The Little Missis Part 28

Mr. Black paid the promised visit, and remained talking a long time, but there was still the same kind of subdued excitement about Phebe when he had gone; indeed, the interview had even deepened it.

At supper-time that day--Sat.u.r.day--Bessie made a confession. There were some nice pears on the table, which Nanna informed the company were Bessie's gift. "Yes," said Bessie, "but I'd better tell you why I bought them. When I went to Mr. Black's yesterday he asked me to have some fruit. There was a tray with a nice white cloth on it and some plates, and on one plate a silver knife-and-fork and some parings. And on the tray, besides other things, a beautiful dish of pears, and another knife-and-fork. Oh, I did want one of those pears so badly; you can't tell how much I wanted one!"

"Well, bless me," said Nanna, "why didn't you take one, then! Didn't he ask you to take one?"

"You so often ask me to bless you, and I really haven't any blessings to spare. So please excuse me."

"Your very presence is a blessing," put in Phebe.

"That does sound nice, but really if you interrupt me so much I shall never get through my little story. Of course Mr. Black asked me, and that made me want one all the more. But the sight of that knife-and-fork made me feel I could not dream of having one--yes, I did dream of it, but I couldn't really take one! Just fancy me taking a pear with a knife and fork! I should have been as awkward as an elephant in a china-shop."

"What did you do, then?" asked Reynolds.

"Do? Why, I went without, of course. I wasn't going to show off my bad training. So to prevent such a display of self-sacrifice again I bought some pears this morning, and I had a downright good practice in the kitchen with Janie. We can both do it in high style now."

And then everybody round the table, except David Jones, who usually spent week-ends at Hadley, and had arrived just in time to hear Bessie's story, began eating pears with a knife-and-fork, only the knives were steel ones.

After supper David asked Bessie if she would take a little walk with him for a few minutes. It was not the first time he had done so. Both Phebe and Nanna had seen the growing nearness between these two, but had made no remark, for the friendship had certainly been helpful to both.

"I could quite sympathise with you about that pear," said David as they reached a quiet road away from the usual Sat.u.r.day night scenes. He did not always reach Hadley so early, but had made a special effort this night for a special purpose. There was something on his heart he wanted to say very much, and had hardly known how to introduce it. The story of the coveted pear seemed quite like "a G.o.dsend" to him. "Yes, I have felt like that myself."

"Have you?" said Bessie. "Shouldn't have thought it; it isn't like a man to hesitate at a trifle like that."

"Do you think I should have eaten it straight away out of my hand?"

"Something like that."

"Would you have blamed me if I had done so?"

"I shouldn't have blamed you, most certainly not; but smart folks might."

"I don't care for smart folks, do you?"

"Can't say I don't, seeing I should like to be smart myself."

There was a little pause, and then David said: "But you would advise me, if there was something I wanted very much, to take it the best way I could?"

Bessie seemed to hesitate; perhaps she guessed what it was the young fellow wanted! "Certainly," she answered in a low voice.

"Bessie," and he turned eagerly towards her, "it's a flower I want, a flower to wear for ever on my heart."

"I think you're growing sentimental, and it's getting late; we had better turn back."

"No, Bessie, now I've once started you must let me finish. It's you I want." And then he told her the old story which has had so many different endings, yet always beautiful when coming from lips sincere.

That same night David told his mistress all about it. "And what did Bessie say?" asked Phebe, greatly interested and pleased at the confidence he showed in her.

"Well, she didn't say much, but I think it will be all right."

"You may rest a.s.sured if she had meant to refuse you she would have said so right out. But, David," and here she put her hand on his arm, and her voice took on a low, tender note "have you told her how you came to be in my employ?"

"No, Mrs. Waring," all the joy suddenly dying out of his face; "do you think I need do so?"

"Yes, I do; I think it is your plain duty to do so."

"If I did she would throw me over as she would toss away one of her pears that was bad."

"I don't think so; it is only your fear makes you have that thought."

"But why should I tell her? That is all past and gone."

"You would be starting life together with something withheld from her; there would be no thorough trust in each other. And, suppose some one told her of the occurrence? Such a thing would not be impossible. Better lose her now than lose her respect when you are tied together for life."

There was a tender pleading in her voice which quite broke David down.

"I believe you're right. I'll do it," he said in a broken voice.

The next morning he was unusually quiet; during the walk to the meeting in the afternoon he was still as absorbed. Bessie did not know what to make of matters, trying in vain to read the secret of the gloom on his face. "I never knew he was of a sulky turn before," she said to herself; "if this is having a lover it's a mighty queer business. I wonder if it's something I've done wrong! I wonder if he expected I should have gone down on my knees in ecstasy last night!" But wonder as she might there came no answer.

On the journey home David made a desperate effort to get the unpleasant task over.

"Bessie, there's something I want to tell you which I ought to have told you last night, but did not like to."

There was such a ring of pain in the voice that Bessie's heart was touched at once, and for the first time, and of her own accord, she slipped her hand into his arm. The little action was like balm of Gilead to David.

"When Mrs. Waring engaged me, she took me without a character," he went on.

"She did me, too," said Bessie, "so we're in the same boat."

"I had used some of my master's money, and before I could pay him back he found it out. I was going to return it, for I had money in the savings bank."

"Did you pay him back?"

"Yes, every penny; but he would give me no reference, and I was dreadfully afraid mother would find it out. It would have broken her heart."

"Well, that's all done with now, so forget it. You've good character enough now for the two of us."

"And you don't think any the less of me?" he asked, bending anxiously towards her.

"I think all the more of you," she said, looking up frankly into his face and pressing her hand upon his arm more firmly, "only it's made me feel rather queer, for I shall now be obliged to tell you not simply one bad thing I've done, but heaps. In fact, I don't know where to begin."

"That's all nonsense," he said. "I know you are trying to cheer me, and I bless you for it, but there's still another thing I must say, for I want that there should never be a shadow between us. I did not want to tell you of my slip. I don't want you to think I was frank enough to tell you all this of my own accord. It was Mrs. Waring who pressed me to tell you."

"That's just like her; she is a dear."

"So she is; she's been the making of me."

"So she has of me. Leastways," added Bessie in her characteristic manner, "she is making me. The business is not near finished yet."

"It's all right," whispered David to Mrs. Waring as they went into tea.