If Only etc. Part 11

"Yes, take things heasy, I say," chimed in the "Rabbit Queen."

"I don't see what there is to wait for. Show me what is to be gained by waiting, and I will consider it."

"Well, Bella; Doss here will tell you what we was thinking of; he puts things clear like."

"What was in our mind was to talk the thing over first. Allus talk the matter well over, was my motto as a boy. It saves a peck o'

bother and a deal o' doing. Don't flare out about it, but take it gently and conversational."

"Fussing over things won't make you no better," echoed Mrs. Doss.

"Lor', bless me, didn't I have a sister what killed herself fussing!

Fussed herself into the grave, she did! And might have been here, leastways in Camberwell--alive and hearty at this minute."

"The question is--am I too ill to fulfil my engagement? and I say 'no,'" cried Bella, angrily.

"And me, the missis and me--we says, certainly you are, and so heverybody says. You want a thorough rest, and then you will pick up again."

"That may be your opinion; it is not mine! you may talk till doomsday; you won't convince me. I may surely be allowed to be the best judge of my own state of health. I shall not wait a day--not an hour. I'm going at once down to Robertson to have the matter out with him."

The distressed pair exchanged glances, and then Mrs. Doss said in a coaxing way, "If you must go, you will let me come with you, my dear."

Bella hesitated.

"If you're on my side and mean to stick up for me, all right; but if you're going to hum and haw and look grave, and take the part of the management, you had best stay away."

Mrs. Doss tucked Bella's arm within her own and trotted upstairs to the bedroom, where Bella arrayed herself in total silence, and her friend, beyond a vigorous sigh or two, was mute also.

Mr. Robertson was disengaged, and the ladies were at once ushered into his presence.

"Now then," began Bella, dashing into her subject, "I have come to know what all this means. You cannot dismiss me at a moment's notice, and you know it just as well as I do. Ain't you satisfied with me?"

"Perfectly. It is no question of that sort--but in your present state of health you are not up to your work, and there was no other alternative."

"Oh!" said Bella disagreeably, "does anybody else say I am not up to work except you?"

"My dear Miss Blackall, I regret that this has been necessary. I am exceedingly sorry that we brought you over from America and then are compelled to terminate your engagement so soon, but in your present condition--"

Mr. Robertson flung out his hands with an eloquent gesture.

"Well, look here; I'll give up my dance--that does shake me a bit, I'll grant; but you must let me sing the new song--you really must; I'm a nailer at it and I'll wrap up! My cough will soon go: give me another chance!"

Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her eyes were sparkling--she really did not look so very ill this morning; perhaps after all, things had been exaggerated. Mr. Robertson wavered. Bella was quick to see her advantage and to press it.

"Withdraw your notice," she said, "and let me come on for one song only for a week or two."

"It would really be better, I think, if you were to have an entire rest for a month or so."

"Yes, for someone else to step into my shoes! Thank you for nothing."

"I will pay you a fortnight's salary in lieu of longer notice; and if you are desirous of returning to your friends in the States, perhaps something might be arranged."

"I have no friends here or there," said Bella simply; "my profession is all I have."

"Well, well, we'll give it a week's trial. If at the end of that time you are sufficiently recovered to do your work properly, well and good; but if not, you must really consider your engagement at an end."

All this time Mrs. Doss had said nothing. Bella had talked so volubly and so fast, there had really been no chance of getting in a word; and when the manager rose to his feet to intimate that the interview was at an end, there was nothing to be done but to follow Bella out into the street.

"There!" she cried triumphantly, "I told you I would bring him to his senses. You saw how soon he caved in. It is not a question of my health at all; you may bet your bottom dollar I have an enemy, but I flatter myself I've routed him."

Her breath was coming in gasps and she spoke with difficulty. Now that the excitement was over and the necessity for bearing up at an end, there came the reaction.

"I think I had better go home and lie down," she said, "or I shall not be at my post to-night, and I must, you know, I must."

"Poor child, I could fairly have cried," said kindly Mrs. Doss to her spouse after Bella had been safely escorted home.

"I'm not satisfied with you, old girl," said Mr. Doss, shaking his head mournfully. "I can't 'elp thinking you might ha' managed things better. If Bella Blackall goes on a singing at the Hempire, you mark my words, she'll sing herself into 'eaven."

CHAPTER VII.

A week went by slowly: the hours crept like snails, and yet the days were surely slipping away, bringing nearer and nearer the one which was to give Sir John Chetwynd his second wife.

He had hardly seen Lady Ethel since the evening when she had yielded a coy a.s.sent to his not (it must be confessed) very amorous request that she would fix an early day for their nuptials, and his state of mind was anything but an enviable one. If ever a man was torn two ways, halting between prudence and worldly consideration on one side and the force and power of a love which he had honestly believed was laid for ever in its grave, that man was Sir John. The idea of seeing Bella again did not occur to him for some days, but when it fastened on him he could not shake it off. It was stronger than himself. He excused his temptation by the condition of her health, though in his heart of hearts he knew well enough that this was not sufficiently critical to serve for a reason.

Twice he seized his hat with the intention of going to her, then laid it aside, angry and disgusted with his own weakness.

His profession no longer occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of every other topic. He sat for hours buried in the newly awakened memories that that one brief glimpse of her had conjured up, unable, unwilling to rouse himself.

And then he made a compromise with his own weakness and irresolution.

He would not go to Cecil Street, since by so doing he would be offering a tacit insult to the woman he had pledged himself to marry, but he would, he must see Bella, himself unseen and his presence unsuspected, and this he could effect easily by going to the Empire.

The notion pleased him, and that self-same evening he carried it out.

Bella was worse. She could no longer deceive herself. It was only by a superhuman effort that she could pull herself together sufficiently to sing the one song which was all her part consisted of now.

After she had got into her pretty sea-green skirts of lace and tulle and shimmering silk, like so much sea foam, she had to lie still and, let the poor over-strained lungs and heart recover themselves, and then, when the summons came she called up a smile to her wan face and pluckily did her best.

But that night she looked up at Saidie after the last ribbon was in its place.

"I'll have to throw up the sponge, after all," she said wearily; "it is beyond me. They are right and I was wrong,--I must have a rest."

Saidie muttered something in reply, but when the door closed upon her sister, she sighed.

"She _is_ bad; there is no denying it," remarked the dresser, who was busily stroking out the roses which were to garland Saidie's dress.

"It gives me a turn every time I see her go on the stage."

"She looks worse than she really is," returned Saidie; "sometimes she is as brisk and lively as you like--she so soon gets tired."