Читать книгу Bluebell - Mrs. G. C. Huddleston - Страница 22

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Trifles, light as air,

Are to the jealous confirmation strong

As proofs of holy writ.

Shakespeare.

Bluebell had not visited her mother for three weeks. One Saturday Freddy had a sore throat and would not let her out of his sight, keeping up an incessant demand for black-currant jelly and fairy tales, and the next week a heavy fall of snow made walking impossible. She now very often shared the gaieties of the others. Mrs. Rolleston took great interest in Bluebell's career. She thought it by no means improbable that Sir Timothy should have provided for her in his will, or, indeed, that he might any day acknowledge her; and though she took her out, and let her dance to her heart's content, kept faithful watch to prevent any undesirable flirtation.

So the kind-hearted lady was a good deal disturbed at seeing Jack Vavasour, who came of an extravagant and far from wealthy family, first in the field. After the manner of love-lorn subalterns, he haunted and persecuted the fair object of his affections, who cared nothing about him, and treated him as a child does its toys, sometimes pleased with them, and at others casting them indifferently aside.

And all the time Bertie was gaining greater influence over her. But even Cecil, whose eyes were keen, was never able to detect any evidence of a secret understanding between them.

He regularly asked her for one valse only when they went to balls; indeed, he could not do less. Cecil, of course, could not hear what they talked about then.

There is a dreamy, intoxicating valse of Gung'l's, which he always made her keep for him when it was played. It was a small piece of selfish romance, for well he knew that charmed air would ever hereafter be haunted with associations of him. How many more "stolen sweet moments" he found in the day must be left to the reader's imagination. But stolen they were; for Du Meresq knew Cecil's disposition, and was far from wishing to break with her, though "why should he spare this little girl with the chestnut hair, and the love in her deep-blue eyes?" And Bluebell no longer shrank from being underhand. It did not strike her in that light now. She thought of nothing but Bertie, who was so different before the others, that she learnt to look forward to their brief chances of being alone as much as he did. And Du Meresq, with ingenious sophistry, expatiated on the charm of keeping their delicious secret to themselves, uncommented on by the cold and unsympathetic.

Thus Bluebell, from being a lively, ingenuous, outspoken child, altered into a dreamy maiden, living a hidden life of repressed excitement, whose whole interest was the fugitive, uncertain interviews with Bertie, and an interchanged glance, touch of the hand, or few fond words, ventured on when the others were not attending.

"Bluebell," laughed Cecil, as a cutter drove to the door, "here is your Lubin again." The girls had just returned from the Rink, and were disrobing upstairs.

"Oh, he is so tiresome," said the other. "I declare I won't come down."

"That you must; we should never get rid of him; he would sit on waiting for you. You have made such a goose of him, Bluebell, and he used to be such fun."

"I shouldn't mind him if he was fun now; but he just sits glowering at one, and stays so long. Why can't a person see when he is not wanted?"

"But you do want him sometimes," said Cecil. "You are always 'off' and 'on' with poor Jack. I believe, if he proposed, you would say 'No' one day and retract the next."

They entered the drawing-room, where was young Vavasour, as usual, making conversation to Mrs. Rolleston, who was at once bored and disproving. Cecil shook hands pleasantly enough, but Bluebell, not even looking at him, extended a lifeless hand in passing, and, picking up some work, appeared absorbed in counting stitches.

Jack turned over in his own mind every possible cause of offence. He couldn't perceive that it was he himself that was not wanted, and that she cared not a button for anything he had done or left undone.

He talked on perseveringly with the others, glancing stealthily at Bluebell tatting, till Cecil got up to make tea, when he moved to a seat nearer.

"I wasn't out of uniform till four o'clock, Miss Leigh, or I should have been at the Rink."

"So I suppose. You always go there, don't you?"

"When I expect to meet any one," trying to throw a sentimental look in his generally laughing brown eyes.

"It isn't usually empty: but, of course, you don't go for the skating. You'll never make anything of that."

"Any more than you will be of driving," retorted Jack. "Shall you ever forget that crumpler down the bank? Dahlia hasn't recovered the fright yet."

"Stupid thing; what did she jump over for? I was nearly suffocated. I am sure there must have been a cast of me on the snow."

"It wasn't altogether unpleasant," said Jack. "We were covered up very snug and warm, like babes in the wood. I shouldn't mind doing it again in the same company."

"Shouldn't you?" said Bluebell, indignantly. "Then you may omit the company." And so they went on whispering, to Mrs. Rolleston's annoyance, till the Colonel's voice was heard bringing in a visitor—a lady of unfashionable appearance, chiefly remarkable for the variety of knitted articles, described in work-books as "winter comforts," displayed on her person.

"Ma tante!" ejaculated Jack, incautiously; "who is this old Quiz?"

"Here is Mrs. Leigh," said Colonel Rolleston, "who says she has not seen her daughter for three weeks. Where are you Bluebell?"

Jack felt ready to sink into the earth, while his boyish face became the colour of a peony; and Bluebell, vexed and hurt, advanced to the maternal embrace.

Their mutual confusion was so evident, that the Colonel put another interpretation on it, and remarked, in a tone the reverse of congratulatory—"You have not been long getting out of harness, Vavasour."

Jack muttered something, and tried to catch Bluebell's eye, agonies of contrition in his own.

"Well, my dear, and how well you are looking," said Mrs. Leigh. "But we have missed you at home, Aunt Jane and I. No, thank you, Mrs. Rolleston; not at all tired. I caught the street-car at the corner, which brought me all the way for five cents. Very respectable people in it; only one soldier; he was not at all tipsy. I don't think your men ever are, Colonel. Thank you, Miss Rolleston," as Cecil brought her some tea. "I'll just unbutton my Sontag, or I shan't feel the good of it when I go out again, shall I?"

"I have been thinking," said Mrs. Rolleston, to whom it had just occurred that this would be a good break in Jack's attentions, "that it would be very nice if Bluebell went home for a few days, as you have seen so little of her."

"I'm sure I'm most grateful," said the little lady. "There, my dear, Aunt Jane was saying only yesterday how dull it was without the child. But are you sure she can be spared, Mrs. Rolleston?"

"Only to you," said the lady, kindly, but smiling a little, for certainly her duties were not very onerous.

Bluebell, an anxious listener, felt her heart sink at this proposal. What, go away and leave Bertie, whose daily presence had become a necessity to her! Besides, dreadful thought! his leave might be over ere she returned. In desperation she said, imploringly, "Mamma will not want me for more than a day or two," and gazed anxiously at Mrs. Rolleston, with a world of unspoken entreaty in her eyes.

The appeal was injudicious, only confirming her impression that it was a separation from Jack Bluebell dreaded, and she mentally put on another week to her banishment.

"There's no hurry," said the lady, decidedly; "a change will do you good. She shall walk over to-morrow, Mrs. Leigh; and I am very glad I thought of it."

Bluebell, thinking all was lost, tried not to show her dismay, which would have grieved her mother and done no good; but she remembered, with a sinking heart, that Du Meresq was to dine out that night, and she might get no opportunity of speaking to him alone before changing her quarters.

"I must be off home," said Mrs. Leigh. "Several little things to be done in your room, Bluebell. The stove-pipe has got choked at the elbow, and I must have the sweep in."

Her daughter longed to suggest that it might be more convenient to postpone her appearance for a day; but as Mrs. Rolleston said nothing, she could not either.

Jack, who had been all this time writhing with vexation at his mal-à-propos remark, here saw a chance of propitiating Bluebell and putting himself on visiting terms at her home.

"My cutter is at the door," said he, addressing Mrs. Rolleston. "If Mrs. Leigh will allow me, I shall be too happy to drive her home."

"Oh, he must be going to propose," thought the former lady, "and they won't have twopence between them;" but she could only reply—

"Well, Mrs. Leigh, what do you say? Will you trust yourself to Mr. Vavasour?"

"I'm sure," said the little lady, flutteringly, "the gentleman is most kind; but I am so timid with horses unless they are quite old. Does your horse kick, sir?"

"Only if the rein gets under her tail."

"Ah, I should be sure to scream and snatch it—the reins, I mean, and they say that isn't safe driving. I had better walk; and yet it is getting dark, and I shall miss the car. What shall I do, Colonel Rolleston?"

"Drive, to be sure," said he, who wanted to get rid of them both. "Vavasour only upsets when he gives the reins to young ladies," with a glance at Bluebell.

"Well, I should like a ride in a sleigh, if my poor nerves will let me enjoy it," toddling to the door with Colonel Rolleston.

"I'll take the greatest care of you, Mrs. Leigh," said Jack, heartily, grateful for a re-assuring nod from Bluebell in recognition of his contrite gallantry. The mare, tired of waiting, became fidgety to be off.

"Oh, he is going to prance. Have you got good hold of his head, sir?" to the groom.

"Quite correct, 'm," grinned that official. "Quiet, 'Nancy,'" that being the stable version of "Banshee."

"Let her go," said Jack, who had just tucked Mrs. Leigh in. A couple of bounds, a smothering scream, and they disappeared in the evening gloom.

"That there old party ain't the guvener's usual form," meditated that bât-man, as he walked back, for the cutter only carried two. "He seems to set a deal of store by her, though. There's some young 'ooman at home, where she lives, I'd take my dying dick."

Cecil and her father, who had seen them off, stopped laughing together at Mrs. Leigh's peculiarities; and Bluebell, finding herself alone with Mrs. Rolleston, felt impelled to try if she could not curtail her sentence of banishment. Of course, her words were intended to conceal her thoughts—love's first lesson is always hypocrisy.

"I know I am not very much use here," she began, "but still I shouldn't like to think I was of none, and, therefore, I really don't want to stay away more than a day or two."

A sudden look of penetration came into Mrs. Rolleston's face, and, with more sarcasm in her voice than Bluebell's little speech appeared to justify, she said—

"My dear, scrupulous child, we can get on without you longer than that, so you may, with a clear conscience, think of your mother, who is dull this dreadful weather."

Bluebell felt caught in a mesh and incapable of extricating herself, but she made no attempt to conceal her reluctance to going.

"How long must I stay away?" said she, dolefully.

"Just till the days get a little longer—a fortnight or three weeks, perhaps."

Bluebell made a gesture of despair (Bertie would be gone to a certainty by then), and looked the picture of misery. Mrs. Rolleston's suspicions were now convictions.

"My dear Bluebell," she began, impulsively, "I know there's some reason for your dislike to going," and she gazed fixedly at her. No denial. Bluebell hoped Mrs. Rolleston had some inkling of how things were with her and Bertie, and had she then persisted might easily have forced her confidence; which would have considerably enlightened and dismayed the elder lady, whose mind, being full of Jack, had never dreamed of Bertie.

Mrs. Rolleston, however, rapidly decided it would never do to encourage her to talk of the matter, and that she had better put her foot on it at once.

"I have guessed your little penchant, dear, for some one we won't talk about, for indeed, Bluebell, it never can come to any thing; you are both too young and too poor. It would be a most undesirable connexion."

"She doesn't think me grand enough for her brother," suggested Bluebell's wounded pride.

"And, therefore," pursued her Mentor, "absence is the best thing in these cases; and when you come back I trust you will have got rid of such hopeless fancies."

Bluebell was deeply mortified—she lost all expectation of sympathy, and with a touch of pride, said—"You must know best, Mrs. Rolleston, but I shall never care for any one else; and I must tell you honestly, I can't give it up if he doesn't."

"You will not see him at home?" said the elder lady, hastily. Such a gleam of hope irradiated Bluebell's face; she had never thought of that.

"Dear me, this is too bad!" continued the other, quite disheartened. "I shall take care you have no more opportunities of meeting here. Bluebell, do be warned. I only speak for your good."

"How self-interest deceives one," moralized the girl; "it is only because I am, as she says, 'a most undesirable connexion for her brother!'"

Cecil entered at this juncture, and Bluebell, hearing the Colonel's step also approaching, made a hasty escape from the room.

"What is the matter with her?" asked Cecil. "She brushed by me so suddenly, and looked so strange."

"Nearly knocked me over," said the Colonel, who had caught the last words.

"Don't notice it; I am afraid Bluebell has lost her heart to young Vavasour; and she is miserable at going home, because she thinks she will not see him."

"I am delighted you have put a stop to that folly," said the Colonel; "that boy dawdles over here every afternoon. I can't have Miss Bluebell's 'followers' everlastingly caterwauling in my house."

An expression of extreme astonishment came over Cecil's face.

"Bluebell doesn't care in the least for Jack Vavasour," said she.

"You are evidently not in her confidence. She told me 'she should never care for any one else'—her very words, the little goose."

Cecil seemed lost in perplexity. "And she doesn't want to go home?" asked she in a bewildered manner.

"Crying her eyes out at this moment I dare say."

"Then for goodness sake let her go home, and stay there till she is better," said the Colonel, irritably. "A love lorn young lady perpetually before me I cannot and will not endure."

His daughter's brow was knitted with thought. Bluebell was evidently in distress at going, but that it had any reference to Jack she totally disbelieved. A latent suspicion revived, and her face grew pained and hard. It was near dinner time, but, instead of going up to dress, she turned into a little smoking room to ponder it out. What motive could Bluebell have had to avow a perfectly fictitious love affair with Vavasour, unless it was to throw dust in Mrs. Rolleston's eyes and blind her to, perhaps, some underhand flirtation with Bertie? Cecil's affection for her friend received a severe wrench directly she admitted such a possibility, and then, as she meditated, two or three incidents, too slight to be noticed at the time, rose up to confirm it.

"Forewarned, forearmed, if that is your game, Miss Bluebell," thought she, resolving for the future to watch narrowly. At this moment Du Meresq, whistling 'Ah, che la morte,' burst into the room.

"Cecil here, all in the dark? Light a candle, there's a good girl, I want my cigar case. I'm awfully late".

"Who is the Leonore you are whistling addio to?" said she complying.

"I don't know, the air is running in my head."

"I thought it might be Bluebell, she is going to-morrow."

The match went out, so she could not see the expression of Bertie's face.

"How do you mean?" said he quietly.

"They think Lubin destructive to her peace of mind, so she is to go home for a fortnight. Singular idea, isn't it."

"Bosh!" said Du Meresq, emphatically. "Well, I'm off. Good-night, Cecil."