A NEWSPAPER PARAGRAPH.
Of course Mrs. Rollin and Kitty had a deal of shopping to do in
Paris; for to be in that town and not buy clothes is--to most
feminine minds--an unpardonable sinning of one's mercies. The
dressmaker whom they elected to give their orders to was a certain
Madame Jarrot, much patronised by the fashionable world; and having
made an appointment with her at her own residence, they proceeded
thither to keep it one day soon after the visit to the photographer
which was related in the last chapter.
Now I liked much better to sit in their drawing-room than in the poky
little garret which was my bedroom; and when they did not want the
sitting-room themselves, I never saw any reason why I should not
avail myself of it. No sooner, therefore, were they safe off than
I betook myself there, and proceeded to make myself comfortable,
according to my usual practice, during their absence. Lying on the
table were some English newspapers that had just arrived, and I began
to read them. In a column devoted to fashionable intelligence, I
presently came upon the following paragraph--to me most entirely
unexpected.
"The Duke of Murkshire and his family, who are at present in the
French metropolis, will probably return at an early date to their
ancestral halls, in order to make preparations for the marriage of
his Grace's eldest daughter, Lady Emma, to Captain Edward Norroy of
the Scots Fusilier Guards. The engagement of the young couple has
just been announced, and the wedding is, we understand, to take place
shortly."
When I had read this I laid down the paper, feeling perfectly
dazed. Captain Norroy going to be married to this Lady Emma! In my
speculations about Kitty and her love affairs I had--without being
aware of it--invariably put aside as absurd the idea of its being
possible that any one whom she might honour with her preference
_could_ remain indifferent to her; and therefore I had all along
been unconsciously taking it for granted that Captain Norroy must
inevitably fall in love with her sooner or later; and that if she did
not eventually become his wife, it would not be at any rate for want
of the opportunity. I knew well enough that I myself should have been
at her feet if she had but held up her little finger to me. And as
one is apt to consider it a matter of course that attractions by
which one is oneself fascinated must be equally irresistible to
other people, it was consequently not much to be wondered at that I
should now be utterly taken aback at finding the man whom I believed
her to care for was going to marry some one else.
The thing seemed to me hardly credible. He must be blind--a dolt and
fool--to have a prize like Kitty within his reach, and let it slip!
Why, there was no one so attractive and charming as she was; she was
(in my eyes) quite incomparable. And though I had never seen this
Lady Emma, and knew nothing whatever about her, I was none the less
firmly convinced that she could not hold a candle to Kitty in any
single respect.
How would Kitty take the news, I wondered? Had she any expectation of
it? Had the possibility of such a thing ever occurred to her? No; I
had an intuitive conviction to the contrary. When she had met him at
Raoul's her manner had shown not only shyness and nervousness, there
had been something more--something indefinable, of pleasure and
hope--which made me feel sure that she had believed him to be
heart-whole, and not the property of any other girl, or about to
become so. Had she been in England, she would no doubt have heard
some of the gossip by which the engagements of people conspicuous in
society are usually preceded, but her recent absence abroad had, of
course, prevented any rumours of a flirtation between Captain Norroy
and Lady Emma from reaching her ears, and she must now be totally
unprepared to hear they were going to be married. Of course, it would
not matter to her an atom if she were fancy-free about him, and if
the romance I had constructed was a baseless one. But then I was
almost positive that it was _not_ baseless, and that the news would
be a blow to her, though she would doubtless strain every nerve to
conceal that fact.
My poor Kitty, thought I sorrowfully; and, immediately afterwards,
laughed at my own folly. How could I be so silly as to prefix the
possessive pronoun singular to the name of a person who was not mine
at all? Though she had always been kind and courteous to me, yet her
manner showed plainly that she regarded me as one of an inferior
order, between whom and herself existed, naturally, an impassable
barrier; and knowing this, why should I concern myself about her
troubles, as if she and I had been on terms of equality and intimate
friendship? It would be ridiculous to do anything of the kind. Had I
not resolved before now that I would put a check upon the inclination
to be fascinated by her, of which I was conscious? Certainly I had;
and yet how was I keeping that resolution if I let myself take her
affairs to heart, and feel sorry for her, and indignant with Captain
Norroy, as I was inclined to be at that moment? Provoked to see in
myself such a disposition to be weakly sentimental, I was glad when
my common-sense and turn for ridicule bestirred themselves, and
applied mentally a douche of cold water which cooled down my first
absurd impulse to be her ardent partisan.
After all, her affairs were no business of mine, and it was mere
folly to let myself be vexed about them in any way. It could do no
possible good, and I should be simply making myself uncomfortable for
nothing. Besides, if she could see into my mind, I might be very sure
that she would not approve of her maid's presuming to take so much
interest in her affairs, and would consider me impertinent and
officious.
Sensible reflections of this kind effectually repressed my previous
tendency to a foolish soft-heartedness; and I resumed my interrupted
perusal of the newspaper, and amused myself placidly during the rest
of the afternoon till nearly dinner-time, when my mistresses
returned.
I went to dress Kitty, wondering whether or not she had yet heard of
Captain Norroy's engagement. Anyhow, if she had, it had not troubled
her at all, for she was evidently in excellent spirits; and in that
respect presented a marked contrast to her aunt, who came into her
room during toilette operations, and who--as it was easy to see--had
something on her mind which disturbed her. At first, I took it into
my head, from this uneasiness, that Mrs. Rollin must have some
suspicion of her niece's being attached to Captain Norroy, and
that, having heard of his engagement to Lady Emma, she must now be
worrying herself as to how Kitty would take the news, and as to the
unhappiness the girl might suffer on account of it. But, from what
was said, I speedily discovered that Mrs. Rollin's disquietude arose
from a very different cause--neither more nor less than a pair of
stays.
"Do you know, Kitty," she said, "that I've been thinking, ever since
we left Jarrot's, of your flat refusal to have anything to do with
that pair of stays she wanted you to wear. I cannot feel satisfied
that you decided wisely. It's still not too late to change your mind,
you know. Are you _sure_ you won't give them a trial, and see how you
like them?"
Kitty laughed as if the scene at the dressmaker's was an amusing one
to recollect.
"Yes, I'm quite positive I won't," she answered; "they were at least
three inches too small for me, and I really _couldn't_ consent to
such a wholesale diminution of the circumference of my waist! I
suppose you are moved to plead for them by the recollection of
Jarrot's horror and distress when she found my objection to them was
quite invincible. Really I don't wonder. Her look of shocked and
surprised grief would have been pathetic if the cause hadn't made it
comic; and I was quite sorry to have to wound her feelings so
deeply."
"Oh no, my dear, of course, it isn't _that_," returned Mrs. Rollin,
somewhat pettishly; "what have I got to do with a dressmaker's
feelings? But what I was thinking of was, her declaring that small
waists are becoming so much the rage as to be almost indispensable;
and that no lady who cares to be _bien mise_ ever _thinks_ of
objecting to have her waist reduced to the smallest size possible.
Jarrot is safe to be a good authority on the subject, because she is
employed by quite the _crème de la crème_ of society. I am afraid you
think only of what you like; and forget that people who don't do the
same as their fellows are sure to be rash, even if not wrong."
"Only, then, one must draw a line somewhere," replied Kitty; "and
I draw it at having my internal arrangements shoved out of their
places. Not even to possess a small waist will I endure that! Jarrot
regarded it as a mere temporary inconvenience, to which I should soon
get reconciled, because she thought that what is comfortable is
simply whatever one was used to. But there I don't agree with her. It
amused me to see how confidently she quoted _il faut souffrir pour
être belle_, as if that must certainly settle the question. Somehow
or other, even that argument failed to persuade me to make myself
ill, though I am not a whit more deficient in vanity and care for my
personal appearance than the rest of my sex."
Mrs. Rollin sighed. "If you won't, you won't, of course," she said;
"still I should have thought you might have made the attempt to do as
others do, just for a little bit, as she wanted you to."
"You see I'm too fond of my precious comfort," answered Kitty,
merrily; "and, do you know, aunty, I've a great idea that I'm not
the only person in the family with that weakness, and that you, too,
sometimes like to go your own way, even if it isn't exactly the
cut-and-dried path followed by every one else."
"Kitty, Kitty, you shouldn't say things like that," expostulated her
aunt; "you know that I consider being different from other people to
be a proof of an ill-regulated mind; and that, therefore, to accuse
me of eccentric tastes is equivalent to saying I deserve blame.
Please remember that I _strongly_ object to your speaking in such a
most inconsiderate manner."
"All right, aunt," said Kitty, good humouredly; "I'm sorry I vexed
you--I'll be more careful another time. I didn't for a moment mean to
imply that you aren't all you should be, you know."
But though she said this, I don't think it followed that she believed
Mrs. Rollin's mind to be always in absolute conformity with its own
standard of perfection. Anyhow, there was a twinkle in Kitty's eye,
which made me doubtful on the subject.
Their toilettes being now completed, they descended to dinner,
leaving me quite satisfied that Kitty had no secret grief oppressing
her. It must be one of two things, then, I thought, as I watched her
going downstairs: either my theory is wrong from beginning to end, or
else she as yet knows nothing of this approaching marriage. However,
it is very likely that she may not have had time to look at the
papers yet, as they had only just come before she went out.
When next I saw her it was very different; and I no longer doubted
that I had been right in thinking she cared for Captain Norroy. About
an hour after dinner was over I was in her room arranging some
clothes, when the door opened, and she entered. Her head was
drooping, instead of being carried proudly thrown back as usual;
her face was deadly pale, and wore an expression of misery. On seeing
her like this, I felt sure that she must have just read the paragraph
concerning him, and had rushed off to be alone, so that she might be
relieved from the irksome restraint imposed by the presence of other
people, and might let her features relax for a while into whatever
expression of pain came natural to them.
In taking refuge in her own room she had evidently forgotten the
possibility of any one being there; for as soon as she saw me she
started violently, and seemed to strive to replace the mask, and look
the same as usual for a few moments longer.
"You can leave those things for the present, Jill," she said,
controlling her voice with an effort; "I have come to lie down, as I
have rather a bad headache."
I saw she longed to have me gone, and as I did not want to add to her
troubles, I prepared to take myself off as quickly as possible. But I
was bound to play my part of lady's-maid; and as I knew that it would
be an unheard-of solecism for such an official not to profess
sympathy--whether she really felt it or not--with her mistress'
ailments, I was obliged to pause a moment before departing, that I
might express concern for her headache, and ask if I should bring her
a cup of tea or coffee, or if there was anything else I could do for
her. My offer, however, was not accepted.
"All I want is to be left quiet," she said, rather impatiently; "if I
want you I will ring."
I withdrew accordingly. She stayed in her room by herself during the
remainder of the evening, saying that her headache was still bad.
At bedtime she summoned me to assist her as usual, and I thought
she looked perfectly wretched. She meant, however, to keep up
appearances, for when her aunt came in to inquire how she was, and
say good night, she exerted herself to seem as lively as usual. She
declared that her headache was all the fault of those stays Jarrot
had wanted her to have. The mere idea of such an enormity of tininess
had so shocked her nerves, liver, lungs, brain, and organs in
general, that they had felt bound to make some forcible demonstration
of disgust; and the demonstration had taken the shape of a headache.
A night's rest would put her all right, she said, if she did not
dream about those horrid stays; but if she were to have a nightmare
about wearing them, she really could not say _what_ might be the
consequences to her health. This nonsense was uttered with enough of
her customary vivacity to deceive Mrs. Rollin, who went away, quite
satisfied that there was nothing the matter except an ordinary
headache. But _I_ thought differently. I had seen Kitty's lips
quivering while she spoke, and had seen unmistakable traces of tears
in her eyes; I had felt that her head was burning hot, and the rest
of her body like ice; and these things made me believe that there was
something more amiss with her than a mere commonplace headache.
When I had performed my duties for the night, and gone to my own
room, my heart _would_ keep aching for her, in spite of my efforts to
restore it to its habitual condition of sensible hardness. Our recent
adventures in Corsica had taught me that she would face death and
danger unflinchingly; and I knew her to be exceptionally proud,
strong, and brave. Yet for all her strength, courage, and pride, she
seemed to be almost broken down to-night. And it naturally moves one
more to see such a person as that give way than to witness the
upsetting of a weaker mortal.
Anxiety about her, as I pictured to myself her solitary suffering,
and longed to be able to comfort her, kept me awake and restless.
What if she were to have a brain fever, or a nervous fever, or some
other kind of illness such as I had heard of being brought on by a
sudden mental shock? Perhaps at that very moment she was ill, and in
need of assistance. So uneasy did I become, that at last I could stay
away from her no longer, but determined to relieve my mind by going
at once to assure myself of her well-being.
I got up accordingly, put on a dressing-gown, and stole quietly to
the door of her room, where I stood listening for a minute, and
wondering whether she had had the good fortune to fall asleep. No;
for I heard a deep sigh, followed by an inarticulate, moaning sound,
which--though so low as to be hardly audible--had something about it
that seemed to me unutterably sad and forlorn. An incontrollable
impulse seized me to go to her and try if I could not find some way
of being of use or comfort to her. But I could not enter the room
unless she choose to admit me, for she always kept her door locked at
night when in a hotel. I knocked gently, and she responded, "_Qui
est-ce_?"
"It is Jill," I replied; "may I come in? I came to see if your head
is still bad? and if so, if I shall bathe it with eau de cologne, or
fetch you anything, or try and read you to sleep, or do anything else
for you?"
"Oh no, thanks," she answered in a weary voice; "pray go to bed and
leave me, for I am better to be quite alone. You know if I want
anything I can ring."
Was the reminder of the bell intended as a gentle hint that it was
officious to disturb her with an offer of services which she could
command if she required them? That was the light in which I regarded
it, at all events; and I left her door, feeling that I had been a
fool for my pains, and richly deserved the snub I had received. I
asked myself scornfully what had made me try to obtain admittance
into the room? what good it could have been? and what I supposed I
should have done had she opened the door to me? Should I have flung
my arms around her, and told her that I knew all, and was come
to comfort her, or behaved in some similarly gushing manner?
Most certainly not! I knew better than to imagine that an absurd
demonstration of that kind would gratify her from any one, and, least
of all, from a servant. Besides, when she was doing all she could to
keep her trouble and its cause a profound secret, it would hardly
have been a happy method of consolation to go and inform her that her
efforts had failed, and that her secret was no secret at all. What,
then, _should_ I have done? I had not the remotest notion, and was
forced to confess that my impulse to be with her had been simply a
piece of sentimental, impractical folly, which it was very lucky I
had not been able to indulge. I could not possibly have done anything
to help her, and it would clearly have been wiser and kinder of me to
have left her in peace; and, laughing at myself bitterly, and feeling
decidedly small and ridiculous in my own eyes, I retired to bed.