Nell, of Shorne Mills Part 61

"And leave d.i.c.k!" she said. "No, no! Don't say another word! Call us proud and stiff-necked, if you like--we're not, really--but neither d.i.c.k nor I could take anything from any one while we have enough of our own.

If we could--if ever we 'run short,' and are in danger of starvation, then----But that won't happen. You don't know how clever d.i.c.k is, and how much they think of him at the works! He'll be in directly, with his hands and face all s.m.u.tty, and famis.h.i.+ng for his tea----" She laughed as she fetched another cup. "And you've come just in time. Sit down and leave off staring at me so reproachfully, and tell me all the news."

"No," said Lady Wolfer. "You tell me; yes, tell me all about it, Nell."

Nell smiled as she poured out the tea--the smile which bravely checks the sigh.

"There is not much to tell," she said. "When I got home--to Shorne Mills"--should she never be able to speak the words without a pang?--"I found mamma unwell, very unwell. She was quite changed----"

"That is why she sent for you, of course," said Lady Wolfer. "Nell, why did you go without seeing me, without saying good-by?"

"I had to leave at once," said Nell timidly, and fighting with her rising color.

"That day! I shall never forget it," said Lady Wolfer softly, and looking straight before her. "Yes, I have something to tell you, dear.

But go on."

"Mamma was ill; but I was not frightened--not at first. She was always an invalid, you know, and I thought that she would get better. But she did not; she got weaker every day, and----" The tears came to her eyes, and she turned away to the fire for a moment. "Molly and I nursed her.

Molly was our servant, and like a friend indeed, and the parting with her----She did not suffer much, and she was so patient, so changed. She was like a child at last; she could not bear me to leave her. I used to think that she--she was not very fond of me; but--but all that was changed before she died, and she grew to like me as much as she liked d.i.c.k. He had always been her favorite. To the last she did not think she was going to die, and--and--the evening before she went we"--she laughed, the laugh so near akin to tears--"we cut out a paper pattern for a new dress for her--one of your patterns."

"My poor Nell!" murmured Lady Wolfer.

"Then she died; and the Bardsleys offered d.i.c.k a situation--it was very kind and unusual, d.i.c.k says, and he cannot quite understand it even now--and, of course, we had to come to London----"

She stopped, and Lady Wolfer looked round and out of the window.

"No; we had to live in London, to be near the works, you know. We are very comfortable and happy."

"My poor Nell!"

"Oh, but don't pity us," said Nell, smiling. "You don't know how jolly we are, and how full of amus.e.m.e.nt our life is. We even go to the theater sometimes, and sometimes d.i.c.k brings a friend home to tea; and there are friends here in the Buildings--one has just left me. And d.i.c.k is going to be a great man, and rich and famous. Oh, there is not a doubt about it. Though Beaumont Buildings are pretty large, we have several castles in the air quite as big. And now tell me--about yourself," she broke off suddenly, and with a touch of embarra.s.sment. "You are looking very well; yes, and younger; and your hair is long; and what a swell you are!"

"Am I?" said Lady Wolfer, in a low voice, and smiling softly. "I am glad. Nell, while you have been in such trouble--my poor, dear Nell!--I have been so happy. How can I tell you? I feel so ashamed." Her face grew crimson, and she looked down as if smitten with shame; then she raised her eyes. "It began--my happiness, I mean--the day you left us.

Do you remember the night before, and--and the wild, wicked words I spoke to you?"

Nell nodded slightly, and bent over the tea things.

"I was mad that night--reckless and desperate. I--I thought that my husband didn't care for me."

Nell shook her head.

"Yes; you said I was wrong--that it was all a mistake. How did you know, dear? But I did not believe you; and I--I thought--G.o.d forgive me!--that I owed it to the man who did love me--that other. Nell, I cannot bear to speak his name now--now that all is altered! I thought that I was bound to go away with him! He had asked me--implored me more than once. I knew that he would ask me again, and soon, and--and I should have yielded!"

"No, no!" said Nell, going round to her, and putting her arms round her.

"Yes, ah, yes, I should!" said Lady Wolfer. "I had made up my mind. I was reckless and desperate. That very morning I had decided to go, whenever he asked me; and that very morning, quite early, while I was dressing, my husband came to me, and--Nell, you were right, though even now I cannot guess how you knew."

"Spectators see more of the game, dear," said Nell softly.

"And in a moment everything was changed; and I knew the truth--that he loved me--had loved me from the first. We had both been blind. But I was the worst; for I, being a woman, ought to have seen that his coldness was only the screen which his pride erected between his heart and the woman whom he thought had only married him for position. We went away together that day--our real honeymoon. Forgive me, Nell, if--if I almost forgot you! Happiness makes us selfish, dear! But I did not forget you for long. And he--Nell, why does he always speak of you as if he owed you something----"

She broke off, looking at Nell with a puzzled air.

Nell smiled enigmatically, but said nothing.

"Nell, dear, he bade me bring you back with me."

Nell shook her head.

"You will not? But you will come and stay with us; you will bring your brother? Make your home with us while we are in town, at any rate, dear.

Ah, don't be stubborn, Nell! Somehow, I feel as if--as if I owed my new happiness to you--that's strange, isn't it? But it is so. And you will come?"

But Nell was wise in her generation, and remained firm.

"I must stay with d.i.c.k," she said. "We are all and all to each other.

But you shall come and see me sometimes, if you will promise to be good, and not try and persuade me into leaving that sphere in which the Fates have placed me."

Lady Wolfer sighed.

"You little mule! You always had your own way while you were at Wolfer House, and I see you haven't changed. But I give you fair warning, Nell, that one day I shall take you at your weakest, and bear you away from this--this awful place! It is not fitting that you should be here! Dear, don't forget that you are a relation of mine!"

"A poor relation," said Nell, laughing softly. "And, like all poor relations, to be kept at a proper distance. Go now, dear; that coachman of yours is getting anxious about his horses."

Lady Wolfer pleaded hard, but Nell remained firm.

Her ladys.h.i.+p was welcome to visit at Beaumont Buildings as often as she chose, but Beaumont Buildings would keep itself to itself; and, at last, her brougham drove away.

It had scarcely turned the corner before Falconer knocked at the Lortons' door.

"Gone!" he said.

"Yes, quite gone," said Nell cheerfully, but thoughtfully. "Come and have your tea; and I'll have another cup."

He sat down at the table. Tea is a serious meal at Beaumont Buildings, and is eaten at the table, not in chairs scattered over the room. But Falconer set his cup down at the first sip and pushed his plate away.

"I know the sequel of this comedy," he said.

"What do you mean?" asked Nell, staring at him.

"Enter swell friend. 'Found at last! Ah, leave this abode of poverty and squalor. Come with me!' and the heroine goeth."

Nell laughed.

"How foolish you are, Mr. Falconer! The heroine--if you mean me--does not 'goeth,' but remains where she is."

"Do you mean it?" he asked, the color rising to his pale face.

"Yes," she said, with a cheerful nod.

"Then pa.s.s the toast," he said. "I breathe again, and tea is possible.