Blanche: A Story for Girls
strangers."
"Strangers!" he repeated reproachfully. "You have never seemed astranger to me since the first day I saw you, for since then you havenever been out of my thoughts. You _must_ understand me now. Can Ispeak more plainly? I don't want to vex you by seeming exaggerated, butI care for you, and have done so all these months, as much, I honestlybelieve, as it is possible for a man to care for a woman. I did notmean to have said this so soon. Of course I don't ask you to say youcare for me as yet, but don't you think you might get to do so in time?I could be _very_ patient."
It was impossible to reply with any feeling of indignation to a suit sogently urged.
"I am very sorry," was all Blanche could say.
"I would do anything," he went on--"anything in the world that youwished. I am perfectly independent, entirely my own master, and I haveno one very near me. Your family would be like my own to me. It wouldbe a delight to be able to release them from any necessity like thispresent arrangement."
"You are very good," murmured Blanche, really touched, "but--"
"Don't say `but' just yet; let me finish," he went on. "I am leavingEngland almost immediately, for two months at least. I won't ask to seeyou again till I come back. I won't say anything if you feel that youmust stay on here in the meantime, though I would give worlds to see youback in your own home. If you will only agree to think it over, to tryto get accustomed to the idea? That is all I ask just now."
Blanche stopped short. They had been walking on slowly.
"Please don't say any more," she said. "Mr Dunstan, I can't agree toanything, I don't care for you--I mean, I don't love you in the _very_least. I never dreamt of your having thought of me in any way. Youmust see, under the circumstances, it would be perfectly impossible forme to say I would try to get to care for you, except as a friend. Yourvery goodness and kindness make it impossible. I do thank you mostheartily for what you have said about us all I am not proud in someways. If--if I loved anybody, it would not be painful to me to acceptwhatever he was able to do for those I love. But you wouldn't have metry to care for you because of that?"
"It might come to be for myself," said Archie. "Certainly, I agree withyou that nothing I could possibly do would deserve such a reward."
"I don't mean that," said Blanche. "I could never disassociate the two.I should always feel that pity and sympathy had made you imagine yourown feelings deeper than they were."
"No, no," he almost interrupted. "It was long before I knew of allthis. It is hard upon me that you will not even give me the chance,which you might have done had circumstances been otherwise."
Blanche shook her head.
"I want to be quite fair," she said. "Honestly, I can't imagine myselfever caring for you in that way, putting all secondary feelings out ofconsideration."
"You are so young," he said, "you can't judge."
"I think I can," she replied. "I am older in some ways than youimagine. Good-bye, Mr Dunstan," she went on. "I am glad you are goingaway, for I hate to feel myself ungrateful, and yet, what could I do?Good-bye."
She held out her hand.
"Good-bye, then," he repeated, and in another moment he was gone.
She was wanted indoors, Blanche knew. A quarter of an hour before, shehad felt almost feverishly anxious for Mr Dunstan to leave, for she wasmuch interested in the important order they had unexpectedly received.Nevertheless, when she had seen the young man's figure disappear intothe house, she turned again and slowly retraced her footsteps along thegravel walk to the farther end of the garden, feeling that for a fewminutes she must be alone.
Every sensation seemed absorbed for the time in an intense, overpoweringrush of pity for the disappointment she felt she had inflicted.
"I wonder if all girls feel like this when this sort of thing happens,"she said to herself. "If so, I pity _them_; it is quite horrible. Ifeel as if I had been so terribly unkind and ungrateful. But how couldI have guessed that such a thing was in his mind! It seems tooextraordinary. And why should he have thought of _me_, among the crowdsof girls he must meet?"
She went on musing to herself a little longer. Then, though not withoutsome amount of effort, she made her way slowly back to the house.
"I will not tell mamma," she decided. "I don't think it would be wrongnot to do so, and though she is so good and unworldly, she might feel,considering everything, a little disappointed that I had been so decidedabout it."
Five minutes later she was in the middle of a discussion as to theprettiest shade of blue for Miss Levett's bridesmaids' hats.
The next few weeks passed, on the whole, quickly; for though it was whatMiss Halliday described as "between the seasons," the good woman hadnever, even in her palmiest days, been so busy. She was overflowingwith delight; her most sanguine dreams bade fair to be realised.
It was an unusually fine and hot summer, and early autumn crept onimperceptibly, so mild and genial did the weather continue. Blissmoreand the neighbourhood broke out into an unprecedented succession oftennis and garden-parties, picnics and the like. And whether theentertainers and the entertained on these festive occasions belonged tothe exclusive county society or to the inhabitants of the town itself,the practical result, so far as the milliner and her friends wereconcerned, was the same.
Everybody needed new hats and bonnets, for a fine and prolonged summernecessarily makes great havoc with such articles of feminine attire, andorders succeeded orders from all directions with almost overwhelmingrapidity.
The secret of the young milliners' extended fame was not long leftundivulged. For one day, a week or two after young Mr Dunstan's visit,a carriage from Alderwood drew up again at the door in the High Street,and from it descended, without any preliminary summons by bell orknocker, the short stout figure of Lady Harriot in person.
She walked straight into the shop, looking round as she did so withshort-sighted eyes. The first person they lighted upon was MissHalliday.
"Oh--ah," began the visitor, "I came to see Miss Derwent. Is she nothere?"
Blanche emerged from the farther part of the shop and came forward.
"How de do?" began the old lady, holding out her hand with what sheintended for marked affability. "I'm pleased to see you again. Well,now, I don't exactly know whether I should say that. At least, I mean,I should rather have seen you at Pinnerton than here. I'm very sorryfor what's happened--I am indeed. Mrs Selwyn told me all about it, andI promised her I'd look you up as soon as I came back. I think you're avery brave girl, I do indeed, my dear. I wish you success with all myheart."
"Thank you," said Blanche cordially. "It was very good of Mrs Selwyn tothink of us. And is there anything I can do for you, Lady Harriot?" shewent on, with a twinkle of fun in her eyes. "I do hope you want a newbonnet."
The fun was lost upon Lady Harriot, whose density was her predominatingcharacteristic, but the practical suggestion was quite to her mind.
"Yes," she said, "that's just what I do want. I've gone through such anumber this year in London, with the fine weather and the sun and thedust. And I was going to bring down one or two new ones with me, justwhen I saw Aunt Grace; so then I said to her I would wait till I cameback here, and see what you could do for me. And I hope to get you somemore customers, but the best way to begin is by getting something formyself. One's head shows off a bonnet so, you know."
Blanche glanced up at the good woman's headgear with some trepidation.She felt rather caught in her own trap, for Lady Harriot's bonnets wereremarkable, to say the least. Like many stout, elderly ladies, sheloved bright colours, and was by no means amenable to her millinerssuggestions, and Blanche's misgivings were great as to the desirabilityof Lady Harriot in the shape of an advertisement.
An amusing consultation followed. Blanche would have liked to summonStasy to her aid, but she dared not.
"What would happen," she asked herself, "if Stasy made fun of the oldwoman to her face? _I_ couldn't keep my gravity, even if Lady Harriotdidn't f
ind it out."
And probably her own tact and powers of persuasion were far moreeffectual than Stasy's rather despotic decisions on all questions oftaste or arrangement.
And Lady Harriot departed in immense satisfaction, firmly convinced thatthe bonnet was to owe its success to her own suggestions, and thatBlanche Derwent was really "a sensible girl, with no nonsense abouther."
"And really very pretty," she added to herself. "I must call on theirmother the next time I am in the town, and I mustn't forget to speakabout them everywhere. I do hope, for