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

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  THAT FICKLE MATTY.

  "Well, doctor, and where are you off to now?" The speaker was thedoctor's wife. "I do think it's unreasonable of people," continued thisgood lady, "to send for you just when you are sitting down to yourcomfortable breakfast, and you so particular as you are about yourcoffee."

  "Who is it, Mary Anne? Who's the messenger from?" turning to themaid-servant, who stood in a waiting attitude half-in, half-out of thedoor.

  "Oh, it's only the Bells. You needn't hurry off to the Bells, Tom."

  "As well they as another," retorted Dr. Morris "Tell the messenger I'llbe round directly, Mary Anne. Now, what's the matter, old lady? Whyshould you fidget yourself, and have such a spiteful tone when the Bellsare mentioned?"

  "Oh, I'm sick of them, and their airs and affectations," growled Mrs.Morris, who suddenly put on her thickest and most bronchial tones. "Whatwith their afternoon tea, and their grand at-homes, and the ridiculousway they've been going on about that little Matty lately, I really loseall patience with them. What's the consequence of all this kind ofthing? Mrs. Bell chokes up her small drawing-room so full of visitorswho only come to laugh at her, that one can't breathe comfortably therewithout the window open, and a fine fresh bronchitis I've got inconsequence. You feel me, doctor. I'm all shivering and burning, I'mgoing to be very ill, there isn't a doubt of it."

  "Your pulse hasn't quickened," said the doctor, "it's as steady as myown."

  "Oh, well, if you don't choose to believe in the sufferings of yourwife, exhibited before your very eyes, go to your Bells, and comfortthem."

  "Now, Jessie, don't talk nonsense, old lady. You know I'm the first tobelieve you bad if you are. But what's this about Beatrice Meadowsweet?Is she really engaged to young Bertram?"

  "It's the gossip, Tom. But maybe it isn't the case. I'll call to seeMrs. Meadowsweet this morning, and find out."

  "I would if I were you. Beatrice is a fine girl, and mustn't throwherself away."

  "Throw herself away! Why, it's a splendid match for her. A mostaristocratic young man! One of the upper ten, and no mistake."

  "That's all you women think about. Well, I'm off to the Bells now."

  The doctor presently reached that rather humble little dwelling wherethe Bell family enjoyed domestic felicity.

  He was ushered in by the maid, who wore an important and mysteriousface. Mrs. Bell quickly joined him, and she looked more important andmysterious still.

  "Matty isn't well," she said, sinking her voice to a stage whisper."Matty has been badly treated; she has had a blight."

  "Dear, dear!" said Doctor Morris.

  He was a fat, comfortable-looking man, his hands in particular were veryfat, and when he warred to show special sympathy he was fond of rubbingthem.

  "Dear, dear!" he repeated. "A blight! That's more a phrase to apply tothe potato than to a blooming young girl."

  "All the same, doctor, it's true. Matty has been blighted. She had sether young affections where they were craved and sought, and, so tospeak, begged for. She gave them, _not willingly_, doctor, butafter all the language that melting eyes, and more melting words, couldemploy. _The_ word wasn't spoken, but all else was done. She gaveher heart, doctor, not unasked, and now it's sent back to her, and she'sblighted, that's the only word for it."

  "I should think so," said the doctor, who was far too professional tosmile. "A heart returned like that is always a little difficult todispose of. Might I ask who--but perhaps you'd rather not tell me?"

  "No, Doctor Morris, I'd rather tell you; I've sent for you to tell you,and it isn't so much that I blame him, poor young man, for it was allmanaged between his mother and Beatrice, all, from the very first, andit's my firm belief that he had neither part nor parcel in it. I didwhat I could, as in duty bound, to give him his chances, but thosedesigners were too many for me."

  "You don't mean," said the doctor--he really did not concern himselfmuch about Northbury gossip, and no rumors of Matty's flirtations hadreached him--"You don't mean Captain Bertram? Why, I have just heard heis engaged to Beatrice. You can't mean Captain Bertram? Impossible."

  "I do mean Captain Bertram, doctor. No more and no less. And I'll thankyou not again to mention the name of that siren, Beatrice, in mypresence. Now if you'll come upstairs, I'll show you the poor blightedchild."

  Mrs. Bell had insisted on Matty's staying in bed. After the first awfulshock of Mrs. Butler's news had subsided, she had made up her mind thatthe only _role_ left to her daughter was that of the dying martyr.All the town should know that Beatrice had robbed her friend, and thatthis young and innocent friend was now at death's door.

  Alice and Sophy were both in the room with their sister, and they wereexpatiating very loudly on what they considered "ma's cruelty."

  "You know perfectly, Matty, that he never cared for you," remarked thecandid Sophy. "It was all ma's folly from first to last."

  "First to last," echoed Alice.

  "And you're not really ill," pursued Sophy. "You slept very sound alllast night."

  "And snored," continued Alice.

  "Only ma will make a fuss, one way or other," proceeded Sophy. "Nowyou're to be the forsaken one, and what ma would like would be for yourfuneral bell to toll the day Bee has her wedding chimes."

  "And we all love Bee," said Alice.

  "And we'd like to go to her wedding," said Sophy. "Wouldn't you, Matty?Say, now, if you were going to have a new white muslin for it?"

  It was at this juncture that the doctor and Mrs. Bell entered the room.

  For a blighted invalid Matty did not look pale, and the doctor, whoquickly discovered that there was no broken heart in the case, orderedhis _regime_ with a certain dry sense of humor, anything butcomforting to the poor little victim.

  "Miss Matty requires rest," he said. "Absolute rest. And freedom fromall undue excitement. I should recommend for the next few days, completeconfinement to her bed with a simple diet; _no_ tea nor coffee, norany stimulants. Keep her quiet, Mrs. Bell, for while the illnesslasts--I give it no name--under which she is laboring, she will have nodesire, except to keep herself solitary."

  "And you think that will effect a cure, doctor?" asked Mrs. Bell, whoseeyes had forced up a little moisture. "The child is frail, oughtn't sheto be nourished?"

  "In the way I prescribed, my dear madam. Milk diet, without stimulants.I'll see you again in a couple of days, Miss Matty."

  "And you say she's not to get up, doctor?"

  "On no account, until I call again."

  The doctor departed, and Matty submitted to the remarkably dull lifelaid out for her.

  In the course of the afternoon Mrs. Bell went out. To each friend shemet she made the same remarks:

  "Matty is very ill. I'm dreadfully anxious about her. Dr. Morris is inclose attendance. She's to be kept strictly to her bed, and the greatestcare has to be exercised to maintain her feeble strength. It's a heavytrial to have one's child so ill--and from such a cause."

  "Dear, dear," the sympathizing neighbor would answer. "What can be thematter, and Matty always looked so fresh and hearty? Do you think shehas gone and taken anything, Mrs. Bell? Some people prophesy that we areto have an epidemic of small-pox. It can't be that, surely? Taken sosudden too, for she was about yesterday."

  "Small-pox!" retorted Mrs. Bell, with withering scorn. "As if a child ofmine who had her vaccination beautifully would have small-pox! No, no,it's heart-blight, neighbor, it's heart-blight, and I doubt if my girlwill ever get over it."

  "Eh, ah--you don't say so," the neighbor would instantly retort. Now thelistener was full of intense curiosity, and longing to learn everything.Matty Bell ill with a heart affair! No wonder her mother lookedtroubled. Ah, men were deceivers ever! And who had dared to trifle withher young affections?

  Then Mrs. Bell would sigh deeply, and lower her voice, and point in thedirection of the Manor. It wasn't for her to name names, but a certainyoung man had gone far, very far. Why, they could bring an actionagai
nst him, only they'd scorn to make public their poor child'sfeelings. Well, well, he might lead another bride, a certain designer,to the altar, but there would be no luck nor happiness for either ofthem, that Mrs. Bell would say.

  It was in this manner that the good lady spread the report which shedesired through the gossiping little town. Rapidly did the little pieceof gossip swell and magnify. It even travelled into the country, and sohuge did its dimensions grow there, that it not only killed Matty, butburied her, and placed a beautiful tablet in white marble over hergrave, erected by the repentant Captain Bertram and the remorsefulBeatrice Meadowsweet.

  Meantime the dying martyr had a very dull time in her bed. She was notthe kind of girl to love very deeply--her mother had done her utmost tomake the poor child fall in love with Captain Bertram, but when all wassaid he had only managed to tickle her vanity. Now she considered thathe had put her to shame and derision, and she began to dislike him verymuch. Her sisters fostered this dislike with the tales they brought infrom the outside world.

  "You're the laughing-stock of the town," Alice would say. "Everybody istalking about you, and having a laugh at you. You needn't suppose thatyou are pitied, for you are not."

  "Oh," groaned Matty. "How I wish, how I do wish, I had never met thathorrid, odious man."

  "He's not horrid nor odious at all," retorted the practical Sophy. "Helooks lovely when he walks about with Beatrice. I saw them yesterday inthe Green, and Beatrice came up at once and asked about you. What do youthink ma did, Matty? She turned her back on Bee and sailed away. PoorBee quite colored up, and didn't know what to make of it."

  "They say Beatrice is to have a lovely wedding," said Alice. "And Mr.Ingram is going to have the whole church decorated with flowers. And abishop is coming down from London to marry them. And Mr. Ingram is goingto give Beatrice away himself, for he says she's like a daughter to him.And there's to be another great party at the Rectory the day of herwedding, Matty, and lots of fire-works in the evening."

  "Oh, dear," sighed Matty, "I think Captain Bertram is a very base man."

  "You'd better give up that idea," said Alice, "for no one else agreeswith you. You know perfectly he never paid you attentions. It was all mawho would think so. And you know, Matty, you can't deny it--you did tryto squeeze his hand the first day he danced with you."

  "I didn't," said Matty, flushing all over with indignation. "I think youboth are cruel. I've had a very heavy trial, and you neither of yousympathize a bit. And I'm sure," continued Matty, in a plaintive voice,"not the least part of it is being stuck in bed now."

  "I wonder you stay," said Sophy. "You're in perfect health."

  "No, I'm not. Dr. Morris is very anxious about me."

  "He isn't. No one is anxious about you. There isn't a thing the matter,except that you and ma like that you should pose as the dying martyr.Well, good-bye. Sophy and I are going to have some fun this evening."

  "Fun, where? Do tell me."

  "At the Jenkinses. Their brother Gus has come home; you know how you andGus used to flirt long ago, Matty. Well, he's back for a fortnight. Hehas a long red beard, and his face is all over freckles, but he's fullof fun, and he laughs like anything. We saw him and he asked for you.It's a pity you can't come."

  "Why can't I come? I don't see why I can't come as well as you."

  "Oh, well, we thought you were the dying martyr. Mrs. Jenkins asked usall in to tea, and we are to have tennis afterwards, and then highsupper, in honor of Gus. We said you couldn't come, but that we would bethere. Alice, it's time for us to dress now. We'll wear our muslins withthe pink spots, and those sweet new pink sashes that we got in exchangefor the old teapot from Mrs. Middlemass last week. Come along, Alice.We'll show ourselves to you when we are dressed, Matty."

  The girls skipped lightly away, and Matty fidgeted and tossed in hersmall hot bed.

  The house was intensely quiet. Mrs. Bell was away, having takenadvantage of a proffered lift from a neighbor to drive into the countryto purchase some plums. Matty thought how intolerably dull her eveningwould be. She reflected on the pleasures of the Jenkinses' tea-party;she thought it would be nice, more than nice, to shake hands again withMr. Gus. Why shouldn't she go? What was to prevent her? Only hermother's whim. Only the doctor's orders. But both doctor and mother werenow far away. She would go, she would defy them both.

  Slipping out of bed she flew across the room and drew the bolt of thedoor. Then she began to dress in quick and nervous haste. She put on herdaintiest shoes, and open-work stockings. She arranged her limp hairwith care, and finally she donned the gorgeous shot-silk.

  The few days in bed had taken away some of her burnt appearance, andslightly moderated her high color. She looked really almost nice as sheskipped to the door, and showed herself to her astonished sisters.

  "I'm coming, too," she said.

  "Then you are cured," said Alice. "I'm glad of it, I'm sure. What did Isay, Sophy, when I was coming in."

  "You said if anyone could mend up Matty it would be Gus," retortedSophy.

  That fickle Matty blushed. It was a way she had.