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

  CHAPTER XVII.

  THE WITCH WITH THE YELLOW HAIR.

  A corner is a very pretty addition to a room, and a cleft-stick has beenknown to present a more picturesque appearance than a straight one. Butto find oneself, metaphorically speaking, pushed into the corner orwedged into the cleft of the stick is neither picturesque nor pleasant.

  This was Mrs. Bertram's present position. She had suddenly, and at amoment when she least expected it, been confronted with the ghost ofa long ago past. The ghost of a past, so remote that she had almostforgotten it, had come back and stared her in the face. This ghost hadassumed terrible dimensions, and the poor woman was dreadfully afraidof it.

  She had taken a hurried journey to London in the vain hope of laying it.Alas! it would not be laid. Most things, however, can be bought at aprice, and Mrs. Bertram had bought the silence of this troublesome ghostof the past. She had bought it at a very heavy cost.

  Her money was in the hands of trustees; she dared not go to them toassist her, therefore, the only price she could pay was out of heryearly income.

  To quiet this troublesome ghost she agreed to part with four hundreda year. A third of her means was, therefore, taken away with one fellswoop. Loftus must still have his allowance, for Loftus of all peoplemust know nothing of his mother's anxieties. Mrs. Bertram and her girlswould, therefore, have barely five hundred a year to live on. Out ofthis sum she would still struggle to save, but she knew she could savebut little. She knew that all chance of introducing Catherine and Mabelinto society was at an end. She had dreamed dreams for her girls, andthese dreams must come to nothing. She had hoped many things for themboth, she had thought that all her care and trouble would receive itsfruition some day in Catherine's establishment, and that Mabel wouldalso marry worthily. In playing with her grandchildren by-and-bye, Mrs.Bertram thought that she might relax her anxieties and feel that herlabors had not been in vain. She must put these hopes aside now, for hergirls would probably never marry. They would live on at this dull oldManor until their youth had left them, and their sweet, fresh bloomdeparted.

  Mrs. Bertram thought of the girls, but no compunctions with regard tothem caused her to hesitate even for a moment. She loved some one elsemuch better than these bright-eyed lasses. Loftus was the darling of hismother's heart. It was bad to sacrifice girls, but it was impossible tosacrifice the beloved and only son.

  Mrs. Bertram saw her solicitors, confided to them her difficulties, andaccepted the terms proposed to her by the enemy, who, treacherous andawful, had suddenly risen out of the ashes of the past to confront her.

  With four hundred a year she bought silence, and silence meanteverything for her. Thus she saved herself, and one at least belongingto her, from open shame.

  She received Catherine's telegram, and was made aware that JosephineHart had come down to spy out the nakedness of the land. She feltherself, however, in a position to defy Josephine, and she returned tothe Manor fairly well pleased.

  It was Loftus, for whom she had really sacrificed so much, who dealt herthe final blow. This idle scapegrace had got into fresh debt anddifficulty. Mrs. Bertram expostulated, she wrung her hands, she couldalmost have torn her hair. The young man stood before her half-abashed,half sulky.

  "Can you help me, mother? That's the main point," was his reiteratedcry.

  Mrs. Bertram managed at last to convince him that she had not a farthingof ready money left.

  "In that case," he replied, "nothing but ruin awaits me."

  His mother wept when he told her this. She was shaken with all she hadundergone in London, poor woman, and this man, who could cringe to herfor a large dole out of her pittance, was the beloved of her heart.

  He begged of her to put her hand to a bill; a bill which should notbecome due for six months. She consented; she was weak enough to sethim, as he expressed it, absolutely on his feet. All debts would be paidat once, and he would never exceed his allowance again; and as to hismother's difficulty, in meeting a bill for six hundred pounds, it wasnot in Loftus Bertram's nature to trouble himself on this score sixmonths ahead.

  That bill, however was the proverbial last straw to Mrs. Bertram. Ithaunted her by day and night; she dreamt of it, sleeping, she ponderedover it, waking. Six short months would speedily disappear, and then shewould be ruined; she could not meet the bill, exposure and disaster mustfollow.

  Even very honorable people when they get themselves into corners oftenseek for means of escape which certainly would not occur to them as themost dignified exits if they were, for instance, not in the corner, butin the middle of the room.

  Mrs. Bertram was a woman of resources, and she made up her mind what todo. She made it up absolutely, and no doubts or difficulties daunted herfor an instant. Loftus should marry Beatrice Meadowsweet long before thesix months were out.

  Having ascertained positively not only from her mother's lips, but alsofrom those of Mr. Ingram, that the young girl could claim as her portiontwenty thousand pounds on her wedding day, Mrs. Bertram felt there wasno longer need to hesitate. Beatrice was quite presentable in herself;she was handsome, she was well-bred, she had a gracious and evencareless repose of manner which would pass muster anywhere for thehighest breeding. It would be quite possible to crush that fat andhopelessly vulgar mother, and it would be easy, more than easy, to talkof the wealthy merchant's office instead of the obnoxious draper's shop.

  Bertram, who had just moved with the _depot_ of his regiment toChatham, on returning to his quarters one evening from mess saw lying onhis table a thick letter in his mother's handwriting. He took it upcarelessly, and, as he opened it, he yawned. Mother's letters are notparticularly sacred things to idolized sons of Bertram's type.

  "I wonder what the old lady has got to say for herself," he murmured."Can she have seen Nina? And has Nina said anything. Not that she canseriously injure me in the mater's eyes. No one would be more lenient toa little harmless flirtation which was never meant to lead anywhere thanmy good mother. Still it was a great bore for Josephine to turn up whenshe did. Obliged me to shorten my leave abruptly, and see less of MissBeatrice. What a little tiger Nina would be if her jealousy wasaroused--no help for me but flight. Yes, Saunders, you needn't wait."

  Bertram's servant withdrew; and taking his mother's letter out of itsenvelope, the young man proceeded to acquaint himself with its contents.They interested him, not a little, but deeply. The color flushed up intohis face as he read. He made one or two strong exclamations, finally helaughed aloud. His laugh was excited and full of good humor.

  "By Jove! the mother never thought of a better plot. Beatrice--andfortune. Beatrice, and an escape into the bargain from all my worries.Poor mater! She does not know that that six hundred of hers has onlyjust scraped me through my most pressing liabilities. But a small dipout of Beatrice Meadowsweet's fortune will soon set me on my feet. Themater's wishes and mine never so thoroughly chimed together as now. Ofcourse I'll do it. No fear on that point. I'll write off to the dear oldlady, and set her heart at rest, by this very post. As to leave, I mustmanage that somehow. The mother is quite right. With a girl likeBeatrice there is no time to be lost. Any fellow might come over toNorthbury and pick her up. Why, she's perfectly splendid. I knew I wasin love with her--felt it all along. Just think of my patrician mothergiving in, though. Well, nothing could suit me better."

  Bertram felt so excited that he paced up and down his room, and evendrank off a brandy and soda, which was not in his usual line, for he wasa sober young fellow enough.

  As he walked up and down he thought again of that night when he had lastseen Beatrice. How splendid she had looked in her boat on the water; howunreserved, and yet how reticent she was; how beautiful, and yet howunconscious of her beauty. What a foil she made to that dreadful littleMatty Bell!

  Bertram laughed as he remembered Matty's blushes and affected gigglesand simpers. He conjured up the whole scene, and when he recalled poorMrs. Bell's frantic efforts to get the white boat away from the green,his sense of
hilarity doubled. Finally he thought of his walk home, ofthe meditations which had occupied his mind, and last of all of the girlin the gray dress who had put her arms round his neck, laid her head onhis breast, and whose lips he had passionately kissed. That head! Hefelt a thrill now as he remembered the sheen of its golden locks, and heknew that the kisses he had given this girl had been full of the passionof his manhood. He ceased to laugh as he thought of her. A growing senseof uneasiness, of even fear, took possession of him, and chased away thehigh spirits which his mother's acceptable proposal had given rise to.

  He sat down again in his easy chair and began to think.

  "It is not," he said to himself, "that I have got into any real scrapewith Nina. I have promised to marry her, of course, and I have made loveto her scores and scores of times, but I don't think she has any lettersof mine, and in any case, she is not the sort of girl to go to law witha fellow. No, I have nothing really to fear on that score. But whatperplexes and troubles me is this: she has got a great power over me.When I am with her I can't think of any one else. She has an influenceover me which I can't withstand. I want her, and her only. I know itwould ruin me to marry her. She has not a penny; she is an uneducatedpoor waif, brought up anyhow. My God, when I think of how I first sawyou, Nina! That London street, that crowd looking on, and the pure youngvoice rising up as it were into the very sky. And then the soundstopping, and the shout from the mob. I got into the middle of the ringsomehow, and I saw you, I saw you, my little darling. Your hand wasclenched, and the fellow who had dared to insult you went down with thatblow you gave him to the ground. Didn't your eyes flash fire, and theflickering light from that fishmonger's shop opposite lit up your hairand your pale face. You looked half like a devil, but you werebeautiful, you were superb. Then you saw me, and you must have guessedthat I felt with you and for you. Our souls seemed to leap out to meetone another, and you were by my side in an instant, kissing my hand, andraining tears on it. We loved each other from that night; our love beganfrom the moment we looked at each other, and I love you still--but Imustn't marry you, little wild, desperate, bewitching Nina, for thatwould ruin us both. My God! I wish I had never met you; I am afraid ofyou, and that is the fact."

  Perhaps it was the unwonted beverage in which he had just indulged,which gave rise to such eager and impetuous thoughts in the breast ofCaptain Bertram. It is certain when he had slept over his mother'sletter he felt much more cool and collected. If he still fearedJosephine Hart, he was absolutely determined not to allow his fears toget the better of him. He ceased even to say to himself that he was inlove with this pretty witch of the yellow hair, and his letter to hismother was as cool and self-possessed as the most prudent among parentscould desire.

  Bertram told his mother that he thought he could manage to exchange witha brother officer, so as to secure his own leave while the days werelong and the weather fine. He said that if all went as he hoped, hewould be at the Manor by the end of the following week, and he sent hislove to his sisters, and hoped the mater was quite herself again.

  Not once did he mention the name of Beatrice, but Mrs. Bertram readbetween the lines. She admired her son for his caution. Her heart leapedwith exultation, her boy would not fail her.

  If she had known that the old postman Benjafield had left a letter bythe very same post for Miss Hart at the lodge, and that this letter in adisguised hand bore within the undoubted signature of her own belovedcaptain, her rejoicing would not have been so keen. But as people arevery seldom allowed to see behind the scenes Mrs. Bertram may as wellhave her short hour of triumph undisturbed.