Mildred Arkell Volume Iii Part 35

But Mrs. Dund.y.k.e did not go down in the humble fashion that she had once gone as Betsey Travice. She sent on her carriage and her two men servants. That there was a little natural feeling of retaliation in this, cannot be denied. Charlotte had despised her all her life; but she should at least no longer despise her on the score of poverty. "I shall do it," she said to Mildred, "and the carriage will be useful to us. It can be kept at an inn, with the horses and coachman; and John will be useful in helping your two maids."

It was late when they arrived at Westerbury; Miss Arkell did not number herself amid those who like to start upon a journey at daybreak; and Lucy looked twice to see whether the old house was really her home: it was so entirely renovated inside and out, as to create the doubt. Miss Arkell had given her private orders, saying nothing to Lucy, and the change was great. Various embellishments had been added; every part of it put into ornamental repair; a great deal of the furniture had been replaced by new; and, for its size, it was now one of the most charming residences in Westerbury.

"Do you like the change, Lucy?" asked Miss Arkell, when they had gone through the house together, with Mrs. Dund.y.k.e.

"Of course I do, Aunt Mildred;" but the answer was given in a somewhat apathetic tone, as Lucy mostly spoke now. "It must have cost a great deal."

"Well, is it not the better for it? I may not remain in Westerbury for good, and I could let my house to greater advantage now than I could have done before."

"That's true," listlessly answered Lucy.

"Lucy," suddenly exclaimed Miss Arkell, "what is it that makes you appear so dispirited? I could account for it after your father's death; it was only reasonable then; but it seems to me quite unreasonable that it should continue. I begin to think it must be your natural manner."

Lucy's heart gave a bound of something like terror at the question. "I was always quiet, aunt," she said.

None had looked on with more wonder at the expense being lavished on the house than Mrs. Arkell. "So absurd!" she exclaimed, loftily. "But Mildred Arkell was always pretentious, for a lady's maid."

William Arkell called to see Mildred the morning after her arrival. Very much surprised indeed, was he, to see also Mrs. Dund.y.k.e. He carried the news home to his wife.

"_Betsey_ down here!" she answered. "Why, what has brought her?"

"She told me she had accompanied Mildred for a little change. She is coming in to see you by-and-by, Charlotte."

"I hope she's not coming begging!" tartly responded Mrs. Arkell.

"Begging?"

"Yes; begging. It's a question whether she's left with enough to live upon. I'm sure we have none to spare, for her or for anybody else; and so I shall plainly tell her if she attempts to ask."

That they had none to spare, was an indisputable fact. Mrs. Arkell had done all in her power to hurry the marriage on with Miss Fauntleroy, but Travice held back unpardonably. His cheek grew bright with hectic, his whole time was spent in what his mother called "moping;" and he entered but upon rare occasions the house of his bride elect. Mr. Arkell would not urge him by a single word; but, in the delay, he had had to sacrifice another remnant of his property.

The first use that Mrs. Dund.y.k.e put her carriage to in Westerbury, was that of going in it to William Arkell's. Mildred declined to accompany her, and Lucy was obliged to go with her; Lucy, who would have given the whole world _not_ to go. But she could not say so.

Mrs. Arkell was in the dining-room, when the carriage drove in at the court-yard gates. She wondered whose it was. A nice close carriage, the servants attending it in mourning. She did not recognise it as one she knew.

She heard the visitors shown into the drawing-room, and waited for the cards with some curiosity. But no cards came in. Mrs. Dund.y.k.e, the servant brought word, and she was with Miss Lucy Arkell.

Mrs. Dund.y.k.e! Wondering what on earth brought Betsey in that carriage, and where she had picked it up, Mrs. Arkell took a closer view of it through the window. It was too good a carriage to be anything but a private one, and those horses were never hired; and there were the servants. She looked at the crest. But it was not a crest. Only an enclosed cipher, D.D.

It did not lessen her curiosity, and she went to the drawing-room, wondering still; but she never once glanced at the possibility that it could be Mrs. Dund.y.k.e's; the thought occurred to her that it must belong to some member of the Dewsbury family, and had been lent to Mildred.

It was a stiff meeting. Mrs. Arkell, fully imbued with the persuasion that her sister was left badly off, that she was the same poor sister of other days, was less cordial than she might have been. She shook hands with her sister; she shook hands with Lucy; but in her manner there was a restraint that told. They spoke of general subjects, of Mr. Dund.y.k.e's strange adventure in Switzerland, and his subsequent real death; of Lucy's sojourn in London; of Charlotte's recent marriage; of the departure of Sophy with her for India--just, in fact, as might have been the case with ordinary guests.

"Travice is soon to be married, I hear," said Mrs. Dund.y.k.e.

"Yes; but he holds back unpardonably."

Had Mrs. Arkell not been thinking of something else, she had never given that tart, but true answer. She happened just then to be calculating the cost of Mrs. Dund.y.k.e's handsome mourning, and wondering how she got it.

"Why does he hold back?" quickly asked Mrs. Dund.y.k.e.

"Oh, I don't know," said Mrs. Arkell, with a gay, slighting laugh. "I suppose young men like to retain their bachelor liberty as long as they can. Does your aunt purpose to settle down in Westerbury, Lucy?"

"For the present."

"Does she think of going out again?"

"Oh no."

"Perhaps she has saved enough to keep herself without? She could not expect to find another such place as Lady Dewsbury's."

It was not a pleasant visit, and Mrs. Dund.y.k.e did not prolong it. As they were going out they met Travice.

"Oh, Aunt Betsey! How glad I am to see you!"

But he turned coldly enough to shake hands with Lucy. He cherished resentment against her in his heart. She saw he did not look well; but she was cold as he was. As he walked across the hall with his aunt, Mrs.

Arkell drew Lucy back into the drawing-room. Her curiosity had been on the rack all the time.

"Whose carriage is that, Lucy? One belonging to the Dewsburys'?"

"It is Mrs. Dund.y.k.e's."

"Mrs.----what did you say? I asked whose carriage that is that you came in," added Mrs. Arkell, believing that Lucy had not heard aright.

"Yes, I understood. It is Mrs. Dund.y.k.e's. She sent it on, the day before yesterday, with her servants and horses."

"But--does--she--keep a carnage and servants?" reiterated Mrs. Arkell, hardly able to bring out the words in her perplexed amazement.

"Oh, yes."

"Then she must be left well off?"

"Very well. She is very rich. I believe her income is close upon two thousand a year."

"Two thou----" Mrs. Arkell wound up with a shriek of astonishment. Lucy had to leave her to recover it in the best way she could, for Mrs.

Dund.y.k.e had got into the carriage and was waiting for her.

The poor, humble Betsey, whom she had so despised and slighted through life! Come to _this_ fortune! While hers and her husband's was going down. How the tables were turned!

Yes, Mrs. Arkell. Tables always are on the turn in this life.

CHAPTER XIV.

A RECOGNITION.