Blanche: A Story for Girls

pass pleasantly. Afterwards, Blanche felt glad that it had beenso. There was a satisfaction in looking back upon this little space oftime as bright and cheerful.

  "I really think," said Stasy one day, when she and Blanche were walkingback together from Blissmore, "that we are getting acclimatised at last,Blanchie, or rather I should say, _I_ am, for I'm sure you've never beenanything but contented. I can look forward now to going on living herewith mamma and you for--oh! for ever so long, even if nothing moreexciting comes into our lives."

  "I'm so glad," said Blanche heartily. "Yes, we've been very happylately, haven't we?"

  "But some day," Stasy went on again, "some day, Blanchie, you mustmarry. Though I can't, even in my wildest dreams, picture anyone goodenough for you. But you are far too pretty to be an old maid!"

  "I can't imagine marrying," said Blanche musingly; "that's to say, Ican't imagine any one caring enough for me, or my caring enough for anyone! And I can't imagine marrying without plenty of caring."

  "Of course not," said Stasy. They walked on in silence for a little,till almost in sight of their own gate.

  "I thought mamma would have come to meet us, perhaps, as she oftendoes," said Blanche. "But let's hurry on a little, Stasy, and make hercome out in the wood before tea."

  "And we might have tea in the garden, don't you think?" said Stasy."We've not had it out of doors once this week, the afternoons have beenso showery."

  So talking, they crossed their own lawn, entering the house by one ofthe French windows of the drawing-room, where they half expected to findtheir mother.

  She was not there, however, nor was she in the library.

  "I hope she hasn't gone out alone," said Blanche. "Run up-stairs, Stasydear, and see if she is in her room."

  Stasy did so, Blanche remaining at the foot of the staircase.

  She heard Stasy's step along the passage, a door opening, and the younggirls cheerful "Are you there, mamma dear?" Then--or was it herfancy?--a sort of muffled exclamation, and the slamming to of the door,as there was a good deal of wind that afternoon, and for a moment or twonothing more.

  Blanche grew slightly impatient, which was not usual with her. Wasthere a touch of instinctive anxiety in the impatience?

  "Stasy might be quick," she said to herself. "If mamma is out, we--"

  But just then came Stasy's voice.

  "Blanche," it said, "come up at once. I can't leave mamma: there issomething the matter."

  Blanche flew up-stairs, her imagination, even in that short space oftime, picturing to itself a dozen terrible possibilities. "Somethingthe matter!" What suggestions in the simple words.

  It was a relief, on entering the room, to see her mother seated on herusual chair. Pale, very pale, and looking all the more so from thereddened eyelids which told of recent and prolonged weeping. Stasy waskneeling on the floor beside her.

  "Mamma, dearest," said Blanche, "what is wrong? You are not ill? No,thank God--then it can't be anything very dreadful."

  For there was a strange side of comfort in the isolated position of thelittle family. When they were all together and well--they had caughtsight of Herty playing happily in the garden--nothing, as Blanche hadsaid, "_very_ dreadful" could be the matter. Still, something grievousand painful it must be, to have thus affected the usually cheerfulmother; and again, before Mrs Derwent had time to reply, Blanche's fancyhad pictured every kind of possible and impossible catastrophe, exceptthe actual fact.

  Mrs Derwent tried to smile.

  "You are right, Blanchie," she said; "it is `Thank God,' as we are alltogether. But read this."

  She held out a thick foreign letter, closely written in a clerkly handwhich Blanche knew well. It was that of the lawyer at Bordeaux,Monsieur Bergeret, and though couched in a good deal of legaltechnicality, the general sense was not difficult to gather. The oldand honourable house of "Derwent and Paulmier" was bankrupt--hopelesslyruined. Monsieur Bergeret, while expressing his deepest sympathy, heldout no hopes of any retrieval of the misfortune.

  "Mamma," said Blanche, looking up with startled eyes, "what does itmean? How does it affect us?"

  For she knew that, besides any practical bearing on themselves, the blowto her mother would be severe. Her husband's and her father-in-law'suniversally respected position had for more than half her lifetime beena source of natural pride to Mrs Derwent, and even now, though they weredead, their honourable name must be lowered.

  But alas! it was worse than this.

  "It means," the mother replied quietly--"it means, my darlings, that weare ruined too. Our money had not been paid out. You remember mytelling you that I was a little anxious about the delay; but nothingwould have made any difference: they had not got it to pay. If MonsieurBergeret had pressed them, it would only have hastened the declarationof insolvency. I understand it all. I have read the letter over andover again, since it came by the afternoon post. Dear me," and sheglanced at the pretty, quaint little French clock on themantelpiece--"can it be only an hour ago? It came at three, and it isonly just four. It seems years--years."

  Her voice seemed faint and dreamy. Blanche looked at her in some alarm.She was utterly exhausted for the moment.

  "Mamma dear," said Stasy, "it is impossible to take it all in at once;we must get used to it gradually. The first thing to attend to just nowis _you_. You mustn't make yourself ill about it, mamma."

  Blanche glanced at Stasy admiringly.

  "Yes," she said, "that is the first thing to care about. I am goingdown-stairs to see if tea is ready. Will you come down, mamma, or shallI bring you a cup up here?"

  "I will come down," said Mrs Derwent, adding to herself, in a voicewhich she tried to make firm: "I _must_ begin to get used to it atonce."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

  FACING THINGS.

  Derwent did not fall ill, as her daughters feared. There was greatelasticity, which was, in fact, a kind of strength, in her nature, aswell as a rare amount of practical common sense, and before long thesetriumphed over the shock, which, it must be owned, was to her atremendous one.

  For she realised, as Blanche and Stasy could not be expected to do, thewhole bearing upon their lives, of this unexpected change of fortune.

  For a week or two, some amount of excitement necessarily mingled withher distress. For, though Monsieur Bergeret held out no hopes ofanything being saved from the crash, he yet advised her to consult theEnglish lawyer who had had charge of her interests at the time of hermarriage, and of whom the French man of business entertained a highopinion.

  So Mrs Derwent and Blanche went up to London by appointment, to meetthis gentleman, and had a long talk with him. His view of thingsentirely tallied with that of Monsieur Bergeret, but he reassured MrsDerwent on one or two minor points. What she had in the shape offurniture, plate, and so on, was absolutely hers, and could not, as shehad vaguely feared, be touched by the creditors of the firm, of whom,indeed, she ranked as first. Furthermore, there still remained to her atrifling amount of income, all that was left of the little property shehad inherited from her father, as it will be remembered that, owing tounwise investment, the late Mr Fenning's capital had almost disappeared.

  But anything was something in the present crisis. Even eighty pounds ayear was a certainty to be thankful for.

  "The best thing you can do, it seems to me," said Mr Mapleson, at theclose of the interview, "is to let your house as soon as possible, thusmaking sure of the rent for which you are liable: I forget the length ofyour lease?"

  "Seven years in the first place," replied Mrs Derwent. "You might letit furnished," the lawyer went on; "that would give you fifty or sixtypounds a year more--not much. Furnished houses in the country don't letfor the rents they used to do, or you might have a sale, thus realisinga little capital, till you have, as they say, time to turn round, andmake some plan for the future. And"--he went on, with a littlehesitation--"should you be short of funds at the present moment, pray donot hesitate to draw upon m
e. I wish with all my heart I could be ofmore use to you."

  "You are very kind, very kind and good," said Mrs Derwent. "But I thinkI shall be able to manage for a little while. I will see the localhouse-agent at once, and put the house in his hands. I think I shouldprefer to be free from it altogether, if possible, and to have a sale."

  "Perhaps it would be best," said Mr Mapleson. "Refer the agent to me incase of need. Furniture sometimes sells very well in the country."

  "We have some very pretty things," said Blanche--"uncommon things, too;some good china that we brought