Blanche: A Story for Girls

he pressed her hand infarewell, and then he was gone.

  But Hebe sat thinking deeply for some time after he had left her.

  "_What_ would Josephine say?" she thought to herself. "What a romanticgoose she would think me. But I have never seen Archie quite like thisbefore. And if such a thing came to pass--if I could be sure he is inearnest for once--it would be delightful in many ways. But"--and here anew view of the subject struck her--"I don't believe Blanche wouldaccept him," she thought. "She is proud, rightly proud, and she hasseen so little of him. She is not a girl to marry a man withoutthoroughly caring for him. No, I don't believe she would accept him.But if he is in earnest now, he has certainly never been so before."

  Mr Dunstan returned to Alderwood that same evening, having alreadywritten to Norman Milward with some suggestion of the proposed plan, andpromising to see him in London early the following week.

  "It would have been perfectly impossible to refuse Hebe," he thought tohimself, as he was sitting alone in the small room where dinner had beenserved for him, "but it does seem dreadfully unlucky. I don't see myway at all, and yet can I go away for an indefinite time and leavethings as they are? I must trust to chance, I suppose. I _must_ callthere to-morrow, for I promised Hebe to give her message. Beyond that,I see nothing."

  Mr Dunstan's visit had not made any great impression on the members ofthe little household in the High Street, with the exception possibly ofMiss Halliday and Herty.

  An unexpected and rather important order coming at a dull season hadmade the milliner and her young assistants unusually busy, and it wasnot without a feeling almost amounting to annoyance that Blanche foundherself called away from the workroom the day after Archies return fromLondon, to join her mother in the drawing-room.

  "Do you want me particularly, mamma?" she said as she went in. "I am sobusy just now. I could come in half an hour or so."

  As she spoke she suddenly became aware that her mother was not alone.Mr Dunstan was standing by the window.

  "I did not know any one was here," she went on, with an instinct ofapology, "I had not heard the bell ring."

  "I am exceedingly sorry for interrupting you," said the young man as hecame forward, "but I could hardly help myself. I promised to see youpersonally to give you a message from Lady Hebe. I have been tellingMrs Derwent about it, but I know it would be a satisfaction to Hebe tohear that I had seen you, yourself."

  Blanche looked perplexed, and glancing at her mother's face, she sawthat it was unusually grave.

  "Is there anything the matter?" she said quickly.

  "Yes," said Mrs Derwent. "You will be very sorry for poor Lady Hebe. Agreat trouble has come upon her."

  "Has anything happened to Mr Milward?" asked Blanche, and somehow Archiefelt pleased that this was her first idea.

  "No," he answered. "Norman is all right. The trouble has come to Hebeherself, though, of course, it is terrible for him too."

  And then he went on to give the details of the grievous loss with whichthe young girl was threatened.

  Blanche's face grew graver and graver as he spoke. "Oh dear!" sheexclaimed, when he had finished. "How dreadfully sad! Those pretty,happy eyes of hers. I can't believe it. May I write to her, MrDunstan, do you think? I do feel so inexpressibly sorry for her.Mamma, our troubles don't seem much in comparison with this, do they?"

  "No, indeed," Mrs Derwent agreed heartily. "But still it is nothopeless by any means, is it, Mr Dunstan?"

  "I trust and believe not," he replied. "But then I have only Hebe's ownaccount, you see. I shall know more after I have seen Norman and theMarths.--About writing to her," he continued, turning to Blanche, "Idon't quite know. I don't fancy she's allowed to read at all, and youmight not care for your letter going through other hands."

  Blanche looked disappointed.

  "Then will you tell her from me?" she began, but he interrupted her.

  "I'll tell you what," he said, "if you won't think me officious--if youlike to write to her and will give me the letter, I'll take it myself,and she can have it read to her by some one you would not mind--Rosy--Rosy Milward, perhaps."

  "Thank you," said Blanche. "I would like to write a little, howeverlittle, if I were sure she would get it herself. I can write it atonce," she went on, "if you don't mind waiting a few minutes;" and sheleft the room as she spoke. She had hardly done so, when Stasy made herappearance.

  "Blanche," she said, as she came in, "Miss Halliday does so want you--How do you do, Mr Dunstan? I did not know you were here.--Where isBlanchie, mamma?"

  "She is writing a note," Mrs Derwent replied--"something ratherparticular. Can I not do instead of her?"

  "Oh, well, perhaps you can; it's about a letter she is wanted," saidStasy. "If you could come, Miss Halliday will explain about it." Andwith a word of apology to Mr Dunstan, Mrs Derwent left the room with heryounger daughter.

  "What a life of slavery for women in their position!" said Archie tohimself. "To be at the beck and call of all the Blissmore shopkeepers.It is insufferable!"

  He strolled restlessly to the window and stood looking out, feeling veryindignant with the world in general and, most unreasonably, with MissHalliday in particular.

  He had not stood there long when Blanche returned with an envelope inher hand.

  "This is my little letter," she said, holding it out to him. "Thank youfor taking charge of it, though it does not say half--not a hundredthpart--of what I feel for her."

  "I know that she will value your sympathy," said Archie, wishing hecould think of something less commonplace to say.

  He stood there, feeling, if not looking, uncertain and embarrassed,Blanche's evident expectation--for she did not sit down again--that hewas on the point of going, not tending to set him more at his ease.

  Suddenly he spoke.

  "I know you are busy, Miss Derwent," he began. "I've no doubt you arewishing I would go. But the truth of it is, I can't go without sayingsomething more to you."

  Blanche looked up, a gleam of surprise in her face.

  "I am busy," she said, smiling a little. "But if it is anythingimportant, I can wait a few minutes."

  Archie glanced irresolutely towards the window.

  "_Would_ you mind," he said, "coming out into the garden. It _is_something important, and if we stay here they will be calling for youimmediately."

  CHAPTER TWENTY.

  A NEPHEW AND AN AUNT.

  Blanche did "mind," for she was anxious to go back to the workroom. ButMr Dunstan had been very kind, and it was not in her nature to beunyielding in small lings.

  "Perhaps he has something more to tell me about, Hebe," she thought, asshe led the way out through the open glass door.

  "Miss Derwent," began Archie again, when they had strolled towards thefarther end of the long strip, "the fact of the matter is--and you mustforgive me if it seems impertinent--I cannot stand this."

  "What?" asked Blanche, looking up in bewilderment.

  "This--this position for you," he said. "This horrid slavery."

  "Oh," said Blanche, somewhat coldly. "I couldn't think what you meant.It's very good of you, but you really needn't trouble about it. On thewhole, I think we are very fortunate indeed. Lots of people have farworse things to bear. I thought you were going to tell me somethingabout Hebe."

  "I see you do think me impertinent," Mr Dunstan resumed, with someslight bitterness in his tone. "You don't understand. I don't careabout `lots of people's' troubles. It is _you_ I care about. It is for_you_ I can't endure it."

  Blanche looked up again, this time with slightly deepened colour.

  "Thank you again," she said, "for your kindly meant sympathy. But ifyou knew me better, or had known me longer, you would understand thatthere are many kinds of troubles which would be much worse to me. I amreally not unhappy at all--none of us are. Indeed, in some ways, thehaving more to do makes life more interesting." And then she stopped,at a loss what more to say--feeling, indeed, that ther
e was nothing moreto be said.

  Archie grew desperate.

  "You are not like any girl I have ever met," he said; "you won'tunderstand me. Can't you see that the reason I mind it so much is thatI care so much for you?"

  "Mr Dunstan!" exclaimed Blanche, and in the two words a calmer hearerwould have detected some indignation as well as the astonishment whichwas unmistakable. "No, I don't understand you," she went on. "We arealmost