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

  CHAPTER III.

  A GENTLEMAN, MADAM.

  Only apparently. Every one knows how small the little rift within thelute is. So are most beginnings.

  Mrs. Bertram felt, that in her way, she had effected quite a victory.She stepped into her brougham to return to Rosendale Manor with apleasing sense of triumph.

  "I am thankful to say that ordeal is over," she remarked. "And I think,"she continued, with a smile, "that when the Northbury people see mycards, awaiting them on their humble hall-tables, they will have learnttheir lesson."

  Neither of the girls made any response to this speech. Mabel was leaningback in the carriage looking bored and cross, but Catherine's expressionwas unusually bright.

  "Mother," she exclaimed suddenly, "I met such a nice girl at thebazaar."

  "You made an acquaintance at the bazaar, my dear Catherine," answeredMrs. Bertram with alacrity. "You made an acquaintance? The acquaintanceof a girl? Who?"

  "Her name is Beatrice Meadowsweet. She is a dear, delightful, freshgirl, and exactly my own age."

  Catherine's dark face was all aglow. Her handsome brown eyes shone withinterest and pleasure.

  "Catherine, how often, how very often have I told you that expressionsof rapture such as you have just given way to are underbred."

  "Why are they underbred, mother?" Catherine's tone was aggressive, andMabel again kicked her sister's foot.

  The kick was returned with vigor, and Catherine said in an earnestthough deliberate voice:

  "Why are expressions of rapture underbred? Can enthusiasm, that fire ofthe gods, be vulgar?"

  "Kate, you are cavilling. Expressions of rapture generally show a lackof breeding because as a rule they are exaggerated, therefore untrue. Inthis case they are manifestly untrue, for how is it possible for you totell that the girl you have just been speaking to is dear, delightful,and fresh?"

  "Her face is fresh, her manners are fresh, her expression is delightful.There is no use, mother, you can't crush me. I am in love with BeatriceMeadowsweet."

  Mrs. Bertram's brow became clouded. It was one of the bitter defeatswhich she had ever and anon to acknowledge to herself that, in the midstof her otherwise victorious career, she could never get the better ofher eldest daughter Catherine.

  "Who introduced you to this girl?" she asked, after a pause.

  "The Rector. He saw me standing by one of the stalls, looking what Ifelt--awfully bored. He came up in his kind way and took my hand, andsaid: 'My dear, you don't know any one, I am afraid. You would like tomake some acquaintances, would you not?' I replied: 'I am most anxiousto know some of the nice people all around me.'"

  "My dear Catherine! The _nice_ people! And when you knew my expresswishes!"

  "Yes, mother, but they weren't mine. And I had to be truthful, at anycost. Beatrice was standing not far off, and when I said this my eye methers, and we both smiled. Then the rector introduced me to her, and wemutually voted the bazaar close and hot, and went out to watch thetennis players in the garden. We had a jolly time. I have not laughed somuch since I came to this slow, poky corner of the world."

  "And what were you doing, Mabel?" questioned her mother. "Did you, too,pick up an undesirable acquaintance and march away into the gardens withher? Was your new friend also fresh, delightful and dear?"

  "I wish she had been, mother," answered Mabel, her tone still verypetulant. "But I hadn't Kate's luck. I was introduced to no one,although lots of people stared at me, and whispered about me as Ipassed."

  "And you saw this paragon of Catherine's?"

  "Yes, I saw her."

  "What did you think of her, May? I like to get your opinion, my love.You have a good deal of penetration. Tell me frankly what you thought ofthis low-born miss, whom Catherine degraded herself by talking to."

  Mabel looked at her sister. Catherine's eyes flashed. Mabel replieddemurely:

  "I thought Miss Meadowsweet quiet-looking and graceful."

  Catherine took Mabel's hand unnoticed by their mother and squeezed it,and Mrs. Bertram, who was not wholly devoid of tact, thought it wisestto let the conversation drop.

  The next day the Rector called, and Mrs. Bertram asked him, in anincidental way what kind of people the Meadowsweets were.

  "Excellent people," he replied, rubbing his hands softly together."Excellent, worthy, honorable. I have few parishioners whom I think morehighly of than Beatrice and her mother."

  Mrs. Bertram's brow began to clear.

  "A mother and daughter," she remarked. "Only a mother and a daughter,Mr. Ingram?"

  "Only a mother and a daughter, my dear madam. Poor Meadowsweet left ussix years ago. He was one of my churchwardens, a capital fellow, sothoroughgoing and reliable. A sound churchman, too. In short, everythingthat one could desire. He died rather suddenly, and I was afraid Mrs.Meadowsweet would leave Northbury, but Bee did not wish it. Bee has awill of her own, and I fancy she's attached to us all."

  "I am very glad that you can give us such a pleasant account of theseparishioners of yours, dear Mr. Ingram," responded Mrs. Bertram. "Thefact is, I am in a difficult position here. No, the girls won't overhearus; they are busy at their embroidery in that distant corner. Well,perhaps, to make sure. Kate," Mrs. Bertram raised her voice, "I know theRector is going to give us the pleasure of his company to tea. Mr.Ingram, I shall not allow you to say no. Kate, will you and Mabel gointo the garden, and bring in a leaf of fresh strawberries. Now, Mr.Ingram I want you to see our strawberries, and to taste them. Thegardener tells us that the Manor strawberries are celebrated. Run,dears, don't be long."

  The girls stepped out through the open French window, interlaced theirarms round one another and disappeared.

  "They are good girls," said the mother, "but Kate has a will of her own.Mr. Ingram, you will allow me to take you into my confidence. I am oftenpuzzled to know how to act towards Catherine. She is a good girl, but Ican't lead her. She is only seventeen, only just seventeen. Surely thatis too young an age to walk quite without leading strings."

  Mr. Ingram was an old bachelor, but he was one of those mellow, gentle,affectionate men who make the most delightful companions, whose sympathyis always ready, and tact always to the fore. Mr. Ingram was full ofboth sympathy and tact, but he had also a little gentle vanity to betickled, and when a handsome woman, still young, appealed to him withpathos in her eyes and voice, he laid himself, metaphorically, at herfeet.

  "My dear madam," he responded, "it is most gratifying to me to feel thatI can be of the least use to you. Command me at all times, I beg. As toMiss Catherine, who can guide her better than her excellent mother? Idon't know much about you, Mrs. Bertram, but I feel--forgive me, I am aman of intuition--I feel that you are one to look up to. Miss Catherineis a fortunate girl. You are right. She is far too young to walk alone.Seventeen, did you say--pooh--a mere child, a baby. An immaturecreature, ignorant, innocent, fresh, but undeveloped; just the age, Mrs.Bertram, when she needs the aid and counsel of a mother like you."

  Mrs. Bertram's dark eyes glowed with pleasure.

  "I am glad you agree with me," she said. "The fact is, Mr. Ingram, wehave come to the Manor to retrench a little, to economize, to live inretirement. By-and-bye, I shall take Catherine and Mabel to London. As amother, I have duties to perform to them. These, when the time comes,shall not be neglected. Mr. Ingram, I must be very frank, I _don't_want to know the good folk of Northbury."

  Mr. Ingram started at this very plain speaking. He had lived for thirtyyears with the Northbury people. They had not vulgarized him; theirtroubles and their pleasures alike were his. His heart and soul, hislife and strength were given up to them. He did not feel himself any theless a gentleman because those whom he served were, many of them, lowlyborn. He started, therefore, both inwardly and outwardly at Mrs.Bertram's plain speech, and instantly, for he was a man of very nicepenetration, saw that the arrival of this lady, this brilliant sun ofsociety, in the little world of Northbury, would not add to thesmoothness of his lot.

  B
efore he could get in a word, however, Mrs. Bertram quickly continued:

  "And Catherine is determined to make a friend of Beatrice Meadowsweet."

  "She is quite right, Mrs. Bertram. I introduced Miss Catherine toBeatrice yesterday. They will make delightful companions; they are aboutthe same age--I can vouch for the life and spirit possessed by my friendBee, and if I mistake not Miss Catherine will be her worthy companion."

  Mrs. Bertram laughed.

  "I wish I could tell you what an imp of mischief Kate is," she said."She is the most daring creature that ever drew the breath of life. DearMr. Ingram, forgive me for even doubting you for a moment. I might haveknown that you would only introduce my daughter to a lady."

  The Rector drew himself up a very little.

  "Certainly, Beatrice Meadowsweet is a lady," he replied. "If a nobleheart, and frank and fearless ways, and an educated mind, and a refinednature can make a lady, then she is one--no better in the land."

  "I am charmed, _charmed_ to hear it. It is such a relief. For,really Mr. Ingram, some people from Northbury came and sat on that verysofa which you are occupying, who were quite too--oh, well, they wereabsolutely dreadful. I wonder if Mrs. Meadowsweet has called. I don'tremember the name, but I suppose she has. I must look amongst the cardswhich have absolutely been showered on us and see. I must certainlyreturn her visit and at once. Poor Mr. Meadowsweet--he was in the armyperhaps! I am quite glad to know there are people of our position here.Did you say the army? Or perhaps a retired gentleman,--ah, I seeCatherine and Mabel coming back. Which was Mr. Meadowsweet's regiment?"

  Poor Mr. Ingram's face grew absolutely pink.

  "At some time in his life poor Meadowsweet may have served in the localvolunteers," he replied. "He was however, a--ah, Miss Catherine, whattempting strawberries!"

  The rector approached the open French window. Mrs. Bertram followed himquickly.

  "A--what?" she repeated. "The girls needn't know whom we are talkingabout. A gentleman who lived on his private means?"

  "A gentleman, madam, yes, a _gentleman_,--and he lived on hismeans,--and he was wealthy. He kept a shop, a draper's shop, in the HighStreet. Now, young ladies, young ladies--I call this wrong. _Such_strawberries! Strawberries are my special weakness. Oh, it is cruel ofyou to tempt me. I ought to be two miles from here now."

  "You ought not," said Catherine in a gay voice. "You must sit with us onthe lawn, and drink our tea, and eat our strawberries."

  Catherine had given a quick, lightning glance at her mother's face.She saw a cloud there, she guessed the cause. She felt certain that hermother would consult Mr. Ingram on the subject of Beatrice. Mr. Ingram'sreport was not satisfactory. Delightful! She felt the imp of mischieftaking possession of her. She was a girl of many moods and tenses.At times she could even be sombre. But when she chose to be gay andfascinating she was irresistible. She was only seventeen, and in severalways she was unconventional, even unworldly. In others, however, she wasa perfect woman of the world, and a match for her mother.