Nell woke with that sickening sense of loss which all of us have
experienced--that is, all of us who have gone to bed with sorrow lying
heavily upon our hearts. The autumnal sun was pouring in through the
windows, the birds were singing; some of them waiting on the tree
outside for the crumbs which Nell had been in the habit, ever since she
was a child, of throwing to them. Even in her misery of last night she
had not forgotten the birds; in the misery of her awakening she
remembered them, and went unsteadily to the lattice window.
The keen air, as it blew upon her face, brought the full consciousness
of the sorrow that had befallen her.
Yesterday morning she was the happiest girl in all the world; this
morning she was the most wretched.
She put her hands to her face, as if some one had struck her, and she
called all her woman's courage to meet and combat her trouble. The
bright world seemed pressing down upon her heavily, the shrill notes of
the birds clamoring their gratitude as they greedily fought for the
crumbs, pierced through her head. She swayed to and fro, as if she were
about to fall; for, in the young, mental anguish produces an absolute
physical pain, and her head as well as her heart was aching.
She would have liked to have thrown herself upon the bed, but Dick would
be clamoring for his breakfast presently, and Mrs. Lorton would want her
chocolate. Life is a big wheel, and one has to push it round, though its
edges are set with spikes of steel, and our hands are torn in the effort
to keep it moving.
As she dressed herself with trembling hands, she kept saying to
herself--her lips quivering with the unspoken words:
"I have lost Drake--I have lost Drake; I have got to bear it!"
He would be here presently--or, perhaps, he would not come. Perhaps he
would write to her. And yet, no; that would not be like him; he was no
coward; he would come and tell her the truth, would ask her to forgive
him.
And what should she say? Yes; she would forgive him; she would make no
"scene" with him; she would not utter one word of reproach, but just
tell him that he was free. She would even smile, if she could; would
assure him that she was not going to break her heart because the woman
he had loved before he had met her--Nell--had won him back. After all,
he was not to blame. How could any man resist such a woman as Lady Luce?
She--Nell--was just an interlude in his life's story; he had thought
himself in love with her; and, perhaps, if this beautiful creature,
before whom all hearts seemed to go down, had not desired to lure him
back, he would have remained faithful to the "little girl" whom he had
chanced to meet at that "out-of-the-way place in Devonshire, don't you
know." Nell could almost hear Lady Luce referring to the episode in
these terms, if ever it should come to her ears.
No; there should be no scene. She would give him both her hands, would
say "good-by" quite calmly, and would then take her broken heart to the
solitude of her own room, and try to begin to repair it.
Dick shouted for his breakfast, and she went downstairs. He was busy
reading a letter, and his face was full of eagerness, his eyes sparkling
with excitement.
"I say, Nell, what a good chap Drake is!" he exclaimed. "He never said a
word to me about it; but he's been worrying Bardsley & Bardsley for
weeks past, and they've written to say that they think they can take me
on. Just think of it! Bardsley & Bardsley! The biggest firm in the
engineering line! Drake must have a great deal of influence; and I don't
know how on earth he managed it. I didn't know he knew any one connected
with the profession. It's a most splendid chance, you know!"
Nell went round beside him, and laid her hand upon his shoulder.
"I am very glad, Dick," she said.
Something in her voice must have struck him, for he looked up at her
quickly, and with surprise.
"Why, what's the matter, Nell?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said. "I have a headache."
"Just so. 'After the opera is over,' you know. That's the penalty one
pays for one's first dance. And you were queer last night, too, weren't
you? Why didn't you lie in bed?"
"Never mind me," said Nell. "Tell me about this letter. When are you
going, Dick?"
A fresh pang smote her. Was she going to lose the boy as well?
"Oh, they don't say," he replied. "They're going to let me know. They
may send me abroad; you can't tell. What a good chap Drake is, and what
a lot we owe him? Upon my word, Nell, you're a lucky girl to have got
hold of such a fellow for your young man."
Nell turned away with a sickening pain about her heart. No; she would
not tell the boy at this moment. She wouldn't spoil his happiness with
the wet blanket of her own misery. She must even, when she came to tell
him, make light of the broken engagement, take the blame upon herself,
and prevent any rupture of the friendship between Drake and Dick.
He was almost too excited to eat any breakfast; certainly too excited to
notice Nell's untouched cup and plate.
"I must see Drake about this at once," he said. "I think I'll go down
and meet him. He's sure to be coming up here, isn't he?" he added, with
a bantering smile; and Nell actually tried to smile back at him.
As she took the chocolate up to Mrs. Lorton, she tried to put her own
trouble out of her head, and to think only of Dick's good fortune. How
she had longed for some such chance as this to come to the boy, and now
it had come. But who had sent it? Drake! Well, all the more reason that
she should forgive him, and utter no word of reproach or bitterness.
"You are ten minutes late, Eleanor!" said Mrs. Lorton peevishly. "And,
good heavens! what a sight you look! If one late night has this effect
upon you, what would half a dozen have? I am quite sure that I never
looked half as haggard and colorless as you do, even when I'd been
through a whole season." For a moment the good lady was quite convinced
that she had been a fashionable belle. "I should advise you to keep out
of Drake's sight for an hour or two; at any rate, until you have got
some color in your face, and your eyes have ceased to look like boiled
gooseberries."
The mention of Drake brought the color to Nell's face quickly enough,
but for an instant only. It was white again, as she resolved to tell
Mrs. Lorton that the engagement was broken off.
"It doesn't matter, mamma," she said; and she tried to smile.
Mrs. Lorton stared at her over the chocolate.
"Doesn't matter?" she echoed. "You think he's so madly in love with you
that it doesn't matter how you look, I suppose? Don't lay that
flattering unction to your soul, Eleanor. I've known many an engagement
broken off in consequence of the man coming suddenly upon the girl when
she had a bad cold and had got a red nose and eyes."
"Perhaps I've had a bad cold without knowing it, mamma, and Drake must
have come upon me when my nose and eyes were appallingly red, for our
engagement--is--broken--off."
Mrs. Lorton nearly dropped the cup of chocolate, and stared and gasped
like a fish out of water.
"Broken off!" she exclaimed. "Take this cup away! Give me the sal
volatile. Open the window! No, don't open the window! What are you
talking about? Are you out of your mind?"
Nell took the cup, got the sal volatile, and soothed the flustered woman
in a mechanical fashion.
"Hush, hush, mamma!" she said. "I don't want Dick to know yet."
"But why--how----What have you been doing?" demanded Mrs. Lorton; and
Nell could have laughed.
"Nothing very bad, mamma," she said.
"But you must have," insisted Mrs. Lorton. "Of course it's your fault."
"Is it absolutely necessary that there should be any fault?" said Nell
wearily. "But let us say that it is my fault. Perhaps it is!" She
laughed unconsciously, and with a touch of bitterness. "What does it
matter whose fault it is? The reason isn't of any consequence at all;
the fact is the only important thing, and it is a fact that our
engagement is broken. It was broken last night, and I tell you at once,
mamma; and I want to beg you not to ask me any questions. Drake--Mr.
Vernon--will no doubt go away to-day, and we shan't see him any more."
She went to the window to arrange the blind, and Mrs. Lorton didn't see
the twitching of the white lips which spoke so calmly. "And I want to
forget him; I want you, too, to try and forget him, and not to remind me
of him by a single word. It was very foolish, my thinking that he cared
for me----Oh, I can't say another word----"
She stopped suddenly, her hands writhing together.
Mrs. Lorton stared at the counterpane with a half-sly, half-speculative
expression in her faded eyes.
"After all," she said meditatively, "it was not such a particularly good
match. One knows nothing about him or his people, and--and I suppose
you've not felt quite satisfied. Yes, perhaps you might do better. You
may have some chances now. You've read the letter, and made up your
mind, of course?"
"The letter?" echoed Nell stupidly.
Mrs. Lorton stared at her angrily, and with a flush of resentment on her
peevish face.
"The letter I gave you last night, of course," she said. "Do you mean to
tell me that you haven't read it? The most important letter I have ever
received! At least, it is of the greatest importance to you. It is from
my cousin, Lord Wolfer. What have you done with it, Eleanor?"
Nell put her hand to her head.
"I must have left it in my room," she said. "I will go and fetch it."
Mrs. Lorton snorted.
"Such gross carelessness and indifference is really shameful!" she flung
after Nell.
Nell found the letter beside the bed, and returned with it to Mrs.
Lorton's room.
"Why, it's all crumpled up, as if you had been playing shuttlecock with
it!" exclaimed Mrs. Lorton indignantly. "It is absolutely disrespectful
of you, not to say ungrateful. Read it, if you please, and slowly; I
could not bear to have my cousin's letter gabbled over. I, at least,
know what is due to a Wolfer."
It was a moment or two before Nell's burning eyes could accomplish the
task of deciphering the lines of handwriting which seemed to have been
formed by a paralytic spider that had fallen into the ink and scrambled
spasmodically across the paper. There was no need to tell her to read
slowly, and she stumbled over every other word of the letter, which ran
thus:
"MY DEAR SOPHIA: You will doubtless be surprised at hearing from me,
and, indeed, I should not have written, for, as you are aware, my time
is fully occupied with public affairs, and I rarely write private
letters; but I have promised Lady Wolfer to communicate with you
directly, as, for obvious reasons, which you will presently see, she
does not desire my secretary to know of the proposal which I am about
to make you; as, in the event of your declining the proposition, there
would be no need for the fact of its having been made to become the
common knowledge of my household and the servants' hall. As you are
doubtless aware, by reading the public prints, Lady Wolfer takes a great
interest and a prominent part in the movement which is being made toward
the amelioration of the position of woman; indeed, I may say, with
pardonable pride, that she is one of the great leaders in this social
revolution, which, we trust, will place woman upon the throne from which
man has hitherto thrust her.
"This being so, Lady Wolfer's time is, as you will readily understand,
much absorbed; so completely, indeed, that she is unable to pay any
attention to those smaller and meaner; household cares to which women
less highly gifted very properly devote so much of their time. Having no
daughter of our own, it occurred to us that it might, perhaps, be a
beneficial arrangement for your stepdaughter, Miss Lorton, if she would
come to us and render Lady Wolfer such assistance as is afforded by the
ordinary housekeeper. You will say: Why not engage a duly qualified
person for the post? I reply: We have done so, and do not find the
ordinary person, though apparently duly qualified, satisfactory. Lady
Wolfer is of an extremely sensitive and delicate organization, and it is
absolutely necessary that the person with whom she would be brought in
daily contact should be young and docile.
"I have referred to the photograph of Miss Lorton which you were good
enough to send me some months ago, and you will be pleased to hear that
Lady Wolfer approves of the young lady's personal appearance. I take it
for granted--you, her guardian, being a Wolfer--that she has been
properly trained; and if she should be willing to come to us on what is
termed a month's trial, we shall be very pleased to receive her. She may
come at any moment, and without any notice beyond a mere telegram. I
will not speak of the advantages accruing from such a position as that
which she would hold, for I am quite sure you will be duly sensible of
them, and will point them out to her.
"I trust that you are in good health, and with best wishes for your
prosperity and happiness,
"I remain, dear Sophia, yours very truly,
"WOLFER.
"P. S.--I omitted to say that I should be pleased to pay Miss Lorton an
honorarium of fifty guineas per annum."
At another time Nell would have found it difficult to refrain from
laughing at the stilted phraseology of the letter, at the pomposity
with which the proposal was made, and the meanness which strove to hide
itself in a postscript; but a Punch and Judy show would have seemed a
funereal performance at that moment, and she stared as blankly at the
letter when she had finished it as if she had been reading some language
which had no meaning for her.
Mrs. Lorton emitted a cough of self-satisfaction.
"It is extremely kind and thoughtful of my Cousin Wolfer," she said;
"and I must say that I think you are an extremely fortunate girl,
Eleanor, to have had such an offer made you. Of course, if you had been
still engaged to Mr. Vernon, you would have been obliged to have sent a
refusal to Lord Wolfer; but, as it is, I presume you will not hesitate
for a moment, but will jump at such an opportunity."
Nell looked before her blankly, and remained silent.
"It will be a chance such as few girls of your position ever meet with;
for, of course, when my cousin speaks of a housekeeper, he does not wish
us to infer that you would be expected to take the position of a menial.
No; he will not forget that though you are not my daughter, I married
your father, and that you are, therefore, connected with the family. Of
course, you will go into society, you will meet the elite and the creme
de la creme, and will, therefore, enjoy advantages similar to those
which I enjoyed, but which I, alas! threw away. Really, when one comes
to consider it, this breach of your engagement with this Mr. Vernon is
quite providential, as it removes the only obstacle to your accepting my
cousin's noble offer."
Nell woke with a start when the stream of self-complacent comment had
ceased, and realized that she was being asked to decide. What should she
do? To leave Shorne Mills, to go into the world among strangers, to
enter a big house as a poor relation--she shrank from the prospect for a
moment, then she nerved herself to face it. After all, she could never
be happy at Shorne Mills again. Every tree, every rock, every human
being would remind her of Drake, of the lover she had lost. With Dick
gone, there would be nothing for her to do, nothing to distract her mind
from the perpetual brooding over the few past weeks of happiness, and
the long, gray life before her. With these people there would be sure to
be some work for her, something that would save her from spending every
hour in futile regret and hopeless longing.
"Well, Eleanor?" demanded Mrs. Lorton impatiently.
"I have made up my mind; I will go," said Nell.
Mrs. Lorton flushed eagerly.
"Of course you will," she said. "It would be wicked and ungrateful to
neglect such a chance. When will you go? Fortunately, you have some new
clothes, and you will get what else you want in London. There are one
or two things I should like you to get for me. You could pick them up at
some of the sales; they are all on now, and things are sold ridiculously
cheap. And, Eleanor, be sure and send me a full description of Lady
Wolfer's dresses. You might snip off a pattern, perhaps. And I shall
want to hear all about the people who go to the house, and the dinner
parties and entertainments. I should say that it is not at all unlikely
that Lady Wolfer may ask me to go and stay there. Of course, she will be
curious to know what I am like--have I mentioned that we have never
met?--and you will tell her that I--I--have been accustomed to the
society in which she moves; and you might say that you are sure the
change will do me good. Write often, and be sure and tell me about the
dresses."
"But I shall leave you all alone, mamma," said Eleanor. "Are you sure
you won't be lonely?"
Mrs. Lorton drew a long sigh, and assumed the air of a martyr.
"You know me too well to think that I should allow my selfish comfort to
stand in the way of your advancement, Eleanor. Of course, I shall miss
you. But do not think of that. Let us think only of your welfare. I
shall have Molly, and must be content."
Nell checked a sigh at the evident affectation of the profession. It was
not in Mrs. Lorton to miss any human being so long as her own small
comforts were assured.
"Then I think I will go at once--to-night," said Nell. "Why should I
not? They want me--some one--at once, and----"
"Certainly," assented Mrs. Lorton eagerly. "I should go at once. You
will write immediately, and tell me what the house is like, and the
dresses."
Nell went downstairs, feeling rather confused and bewildered by the
sudden change in her life. She was to have been Drake's wife; she was
now to be--what was it, companion, housekeeper?--to Lady Wolfer!
Dick met her at the bottom of the stairs.
"I can't find Drake," he said, of course, with an injured air. "They say
he left the cottage early this morning--they thought he was coming up
here, as usual; but he hasn't been, has he?"
Nell shook her head.
"See, Dick, I've some news for you," she said. "I am going to London."
She gave him the letter to read, and he read it, with a running
commentary of indignant and scoffing exclamations.
"Of all the pompous, stuck-up letters, it's the worst I ever imagined!
And you say you're going? Oh, but look here! What will Drake say?"
Nell turned away.
"I don't think he will object," she said, almost inaudibly.
Dick stared at her.
"Look here, young party, what is up between you two? Is there anything
wrong? Oh, dash it! don't look as if I'd said there was a ghost behind
you! What is it?"
"Drake--Drake and I are not going to be married," she said, trying to
smile, but breaking down in the attempt. "We--we have agreed--to--to
part!"
Dick uttered a low whistle, and gazed at her, aghast.
"All off!" he said. "Phew! Why--when--how?"
She began to collect some of her small belongings--a tiny workbasket,
some books, and such like, and answered as she moved to and fro,
studiously keeping her face turned away from him:
"I can't tell you; don't ask me, Dick. Don't--don't ask him. It--it is
all right. It is all for the best, as mamma would say; and--and----" She
went behind him and laid her hand on his shoulder, her favorite attitude
when she was serious or pleading. "And mind, Dick, it is to make no
difference between you--and Drake. It--is--yes, it is all my fault. I--I
was foolish and----"
She could bear no more; and, with a quick movement of her hand to her
throat, hastened from the room.
Dick looked after her ruefully for a moment or two, then his face
cleared, and he winked to himself.
"What an ass I am to be upset by a lovers' quarrel. Of course, it's all
in the game. The other business would pall after a time if there wasn't
a little of this kind of thing chucked in for a change. I wonder whether
that jolly girl, Miss Angel, will come down to the lunch? Now, there's a
girl no chap could have even a lovers' quarrel with. Poor old Drake! Bet
I shall find 'em billing and cooing as usual when I come back," And Dick
grinned as he marched off with his gun.