Bee and Butterfly Part 9

"Thank you, father," said the girl gratefully. "I was afraid, but I won't be now."

"Then good night."

"Good night, father," replied the maiden who little guessed that her father went away from her door wondering and perplexed that she did not come out to speak with him, and to find what was the matter.

Her father's near presence brought so much of comfort to Bee's heart that she found herself forgetting all about the discomfort of the jimpson, and after a time she fell into a troubled sleep.

Chapter VII

The Result of Imitation

"We are much bound to them that do succeed; But, in a more pathetic sense, are bound To such as fail."

--_Jean Ingelow._

It was morning. The long night with its wretchedness and discomfort had pa.s.sed, and the bright suns.h.i.+ne full of cheer streamed into the room, athwart the bed where Beatrice lay, her features still hidden under the beautifying mask. She stirred uneasily and then opened her eyes.

"Why, it's morning," she exclaimed, jumping up briskly. "Thank goodness, I can take off this horrible thing at last. I ought to be fair as a lily after all I've gone through. My, my how funny my face feels!" She untied the fastenings with a sigh of relief, and threw off the poultice thankfully.

"My skin is sticky and tight," she mused, pa.s.sing one hand over her face. "I won't look at myself until I am dressed, and then I can tell just how I shall affect father. Let me see! I'll wear white. Adele looks best in white. Fair people always do, I think."

True to her resolve she bathed and dressed without once approaching the mirror. At length she was ready. She had no doubts as to the result.

Beatrice was possessed with a child's faith; still, her heart began to beat quickly as she turned slowly and went toward the gla.s.s, keeping her eyes downcast.

"It's just like a b.u.t.terfly breaking out of the chrysalis," she told herself nervously. "I have been an ugly grub for so long that I'm afraid to try my new wings. Now, ready, Beatrice! One, two, three!--Look, and see how beautiful you have become."

Smilingly she raised her eyes. The smile froze on her lips, and consternation swept over her face. Her features were distorted and swollen, and her skin was as yellow as saffron. With her dark eyes, bleached hair, and white dress the effect was startling. For one long moment the girl stared at her reflection, and then, as the full realization of the transformation came home to her, she flung herself upon the bed with a cry of anguish.

"It's no use," she wailed. "Everything is against me. I look worse than ever. What shall I do? What shall I do?"

A knock sounded on the door just then, and Bee started up, fearing that it was her father.

"Yes?" she called.

"Yer pa am a-waitin' fer yer, Miss Bee," came the voice of Aunt f.a.n.n.y.

"He say de brek'fus am gittin' cole."

"Aunt f.a.n.n.y, come here!" Beatrice opened the door and pulled the old woman inside. "Look at my face! This comes from using that jimpson weed poultice. Now what am I going to do?"

The negress gave a gasp at sight of the girl's face, and threw up her hands in dismay.

"Lawsie, chile! How k.u.m yer ter do sech a fool thing? A n.i.g.g.ah dunno nuffin' nohow. 'Sides, yer can't do hit in one night. Co'se not. Takes two; mebbe three. I dunno."

"Then why did you tell me about it if you didn't know?" demanded Bee indignantly. "You said that it would make me as fair as the lily of the valley. Now, I've just ruined my face. Oh oh, oh!"

She began to cry weakly. Aunt f.a.n.n.y smoothed her hair in an attempt at consolation.

"I'se just a low-down n.i.g.g.ah ter make yer cry so, Miss Bee," she said remorsefully. "Dey does use jim'son in de Souf, but mebbe dey puts sompin elsen wid hit. Nebber you mind. Aunt f.a.n.n.y'll fin' sumpin ter fix yer. Now go down ter yer pa. De brek'fus am gittin' cole, an' yer needs. .h.i.t hot."

"Go down?" cried Bee in perturbation. "I can't go down like this. You go, and tell father I'm sick. Tell him I can't come. Oh! tell him anything!"

"Beatrice," called her father at this moment from the foot of the stairs, "is anything the matter? You were not at dinner last night. Are you ill that you don't come to breakfast?"

"I reckon yer sh.o.r.ely in fer hit, Miss Bee," spoke Aunt f.a.n.n.y commiseratingly. "If yer sick he's gwine ter k.u.m up anyhow. De bes'

thing is ter go right erlong, and get hit over wid. An' if he scolds hard yer won't nebber forgib me."

"It is my own fault, Aunt f.a.n.n.y," acknowledged the girl. "I ought to have known better than to have done anything of the sort. Now I am in for it, as you say. Yes; I'll go down. Father can't dislike me any more than he does, so I might as well face him first as last." She rose as she spoke and went to the door: "I am all right, father," she called.

"I'll be down in a minute."

It was more than a minute before she could pull herself together; then, summoning all her fort.i.tude, she went slowly down the stairs to the dining room. Dr. Raymond turned at her entrance.

"Good morn--" he began in greeting, but stopped short as though he could not believe the evidence of his eyes. "Beatrice Raymond, is that you?"

he demanded.

"Yes," returned Beatrice as steadily as she could. "It is I, father. Are you ready for your coffee?"

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked sharply. "What have you been doing to yourself?"

Something came into Bee's throat and choked her. A moment pa.s.sed before she could reply.

"I have been trying to make myself beautiful, but it did not work well,"

she said at last in a low tone.

"Beautiful!" exclaimed Doctor Raymond in disgust. "Is vanity also one of your weaknesses? I begin to believe that you are a bundle of them. Only a silly, vain girl would be guilty of such folly. I am sorely disappointed in you, Beatrice."

Again Bee choked so that she could not speak, and her eyes swam with tears. Had she so many follies? People used not to think she was such a dreadful girl. They used to be fond of her, but everything was going wrong lately. With hands that shook she silently poured her father's coffee and handed it to him.

"How any girl," went on her father, seeing that she did not speak, "how any girl should go deliberately to work to make such a fright of herself as you have done is beyond my comprehension. I suppose that all girls are more or less foolish about their complexions; but no girl of refinement should bleach her hair. It is an abomination to every self-respecting person. What caused you to do it?"

Beatrice's heart was very full. She had done it for his sake, but she found it impossible to tell him. She had been content enough until he had come, and was dissatisfied with her. His words hurt her cruelly.

Presently she found her voice:

"I was trying to look like Adele," she told him tearfully.

"You were?" Struck by something in her tone the scientist glanced at her more closely. He saw that she was not eating anything, and that she was trembling. His manner softened. Bee was aware of the change instantly, and attributed it to the mention of her cousin. Her tears dried, and she was shaken with sudden anger.

"Your cousin is a beautiful girl, Beatrice. She seems to be as lovely in disposition as in person. I do not at all wonder that you desire to be like her, but your manner of emulation has not been the most happy.

Perhaps I spoke too severely. We are all p.r.o.ne to error, and I should not judge too harshly what, it seems, has been done from a worthy motive. If you wish to be like Adele, strive to copy her character rather than to imitate her outward appearance. Beauty of soul is the thing that counts. Before a sweet disposition and a well informed mind mere physical beauty palls."

"That is not true," burst from Beatrice; "and you know it."

"Beatrice Raymond, do you know to whom you are speaking?" The naturalist dropped his knife and fork, and stared at his daughter in amazement.

"Yes, I do;" answered Bee, wrought up to such a pitch that she forgot the respect and deference due her father. If the mere mention of her cousin's name had such influence upon him, she would let him know how she felt about it; so she continued wrathfully: "You and Aunt Annie, and everybody, are fond of talking about the cultivation of the mind and spirit being above beauty, but you don't practice what you preach. Look at what you have been saying, and then think of how you have treated me."