Although she searchingly scrutinised her niece’s appearance, Mrs.
Fenchurch failed to discover any trace of actual misery in face or
attitude. Certainly Letty was pale; but the weather was exceptionally
trying, and Mrs. Denton, who had been as good as her word, assured
her that the child had taken her ‘little talk’ in the best part, and
behaved beautifully!
Yet Letty, for all her outward composure, was absolutely wretched; her
little glimpse into Paradise had been speedily eclipsed. So she must
never think of Lancelot Lumley, nor he of her, and she now seemed to
sit in a prison behind bars, and in outer darkness. Her only comforts
were her uncle, with his cheery nature and his warm affection, and
Sam the pug. Lancelot had liked Sam, and said he was ‘a good sort,’
and up in her own room she confided many sorrows to Sam, and laid
her wet cheek against his velvet jowl, and dropped tears over his
fawn head, whilst he snorted, goggled, and sympathised dog-fashion.
Among her little circle, it was surprising how reserved and secretive
Letty could be; the only one who divined her trouble, was eagle-eyed
Mrs. Hesketh--who understood and marvelled at the little girl’s pride
and fortitude. The lady also experienced some sharp twinges from a
rather drowsy conscience. She had been wrong to bring the young people
together, and now, as she half feared, _they_ were paying. As a sop to
her remorse, she presented Letty with a superb sable boa; but even this
had no effect--positively it might as well have been rabbit skin! for
all the girl seemed to care.
One evening Letty was returning from Oldcourt. Something its mistress
had said, a little word and a sympathetic look, had touched her. She
refrained herself until she was alone in the dusk, and then gave way to
an outburst of tears--tears usually reserved for the night, and her own
apartment. But now she wept openly and without restraint.
Fortunately there was no one to be seen, as she walked on past The
Holt to the Crooked Bridge, and there sat down on the parapet, and
had her cry out. Here on this very bridge he had called her ‘Letty,’
here on the same spot, she must make up her mind to thrust him out of
her heart, and strangle her folly. Oh, it was folly; cruel, painful,
_aching_ folly! After a while she dried her eyes and proceeded to make
her way slowly homewards--earnestly hoping that she might steal up to
her own room unobserved; but Fortune, as usual, failed to befriend her!
As she crept past the drawing-room door it stood half open, and she
caught a glimpse of her aunt sitting at the fire in a ruminative
attitude.
“Is that you, Letty?” she called out. “What makes you so late? Come
here, my dear!”
Aunt Dorothy was apparently in a good-humour--possibly the Duchess had
called. Letty hastily glanced into the hall glass, straightened her
hat, and rubbed her swollen eyes.
When she presented herself, Mrs. Fenchurch turned half round in her
chair, and stared as if she could not believe her senses.
“Good God!” she exclaimed at last--in moments of violent excitement she
borrowed the forcible language of her hard-riding brothers--“Where have
you been? and what has happened?”
“Happened?” repeated the girl in a dull voice. “Nothing.”
“Come, there’s no use in telling me a lie--your eyes look as if they
were set in red flannel, and your face is in dirty streaks!”
“I--I--I’m afraid I’m getting a bad cold in my head, Aunt Dorothy.”
“How sickening! Friday--and this is Wednesday. Well, you must go to
bed at once, and take a large dose of ammoniated quinine. As for your
dinner, it shall be gruel.”
“But really, Aunt Dorothy----” protested the miserable victim.
“But really, Letty, you are a hideous object,” interrupted Mrs.
Fenchurch in her most inflexible manner. “Your nose is swelled to the
size of a turnip. I’ve just had a note from Mr. Blagdon,” touching an
envelope in her lap. “He is back at Ridgefield, now the thaw has come,
and invites himself to lunch here on Friday, so I’ve barely two days
to patch you up and make you fit to be seen. Now, my dear child, go off
at once and bundle into bed as quickly as you can; I’ll bring you the
gruel with lots of sulphur in it, within half an hour.”