The Honorable Miss: A Story of an Old-Fashioned Town

  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 hadenjoyed splendid health; she was unacquainted with headaches; neuralgia,rheumatism, gout, the supposed banes of the present day, never troubledher.

  Now, however, she had absolutely an attack of the nerves. Mabel foundher mother, on coming to wish her good-morning one day, shivering soviolently that she could not complete her dressing. Loftus was not athome. He had rejoined his regiment for a brief spell, so Catherine andMabel 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 excitedwhen his wife rushed in to tell him that he was summoned in haste to theManor.

  "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 ifthe carpet is really felt. Mrs. Gorman Stanley swears that it is, butfor my part I can scarce give credence to such an unlikely story, forsurely no woman who could only afford a felt covering for the floor ofher best sitting-room would give herself the airs Mrs. Bertram hasdone."

  "Just see that my black bag is ready, Jessie," was the husband's retortto this tirade. "And you might hurry John round with the pony-chaise."

  Dr. Morris felt intensely proud as he drove off to see his augustpatient. He drew up his rough pony once or twice to announce the fact toany 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 thestreet. 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 knownby this name.

  "Good-morning, good-morning," he called in his cheery tones, andscarcely drawing in the pony at all now. "I meant to look round in thecourse 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, hadturned the corner and was out of sight.

  The fashionable disease of nerves had not yet become an epidemic atNorthbury, and Dr. Morris was a little puzzled at the symptoms which hisgreat patient exhibited. He was proud to speak of Mrs. Bertram as his"great patient," and told her to her face in rather a fulsome mannerthat he considered it the highest possible honor to attend her. Heordered 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 whenhe departed she scolded Catherine and Mabel for having sent for him,tore up his prescription, wrote one for herself, which she sent to thechemist to have made up, and desired Catherine to give her a glass ofport wine from one of a treasured few bottles of a rare vintage whichshe had brought with her to Rosendale.

  "It was a few days after her visit to the Meadowsweets that Mrs. Bertramhad been taken ill. She soon became quite well again, and then ratherastonished Catherine by telling her that she had herself seen BeatriceMeadowsweet; that she had found her daughter's judgment with regard toher to be apparently correct, and that, in consequence, she did notobject 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 ofabsence from his military duties, reappeared on the scenes. As has beenseen, Loftus would admit of no restrictions with regard to hisacquaintances, and after the remarkable fashion of some young men, hetried to secure an interest in the affections of Beatrice by flirtingwith Matty Bell.

  Mrs. Bertram knew nothing of these iniquities on the part of her son. Itnever entered even into her wildest dreams that any son or daughter ofher could associate with people of the stamp of the Bells. Even had shebeen aware of it, however, she knew better than to try to coerce hercaptain.

  She had quite worries enough of her own, poor woman, and not the leastof them, in the eyes of the girls, was the fresh mania she took forsaving. Meals had never been too plentiful at Rosendale. Now, the onlyremark that could be made in their favor was that they satisfied hunger.Healthy girls will eat any wholesome food, and when Loftus was not athome, Catherine and Mabel Bertram made their breakfast off porridge.

  Mabel ate hungrily, and grumbled not a little. Catherine was alsohungry, but she did not grumble. She was never one to care greatly forthe luxuries of life, and all her thoughts now were taken up watchingher mother. The effect of her mother's sudden confidence in her, theeffect of the trouble which had undoubtedly come to her mother hadaltogether an extraordinary influence over Catherine. She ceased to be awild and reckless tom-boy, she ceased to defy her mother in smallmatters; her character seemed to gain strength, and her face, alwaysstrong in its expression and giving many indications of latent power ofcharacter, looked now more serious than gay, more sweet and thoughtfulthan fastidious and discontented.

  Catherine had plenty of tact, and she watched her mother withoutappearing to watch her. She was loyal, too, in heart and soul, and nevereven 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 forbreakfast. It was always difficult to manage a pleasant breakfast hourwhen Loftus was at home. Mrs. Bertram used to flush up painfully whenLoftus objected to the viands placed before him, and Catherine was mostanxious to spare her mother by satisfying the fastidious tastes of herbrother.

  "Why should Loftus have all the raspberries?" angrily queried Mabel. "Ishould like some myself, and so would you, Kate. Why should Loftus haveeverything?"

  "Nonsense, May, he's not going to have everything. This plate of specialbeauties 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, forthe lords of creation would be so angry if they knew. But I do think inlittle things girls are much greater than men. Now what girl who isworth anything cares whether she eats a few raspberries or not. While asto 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 veryhot morning, and it really was aggravating of Kate to fly on the wingsof the wind, and expect her to follow.

  "Kate has no thought," she muttered, as she panted along. "I shall feelhot and messy for the day now, and there's nothing nice for me to eatwhen I do get in. It's all very fine to be Kate, who, I don't think, ismortal at all about some things, but I expect I'm somewhat of a cry-babytoo, when I see all the nice appetizing food disappearing down a certainmanly throat. Hullo, what's the matter now, Kitty?"

  Catherine was standing by the window of the breakfast-room waving anopen note in her hand.

  "Three cheers for you, Mabel! You may be as greedy as you please. Theknight of the raspberry plantation has departed. Read this; I found iton my plate."

  Catherine was about to toss the note to Mabel, when a hand was putquietly over her shoulder, and Mrs. Bertram took Loftus's letter toread.

  "Mother, I didn't know you were down."

  "I just came in, my dear, and heard you speaking to Mabel. What isthis?"

  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 atall about a recall in the afternoon yesterday, and to have to leave usbefore we are out of bed in the morning. Did anybody see Loftus go? Hadhe any breakfast?"

  Catherine flew away to inquire of Clara, and Mabel said in an injuredvoice:

  "I dare say Loftie had a telegram sent to him to the club. Anyhow, hehas all the excitement and all the pleasure. I watched him through thespy-glass last night. He was in the Bells' boat, and Beatrice was allalone in hers. Beatrice was talking to Loftus and the boats were almosttouching. 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 himgo; he certainly had no breakfast."

  Mrs. Bertram was silent for a few moments; then, suppressing a sigh, shesaid, in a would-be cheerful tone:

  "Well, my loves, we must enjoy our breakfasts, even without the recreantLoftus. Mabel, my dear, what delicious raspberries! They give me quitean appetite."

  "Kitty picked them for you, mother," said Mabel. "She has beentreasuring a special bush for you for a week past."

  Mrs. Bertram looked up at her eldest daughter and smiled at her. Thatsmile, 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 toyedwith 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 himbreakfast," said Catherine.

  Her mother again glanced at her with a shadow of approval on her wornface. Artful Kitty had made this speech on purpose; she knew that anypraise of Loftus was balm to her mother.

  After breakfast Mrs. Bertram showed rather unwonted interest in herdaughters' plans.

  "It is such a lovely day I should like you to go on the water," shesaid. "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 withunwonted calm and gentleness:

  "I have a fixed income, my dear Mabel, but, as you know, we have come toNorthbury 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 hervoice. Unusual as it may be with any girl brought up in such a worldlymanner, Catherine hated to take advantage of people.

  "You mistake me, Kate," said her mother, shrinking back from herdaughter's eyes, as if she had received a blow. "I want you to have thepleasure of Beatrice Meadowsweet's friendship."

  "Oh, yes," replied Catherine, relieved.

  "And," continued the mother, her voice growing firm and her dark eyesmeeting her daughter's fully, "I don't mean to be out in the cold, so Ishall make a friend of Mrs. Meadowsweet."

  Mabel burst into a merry girlish laugh. Catherine walked across thegrass to pick a rose. Mrs. Bertram took the rose from her daughter'shand, although she knew and Catherine knew that it was never intendedfor her. She smelt the fragrant, half-open bud, then placed it in herdress, with a simple, "Thank you, my dear."

  "I am going to write a note to Mrs. Meadowsweet," she said, after aminute or two. "I know Beatrice is coming here this afternoon. It wouldgive 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 readin the house, just as you please. I will write my note quietly, and whenit is written take it down to Tester at the lodge. No, thank you, myloves, I should really like the walk, and would prefer to take italone."

  Mrs. Bertram then returned to her drawing-room, sat down by herdavenport, 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 herdashing and lady-like hand, and then in a slow and stately fashionproceeded to walk down the avenue to the lodge. She was always ratherslow in her movements, and she was slower than usual to-day. Shescarcely owned to herself that she was tired, worried--in short, thatthe strong vitality within her was sapped at its foundation.

  A man or a woman can often live for a long time after this operationtakes place, but they are never the same again. They go slowly, with thegait of those who are halt, through life.

  Mrs. Bertram reached the lodge, and after the imperious fashion of herclass did not even knock at the closed door before she lifted the latchand went in.

  It was a shabby, little, tumble-down lodge. It needed papering, andwhite-washing, and cleaning; in winter the roof let in rain, and therickety, ill-fitting windows admitted the cold and wind. Now, however,it was the middle of summer. Virginia creeper and ivy, honeysuckle andjasmine, nearly covered the walls. The little place looked picturesquewithout; and within, honest, hard-working Mrs. Tester contrived withplentiful scouring and washing to give a clean and cosy effect.

  Mrs. Bertram, as she stepped into the kitchen, noticed the nice littlefire in the bright grate (the lodge boasted of no range); she also saw apile of buttered toast on the hob, and the tiny kitchen was fragrantwith the smell of fresh coffee.

  Mrs. Bertram was not wrong when she guessed that Tester and his wife didnot live on these dainty viands.

  "I'm just preparing breakfast, ma'am, for our young lady lodger," saidgood 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 liketo be near the fire, my lady, I'm sure." (The Testers generally spoke tothe great woman in this way--she did not trouble herself to contradictthem.) "Well, my lady, she come last night by the train. It was Davis'scab brought her up, and set her down, her and her bits of things, justoutside the lodge. Nothing would please her but that we should give herthe front bedroom and the little parlor inside this room and she is topay us fifteen shillings a week, to cover board and all. It's a greatlift for Tester and me, and she's a nice-spoken young lady, and pleasantto look at, too. Oh, yes, miss---I beg your pardon, miss. I was just abringing of your breakfast in, miss."

  The door had been opened behind Mrs. Bertram. She started and turned, asa tall, slim girl with a head of ruddy gold hair, a rather pale, fairface, and big bright eyes, came in.

  The girl looked at Mrs. Bertram quickly and eagerly. Mrs. Bertram lookedback at her. Neither woman flinched as she gazed, only gradually overMrs. Bertram's face there stole a greeny-white hue.

  The girl came a little nearer. Old Mrs. Tester bustled past her with thehot 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 mysolicitor. Do you wish the bargain undone?"

  "I sincerely wish it undone."

  "I think you don't," said Mrs. Bertram, slowly. She laughed in adisagreeable 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 toyou."

  Josephine led the way into the little sitting-room; she offered a cha
irto Mrs. Bertram, who would not take it. Then she went and shut the doorbetween the kitchen and the parlor, and standing with her back to theshut 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 mydaughter gave of you. She saw you, remember, that night you hid in theavenue."

  "I did not know it was that," said Josephine softly; "I thought it wasthe likeness. I am the image of _him_, am I not?"

  She took a small morocco case out of her pocket and proceeded to openit.

  Mrs. Bertram put her hand up to her eyes as if she would shut away aterrible 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 thematter, Mrs. Bertram?"

  Mrs. Bertram sank down into the chair which at first she had obstinatelyrefused.

  "Josephine," she said, "I am no longer a young woman; I have not got thestrength of youth. I cannot bear up as the young can bear up. Why haveyou come here? What object have you in torturing me with your presencehere?"

  "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 tochoose 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; Iwill be silent for a little. I won't injure you or yours by word ordeed."

  "You have a story in your head, a false story; you will spread itabroad."

  "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 willbe 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 watchyou, 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, Ithink, they can live through it."

  Mrs. Bertram turned and left the little parlor. She gave her note toMrs. Tester, desired it to be taken at once to the Gray House, and thenreturned quietly and steadily to the Manor. When she got in she calledCatherine to her.

  "Kate, the girl you saw hiding in the avenue has come to live at thelodge."

  "Mother!"

  "I have seen her and spoken to her, my dear daughter. She is nothingeither to you or me. Take no notice of her."

  "Very well, mother."

  Meanwhile, in her little parlor, in the old lodge, Josephine stood withher hands clasped, and fiery lights of anger, disappointment, pain,flashing from her eyes. Were that woman's words true? Had Loftus Bertramgone 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 afright. She thought Josephine Hart looked dangerous. She was right. Noone could be more dangerous if she chose.