Elsie Marley, Honey Part 22

Elsie drew away a little.

"You tell her, please, auntie, I couldn't," she faltered. She clasped her hands tightly. Her face was whiter than before.

"Miss Pritchard, if you will have patience and bear with me for a little, I hope I can make things plain, though I can't make them right," said Mrs. Moss rather appealingly. "I have just come from Enderby, Ma.s.sachusetts, where Elsie's uncle and guardian lives. I got worried and went there to see about Elsie. I came all the way from California."

Miss Pritchard stared at her in amazement.

"Oh, auntie!" cried Elsie in distress. Then she went to Miss Pritchard.

"Kiss me just once, Cousin Julia, kiss me hard," she entreated. And Miss Pritchard clasped her to her heart.

The girl resumed her place on the sofa and sat motionless, her eyes upon her clasped hands. Mrs. Moss endeavored to get the main fact out.

"I found there instead of this Elsie, instead of Mr. Middleton's own niece, a strange girl who has lived there since last June as Elsie Moss. Her first name happened to be Elsie, too, but her last name is Pritchard--Marley, I should say."

"Oh, Mrs. Moss, I must be stupid, but I cannot understand what you mean!" cried Miss Pritchard. And Elsie choked.

"I'll begin again," said Mrs. Moss with mournful patience. "A year ago this Elsie, _my_ Elsie, Elsie Moss, started East to live with her uncle, John Middleton, in Enderby, Ma.s.sachusetts. On the train she fell in with this Marley girl who was coming on to New York to live with her cousin, Miss Pritchard. Elsie was badly stage-struck and wild over New York, and the other girl didn't mind a quiet country town, and they calmly changed places--and names. Elsie Moss came to you--with no claim in the world upon your hospitality; and your relative, Elsie Marley, imposed upon the Middletons in the same fas.h.i.+on. And they have gone on with the imposture for practically a year."

As she continued, one detail after another fitted into the framework she made, and Miss Pritchard grasped the situation fully. Stunned and wholly at a loss, she glanced at Elsie. The girl sat like a statue, white with downcast eyes. Miss Pritchard went to the window and stood gazing out for some moments.

When she returned to her place, her expression was composed, but her face looked suddenly strangely worn and older. She looked into Mrs.

Moss's eyes as who should say "How could she!" But she spoke to the girl.

"Well, Elsie?" she asked quietly.

"That was why I hedged about going to Enderby," said Elsie incoherently, "I didn't dare let Uncle John see my dimples. They would give me away, you see, Cousin Julia."

Then she suddenly bethought herself.

"Oh, but you're not my Cousin Julia any more!" she cried, and burst into a tumult of weeping.

Her stepmother gathered the girl to her, and Elsie sobbed wildly on her breast. Mrs. Moss, who had been more severe with Elsie Marley at Enderby than she had ever been with any one before, was now disposed to be very gentle--perhaps over-lenient--with the real culprit.

"Yes, Elsie, I am your Cousin Julia--to the end of things," Miss Pritchard a.s.sured her. And she spoke almost solemnly. "But tell me, dear--you didn't know what you were doing? Oh, Elsie, you didn't realize that it wasn't--that it was--wrong?"

"Not at first--not when I did it," sobbed Elsie. Then she uncovered her face. "But I knew afterward. It came to me then, and I knew it was the sort of wrong you think worst of all. And so do I, honestly, Cousin Julia."

Again Miss Pritchard walked to the window. Elsie's eyes followed her in agonized appeal.

"Cousin Julia!" she cried desperately. And Miss Pritchard was at her side in a moment. But though her face was all tenderness and sympathy, the pain that shone through it would have been severe retribution even had Elsie been altogether impenitent.

"Oh, Cousin Julia, I was sorry!" the girl cried, "I was terribly sorry.

But it only came on me when everything was--sort of--_fixed_, you know.

I couldn't bear to break up Elsie Marley's happiness at Enderby, and--I couldn't bear to have it--hurt you--though I know this is a lot worse.

So I was going to disappear. I had my mind all made up. I was going to leave a letter so that you wouldn't feel troubled. And I thought that would sort of make up for everything, because I never would have been happy again. And then--oh, Cousin Julia, then came that chance that I knew led straight to the stage, and I lost my head. I chose to be wicked, and I suppose I lost my soul as well as my head, only--there's something that hurts as if I still had one."

Again the girl wept wildly. But now Miss Pritchard's arm was enfolding her.

"No, precious child, you haven't lost it. And if you were sorry--but we won't talk more about it now. I'll hold that in my heart as comfort until to-morrow and then we'll see what we can do to straighten it all out. At this moment we must consider that there's the evening performance to go through, and being the last, it will be very taxing.

Somehow, we'll make things right, among us all. You go to your room now and lie down. If you think of this, only say to yourself that it's over, and be thankful for that. And we two women who love you so that we're all but jealous of one another already will plan the next--or rather, the first move. Come, child."

At the door Elsie turned. "Is the other Elsie all right, auntie?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes, dear," returned Mrs. Moss rather doubtfully. "At least--well, as a matter of fact the poor child is just--waiting. I made her promise not to say a word to the Middletons until I came on here and returned.

I am afraid--dear me, I am sure I don't know _what_ I said to the girl.

I am afraid I must have been rather hard on her."

"Oh, auntie! And it wasn't her fault in the least! I just dragged her into it. It was all for me. And she's the sweetest, gentlest thing!

And not the least little bit her fault! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"

The girl wrung her hands in genuine distress. Mrs. Moss shook her head mournfully.

"I might have known," she acknowledged regretfully. "But, oh, Miss Pritchard, I was nearly distracted. It all came upon me so suddenly--not a whisper of warning."

Miss Pritchard could understand what that meant. She led Elsie into her room and established her upon the bed. Elsie talked incoherently and at random, until Miss Pritchard had to declare that she must go back to Mrs. Moss. Kissing the girl again, she bade her forget everything for the time being and rest. And though she stifled the deep sigh that rose involuntarily, Miss Pritchard felt as if she was staggering as she left the room.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

For some time Miss Pritchard and Mrs. Moss discussed, not as they had purposed, the way out of it, but the affair itself: the change of names and destinations and the year of masquerading. They marvelled equally at the audacity and the success of the scheme, and the various circ.u.mstances that had favored it. Miss Pritchard reviewed the year aloud in the light of the discovery, with eager comment from the other.

"How Elsie could have accepted so much from you, knowing all the while she was deceiving you, I cannot understand!" cried Mrs. Moss, shaking her head sadly.

"Accepted! Oh, Mrs. Moss, if you could only know half the girl gave, you wouldn't speak of accepting!" protested Miss Pritchard. "She has made this year the happiest of my life, that captivating, lovely child has.

As for deceiving--she didn't mean any such thing, and it wasn't real deceit in her case. She said just now she always felt as if I were really her cousin. When she swapped, she did it in such a whole-hearted way that she was herself almost as deluded as I. And later, when she began to realize, she suffered--looking back, I begin to understand that she has suffered torture."

Mrs. Moss suddenly bethought herself.

"The question is, what is to be done?" she repeated. "You see, I have left that girl in Enderby in a most uncomfortable position. The Middletons as yet know nothing. I shall have to break it to them, but before I do so, I want to come to some sort of an understanding with you."

"I confess, I don't see any way out of it at this moment," returned Miss Pritchard. "Dear me, I can't yet really realize we're in it."

"The simple thing would seem to be to just----"

"Swap back? Oh, it wouldn't be possible after all this time, my dear Mrs. Moss!" cried Miss Pritchard, really aghast.

"We shall have to see how the Middletons feel, of course," admitted Mrs.

Moss. "Oh, Miss Pritchard, couldn't you go back with me to-night and then all of us talk it over together? I don't believe we'll ever come to any understanding unless you do. My flying back and forth between you like a shuttlec.o.c.k isn't going to amount to anything."

"Yes, I will go on to Enderby--there's no other way," agreed Miss Pritchard, "but I can't go tonight, because Elsie has an engagement.

It's her last appearance at that wretched place, I'm thankful to say.

She and I will follow you to-morrow. Meantime, you can give them the plain facts to digest."

She smiled half grimly. "As a matter of fact, I have a suite of rooms engaged at the inn at Enderby for the last two weeks in June and for July and August, though I never dreamed of any such complication, as you know.

Like as not we all--you and Elsie and I--can occupy them now--I can telegraph presently. Dear me, dear me! what a pair of thoughtless scamps these children were. And yet--what hasn't it meant to me to know Elsie?

Oh, Mrs. Moss, I can't face giving her up. I simply cannot face it."