“ENGLISH!” said Sir Charles. “Then tell me, how did I come here? Where
am I?”
“You had a fit, and the doctor ordered you to be kept quiet; and I am
here to nurse you.”
“A fit! Ay, I remember. That vile woman!”
“Don't think of her: give your mind to getting well: remember, there is
somebody who would break her heart if you--”
“Oh, my poor Bella! my sweet, timid, modest, loving Bella!” He was so
weakened that he cried like a child.
Miss Somerset rose, and laid her forehead sadly upon the window-sill.
“Why do I cry for her, like a great baby?” muttered Sir Charles. “She
wouldn't cry for me. She has cast me off in a moment.”
“Not she. It is her father's doing. Have a little patience. The whole
thing shall be explained to them; and then she will soon soften the old
man. 'It is not as if you were really to blame.”
“No more I was. It is all that vile woman.”
“Oh, don't! She is so sorry; she has taken it all to heart. She had
once shammed a fit, on the very place; and when you had a real fit
there--on the very spot--oh, it was so fearful--and lay like one dead,
she saw God's finger, and it touched her hard heart. Don't say anything
more against her just now. She is trying so hard to be good. And,
besides, it is all a mistake: she never told that old admiral; she
never breathed a word out of her own house. Her own people have
betrayed her and you. She has made me promise two things: to find out
who told the admiral, and--”
“Well?”
“The second thing I have to do--Well, that is a secret between me and
that unhappy woman. She is bad enough, but not so heartless as you
think.”
Sir Charles shook his head incredulously, but said no more; and soon
after fell asleep.
In the evening he woke, and found the Sister watching.
She now turned her head away from him, and asked him quietly to
describe Miss Bella Bruce to her.
He described her in minute and glowing terms. “But oh, Sister,” said
he, “it is not her beauty only, but the beauty of her mind. So gentle,
so modest, so timid, so docile. She would never have had the heart to
turn me off. But she will obey her father. She looked forward to obey
me, sweet dove.”
“Did she say so?”
“Yes, that is her dream of happiness, to obey.”
The Sister still questioned him with averted head, and he told her what
had passed between Bella and him the last time he saw her, and all
their innocent plans of married happiness. He told her, with the tear
in his eye, and she listened, with the tear in hers. “And then,” said
he, laying his hand on her shoulder, “is it not hard? I just went to
Mayfair, not to please myself, but to do an act of justice--of more
than justice; and then, for that, to have her door shut in my face.
Only two hours between the height of happiness and the depth of
misery.”
The Sister said nothing, but she hid her face in her hands, and
thought.
The next morning, by her order, Polly came into the room, and said,
“You are to go home. The carriage is at the door.” With this she
retired, and Sir Charles's valet entered the room soon after to help
him dress.
“Where am I, James?”
“Miss Somerset's house, Sir Charles.”
“Then get me out of it directly.”
“Yes, Sir Charles. The carriage is at the door.”
“Who told you to come, James?”
“Miss Somerset, Sir Charles.”
“That is odd.”
“Yes, Sir Charles.”
When he got home he found a sofa placed by a fire, with wraps and
pillows; his cigar case laid out, and a bottle of salts, and also a
small glass of old cognac, in case of faintness.
“Which of you had the gumption to do all this?”
“Miss Somerset, Sir Charles.”
“What, has she been _here?”_
“Yes, Sir Charles.”
“Curse her!”
“Yes, Sir Charles.”