked for no rhyme or reason!" + +Mrs. Bell, who could not quite see what Mrs. Butler's throat had to say +to a clandestine wife of Captain Bertram's, stared at her friend with +her usual round and stolid eyes. + +"I think your brain must be wandering, Martha Butler," she said. "I +don't know anything about your throat, except that it is very indelicate +to wear it exposed, and as to Captain Bertram having a wife here, do you +want to insult me after all these years, Martha?" + +"I want to do nothing of the kind, Tilly Bell. I only want to get at the +naked truth." + +"It was your naked throat a minute ago." + +"Well, they hang together, my throat and the truth. Has that young man +got a wife in this house, or has he not?" + +"He has not, Mrs. Butler, and you forfeit my friendship from this +minute." + +"Oh, I forfeit it, do I? (Come, Maria, we'll be going.) Very well, Mrs. +Bell, I have forfeited your friendship, very well. And there's no young +woman who oughtn't to be here, concealed on these premises. (Maria, stay +looking out at the window for a minute.) There's no strange young woman +here, oh, of course not. Poor Bell, honest man, only _fancies_ he +has a visitor in the house." + +Here Mrs. Bell turned ghastly pale. Mrs. Butler saw that she had +unexpectedly driven a nail home, and with fiendish glee pursued her +advantage. + +"A visitor! oh, yes, _all the lodgings were full,_ packed! and it +was so convenient to take in a visitor a--_friend._ Hunt the baker +has been speaking about it. I didn't listen--I make it a point +_never_ to listen to gossip--but Maria--Maria, you can come here +now. Have the goodness, Maria, to tell Mrs. Bell exactly what Hunt said, +when you went in to buy the brown loaf for me last Friday." + +"Oh, sister--I--I really don't remember." + +"Don't remember! Piddle dumpling! You remembered well enough when you +came back all agog with the news. I reproved you for listening to idle +gossip, and you read a sermon of Blair's on evil speaking aloud to me +that night. You shall read sermon ten to-night. It's on lying. Well, +Mrs. Bell, _I_ can repeat what my poor sister has forgotten. It was +only to the effect that you and Bell must have had a windfall left you, +and _he_ never knew a visitor treated so well as you treated yours. +The dainty cakes you had to get her, and the fuss over her, and every +blessed thing paid down for with silver of the realm. Well, well, +sometimes it is _convenient_ to have a visitor. But now I must +leave. Maria, we'll be going. You have got to get to your sermon on +lying as soon as possible. Good-bye, Mrs. Bell. Perhaps you'll be able +to tell some one else why the whole town is talking about Miss +Hart--whoever Miss Hart was--and about Beatrice, and the wedding being +put off--and Captain Bertram going off into high hysterics in--(Maria, +you can go back to the window)--in a certain young lady's private room. +Now I'm off. Come, Maria." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +GUARDIANS ARE NOT ALWAYS TO BE ENVIED. + + +It would have been difficult to find a more easy-going, kind, +happy-tempered man than Mr. Ingram. He had never married--this was not +because he had not loved. Stories were whispered about him, and these +stories had truth for their foundation--that when he was young he had +been engaged to a girl of high birth, great beauty of person, and rare +nobility of mind. Evelyn St. Just had died in her youth, and Mr. Ingram +for her sake had never brought a wife home to the pleasant old Rectory. +His sorrow had softened, but in no degree soured the good man. There had +been nothing in it to sour any one--no shade of bitterness, no thread of +unfaithfulness. The Rector firmly believed in a future state of bliss +and reunion, and he regarded his happiness as only deferred. As far as +his flock knew, the sorrow which had come to him in his youth only gave +him a peculiar sympathy for peculiar troubles. To all in sorrow the +Rector was the best of friends, but if the case was one where hearts +were touched, if that love which binds a man to a woman was in any way +the cause of the distress, then the Rector was indeed aroused to give of +his best to comfort and assist. + +On the evening after her strange interview with Josephine Hart, Beatrice +put on her hat, and coming down to her mother where she sat as usual in +the pleasant drawing-room, told her that she was going to see Mr. +Ingram. + +"It is rather late to-night, surely, child?" + +"No, mother, it is not too late. I want particularly to see Mr. Ingram +to-night." + +"Are you well, Bee? Your voice sounds tired." + +"I am quite well, dear mother. Kiss me. I won't stay longer away than I +can help." + +She left the house. It was getting dusk now, and the distance between +the Gray House and the Rectory was not small. But no Northbury girl +feared to be out alone, and Beatrice walked quickly, and before long +reached her destination. + +The Rector was in--Beatrice would find him in his study. The old +housekeeper did not dream of conducting Miss Meadowsweet to this +apartment. She smiled at her affectionately, told her she knew the way +herself, and left her. + +When Beatrice entered the study the Rector got up and took his favorite +by both her hands. + +"I am glad to see you, my child," he said. "I was just feeling the +slightest _soupçon_ of loneliness, so you have come in opportunely. +Sit down, Bee. I suppose Bertram will call for you presently." + +Beatrice did not make any response to this remark, but she drew a little +cane chair forward and sat down. + +"Except your mother, no one will miss you more than I shall when you +leave us, Beatrice," said the Rector. "You are quite right to go, my +dear. Quite right. I see a useful and honorable career before you. But I +may be allowed just once to say that I shall be lonely without my +favorite." + +"Dear Rector," said Beatrice. She came a little nearer, and almost +timidly laid her hand on his knee. Then she looked in his face. "I am +not going to leave you," she said. + +"God bless my soul! What do you mean, child? Is anything wrong? You +don't look quite yourself. Has that young scoundrel--if I thought--" the +Rector got up. His face was red, he clenched his hand in no clerical +style. + +Beatrice also rose to her feet. + +"He is not a scoundrel," she said. "Although if our engagement had gone +on, and I had been married to Captain Bertram, he would have been one." + +"Then you are not engaged? You have broken it off." + +"I am not engaged. I have released Captain Bertram from his engagement +to me." + +"Beatrice! I did not expect this from you. His mother is attached to +you--so are his sisters, while he himself, poor lad--! Bee, it was +better you should find out your heart in time, but I am surprised--I am +grieved. You should have known it before--before things went as far as +this, my dear girl." + +"Please, Mr. Ingram, listen to me. Sit down again, for I have a long +story to tell. I have not changed my mind, nor am I guilty of any +special fickleness. But circumstances have arisen which make it +impossible for me to keep my engagement. Captain Bertram sees this as +plainly as I do. He is very thankful to be released." + +"Then he is a scoundrel, I thought as much." + +"No, he isn't that. But he has been weak, poor fellow, and harassed, and +tempted. And his mother has used all her influence. I know now what she +wanted me for. Just for my money. But I've been saved in time." + +"God bless me, this is very strange and dreadful. You puzzle me +awfully." + +"I will tell you the story, Rector, then you won't be puzzled. Do you +remember once speaking to me about a girl you saw at the Manor lodge. +She was living there for a little. Her name was Hart." + +"Yes, yes, a very handsome, queer girl. I spoke to Mrs. Bertram about +her. She seemed to me to have taken an unjust prejudice against the poor +lonely child." + +"Mr. Ingram, Miss Hart was engaged to Loftus Bertram, and he will marry +her next Tuesday." + +"Beatrice, have you gone quite mad? + +"No, I am as sane as any other girl who has got a shock, but who is +resolved to do right. Captain Bertram shall marry Nina, because in heart +they are married already, because they love each other, as I never could +love him, nor he me, because they were betrothed to each other before he +and I ever met, because Nina was dying for love of him, and only +marrying him can save her. Oh, it was pitiable to see Nina, Mr. Ingram, +and I am thankful--I shall be thankful to my dying day--that I saw her +in time to save her." + +"Beatrice, this is very strange and inexplicable. Where did you see Miss +Hart? I thought she had left Northbury." + +"She came back, because she could not stay away. She is at the Bells'. I +saw her there to day, and I brought Loftus to her, and--Rector, they +love each other. Oh, yes, yes--when I see how much they love each other. +I am thankful I am not to be married with only the shadow of such a +reality." + +"Then you never gave your heart to this young man?" + +"Never! I thought I could help him. But my heart has not even stirred." + +"You did not seem unhappy." + +"I was not unhappy. It always gives me pleasure to help people. And +Catherine seemed so bright, and Mrs. Bertram so delighted, and Loftus +himself--there was much to win my regard in Loftus. I did not know it +was only my money they wanted." + +"Poor child! And yet you are wrong. No one who looks at you, Beatrice, +can only want you for your money." + +"Dear Rector, in this case my money was the charm. Well, my money shall +still have power. You are my guardian as well as my trustee. I want you +to help me. You can, you must. I will take no denial. Loftus and I have +had a long, long talk this afternoon. I have found at last the very +bottom of Bertram's heart. He came to me to save him, and I am +determined to be his deliverer. One quarter of my fortune I give to +Loftus Bertram, and he shall marry Nina, and his debts shall be paid, +and his mother relieved from the dreadful strain of anxiety she is now +undergoing, and Loftus and Nina shall be happy and good. Oh, yes, I know +they will be good as well as happy. You will help me, Rector, you will, +you must." + +"Beatrice, you are the most quixotic, extraordinary, unworldly, +unpractical creature that ever breathed. What sort of guardian should I +be if I listened to so mad a scheme? What right has Loftus Bertram to +one farthing of your money, without you?" + +"He can't have it with me, Rector. I would not marry him now at any +price." + +"Then he must do without the money." + +"No, he must have the money. Steps must be taken to secure it to him at +once, and he must keep his wedding-day with Nina instead of me. Nina +shall have my trousseau; we are exactly of one height--You have got to +change the name in the marriage license. If that is impossible there +shall be a special license. I am rich, I can pay for it. Oh, the joy +that sometimes money brings!" + +"My dear ward, you are a little off your head to-night. How could you +possibly expect your guardian to be such a faithless old man." + +"Faithless? Mr. Ingram, have you quite forgotten my father?" + +"No, Beatrice, I remember him to-night." + +"Let his face rise before you. Picture his face--his unworldly face." + +"I see it, Beatrice. Yes, Meadowsweet was not cankered by the sordid +cares of life." + +"Truly he was not? Go on thinking about him. He made money. How did he +spend it?" + +"My dear child, your father was a very good man. His charities were +extraordinary and extensive. He gave away, hoping for nothing in return; +he was too liberal, I often told him so." + +"You were his clergyman and you told him so." + +A flash of indignation came out of Beatrice Meadowsweet's eyes. + +"I don't think, Mr. Ingram, that a Greater than you has ever said that +to my father." + +"Well, child, perhaps not. You reprove me, perhaps justly. Few of us +have your father's unworldly spirit." + +"Don't you think his only daughter may inherit a little of it? Mr. +Ingram, what is money for?" + +"Beatrice, you could argue any one into thinking with you. But I must +exercise my own common-sense." + +"No, you must not. You must exercise your unworldly sense, and help me +in this matter." + +"What! And help you to throw away a quarter of your fortune?" + +"I shall have fifteen thousand pounds left, more than enough for the +requirements of any girl." + +"I doubt if the wording of your father's will could give me the power +for a moment." + +"I am sure it could. I am confident that in drawing his will he trusted +you absolutely and me absolutely. He often spoke to me about money, and +told me what a solemn trust riches were. He charged me like the man in +the parable not to bury my talent in a napkin, but to put it out to +usury. He said that he made you my guardian, because you were the most +unworldly-minded man he knew, and he told me many times that although he +could not give me absolute control of my money before I was twenty-one, +yet that no reasonable wish of mine would be refused by you." + +"And you call this a reasonable wish?" + +"I do. And so would my father if he were alive. Bring his face once +again before you, Rector, and you will agree with me." + +The Rector sat down in his arm-chair, and shaded his eyes with one of +his long white hands. He sat for a long time motionless, and without +speaking. Beatrice stood by the mantelpiece; there was a small fire in +the grate; now and then a flame leaped up, and cast its reflection on +her face. + +Suddenly the Rector started upright. + +"What day is this?" he asked. + +"Thursday--Thursday night." + +"And you are to be married on Tuesday?" + +"No, I may never marry. Nina Hart and Loftus Bertram are to be married +on Tuesday." + +"God bless me! Beatrice, you have put me into a nice fix. Guardians are +not always to be envied. What's the hour, child?" + +Beatrice glanced at the clock. + +"It is half-past nine," she said. + +"You say that this--this Miss Hart was staying at the Bells'?" + +"Yes." + +"I must go to her. I must see her to-night." + +"Remember she is weak and ill. You will be gentle with her." + +"Beatrice, am I as a rule rough with people? Come, I will see you home, +and then call on Miss Hart." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +CIVIL WAR AT NORTHBURY. + + +It is often very difficult to trace Rumor to his foundation. His +beginning is sometimes as small as a particle of sand; the first dawning +of his existence as impalpable as the air. + +From these small beginnings, however, rumor arises, strong as a giant, +cruel as death. Perhaps no foe has more injured mankind than idle rumor. + +He was abroad now in the little town of Northbury, and no one quite knew +the exact place of his birth. A good many people traced his existence to +Hunt, the baker, who sold many loaves of bread, and many sweet and tasty +cakes by reason of his love of gossip--some people laid it to Miss +Peters' door, some to Mrs. Gorman Stanley's, some again to Mrs. +Morris's; but soon, in the excitement which the Giant Rumor caused, +people had no time to talk of the place of his birth--he was there, he +was among them, and he was the only subject now discussed. + +A great many afternoon teas, and small social gatherings were given +during the next few days in his honor. As to the Bells' house it became +quite notorious. People paused as they passed the windows, and even the +paving stones round the time-worn steps were fraught with interest. + +At the club the men talked of nothing but the story which was abroad. +They took the opportunity to make bets and wagers. Their tongues were +not so cruel as those of the women, but still their tongues did wag, and +there was more than one wife in the town who felt the effect of Beatrice +Meadowsweet's engagement for many a long day, because the father of the +family had jeopardized a considerable sum in a wager on the probable +issue of events. + +When Rumor in his full magnitude gets abroad he never spares the young, +the beautiful, the innocent. Beatrice was loved by every one at +Northbury, but the inhabitants of this good, old-fashioned little town +would have been immaculate had they not said evil things of her now. + +Sides were taken on the occasion, and the people of the town divided +themselves pretty equally, and in an incredibly short time started a +fierce sort of civil war. The "Beatricites," and the "Hartites," they +were called, and the war of tongues between them became so fierce that +long before Saturday night one party would not speak to another. + +Mrs. Bell was at the head of the Hartites, and Mrs. Butler was the +general of the Beatrice army. + +Mrs. Bell spoke in the following terms of the girl who had hitherto been +everybody's favorite: + +"Ah, she's a deep one, is Beatrice Meadowsweet. You never know what +those quiet ones are till they are tried. I spoke to her, I warned her, +but she wouldn't listen. 'Beatrice,' I said, that young man cares no +more for you than he does for the blackberries on the hedges. Beatrice, +that young man's affections are given elsewhere.' Heed me, would she? +No, not she. But follow him she would, follow him from place to place, +out on the water in her boat, and at the Hector's garden party until it +was disgraceful to see. It's my firm belief she popped the question +herself, and we all know what followed. Poor Captain Bertram gave in for +a time, thinking of her fortune, which is none so great, if rumors are +correct, but love her, no, not he. Why, over and over and over he has +said as much to my child, Matty. Matty was stiff to him, I'll say that; +he was an audacious flirt, and he tried hard to bring Matty into a +scrape too, but would she encourage him? No, though she was persecuted +by his attentions, and now what's the result? Matty is honorably engaged +to a man who is a Bayard for knightliness, and that poor Beatrice is +jilted. Was she in hysterics in my house? Well, it isn't for me to say. +Did she go down on her knees to Captain Bertram, and wring his hand, and +kiss it and beg of him not to forsake her, with the tears streaming like +rain down her cheeks, and implore of him to give up his true love, who +was in a dead faint before their two eyes, and to be true to her who had +given her heart to him, neighbor, did these things happen in this very +house? You ask me that question, neighbor, and I say, answer it I won't, +for I'm a woman, and I have known that unfortunate, misguided girl and +her poor mother for years. Yes, neighbor, I cast a veil over what I +might say." + +This was the sort of gossip spread by Mrs. Bell, who further praised up +Miss Hart, saying much about her beauty and her charms, and giving such +a ravishing account of Bertram's love for her, and her adoration for +him, that the neighbors who were on this side of the civil war crowned +Josephine Hart as their chosen queen on the spot. + +Mrs. Butler, who led the van of the "Beatricites," was less voluble than +Mrs. Bell, but her words were weighted with a very deadly shaft of +poison. After Mrs. Butler had extolled Beatrice as a perfect model of +all womanly graces and virtue, she proceeded, with keen relish, to take +Josephine Hart to pieces. When she began to dissect Miss Hart she +invariably sent her innocent sister, Maria, out of the room. It is +unnecessary to repeat what passed behind the doors which were so cruelly +closed on eager and curious Miss Peters, but it is not too much to say +that poor Josephine had not a rag of character left to her when the good +woman's tongue ceased to wag. + +Thus the town of Northbury was in a distressing state of uproar during +the three or four days which preceded Captain Bertram's wedding. And +perhaps the cruellest thing about this fierce civil war was that none of +the combatants, not even the leaders, knew what was really about to take +place, nor who was to be married to whom on Tuesday, nor whether there +was to be any wedding at all. The bridal dresses came home, and some of +the ladies wept when they looked at them. Beatrice still received +wedding presents, and the bridal robe of ivory-white silk trimmed with +quantities of Honiton lace was absolutely sent down from London, all +complete and ready for Beatrice to wear. Half the ladies in Northbury +rushed up to the station when the news was brought to them that the box +had arrived, and the porter, Payne by name, who carried the box to Mrs. +Meadowsweet's, was followed by quite a little mob. + +Thus time went on apace, and Rumor did his work, each lady saying when +she met another: + +"Well, what's the news? What's the latest? What did you hear last?" + +Each Hartite bowed coldly to each Beatricite, or else cut each other +dead, and, in short, the usual symptoms which accompany civil war made +themselves felt. + +It is a fact frequently noted that when Rumor, with his double-edged +tongue is abroad, the persons most concerned often know nothing of the +storm which is raging around them. In the present instance, two people +who were keenly interested in coming events were in this position. One +of them was Mrs. Meadowsweet, the other, Mrs. Bertram. The time would +come when Beatrice would confide in her mother, but that moment had not +yet arrived. The old lady wondered why she had so many visitors, and why +people looked at her in a curious, pitying sort of fashion. Why also +they invariably spoke of Beatrice as "poor dear," and inquired with +tender solicitude for her health. + +"Brides usedn't to be 'poor deared' in my day," the old lady remarked +rather testily to her handmaiden, Jane. "Any one would suppose Beatrice +was going to have an illness instead of a wedding from the way folks +talk of her." + +"Eh, well, ma'am," Jane replied. + +Jane's "eh, well, ma'am" was as full of suppressed meaning as a balloon +is full of air. She heaved a prodigious sigh as she spoke, for of course +she had heard the gossip, and had indeed come to blows with a Hartite +that very morning. + +"Eh, dear!" said Jane. "Rumor's a queer thing." + +She did not vouchsafe any more, and Mrs. Meadowsweet was too innocent +and indolent and comfortable in her mind to question her. + +The other person who knew nothing was Mrs. Bertram. Of all the people in +the world Mrs. Bertram was perhaps the most interested in that wedding +which was to take place on Tuesday. The wedding could scarcely mean more +to the bride and bridegroom than it did to her--yet no news of any +_contretemps_, of any little hitch in the all-important proceedings, +had reached her ears. For the last week she had taken steps to keep +Catherine and Mabel apart from all Northbury gossip. The servants at the +Manor who, of course knew everything did not dare to breathe a syllable +of their conjectures. The bravest Hartite and Beatricite would not have +dared to intrude their budgets of wild conjecture on Mrs. Bertram's +ears. Consequently she lived through these exciting days in comparative +calm. Soon the great tension would be over. Soon her gravest alarms +would be lulled to rest, Now and then she wondered that Beatrice was not +oftener at the Manor. Now and then she exclaimed with some vexation at +Mr. Ingram's extraordinary absence from home at such a time. + +The Rector had gone to London, and a stranger took his pulpit on that +all-important Sunday before the wedding. + +Mrs. Bertram wondered a little over these two points, but they did not +greatly disturb her;--Loftus was at home and Loftus looked strangely, +wildly happy. + +Mrs. Bertram had been alarmed, and rendered vaguely uneasy by her son's +gloom a few days ago, but there was no shadow resting on the young man's +face now. He laughed, he talked, his eyes wore an exultant expression in +their fire and daring. He caressed his sisters, he hung over his +mother's chair, and kissed her. + +"Ah, Loftie," she said once, "you are really and honestly in love. I +have had my doubts that you did not really appreciate our dear and noble +Beatrice. But your manner the last few days, your spirits, my son, your +all-evident happiness, have abundantly sent these doubts to rest. You +are in love with your future wife, and no wonder!" + +"No wonder," echoed Loftus. + +He had the grace to blush. + +"Yes, I am in love," he said. "No one was ever more madly in love than I +am." Then after a pause he added: "And I think Beatrice, without +exception, the noblest and best woman on earth." + +"That is right, my boy. Ah, Loftus, I am glad I could do one thing for +you. I have got you a wife whose price is above rubies." + +Bertram laughed. + +"You have made a feeble joke, mother," he said in some confusion. "I +should like to know to which you allude--Bee's money or her personal +charms." + +"Both--both--you naughty boy Beatrice is all that could be desired in +herself, but in what position should you and I be in the future without +her money?" + +"That is true," he said. And there was compunction in his voice. + +On Monday morning two letters arrived at Northbury from the Rector. One +was to his housekeeper, the other to Beatrice. + +To his housekeeper, Mrs. Matthews, he said: + +"Go on with all the wedding preparations, and expect me home this +evening at six o'clock." + +His letter to Beatrice was much longer. + +"The time to reproach you, my dear ward, is past," began the Rector. +"And you must promise never in the future to reproach me. You are an +impulsive girl, and I may have done wrong to yield to your entreaties. +Your father's face, has, however, over and over flashed before my mental +vision, and the look in his eyes has comforted me. In one sense you are +a fool, Beatrice; in another, you are thrice blessed. Forgive this +little preamble. I have arranged matters as you wish. I shall be home +this evening. Come to me in my study at nine o'clock to-night, my dear +ward, and act in the meantime exactly as your true, brave heart +suggests." + +Beatrice read this letter in her own room. She was quite mortal enough +to shed some tears over it, but when she sat opposite to her mother at +breakfast, her face was quite as jubilant as any young bride's might be, +who was so soon to leave home. + +Mrs. Meadowsweet looked at her girl with great pride. + +"You feature your father wonderfully, Bee," she said. "It isn't only the +Grecian nose, and the well-cut lips, and the full, straight kind of +glance in your eyes, but it's more. It's my belief that your soul +features Meadowsweet; he was ever and always the best of men. Crotchety +from uprightness he was, but upright was no word for him." + +"Well, mother, I should like to resemble my father in that particular." + +"Yes, my love, yes. Meadowsweet was always heights above me, and so are +you also, for that matter." + +"That is not true, mother, you must not say it. It pains me." + +Beatrice looked distressed. She went over to her old parent and kissed +her. Then she hastily left the room. + +After breakfast Captain Bertram called at the Gray House. + +He and Beatrice had a long interview, then she went to the Bells', and +sat with Miss Hart for about half-an-hour. + +After dinner that day Bertram spoke to his mother: "Beatrice wants to +come up and see you. Can you receive her about six o'clock?" + +"At any time, my dear son. But is she not dreadfully busy? Would it not +convenience her more if I went to her, Loftie?" + +"No, mother, she would prefer to come here. She has"--here his face +turned pale--"she has a good deal to say to you--important things to +speak about." His voice trembled. "You will see her alone. You will not +hurry her. Beatrice is the best--the best girl in the world." + +Bertram looked very pale when he said this. + +"How strange you look, Loftus!" said his mother. "And your words are +very queer. Is anything the matter? Are you concealing any thing from +me?" + +"Beatrice will tell you," he said. And he hurried out of the room. + +A few minutes before six o'clock Beatrice arrived. Mrs. Bertram had +given directions that she was to be sent at once to her private room. +Clara had these instructions, and was about to carry them out literally +when Catherine and Mabel ran into the hall. + +They greeted Beatrice with raptures, and Mabel said in an eager voice: + +"We have not yet seen you in your bridal dress, Bee. You know it was an +old promise that we should see you in it the day before the wedding. +Don't stay long with mother, Bee. Catherine and I can walk back with +you, and you can try on your dress while we are by." + +"My dress is all right," said Beatrice. "I have tried it; it fits. I +don't want to put it on to-night. I am tired." + +Her face was pale, her expression anxious. + +Mabel hung back and looked disappointed. + +"But you promised," she began. + +"Hush, Mabel," said Catherine. She hid quick intuitions, and she saw at +a glance that something was the matter. + +"Bee would not break her promise if she could help it," she said to her +sister. "Don't you see that she looks very tired. Bee, shall I take you +to mother?" + +"Yes, Catherine," replied Beatrice. + +The two girls walked away together. As they mounted the stairs, +Catherine stole another glance at her friend. Then almost timidly she +put her hand through Beatrice's arm. + +"To-morrow, Bee," she said, with a loving hug, "you will be _my_ +real, real sister." + +Beatrice stopped, turned round, and looked at Catherine. + +"Kitty, I can't deceive you. I--love you, but I am not going to be +what--what you suppose." + +"Then there is something wrong!" exclaimed Catherine. "I feared it from +my mother's face when I saw her an hour ago. Now I am sure. Bee, are you +going to fail us at the last moment? Oh, Beatrice, you have made him so +nice, and we have all been so happy, and mother has said more than once +to me, 'Beatrice Meadowsweet has saved us,' and now, just at the very +last, just at the very end, are you going to be a coward--a deserter?" + +"No," said Beatrice. "I won't desert you. I won't fail you. It is given +to me to save your brother Loftus, to really save him. Don't be +frightened, Kitty. I have a hard task to go through. I have to say some +things to your mother which will try her. Yes, I know they will try her +much, but I am doing right, and you must help me, and be brave. Yes, you +must be brave because you know I am doing right." + +"I will trust you, Beatrice," said Catherine. Her dark eyes shone, over +the pallor of her face there came a glow. She opened the door of her +mother's room. + +"Here is Beatrice, mother. And may I--may I--stay too?" + +"No, Kate, you are unreasonable. What a long time you have kept +Beatrice. She has been in the house for ten minutes. I heard you two +gossiping in the corridor. Girls are unreasonable, and they don't +understand that the impatience of the old is the worst impatience of +all. Go, Kate." + +Catherine's eyes sought her friend's. They seemed to say mutely: + +"Be good to her, Beatrice, she is my mother." + +Then she closed the door behind the two. + +People who have secrets, who find themselves hemmed into corners, who +live perpetually over graves of the dead past, are seldom quite free +from fear. Mrs. Bertram had gone through tortures during the last couple +of hours. When she was alone with Beatrice she seized her hands, and +drew her down to sit on the sofa by her side. Her eyes asked a thousand +questions, while her lips made use of some conventional commonplace. + +Beatrice was after all an unsophisticated country girl. She had never +been trained in _finesse_; painful things had not come to her in +the past of her life, either to conceal or avoid. Now a terrible task +was laid upon her, and she went straight to the point. + +Mrs. Bertram said: "You look tired, my dear future daughter." + +Beatrice made no reply to this. She did not answer Mrs. Bertram's lips, +but responding to the hunger in her eyes, said: + +"I have got something to tell you." + +Then Mrs. Bertram dropped her mask. + +"I feared something was wrong. I guessed it from Loftie's manner. Go on, +speak. Tell me the worst." + +"I'm afraid I must give you pain." + +"What does a chit like you know of pain? Go on, break your evil tidings. +Nay, I will break them for you. There is to be no wedding tomorrow." + +"You are wrong. There is." + +"Thank God. Then I don't care for anything else. You are a true girl, +Beatrice, you have truth in your eyes. Thank God, you are faithful. My +son will have won a faithful wife." + +"I trust he will--I think he will. But--" + +"You need not be over modest, child. I know you. I see into your soul. +We women of the world, we deep schemers, we who have dallied with the +blackness of lies, can see farther than another into the deep, pure well +of truth. I don't flatter you, Beatrice, but I know you are true." + +"I am true, true to your son, and to you. But Mrs. Bertram, don't +interrupt me. In being true, I must give you pain." + +Again Mrs. Bertram's dark brows drew together until they almost met. Her +heart beat fast. + +"I am not very strong," she said, in a sort of suffocating voice. "You +are concealing something; tell it to me at once." + +"I will. Can you manage not to speak for a moment or two?" + +"Go on, child. Can I manage? What have I not managed in the course of my +dark life? Go on. Whatever you tell me will be a pin-prick, and I have +had swords in my heart." + +"I am sorry," began Beatrice. + +"Don't--do you suppose I care for a girl's sorrow! The sorrow of an +uncomprehending child? Speak." + +"I have found out," said Beatrice, in a slow voice, "just through an +accident, although I believe God was at the bottom of it, something +which has saved me from committing a great wrong, which has saved your +son from becoming an absolute scoundrel, which has saved us both from a +life of misery." + +"What have you found out, Beatrice?" + +Mrs. Bertram's face was perfectly white; her words came out in a low +whisper. + +"Beatrice, what have you discovered?" + +"That Captain Bertram loves another, that another girl loves him, has +almost been brought to death's door because she loves him so well." + +"Pooh, child, is that all? How you frightened me." + +"Why do you speak in that contemptuous tone. The 'all' means a great +deal to Captain Bertram, and to me, and to the other girl." + +"Beatrice, you are a baby. What young man of my son's age has not had +his likings, his flirtations, his heart affairs? If that is all--" + +"It is all, it is enough. Your son has not got over his heart affair." + +"Has he not? I'll speak to him. I'll soon settle that" + +"Nor have I got over it." + +"Beatrice, my dear girl, you really are something of a little goose. +Jealous, are you? Beatrice, you ask an impossibility when you expect a +young man never to have looked with eyes of affection on any one but +yourself." + +"I will not marry the man who looks with eyes of affection at another." + +"How you bewilder me, and yet, how childish you are. Must I argue this +question with you? Must I show you from my own larger experience how +attached Loftus is to you? Dear fellow, his very face shows it." + +"I don't want you to teach me anything from your experience, Mrs. +Bertram. Captain Bertram does not love me. I do not love him; he loves +another. She has given him all her heart, all that she can give. He +shall marry her;--he shall marry her to-morrow." + +Mrs. Bertram rose very slowly. + +"Beatrice," she said. "Your meaning is at last plain to me. _Noblesse +oblige_. Ah, yes, that old saying comes true all the world over. You +have not the advantage of good birth. I thought--for a long time I +thought that you were the exception that proved the rule. You were the +lady made by nature's own hand. Your father could be a tradesman--a +_draper_--and yet have a lady for his daughter. I thought this, +Beatrice; I was deceived. There are no exceptions to that nobility which +only birth can bestow. You belong to the common herd, the +_canaille_. You cannot help yourself. A promise to one like you is +nothing. You are tired of Loftus. This is an excuse to get out of a +bargain of which you have repented." + +"It is not." + +Beatrice looked at Mrs. Bertram with eyes that blazed with anger. She +walked across the room, and rang the bell. Her ring was imperious. She +stood near the bell-pull until Clara, in some trepidation, obeyed the +summons. + +"Is Captain Bertram downstairs?" asked Beatrice. + +"I'll inquire, Miss Meadowsweet." + +"I think he is. I think you'll find him in the study. Ask him to have +the goodness to come to Mrs. Bertram's room." + +Clara withdrew. Beatrice began slowly to pace up and down the floor. + +"I belong to the _canaille_," she murmured. "And my father--_my_ father +is taunted because he earned his bread in trade. Mrs. Bertram, I am glad +I don't belong to your set." + +Beatrice had never been so angry in all her life before. The anger of +those who scarcely ever give way to the emotion has something almost +fearful about it. Mrs. Bertram was a passionate woman, but she cowered +before the words and manner of this young girl. She had taunted +Beatrice. The country girl now was taunting her, and she shrank away in +terror. + +The door was opened, and Loftus Bertram came in. Beatrice went up to him +at once. + +"I have prepared the way for you, Loftus," she said. "It is your turn +now to speak. Tell your mother the truth." + +"Yes, my son." + +Mrs. Bertram looked up in his face. Her look was piteous; it disarmed +Beatrice; her great anger fled. She went up to the poor woman, and stood +close to her. + +"Speak, Loftus," she said. "Be quick, be brave, be true. Your mother +cannot bear much. Don't keep her in suspense." + +"Go out of the room, Beatrice," said Loftus. "I can tell her best +alone." + +"No, I shall stay. It is right for me to stay. Now speak. Tell your +mother who you really love." + +"Go on, Loftus," said Mrs. Bertram, suddenly. "You love Beatrice +Meadowsweet. She angered me, but she is a true and good girl at heart. +You love her; she is almost your bride--say that you love her." + +"She is the best girl I ever met, mother." + +"There, Beatrice, does not that content you?" said Mrs. Bertram. + +"Hush," said Beatrice. "Listen. He has more to say. Go on, +Loftus--speak, Captain Bertram. Is Josephine not worth any effort of +courage?" + +"Josephine!" Mrs. Bertram clasped her hands. + +Bertram stepped forward. + +"Mother, I don't love Beatrice as I ought to love my wife. I do love +Josephine Hart, and she is to be my wife to-morrow morning." + +"Josephine Hart!" repeated Mrs. Bertram. She looked round at Beatrice, +and a smile played all over her face--a fearful smile. + +"My son says he loves Josephine Hart--Josephine--_and he will marry her_!" + +She gave a laugh, which was worse than any cry, and fell insensible on +the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING. + + +Mrs. Meadowsweet wondered why Beatrice did not come home. It was the +night before the wedding. Surely on that night the bride ought to come +early to sleep under her mother's roof. + +Mrs. Meadowsweet had a good deal to say to her girl. She had made up her +mind to give her a nice little domestic lecture. She thought it her duty +to reveal to her innocent Beatrice some of the pitfalls into which young +married girls are so apt to fall. + +"Jane," she said to her handmaid, "Miss Beatrice is late." + +"Eh, so she is," responded Jane. Jane was a woman of very few words. Her +remarks generally took the form of an echo. Mrs. Meadowsweet thought her +a very comfortable kind of body to confide in. Jane was taking away the +supper things. + +"We were married ourselves, Jane, and we know what it means," continued +Mrs. Meadowsweet. + +Jane was a widow--her husband had been a drunkard, and she had gone +through a terrible time with him. + +She shook her head now with awful solemnity. + +"We do that," she said. "It's an awful responsibility, is marriage--it's +not meant for the young." + +"I don't agree with you there, Jane. How could elderly people bring up +their families?" + +"It's not meant for the young," repeated Jane. "It's a careful thing, +and a troubling thing and a worreting thing is marriage, and it's not +meant for the young. Shall I leave the peaches on the table, ma'am, and +shall I make fresh cocoa for Miss Beatrice when she comes in?" + +"Make the cocoa with all milk, Jane, it's more supporting. I always made +it a rule to sustain Beatrice a good deal. She wears herself out--she's +a great girl for wearing herself out, and it's my duty in life to repair +her. I used to repair her poor father, and now I repair her. It seems to +me that a woman's province in life is to repair--first the husband, and +then the children. Jane, I was thinking of giving Beatrice a little +lecture to-night on the duties that lie before her." + +"Good sakes, ma'am, I'd leave her alone. She'll find out her worrits +fast enough." + +"I don't agree with you, Jane. It seems to me as if the whole of a +married woman's bliss consists in this--be tidy in your dress, don't +answer back, and give your husband a good dinner. That's what I did--I +repaired Meadowsweet, and I never riled him, and we hadn't a word, no, +not a word." + +"All aren't like your blessed husband, Mrs Meadowsweet. Well, ma'am, +I'll go now and get the milk on for the cocoa." + +She left the room, and Mrs. Meadowsweet sat on by the fire. + +Presently there came a ring to the front door bell. Mrs. Meadowsweet +started up. Bee had some--no, it wasn't Bee--it was Mrs. Morris. + +Her bronchitis was almost gone to-night; her voice was high, sharp and +quick. + +"Well, my poor friend, and how are you?" she said. + +"I wish you wouldn't call me your poor friend, Jessie," answered Mrs. +Meadowsweet, with almost irritation. "I don't know what has come to the +good folks here of late--'Poor dearing,' and 'poor friending' till I'm +sick of the sound of it. When I was married, people didn't look like +boiled vinegar over it; neighbors were chirpy and cheery about a wedding +in those days." + +Mrs. Morris made no reply at all to this tirade. She sat down solemnly, +and looked around her. + +"Is Beatrice in?" she asked. + +"No, she's not; she went to the Manor some hours ago--I'm expecting my +girl back every minute. I've several things to say to her when she does +come in, so you won't take it amiss, Jessie, if I ask you not to stay." + +"No, my dear neighbor, I won't take anything amiss, from you at present, +only, if I were you, I wouldn't worry Beatrice with advice to-night. Yon +have time enough for that. Time and to spare for that, poor dear." + +"There you are with your 'poor dear,' again, Jessie. Now whose ring is +that at the bell? Oh, it's Bee, of course; come back at last, my girl +has. Well, Jessie Morris, I wish you good-night." + +"Stay a minute, neighbor--that isn't Bee's voice." The door was opened, +and Miss Peters came in. + +"How are you, Mrs. Meadowsweet," she said, running up to the good lady +and giving her a kiss, which resembled the peck of an eager bird, on her +cheek. "I ran on first, and Martha is following. I came to know how you +are, and how you're bearing up--and is Beatrice in?" + +"I do declare," said Mrs. Meadowsweet. She rose from her easy-chair. +"You mean to be good-natured, neighbors, but really you're enough to +deave one. How am I bearing up? Am I the woman to bring ill-luck to my +child by crying at her wedding? No, she's not in--she's at the Bertrams. +But there's her ring now at the hall-door. Good-night, neighbors both. +You mean it kindly, but don't stay just now. I have a word or two to say +to the girl in private to-night." + +"I think that's Martha's voice," said Miss Peters. "Don't say that I +told you anything, Mrs. Meadowsweet." + +The door was opened, and Mrs. Butler came in. + +This good woman, who led the army of the Beatricites, had now attained +to all the airs of a victorious general. Her bonnet-strings were thrown +back, her face was flushed, and her throat, conspicuous by the absence +of her large white brooch, was bared to view. + +"Well, my friend," she said. "Well, the time is near." + +She took Mrs. Meadowsweet's fat hand, squeezed it hard, and looked with +awful solemnity into her eyes. + +"Good gracious," said the poor woman. "I never felt more exasperated in +all my life. Any one would suppose that my girl was drowned in the +harbor from the faces you one and all bring me." + +"Mrs. Meadowsweet," said Mrs. Butler, "there is such a thing as having +the body safe and well, and the character drowned." + +Mrs. Meadowsweet's cheeks flushed deeply. + +"I'll thank you to explain yourself, Martha Butler," she said. "Whose +character is drowned?" + +"No one's," said Mrs. Butler. "Or at least, no one who belongs to us." + +Here she waved one of her arms in theatrical style. + +"I have fought for that girl," she said, "as my sister Maria can bear +testimony, and my friend Mrs. Morris can vouch---I have fought for her, +and I may truly say I have brought her through a sea of slander--yes, +through a sea of slander--victorious. Now, who's that? Who's coming to +interrupt us?" + +"It's only me, Mrs. Butler," said Beatrice. She came quietly into the +room. Her face was white, but its expression was serene, and almost +happy. + +"It's you, Bee, at last," said her mother. + +She went straight up to the girl, and taking one of her hands raised it +to her lips. + +"You have come, Bee," she said in a purring cone of delight and content. +"My girl has come at last, neighbors, and now I'll wish you, every one, +a very good-night. I'm obliged for all sympathy, and if I don't +understand these new-fashioned ways about weddings with their poor +dears, and their poor friends, and drowning of somebody's character, and +saving of somebody else's character, it's because I'm old-fashioned, and +belong to an ancient school. Good-night, friends. Is that you, Jane?" + +Jane appeared, bearing in a cup of cocoa for Beatrice. + +"Jane, show these ladies out." + +They all went. They hated to go, but they went, for the mantle of +innocence and ignorance in which Mrs. Meadowsweet was so securely +wrapped gave her a certain dignity which they could not resist. Jane +shut the door on them, and they stood still outside the house, and +wrangled, and talked, and worked themselves into a perfect rage of +excitement and curiosity and longing. "Well, well, all surmises would +soon be at rest. Who would win, Beatrice or Josephine? Who would be +to-morrow's bride." + +"Mother," said Beatrice, when the ladies had left--she looked into her +old mother's face. There was an expression in her eyes which made Mrs. +Meadowsweet cry out: + +"Bee, you have got a hunger at your heart. Oh, child, you want your +mammy--I never saw that look in your eyes since long, long ago, when you +were a little tot, and wanted your mammy more than anything else in all +the wide world." + +"I want her now," said Beatrice. + +She put her arms about her mother, and wept on her shoulder. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +THE MORNING OF THE WEDDING. + + +Beatrice had seen Mr. Ingram. She had gone to him, but not to stay. + +"You must go to Mrs. Bertram's," she said; "she has a trouble on her +mind. Get her to tell it to you. She will be better afterwards. She +fears much. I guess a little of what she fears. She does not know that +by to-morrow night all her anxieties will be over." + +"And the wedding is really to take place in the morning, Beatrice?" + +"Really and truly. I will be present as bride's-maid, not as bride." + +Beatrice went home, and Mr. Ingram hastened to the Manor. + +There was much confusion there. Mrs. Bertram was very ill; she would not +see her daughters, she would allow no doctor to be summoned. Mabel was +crying in the drawing-room. Catherine was pacing up and down the +corridor outside her mother's room. + +The Rector came. Bertram saw him for a few moments alone; then he went +into Mrs. Bertram's room. He stayed with her for some hours; it was long +past midnight when he left her. Catherine and Mabel had gone to bed, but +Bertram met the Rector outside his mother's door. + +"Come home with me," said Mr. Ingram; "I have a message to give you. I +have something to say." + +"How is my mother, sir?" + +"She is better,--better than she has been for years--she will sleep +now--she has carried a heavy burden, but confession has relieved it. She +has sent you a message; come to my house, and I will give it to you." + +The Rector and Bertram went quickly back to the cozy Rectory study. Mr. +Ingram began his story at once. + +"Have you any early recollections?" he asked. "Cast your memory back. +What are the first things you can recall?" + +Bertram raised his eyebrows in astonishment. + +"I was born in India," he said; "I was sent home when I was little more +than a baby." + +"You don't remember your Indian life, nor your--your--father?" + +"Of course I remember my father, sir. I was over twenty when he died." + +"Ah, yes, your reputed father. You cannot possibly recall, you have no +shadowy remembrance of another who bore the name?" + +"Good God, Mr. Ingram! what do you mean?" + +"Have you any memory? Answer me." + +"No, sir, not the faintest. Is this a dream?" + +"My poor lad, I don't wonder that you are staggered. Your mother could +not bring herself to tell you. She has borne much for your sake, +Bertram; you must be tender to her, gentle. She committed sin, she has +gone through terrible hours for you. She was wrong, of course; but her +motive--you must respect her motive, Loftus Bertram." + +"I am in a dream," said Bertram. "General Bertram not my father! Whose +son am I then? What is my name? Who am I? Good God, sir, speak! Get me +out of this horrible nightmare." + +"Bertram, I have a good deal to tell you. You have a very strange story +to hear. You must listen as quietly as you can. You must take in the +facts as well as you can. The story concerns you deeply--you and +another." + +"Do you mean my mother?" + +"No, I mean Josephine Hart." + +"Josephine? This story concerns Josephine. Rector, my brain is +whirling." + +"Sit down, keep still, listen." + +Bertram restrained his impatience with an effort. He sank into a chair; +in a moment he rose to his feet. + +"I can't keep still," he said. "This story concerns Nina. Does my mother +know Nina?" + +"I will tell you the whole story, Bertram; I will tell it briefly, and +you must listen with patience. You must remember, as you hear, that the +woman who played this sorry part is your mother, that she did the wrong +out of mistaken love for you, that she has suffered bitterly for her +sin." + +"Go on, sir; I am listening." + +"Remember that the story is about your mother." + +"I don't forget." + +The Rector poured out a glass of water from a jug which stood on the +table, drank it off, and began to speak. + +"Your mother, Bertram, was twice married. Her first husband--my poor +boy, I am sorry for you--was a scoundrel, a thief, a blackleg. He died +in prison. You are his son. Your father died in a Bombay prison; you +were in England at the time." + +"Stop, sir," said Bertram. "What was my--my--what was the name of the +man to whom I owe my being?" + +"Your mother has not told me. She says she will never reveal his name. +She says that your stepfather gave you legally the name of Bertram. +That, at least, need never be disturbed." + +"Then Catherine and Mabel are not my sisters." + +"They are your half-sisters; that is a small matter." + +"True. Everything in the world is a small matter in comparison with the +awful fact that I am the son of a felon." + +"I am deeply pained for you, Bertram. Your mother knew how this would +strike home. Hence her sin." + +"I forgot. I have to hear of that. Go on, Mr. Ingram." + +"At the time of your father's death she was, she tells me, a very +beautiful young woman. She was alone and peculiarly defenceless; Major +Bertram, he was a Major at the time, made her acquaintance in Calcutta. +You will be startled, Bertram, at the way in which these two made +friends. She was asked to take care of Major Bertram's baby daughter." + +"Then he, too, was married before." + +"Yes, he had a young wife, who died when the baby was born. Little Nina +was six months old when Major Bertram, who had to accompany his regiment +up the country, asked your mother to look after her." + +"Nina, did you say Nina, Mr. Ingram?" + +"Yes. I need not conceal from you who that Nina was." + +Bertram covered his face with his hands. + +"I can't bear this," he said. "This story unmans me." + +"You must listen. I am making the narrative as brief as possible. Your +mother tells me that when the baby was given to her to care for she +meant to be very good to it. She was miserable at the time, for her +sorrows with and about your father had almost maddened her. She was good +to the child, and very glad of the money which the Major paid her for +giving the little creature a home. She kept the baby for some months, +nearly a year; and whenever he could Major Bertram called to see her. +Soon the meaning of his visits dawned upon her. He had fallen in love +with her. He was, in all respects, a desirable husband; he was of good +family; his antecedents were honorable, his own life stainless. She +thought of you, she was always thinking about you, you were at a poor +little school in England. She thought what your lot might be, if you +were really the son of this honorable man. She tells me that at this +time her love for you was like a terrible passion within her. Beyond all +things in the world she dreaded your learning your father's history--she +shuddered as she fancied your baby lips asking her artless questions +which she could never answer. Your father's name was, alas, notorious. +Bearing that name, you must one day learn the history of your father's +ruin, disgrace, dishonor." + +"Mr. Ingram," said Bertram, "you are crushing me. How much more must you +say about my--my father?" + +"Nothing more. I had to say this much to explain your mother's motive. +One day Major Bertram called to see her. He was going away. Before he +left he asked her to marry him. She refused. He persisted. She told him +her history. He said he knew it already. Then she put off her decision. +He might speak to her again on his return to Calcutta. It was during +Major Bertram's absence that the temptation which led to your mother's +sin came to her. + +"Little Josephine was now between a year and two years old. On her +mother's side she was of low birth. Major Bertram had married beneath +him. He had fallen desperately in love with the beautiful daughter of a +strolling minstrel. He had married her, found out his mistake when too +late, but still, being a chivalrous and honorable man, had done his duty +by his ignorant young wife; had never allowed her to guess at his +feelings; and after her death had been filled with compunction for not +loving her more, and had done everything he could to secure the welfare +of their child. + +"One person, however, he forbade the premises; with one individual he +would have nothing to do. That person was his wife's father. From the +moment he laid his young wife in her grave, he ignored the very +existence of Hart. Your mother tells me, Bertram, that Hart was in all +particuars a disreputable person. He was nothing but a needy adventurer, +and he only approached Major Bertram to sponge on him. + +"During the Major's absence your mother thought long and seriously of +his proposals for her; the more she thought of them, the more desirable +did they seem. She thought of herself in the sheltered position of a +good man's wife. Above all, she thought of you. This marriage might save +you. Suppose Major Bertram, for love of her, consented to adopt you as +his son, to give you his name, and to present you to the world as his +own lawful child. She thought this might be done; and the only +difficulty in the way was the little bright-eyed, fair-haired Nina. + +"Your mother did not wish to return to England calling Hart's +granddaughter her child. She said she had an insuperable objection and +repugnance to the idea, and an aversion for the poor little creature +began to grow up in her mind." + +Bertram, who had sat during the greater part of this recital with his +hand shading his eyes, now started up with an impatient and distressed +exclamation. The Rector looked at him, sighed heavily, and said in a +voice of sympathy: + +"My poor boy, this is a very hard story for you to listen to." + +"Go on, Mr. Ingram," said Bertram. "Get it over quickly; that is all I +have to ask you." + +"While these thoughts were troubling your mother," continued the Rector, +"she was one day surprised by a visit from Hart. He said he had come to +see his grandchild; and he took little Nina in his arms and kissed her. +Your mother says she scarcely knows how it was, but she and Hart began +to talk about the child, and both simultaneously revealed to the other +his and her real feelings. + +"Hart hated Major Bertram, and would like to do him an injury. Your +mother had no love for Nina. I nead not lengthily describe this +interview. Suffice it to say that they made a plot between them. It was +a bad plot. I am sorry to have to use this word to a son about any act +of his mother's, but the truth must be told at all hazards. The plot was +bad, bad at the time, bad subsequently. + +"Your mother arranged to give Nina to her grandfather. She would pay him +for delivering her from the child. After receiving his bribe Hart was to +leave that part of India at once, When the Major returned your mother +would tell him that the child was lost. That she feared her grandfather +Hart had stolen her. She would help Major Bertram to make inquiries. +These inquiries, she would arrange beforehand, should turn out useless, +for Hart was one of those clever individuals, who, when necessary, could +hide all trace of his existence. + +"Your mother sold some jewellery to raise the necessary money for Hart. +He came the next day and carried off the child. Major Bertram returned. +He believed your mother's story, he was wild with grief at the loss of +his child, and did everything in his power to recover her. In vain. Your +mother and Hart were too clever for him. + +"After a time he renewed his proposals to your mother. She made her +conditions. You were to be acknowledged as his son. + +"Soon after their marriage they returned to England, and Major Bertram +retired from foreign service. His friends received them. The old story +was never raked up. No suspicion attached to your mother. All the world +believed you to be Major Bertram's son. No plot could have turned out +better, and your mother rejoiced in her success. + +"Her daughters were born, and she began to consider herself the happiest +of living beings. The serpent, however, which she fondly thought killed, +was once more to awake and torment her. She got a letter from Hart, who +was then in Egypt. Nina was not dead, she was alive, and strong, and +handsome. He would bring her back to her father and all the past would +be known, if Mrs. Bertram did not buy his silence at a price. + +"For some years after this letter she had to keep the old man quiet with +money. Then suddenly, with no apparent reason, he ceased to trouble her. +She believed that his silence was caused by Nina's death. She assured +herself that the child must be dead, and once more her outward +prosperity brought her happiness. + +"Your father died, and his will was read. There was a codicil to his +will which only his wife and the solicitors knew about. It was briefly +to the effect that if by any chance the child of his first marriage was +recovered, and her identity proved, she was to inherit one-half of his +personal estate. He left her this large share of his property as +compensation for the unavoidable neglect he had shown her all her life, +and also in sorrow for having ever confided her to the care of another. + +"That codicil tortured your mother's proud spirit. She felt that her +husband had never really forgiven her for allowing his child to be +stolen while under her care. Still she believed that the child now was +dead. + +"Her hour of terrible awakening came. Hart had returned to England. A +couple of months ago he wrote to her here. Knowing that Nina's father +was dead he had gone to Somerset House, paid a shilling and read a copy +of the will. From that moment your mother knew no peace. Hart had all +the necessary letters to prove Nina's identity. He had a copy of her +baptismal certificate, and of the registration of her birth. Mrs. +Bertram had now to bribe the old man heavily. She did so. She gave him +and Nina a third of her income. Wretched, miserable, defiant, she yet +hoped against hope. To-night, for the first time, she tasted despair." + +The Rector ceased to speak. Bertram began to pace the floor. + +"I can't forgive my mother," he said, at last. "I shall marry Josephine +to-morrow morning and take her away, but I never want to see my mother +again." + +"Then she will die. She is weak now, weak and crushed. If you refuse +your forgiveness you will have her death to answer for. I don't +exonerate your mother's sin, but I do plead for your mercy. She sinned +to shield and save you. You must not turn from her. Are you immaculate +yourself?" + +"I am not, Mr. Ingram. I am in no sense of the word good. I have been +extravagant, reckless, I have been untruthful. I have caused my mother +many a pang, and she has invariably been an angel of goodness and +kindness to me. But her cruelty to Nina cuts me like a sword, and I +cannot forgive her." + +The Rector went over to the window, drew up the blinds, and looked out. + +"Come here," he said to the young man. "Do you see that faint light in +the east?" + +"Yes, sir, the day is breaking." + +"The day of your wedding, and of your new life. To-day you realize what +true love means. You take the hand of the girl who is all the world to +you, and you promise to love and reverence and defend her. To-day you +put away the past life. You rise out of the ashes of the past, and put +on manliness, and honor, and those virtues which good men prize, like an +armor, Beatrice tells me you have promised her all this." + +"Beatrice--God bless Beatrice:" Bertram's eyes were misty. "I will be a +good husband, and a true man," he said with fervor. "I have been a +wretch in the past, and with God's help I'll show Nina, and Beatrice +too, what stuff they have made of me. I'll be a true man for their +sakes. But my mother--Mr. Ingram, you have given me a cruel shock on my +wedding morning." + +"Bertram, all that you have said to me now will end in failure, will +wither up like the early dew if you cherish hard feelings towards your +mother. Did she ever cherish them to you? What about that bill she had +to meet? That bill would have ruined her." + +"Beatrice met the bill." + +"Had there been no Beatrice?" + +Bertram turned his head away. + +"I have been a scoundrel," he said at last. + +The Rector laid his hand on his arm. + +"You have been something uncommonly like it, my dear fellow. And the +spirit of revenge does not sit well on you. Come, your mother is +waiting. Change her despair to peace. Say some of the good things you +have said to me to her, and the blessing of God will descend on you, +Bertram, and on the young girl whom you will call your wife to-day. Give +me your hand. Come." + +Bertram went. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +THE BRIDE! + + +Miss Peters was lying in sound slumber, and Mrs. Butler, with a wet +sponge in her hand, was standing over the little spinster's bed. + +"Maria," she said, in her sharp voice. And at the same moment the sponge +descended with unerring aim on the sleeper's upturned face. + +"Good heavens--fire--water! What is it?--I'm drowning--" gasped Miss +Peters. + +She raised her eyes, choked, for her mouth had been open, and some of +the contents of the sponge had got in, and then surveyed her sister in +trepidation. + +"Oh, Martha, it's you. How you frightened me!" + +"I only applied the sponge," replied Mrs. Butler. "It's an old-fashioned +remedy for inordinate drowsiness, and effectual." + +"But surely, surely--I feel as if I had only just dropped to sleep." + +"Maria, it's five o'clock." + +"Five! What do you mean, Martha? Am I to be accused of inordinate +sleepiness at five in the morning?" + +"On this morning you are. This is the wedding morning--get up, dress +yourself. Put on your bridal finery, and join me in the parlor." + +Mrs. Butler left the room. Miss Peters rubbed her sleepy eyes again. + +"The wedding morning! and my bridal finery!" she murmured. "One would +think poor Sam had never been drowned. I don't think Martha has any +heart. She knows how I suffered about Sam. He certainly never proposed +for me, but he was attentive--yes, he was attentive, and I--I suffered. +It's thirty years now since he was drowned. Martha oughtn't to forget. +People have no memories in these days." + +The little lady began to put on her garments. + +"It does seem extraordinarily early to have to get up, even though Bee +is to be married at eleven o'clock to-day," she murmured. "Certainly, +Martha is a most masterful person. Well, I don't mind so much, as it is +for Bee's sake." + +Miss Peters proceeded with her toilet, took tenderly out of its folds of +camphor and white linen, a little antiquated brown silk dress, put it +on, crossed over her shoulders a neat fichu of white lace, mounted her +bonnet, composed of a piece of silk, which she had artfully removed from +the skirt of her dress. This bonnet was trimmed with three enormous +lemon-colored chrysanthemums, and was further embellished with a pink +ruching, which surrounded the good lady's face. + +Miss Peters almost trembled as she placed this exquisite head-dress over +her scanty locks. The moment the bonnet was on, she became conscious of +an immense amount of moral support. In that bonnet she could even defy +Mrs. Butler. + +"Nothing gives a lady such a nice feeling as being properly dressed," +she murmured. "I am glad I went to the expense of a bit of pink silk to +make this ruching. It is wonderfully soft, and becoming, too. I hope +Martha won't object to the chrysanthemums. I chose the largest Perry had +in his shop on purpose, in order not to be accused of aping youth. Now, +my parasol, my gloves, my handkerchief. Oh, and my fan. I'm sure to +flush a little when I see that dear child being given away. Now I'm +quite ready. It certainly is an extraordinarily early hour to be dressed +for a wedding, which is not to take place till eleven o'clock." + +"Maria!" screamed Mrs. Butler's voice. "If you're not quick, you'll not +have time to swallow your coffee." + +"Dear, dear!" exclaimed Miss Peters, "is Martha's head going? I have not +been half-an-hour dressing; can she have mistaken the hour?" + +The little spinster ran downstairs. + +"Here I am, Martha. Really I--" + +"Not a word, Maria. Sit down at once, and drink off your coffee. You can +munch a bit of bread in your hand as we go along." + +"But, Martha, it is not six o'clock yet." + +"What of that? We have not a moment to lose. There'll be crowds at the +church. I am given to understand it will be packed, and as I intend to +have a front seat, I'm going now." + +Miss Peters began to count on her fingers. + +"But Martha, it surely is not necessary." + +"Now, Maria, that's enough. You'd argue any one black in the face. I +don't often have my way, but I'll have it on this occasion. I am going +to call for Mrs. Gorman Stanley; and Mrs. Morris asked me to knock her +up, and we'll all of us just be at the church in good time." + +"In good time," gasped Miss Maria. "But the doors won't be opened." + +"Oh, won't they! You just wait and see. I haven't fought that girl's +battles for nothing. We'll be able to get into the church, Maria, don't +you fear. I have made friends as well as foes of late, and there are +these who can get me into the church, so that I may stand up for +Beatrice to the last. Now, have you swallowed your coffee?" + +"I have. It has scalded my throat frightfully. I hate drinking hot +liquid in such a hurry." + +"Maria, you are dreadfully fractious this morning. And, good gracious +me! What have you got in your bonnet! Here let me hold up the candle and +look." + +"Don't--don't drop the grease on my brown silk, Martha." + +"Brown fiddlestick! Hold your head steady. Well--I never! The vanity of +some folk! The apings of some people. Oh, I haven't a word to say if you +like to make a show of yourself. I respect my years. I live up to them. +Some people, I won't name who--don't." + +"Had I better take off the bonnet, Martha? I thought these very +_large_ chrysanthemums--I chose them on purpose--" + +"Hideous--you're a perfect fright! Look at me. Is there anything to +laugh at in my velvet bonnet? Does it poke itself on the back of my +head? And does it deck itself in pink and yellow?" + +"It looks funereal, Martha, it's all black." + +"Funereal! It looks suitable. Come on, or we'll be late." + +The two ladies left the house. They walked quickly in the early morning +light. Presently, they were joined by Mrs. Gorman Stanley. She was +completely clothed in bridal garments of yellow. Her robe was yellow +satin, her bonnet was to match, with blue forget-me-nots cozily nestling +in its folds. Mrs. Morris joined the group in terra-cotta cashmere, with +a cream lace bonnet. Round her face and mouth she had enveloped a black +woollen shawl, but this was to be discarded presently. + +As the ladies walked to the church they were joined by several more +Beatricites, and when at last they found themselves under the shadow of +the old tower, and in the shelter of the ancient porch, they were quite +a goodly company. + +"We'll just fill the front seats comfortably," said Mrs. Butler. "When +Mrs. Bell and her Hartites arrive they'll have to go behind." + +"But how are we to get in?" again questioned Miss Maria. + +"Oh, I'll manage that. I have it all arranged. I spoke to Hunt +yesterday." + +Hunt was not only the baker, he was the church verger. He had quite +sympathized with Mrs. Butler's wishes, while selling her a two-penny +loaf yesterday. But why did he not put in an appearance now? + +"Martha," again whispered Miss Maria, "Who are those people creeping +round there by the south wall?" + +"No one," snapped Mrs. Butler. "You're fanciful this morning, Maria. +It's those horrid lemon-colored chrysanthemums; they have turned your +head." + +"I don't know about that," retorted Miss Peters. "I am sure I saw Mrs. +Bell's snuff-colored bonnet." + +Mrs. Butler sniffed. She would not retort again; but she was conscious +of a little sense of uneasiness. It was difficult, even for a person as +blind as she considered her sister Maria, to mistake that snuff-colored, +drawn silk bonnet, ornamented with a huge bow in front of pale blue +ribbon. That bonnet was celebrated. It had been worn by Mrs. Bell in +season and out of season for many long years; it had been altered in +shape; it had been turned. Sometimes the bow which filled up the gap in +front was yellow, sometimes red, sometimes mauve. But every one in the +town knew that for the wedding the bow on Mrs. Bell's bonnet was to be +a delicate and bridal blue. This was to be her sole wedding adornment. +To the length of purchasing that bow she had gone, and no further. +Therefore now Mrs. Butler felt uncomfortable. If the Hartites secured +the front seats in church she would have to own to defeat and +humiliation. Was Hunt--could Hunt be faithless? He was known to be +something of a toady, something of a Sergeant Eitherside, a Vicar of +Bray sort of individual. To all appearance Hunt was a sworn Beatricite, +but if by any chance he had heard something in favor of the Hartites, +he was just the man to go over to them. + +"There are about ten or twenty people with Mrs. Bell," said Miss Maria. +"I'm sure that's Mrs. Bell. Yes, that _is_ her bonnet." + +She raised herself on tip-toe, clutching hold of Mrs. Morris's arm as +she did so. + +"It's freezing cold standing by this door," said Mrs. Morris, shivering. +"I'll have an awful attack after this. Poor Beatrice, she'll cause my +death." + +"Keep the shawl well over your mouth," said Mrs. Gorman Stanley. +"Really, Mrs. Butler, it is extraordinary that no one comes to open the +door." + +"Hunt is faithless," proclaimed Mrs. Butler. "Maria, listen to me. Never +as long as I live will I buy bread from Hunt again. I'll eat Coffin's +bread in future." + +"Oh, Maria, it's so musty." + +"Fiddle dumpling. Hunt is certainly faithless. Maria, do you think you +could squeeze yourself through an open window?" + +"I don't, Martha," replied Miss Peters; "and, what's more, I won't. I +have got my best brown silk on. Where am I to get another silk? Ah," +with a sigh of infinite relief, "here is Hunt." + +The baker, who was red in the face, and had a somewhat nervous manner, +now appeared. He came by a sidewalk which led directly from the vestry. + +"I beg your pardon, ladies," he apologized; "I overslept myself, and +that's a fact. Now the floors are open--find your places, ladies." + +Hunt vanished, and Mrs. Butler led her party into the sacred edifice. +The light was still faint in the old church, and at first the good lady +could not see very plainly. When she did, however, she beheld a sight +which petrified her. As she and her party hurried up one aisle, she +perceived Mrs. Bell and her party rushing up the other. There was not a +moment to lose. It is disgraceful to have to relate it, but there was +almost a scuffle in the church. In short, the two generals met opposite +the front pews. There was a scramble for seats. The Beatricites and the +Hartites got mixed up in the most confusing manner, and finally Mrs. +Butler and Mrs. Bell found themselves side by side and crushed very +close together in a small space. + +Some awful hours followed. Mrs. Butler deliberately placed her back to +Mrs. Bell. Mrs. Bell talked at Mrs. Butler in a loud whisper to a +neighbor at the other side. Poor Miss Peters fanned herself violently. +Mrs. Morris's breathing became so oppressed that it was audible; and in +short, all these good ladies who had got up hours before their rightful +time were as uncomfortable and cross as they well could be. But the +longest time passes at last. From six to seven went by, from seven to +eight, from eight again to nine. The waiting was awful. By degrees, +without quite knowing it, Mrs. Bell was forced to lean against Mrs. +Butler for support. By half-past nine she ventured to say to her +neighbor: + +"This waiting is intolerable." + +"Vile," snapped Mrs. Butler, in response. + +By ten o'clock the opposing generals were sharing the same footstool. By +a quarter-past ten they were both nodding. + +It was about that hour that Hunt in his position as verger once more +appeared. The church doors were opened to the community at large, the +bells began to ring out a merry and bridal peal, and the inhabitants of +the town, the rich and poor alike, filed into the church. + +Mrs. Butler was right. Long before eleven o'clock the building was +packed. Mrs. Bell was also right. She communicated this fact to Mrs. +Butler, who nodded in response. Both ladies chuckled over their +individual sagacity. + +All the side aisles of the church began to fill. It was really an +imposing spectacle. The weary inmates of the front pews felt they were +reaping their rewards. + +At a quarter to eleven some of the bridal guests appeared on the scene. +Those who had been especially invited by the Bertram family were +magnificently attired, and occupied one or two seats reserved for them. + +Then the bride's-maids came. They stood in groups near the door, waiting +to follow the bride to her place at the altar. + +Mrs. Bell turned her flushed face; looked down the church, and nodded to +her girls. She thought she had never seen anything so heavenly as the +vision of her Matty in her bride's-maid's costume. Her heart swelled so +with exultation, that she could not help confiding some of her feelings +to Mrs. Butler. + +"Pooh, you're a goose!" nodded back this good woman. But a slow smile +stole over her face as she said the words. + +The moments flew on. The organist took his place at the organ, the choir +boys filed into their places. + +At the end of the church the bride's-maids looked nervously around. Had +any one listened very attentively they might have heard Matty Bell's +titter. + +A thrill went through the waiting crowds. The bridegroom had appeared; +he was accompanied by a strange youth, a young officer from his +regiment. He walked slowly up the church, and took his place before the +altar. + +Bertram looked so handsome at this moment, so pale, so dignified, that +every woman in the church fell in love with him. Miss Peters sighed +audibly, and even shed a tear for the memory of that Sam, who had never +proposed for her, but had been attentive, and had died thirty years ago. + +Matty Bell felt quite a little tumult in her heart. No, no, whatever her +mother might say her Bayard was not like Beatrice's Bayard. She did not +even want to look at her Gusty this moment. + +Bertram stood before the altar and waited. + +_The bride!_ + +There was a little buzz through the church. All the occupants of the +pews rose; all heads were turned towards the door. In the excitement of +the moment the Beatricites clasped the Hartites by the hands, Mrs. +Bell's fat fingers rested on Mrs. Butler's shoulder. + +The bride! She had come. Beatrice would marry Loftus Bertram. The +Beatricites would conquer. Slander would die. + +No, no. What was the matter? What was wrong? Was anything wrong? + +A girl dressed in shimmering bridal clothes was walking up the church. +A very slender and very pale girl. She was leaning on Mr. Ingram's arm; +she was beautiful. There was an expression on her face which melted +hearts, and made eyes brim over with tears. A bride was coming up the +church--not Beatrice Meadowsweet--not the girl who was beloved by all +the town. + +Close behind the bride followed the principal bride's-maid. She was in a +plain dress of white. Round her head she wore a wreath of white lilies, +and in her hand she carried a bouquet of white flowers. + +The other bride's-maids wore green silk sashes, and green with the +marguerites which trimmed their broad hats. + +"May God have mercy on us!" exclaimed Mrs. Butler. + +She made this remark aloud; it was distinctly heard, and Beatrice, as +she passed the good lady, turned and gave her a swift bright smile. + +The bride joined the bridegroom before the altar, and the bishop, who +was to perform the ceremony, began the marriage service: + +"I, Loftus, take thee, Josephine--" + +When these words were uttered Mrs. Bell turned and faced Mrs. Butler. + +"Whose cause has won?" she murmured, "who was right?" + +"Never you say a word against that blessed girl, Beatrice Meadowsweet," +replied Mrs. Butler. "Watch her face--it's the face of an angel." + +"So it is," said Mrs. Bell. And the ladies clasped hands and buried +their feud. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +BEATRICITES--EVERY ONE. + + +Mrs. Bell and Mrs. Butler had a cup of tea together after the wedding. +They partook of their tea in Mrs. Butler's house, and they gossiped over +the events of the day for long hours. + +Part of the strange story of Beatrice's engagement the rector had told +his guests at the wedding-breakfast--a sufficient portion of this +curious romance was related to show some of the real nobility of this +young girl's character. People were to conjecture about the rest. They +were never to know. They never did know. + +The Hartites and the Beatricites ceased to exist at the breakfast, or +rather the whole community became Beatricites on the spot. + +Bertram took his bride away, and the town was very glad to think they +might keep Beatrice Meadowsweet with them after all. Neither Mrs. +Bertram nor Mrs. Meadowsweet were present at the wedding, but they met +that evening, for Mrs. Meadowsweet drove up to the Manor; she was +accompanied by Beatrice and they both asked to see Mrs. Bertram. + +They were admitted into the great lady's bedroom. + +"I am sorry you are so poorly, Mrs. Bertram," said Mrs. Meadowsweet. +"I thought, as Bee was coming up, I'd call with her. There's nothing for +worry on the nerves like Eleazer Macjones's Life Pills, and here's a +fresh box of them. I thought I'd bring them up, and tell you that for my +part I'm highly pleased." + +"Pleased," said Mrs. Bertram. + +She raised her white face and looked at her visitor. + +"Yes, of course I am. I keep my girl. The young man wasn't suited to +her, nor she to him. I guessed there'd be no luck about that engagement, +when I was so deaved with 'poor dears,' and 'poor friends.' That's not +the right way to speak before any wedding. They were neither of them +more than half-hearted towards one another, and it's well they found it +out in time. Now when I married Meadowsweet--" + +"Mother," interrupted Beatrice, "I think Mrs. Bertram is tired." + +"Well, my pet, and you want the old lady to stop her chatter. You try +the Life Pills, Mrs. Bertram, I'll wait in the next room for Bee. She +has a word to say to you." + +When they were alone together Beatrice went and knelt by Mrs. Bertram's +sofa. + +"So you never loved my son. Beatrice?" said Mrs. Bertram, raising her +heavy eyes, and looking at her. + +"I did not, I consented to marry him because I was silly and thought I +could do him good. I was saved just in time from making a grave mistake. +Josephine loves him." + +"You think she will do him good?" + +"The greatest, the best. They were meant for one another. They ought to +lead happy lives together." + +"Beatrice, I have heard--I don't know how to thank you--I have heard +what you have done with some--some of your money. I don't know how to +thank you, child. You have saved Loftus and me." + +Beatrice bent forward and kissed Mrs. Bertram on her cheek. + +"I am glad," she said in a simple, quiet voice. "My father would be glad +too. I am abundantly content." + +"Beatrice, you would have been just the wife for Loftus." + +"No, he was not the husband meant for me. Some day my true lover may +come. If not, I have always been a happy girl, Mrs. Bertram, I am happy +still. I feel full of delight to-night. Now I must go. Only, first of +all, do something--something for the girl who has been made your +daughter to-day." + +"Something for--for Josephine?" + +"For Nina, whose great love will raise and save your son. Take this +packet; put it into the fire." + +"What is it, Beatrice? I am weak. Are there any more shocks?" + +"No. Josephine does not wish the story of her birth to be ever revealed. +She is a Bertram now without any need of proving her title. Her object +is to guard her husband's secret, and she does this, when she asks his +mother to burn this packet which contains the full proofs of her +identity as a Bertram." + +Mrs. Bertram shivered. She touched the packet. Then she gave it back to +Beatrice. + +"Put it into the fire yourself," she said. "Beatrice, you have saved us +all." + +This little scene happened on the evening of Bertram's wedding-day. Just +at that same hour Mrs. Bell and Mrs. Butler were hob-nobbing over their +tea. + +"For my part," said Mrs. Butler, "I no longer regret the absence of my +brooch. I will own I fretted for it when there seemed likely to be no +wedding to speak of. For why should the Northbury folks put themselves +out about the marriage of two strangers. But now I am glad Beatrice has +it, for though she is not a bride she is a beautiful character, and no +mistake, and such should be encouraged." + +"That's my way of thinking, too," said Mrs. Bell. "I'll thank you for +another lump of sugar, Mrs. Butler. Yes, I have no fault to find with +Beatrice Meadowsweet. If she failed, she failed in a graceful fashion, +and, when all is said and done, her intentions were of the best." + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Honorable Miss, by L. T. 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