Bluebell Part 19

"How foolish to draggle that mazarin blue poplinette in sloppy snow! Once let it get any snow stains on, and it will look quite shabby on bright spring days."

"It's no use having things, if one doesn't wear them," returned the girl, evasively. But when she came down ten minutes later equipped for her walk, she encountered Miss Opie again in full marching order.

"My, dear, as you are dressed so nicely, I dare say you are going 'on King,' and so am I; so we can walk together."

Consternation in Bluebell's face--it was only a quarter to three.

"I am going quite in the opposite direction," cried she, hurriedly, and, without waiting to see the effect of her words, abruptly fled.

"Just Canadian independence," muttered Miss Opie; "It makes all the girls such thoroughly bad style."

Bluebell began to feel very nervous; two or three young friends that she met on the way, she pa.s.sed with a quick nod and averted face, dreading their joining her. Her eye swept the broad walk of the Avenue in an instant; no familiar figure arrested her vision, and the seats placed at regular intervals on each side were also vacant of interest.

So she was first--the Cathedral clock had struck three some minutes before, she was perplexed to know what to do with herself, and began walking slowly to the other end. Of all possible _contretemps_, the non-appearance of Du Meresq had never suggested itself; but after a couple of turns the unwelcome misgiving strengthened, and there would be only one at the tryst that day.

In a tumult of disappointment and indignation, conjecture after conjecture chased each other; while ever and anon her fancy was mocked by some one turning in at the gates bearing a general resemblance to Du Meresq, only to be dispelled by a nearer and more accurate view.

A simple explanation suddenly dawned; Bertie might have written to warn her of an unavoidable absence. The possibility of such a letter, which, had she had received it in the morning, would have been the bitterest disappointment, now seemed a resurrection from despair to hope, and with relaxed features and brightening eyes, Bluebell walked rapidly through the gates to the Post-office.

Letters were so rare and unlooked for at the cottage, that the postman never included it in his rounds; and the contents of the pigeon-hole appropriated to them at the office was seldom inquired for, except on mail-days, when there might be an off-chance of an English letter for Miss Opie. Even Bluebell, who for the first fortnight after her banishment from "The Maples" had been a regular applicant, had not been near it since Bertie's visit to the cottage.

"Two letters for Miss Theodora Leigh." One she scarcely looked at; the other instinct told her must be Bertie's handwriting; it had been lying two days at the Post-office.

"My dearest Bluebell," ran this note, "I can't come to the Avenue on Wednesday, being now entirely confined to the sofa with my ankle, which has gone to the bad. I am only staying on now with sick leave, and the Chief very sulky at that. When shall I again see those beloved, angel-like, soft blue eyes? Don't write to me here, for, as you may remember, the orderly fetches the letters, and my august brother-in-law sometimes deals them round.

"Your ever devotedly attached, "A. Du M."

Poor Bluebell, as she read these few and rather cavalier lines, felt for the moment as if she had never suffered till now; his hinted at departure, and apparent resignation to absence from her, was a severe shock, and, in the first hot feeling of grief, the scales fell from her eyes, and she began to see Bertie as he was, but she could not yet endure the light of reason, so resumed her voluntary blindness, and re-read the letter, and though very little of it could satisfy her expectations, she dwelt more on the few words that did. After a while, she remembered the other letter, and found, with awakening interest, it was from Mrs.

Rolleston. This was written in a pleasant chit-chat style, giving an account of their every-day life since she left, and not at all avoiding Bertie's name, the tedious effect of his toboggining accident being one of the chief incidents mentioned. It wound up with saying that they expected her back as soon as she liked.

Bluebell felt rather mystified at the tone of this epistle; but was much comforted by the thought that the ban was removed, and she might go to "The Maples" and judge for herself. This was dated prior to the other letter, but Bertie appeared to have been ignorant of it.

The following day, our heroine, in a hired sleigh, was jingling back to "The Maples," and curiosity and interest all centred on one question--"Is he there still?"

As she pa.s.sed through the hall, her eye glanced searchingly round on the chance of seeing some familiar property of Bertie's. There was only a pair of his moccasins; but they might so easily have been left behind as useless, now the snow was evaporating.

Mrs. Rolleston and Cecil received her very cordially, but, knowing their sentiments, that was rather an unfavourable omen, and Freddy and Lola, who had come down to see her, kept up such an incessant chatter, that there seemed no chance of obtaining the information she dreaded.

At last, in a momentary pause, she faltered out a leading remark in such a low voice that no one attended to it. A minute later, she tried again,--"I hope Captain Du Meresq is better."

"How red you have got, 'b.o.o.bell!'" said Freddy. "Look, mamma!"

"What did you say, my dear--Bertie? Oh, yes, he is very lame still; but he was obliged to go yesterday."

The sudden colour left Bluebell's cheek, and she sat for some minutes in a relaxed, drooping att.i.tude, oblivious of all around, till becoming sensible of Cecil's gaze rivetted on her. It was a cold satirical expression, at the same time inquiring. Bluebell was very unhappy; but this roused her, and, raising her head, she looked her enemy steadily in the eyes, with a bitter smile.

She never, strange to say, suspected Cecil of being a rival, merely supposing she was carrying on the family politics; and wounded by her officiously hostile demeanour, as she considered it, resolved no trace of her sufferings should ever be witnessed by this cold friend.

And thus it happened that the topic was jealously avoided by each; though, with mutual occupation and amus.e.m.e.nts, they became friendly again, now the disturber of their amicability was removed.

Bertie and Cecil had been inseparable the last week. His premature exertion in calling at the cottage had thrown him back; and really ill, and, in enforced inaction, he could not bear her out of his sight.

So day after day Cecil pa.s.sed in the smoking-room, only hurrying out for a short drive or const.i.tutional; and half-repaid by the gloomy complaint, "How long yon have been!" when she re-entered.

Du Meresq's correspondence, too, as we have before hinted, was not calming. A half-indignant letter from a friend whose temporary accommodation had not been repaid, a bill at three months wanting renewing, a tailor threatening the extremest rigours of the law, and similar literature, familiar to a distressed man, was punctually brought by the Post-office orderly for his delectation.

"You seem interested, Cecil," said he, as, with the uncerimoniousness of a trusted _confidante_, she glanced through the variations of the same text. "Do you young ladies ever get up behind each other, and back each other's bills?"

"You haven't opened some, Bertie; and they are not all bills."

"You can, if it amuses you," hobbling across the room. "Why, Cecil, my foot is almost sound again. We'll drive somewhere this afternoon, anyhow."

"See what the doctor says. Look here, Bertie, here's a letter marked private, so I didn't go on."

"Where did you find that? I never saw it." As he read, his brow grew dark, and he pondered several minutes; while Cecil, devoured with curiosity, and half-apprehensive of evil, remained silent.

"Will you get me a railway-guide, Cecil? There's one in the dining-room."

She complied, most unwillingly.

"Are you really going, Bertie?"

"I must, to-night."

"Why?" she more looked than asked.

He glanced through the letter again, and tossed it to her. "You see I have no secrets from you, Cecil, though I should not care for any one else in the house to be acquainted with its contents."

It was a confidential letter from his Colonel, saying, if absolutely necessary, he would give him more sick leave; but advising him, if possible, to return at once and settle some of his most urgent liabilities, which, having repeatedly come to his ears, he could no longer avoid taking notice of, unless he took steps to get the more serious ones shortly arranged.

"What _will_ you do, Bertie?"

"I don't know that anything but jumping into the Lachine Rapids would solve the difficulty," returned he, lightly; "and even that must be deferred till the river is open."

"How much is it?" impatiently.

"I dare say six hundred might soothe the chief's sense of propriety, and give one a little breathing-time. But I can't get that, so the smash must come a little sooner than it otherwise would."

"You tell me that, and tie my hands by refusing to let me help you.

Bertie, if you could just hold on till August, when I might draw any cheques I pleased--"

"You dearest little angel!" interrupted Du Meresq, warmly; "what have I done that you should be so kind to me? But all women are alike--generous and true-hearted when a fellow is down in the world; and--"

"Then you promise? You will count on the money?" said Cecil, not much flattered at being supposed only to act up to the inevitable instincts of her s.e.x.

"Good heavens, Cecil! no; I am not such an unprincipled brute as to rob you of a penny. Under no possible circ.u.mstances could I touch--"

"Under _no possible_ circ.u.mstances?" leapt out before she could restrain her speech. Had the meaning escaped him, the eloquent blood which rushed over neck and brow must have betrayed it completely.