Helbeck of Bannisdale Volume I Part 26

An hour later Laura, very carefully dressed, and holding herself very erect, entered Augustina's room.

"Oh, Laura!" cried Mrs. Fountain, as the door opened. She was very flushed, and she stared from her bed at her stepdaughter in an agitated silence.

Laura stopped short.

"Well, what is it, Augustina? What have you heard?"

"Laura! how _can_ you do such things!"

And Augustina, who already had her breakfast beside her, raised her handkerchief to her eyes and began to cry. Laura threw up her head and walked away to a far window, where she turned and confronted Mrs.

Fountain.

"Well, he has been quick in telling you," she said, in a low but fierce voice.

"He? What do you mean? My brother? As if he had said a word! I don't believe he ever would. But Mrs. Denton heard it all."

"Mrs. Denton?" said Laura. "_Mrs. Denton?_ What on earth had she to do with it?"

"She heard you drive up. You know her room looks on the front."

"And she listened? sly old creature!" said Laura, recovering herself.

"Well, it can't be helped. If she heard, she heard, and whatever I may feel, I'm not going to apologise to Mrs. Denton."

"But, Laura--Laura--was he----"

Augustina could not finish the odious question.

"I suppose he was," said Laura bitterly. "It seems to be the natural thing for young men of that sort."

"Laura, do come here."

Laura came unwillingly, and Augustina took her hands and looked up at her.

"And, Laura, he was abominably rude to Alan!"

"Yes, he was, and I'm very sorry," said the girl slowly. "But it can't be helped, and it's no good making yourself miserable, Augustina."

"Miserable? I? It's you, Laura, who look miserable. I never saw you look so white and dragged. You must never, never see him again."

The girl's obstinacy awoke in a moment.

"I don't know that I shall promise that, Augustina."

"Oh, Laura! as if you could wish to," said Augustina, in tears.

"I can't give up my father's people," said the girl stiffly. "But he shall never annoy Mr. Helbeck again, I promise you that, Augustina."

"Oh! you did look so nice, Laura, and your dress was so pretty!"

Laura laughed, rather grimly.

"There's not much of it left this morning," she said. "However, as one of the gentlemen who kindly helped to ruin it said last night, 'Lor, bless yer, it'll wesh!'"

After breakfast Laura found herself in the drawing-room, looking through an open window at the spring green in a very strained and irritable mood.

"I would not begin if I could not go on," she said to herself with disdain. But her lip trembled.

So Mr. Helbeck had taken offence, after all. Hardly a word at breakfast, except such as the briefest, barest civility required. And he was going away, it appeared, for three days, perhaps a week, on business. If he had given her the slightest opening, she had meant to master her pride sufficiently to renew her apologies and ask his advice, subject, of course, to her own final judgment as to what kindred and kindness might require of her. But he had given her no opening, and the subject was not, apparently, to be renewed between them.

She might have asked him, too, to curb Mrs. Denton's tongue. But no, it was not to be. Very well. The girl drew her small frame together and prepared, as no one thought for or befriended her, to think for and befriend herself.

She pa.s.sed the next few days in some depression. Mr. Helbeck was absent.

Augustina was very ailing and querulous, and Laura was made to feel that it was her fault. Not a word of regret or apology came from Browhead Farm.

Meanwhile Mrs. Denton had apparently made her niece understand that there was to be no more dallying with Miss Fountain. Whenever she and Laura met, Ellen lowered her head and ran. Laura found that the girl was not allowed to wait upon her personally any more. Meanwhile the housekeeper herself pa.s.sed Miss Fountain with a manner and a silence which were in themselves an insult.

And two days after Helbeck's departure, Laura was crossing the hall towards tea-time, when she saw Mrs. Denton admitting one of the Sisters from the orphanage. It was the Reverend Mother herself, the portly shrewd-faced woman who had wished Mr. Helbeck a good wife. Laura pa.s.sed her, and the nun saluted her coldly. "Dear me!--you shall have Augustina to yourself, my good friend," thought Miss Fountain. "Don't be afraid."

And she turned into the garden.

An hour later she came back. As she opened the door in the old wall she saw the Sister on the steps, talking with Mrs. Denton. At sight of her they parted. The nun drew her long black cloak about her, ran down the steps, and hurried away.

And indoors, Laura could not imagine what had happened to her stepmother.

Augustina was clearly excited, yet she would say nothing. Her restlessness was incessant, and at intervals there were furtive tears.

Once or twice she looked at Laura with the most tragic eyes, but as soon as Laura approached her she would hastily bury herself in her newspaper, or begin counting the st.i.tches of her knitting.

At last, after luncheon, Mrs. Fountain suddenly threw down her work with a sigh that shook her small person from top to toe.

"I wish I knew what was wrong with you," said Laura, coming up behind her, and dropping a pair of soft hands on her shoulders. "Shall I get you your new tonic?"

"No!" said Augustina pettishly; then, with a rush of words that she could not repress:

"Laura, you must--you positively must give up that young man."

Laura came round and seated herself on the fender stool in front of her stepmother.

"Oh! so that's it. Has anybody else been gossiping?"

"I do wish you wouldn't--you wouldn't take things so coolly!" cried Augustina. "I tell you, the least trifle is enough to do a young girl of your age harm. Your father would have been so annoyed."

"I don't think so," said Laura quietly. "But who is it now? The Reverend Mother?"

Augustina hesitated. She had been recommended to keep things to herself.

But she had no will to set against Laura's, and she was, in fact, bursting with suppressed remonstrance.

"It doesn't matter, my dear. One never knows where a story of that kind will go to. That's just what girls don't remember."

"Who told a story, and what? I didn't see the Reverend Mother at the dance."