Bessie's Fortune Part 7

"'Oh, but you carn't. I'm the son of Lady Jane McPherson, you know, and you carn't touch me.'

"'We'll see if I carn't,' I answered, and then I pitched in and thrashed him till he cried for quarter, and I let him go, threatening all sorts of vengeance upon me, the worst of which was that he would tell his mother and have me arrested for a.s.sault and battery.

"That was my introduction to Neil McPherson, and I am ashamed of it now, for I came to like him very much."

During the recital Miss McPherson had laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks, a thing very unusual to her, while neither Hannah nor Lucy could repress a smile at Grey's earnestness, but Mr. Jerrold looked very grave, and his wife annoyed and displeased.

"I am glad to hear you acknowledge that you are ashamed," Mr. Jerrold said; "for I was very _much_ ashamed that a son of mine should so far forget himself as to fight a stranger whom he had never seen before.

But, in justice to you, I must add what you have omitted, which is that you went and apologized to the boy for the affront."

"Did you?" Miss McPherson said, turning to Grey, who replied:

"Yes; and I must say that he received my rather bungling apology better than I supposed he would.

"'All right,' he said, offering me his hand; 'I dare say I was a cad to say what I did of your flag, but you needn't have hit me quite so hard.

Where did you learn boxing?'

"'I never learned it,' I told him. 'It was natural to all the Yankees, who were born with clenched fists, ready to go at it.'

"He believed me, and said 'Reely, is that so?' and then he invited me to play billiards with him, and we got to be good friends, and he asked all sorts of questions about America, and said that our girls were the prettiest in the world when they were young. All the English say that, and Neil had heard it forty times, so it was not original with him. He said, however, that pretty as they were, his cousin, Bessie, was far prettier, that she was a most beautiful little creature, and as sweet as she was beautiful."

"Bessie!" Miss McPherson exclaimed, with a peculiar ring in her voice, and a manner of greater interest than she had evinced in Grey's recital of his encounter with Neil, "Do you mean the daughter of Archibald McPherson, my nephew, and did you see her? Did you see Archie?"

Grey colored, and replied;

"No, I did not, for mother wished to punish me for fighting Neil, and so when a Mrs. Smithers asked us to spend a week with the McPhersons at her home in Middles.e.x, I was left behind in London with some friends, but I had great fun. I went to the Tower, and the circus, and the Abbey, and the museum, and everywhere, though I was sorry not to see Bessie, who with her father and mother, was also at Captain Smithers'."

"You saw them, then," Miss McPherson continued, addressing herself to Mrs. Jerrold, "You saw Archie, and his wife and Bessie. What is Archie like? I never saw him, but I have his wife. She was the daughter of a milliner, or dressmaker, or ballet-dancer, from Wales, in the vicinity of Bangor, or Carnarvon, I believe."

"Carnarvon!" Hannah repeated quickly, while a sudden pallor came to her lips and forehead, but no one noticed it, and Geraldine hesitated a little, uncertain as to how far she dared to tell the truth and not give offense.

But she was soon relieved from all uneasiness on that score, by Miss McPherson, who, noticing her hesitancy, said:

"Don't be afraid to tell me exactly as it is, for were Archie ten times my nephew, I would rather hear the whole truth just as Grey told it of Neil. So, then, what did you think of Archie? I have an idea he is a good-natured, good for nothing, shiftless fellow, who never earned a penny in his life, and who gets his living from any one who will give it to him."

She spoke with a great asperity of manner, and then waited for Geraldine, who replied:

"You have stated the case in much stronger language than I should have done, but in the main I believe you are right. Mr. Archibald McPherson is one whom you could not possibly mistake for other than a gentleman.

He is courteous, and kind, and agreeable, but very indolent, I should say, for he never stands when he can sit, and never sits when he can recline; indeed, his position is always a lounging one, and he impressed me as if he were afraid of falling to pieces if he exerted himself."

"Just so, that is what I thought," Miss Betsey said, emphatically. "He takes it from his father, rather than his mother. She, I believe, had some energy and snap She was a chorus singer in some opera, and I did not like the match, though I now believe she was too good for Hugh. And now for Archie's wife, Daisy they call her. What of her?"

Mrs. Jerrold evidently had no scruples about freeing her mind with regard to Daisy McPherson, and she answered, promptly:

"I did not like her at all, neither did Lady Jane, and I tried my best to keep aloof from her, but could not; she is pushing and aggressive and sweetly unconscious that she is not wanted. And yet she is exceedingly pretty, with that innocent kind of face and childish, appealing way which women detest, but which takes with the men," and Mrs. Geraldine glanced sharply at her husband, who was just then very busy with his pudding, and pretended not to hear her, while she went on: "She has some accomplishments, speaks French and German, I believe, perfectly, sings simple ballads tolerably well, but rolls her eyes frightfully, and is so conscious of herself that she disgusts you. I should call her a regular Becky Sharp, always managing to get the best of everything, and, as she told me herself, always having on her list two or three invitations for as many weeks, to as many different places."

"But how does she do it?" Miss Betsey asked, and Mrs. Jerrold replied:

"I hardly know, nor do the ladies themselves. Sometimes, as in the case of Mrs. Smithers, the invitation is genuine and sincere, but oftener it is a mere form at which Daisy jumps at once, thanking the lady sweetly, and either asking her to fix a time, or more frequently fixing it herself to suit her own convenience. She has a most wonderful talent, too, forgetting presents of clothes and jewelry for herself and Bessie, and that is the way they live, for they have no means, or, at least, very little, except what she manages to get from the men by philopoenas, or bets, or games at cards and chess, where they allow her to win, because she almost begs them to let her do so. She even got five pounds from my husband on a wager, which he did not at first think in earnest."

And again the black eyes flashed at b.u.t.ton, who now looked up from the orange he was peeling and said laughingly:

"Yes, Daisy did me out of twenty-five dollars in the neatest possible manner, and would have fleeced me out of twenty-five more if I had not been on my guard against her. She got twenty-five pounds out of Lord Hardy who was a guest at the Smithers', but he acted as if it were a pleasure to be cheated by so pretty a woman, and she is the prettiest woman I ever saw."

"Umph!" Miss Betsey said again, while Geraldine continued:

"Yes, she is pretty, with a pink and white complexion, blue eyes and golden hair, which curls naturally, and which she still wears hanging down her back so as to show it to good advantage, and she a woman of thirty."

"No, Geraldine, you are mistaken," Mr. Jerrold said, quickly. "You forget that she was married at seventeen, and Bessie is only eight; so, at the most, Daisy cannot be more than twenty-six."

"I am glad you know her age so well," Mrs. Geraldine retorted, "I think twenty-six too old to wear one's hair streaming down the back. We were all disgusted, and especially Lady Jane, whose room was just across the hall, directly opposite hers. She told me herself that she would never have accepted Mrs. Smithers' invitation had she known that adventuress was to be there. And yet she was very kind to little Bessie. Indeed, no one could look at that child and not love her at once, and pity her, too, for the influence with which she was surrounded."

"Yes, Bessie--tell me of her," and Miss McPherson leaned forward eagerly. "They pretend she was named for me. Then why not call her Betsey, if that is her name?"

"Would you call a child Betsey?" Hannah asked, joining for the first time in the conversation.

"No, of course not. I think it horrid, but if I was christened Betsey, no power on earth could turn me into a Bessie; but go on and tell me about her," and she turned to Mrs. Geraldine, who continued:

"She has her mother's wonderful beauty, with all its refinement of her father, and such a sweet expression that you feel like kissing her. Her eyes, like her mother's, are blue, but so clear and dark that at times they seemed almost black, especially when there came into them as there often did, a troubled look, when Daisy was relating some of her adventures, which we knew could not be true. At such times, it was curious to watch the child as she listened with her great wide-open eyes and flushed cheeks, while her breath came in short gasps, as if she were longing to contradict her mother, and this she sometimes did.

"'Mamma, mamma, please,' she would say. 'Haven't you forgotten? Wasn't it this way?' but a look would silence her, and there would settle upon her face and about her mouth that patient, sorrowful expression pitiful to see in one so young."

"And her father, was he fond of her?" Miss McPherson asked, and Mrs.

Jerrold replied:

"Yes, very, and she of him. She seemed to recognize the difference between him and her mother, and kept by him most of the time. It was a very pretty sight to see her with her arms around his neck and her bright head leaning on his arm, while she looked up at him so lovingly and sympathizingly, too, as they watched the maneuvers of her mother.

Once I heard her say to him, when Daisy was flirting more than usual and attracting all eyes to her, 'I shall never do like that; but mamma is very pretty, isn't she?'

"'Yes, darling, very pretty,' he answered, and then they kissed each other very quietly. I wish you could see Bessie."

It was not often that Geraldine praised anything or anybody as she praised this little English girl who had made a strong impression upon her, and of whom she might have said more if Miss McPherson had not rejoined:

"I did see her once, and her mother, too. I was home three years ago, you know, and I went to Aberystwyth in Wales, where I heard Archie was staying, but I did not make myself known to him, I was so disgusted with what I heard of his wife's conduct, which he allowed without a word of protest. But I was anxious to see the child, and one morning I sat on a bench on the Marine Terrace watching a group of children playing near me. I was almost sure that the one with the blue eyes and bright hair was Archie's and so I called aloud, 'Betsey McPherson, are you there?'

"Instantly she came to me, and folding her hands in my lap, looked up at me with her wondering eyes and said:

"'I am Bessie McPherson, not Betsey.'

"'Weren't you christened Betsey?' I asked, and she replied:

"'Yes, but they never call me that. It's a horrid name, mamma says.'

"'Then why did she give it to you?' I said, and she answered with the utmost gravity:

"'For some old auntie in America who has money; but she never sent me a thing, nor answered papa's letter. I think she is mean, don't you?'

"I did not tell her what I thought of the old auntie, though I could not repress a smile at her frankness, which pleased me more than prevarication would have done.