Nina was to sleep on the sofa in the sitting-room. She lay down, took a novel out of her pocket, and tried to read. Her heart was beating hard, and that burning fever of unrest and longing which was consuming her very life, kept coursing madly through her veins.
"The fever is my wine," she muttered. "At first it supplies false strength, false cheer, false hope. Afterwards--afterwards--" a queer look came into her strange face--"I too, shall rest and sleep."
Profound stillness reigned in the next room. Nina softly rose, and going to the sideboard took out the decanter of wine, opened a window, and emptied it into the area below. She washed the decanter afterwards and then put it back into the sideboard.
There was not a sound in the inner room. Candle in hand, she opened the door and went in. She put the candle on the mantelpiece, and then going to the bed, bent over it and looked at the sleeper.
"Poor Grand-dad!" said the girl. She stooped and kissed the old man"s forehead. "You have been good to me after your lights--it was not your fault that those lights were dim. Had you been an educated man, Grand-dad, you"d have educated me; and had you been a good man, you"d have taught me goodness; and a kind man, you"d have guarded your poor Nina. Was it your fault that you were ignorant--and wanting in goodness--and lacking in kindness? You did your best--, after your lights."
Then she stooped and kissed him again. He was heavy from the drug she had put into the wine, and did not stir. She slipped her hand softly under his pillow.
"Poor old man, I am taking away your trump-card," she said. She drew a thick letter, yellow with age, from under the pillow, put it into her pocket, and taking up the candle left the room.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
RIVALS.
A couple of days after this Beatrice Meadowsweet received a note from Mrs. Bell, asking her to call to see her. The note came early in the morning, and immediately after breakfast Beatrice went to the Bells"
house.
Mrs. Bell took her into the drawing-room and shut the door behind them both.
"Beatrice," she said, "I owed you a grudge, but that is past. You stepped in, where you had no right to step, and for a time, I won"t deny it, my heart was very sore. I haven"t sent for you to-day, though, to rip up past troubles. I"m inclined to think that all"s for the best. It has pleased the Almighty to provide you with a wild mate--and my girl with a steady one. Last night as the clock struck nine, Gusty Jenkins popped the question for Matty, and all being agreeable, the young man torn with love, and rock-like as regards character, Gusty and Matty are now an affianced pair. Therefore, Beatrice, I say let by-gones be by-gones, and may you have what luck can await you in the future with that wild young man."
"I don"t see why you should take away Captain Bertram"s character," said Beatrice, with some spirit. "You liked him very much once."
"I"m not saying anything against him, my dear. I mean not anything more than the truth can bear out. There was a time when I thought well of Captain Bertram. I"m the last to deny there was such a time, but handsome is that handsome does, and when a young man had not the courage to obey his heart"s promptings, and when rumors will travel on the breezes of extravagant, not to say naughty ways, I say, Beatrice, a woman can"t become blind as a bat when these things stare her in the face."
No one in Northbury ever remembered seeing Beatrice in a pa.s.sion. She was acknowledged to be sweet-tempered, and slow to be provoked. On this occasion, however, she was very nearly making the proverbial exception to her general rule. Beatrice was very nearly angry. A flush of color crimsoned her cheeks and brow, and an indignant light flashed from her eyes. In time, however, she was able to murmur to herself: "This is only Mrs. Bell"s talk, and how could I be so silly as to mind Mrs. Bell?" So after a pause she said with effort, "I must congratulate Matty on her engagement; I am glad Matty is happy."
"Ah, my dear, and well she may be! Glad should I be to know that other girls had half so bright a future before them. Rich, handsome, and young, that"s what Gusty is! Devoted! he"s like one of the old knights for devotion. I have had my qualms about the jealousy of his nature, but otherwise Gusty is, _song pear and song reproach_."
At this moment the door was opened, some childish giggles and mirth were heard in the pa.s.sage, and Matty rushed in, followed by the redoubtable Gusty. "Oh, Gus, you"ll kill me!" she exclaimed; "you are too funny.
Why, ma, is that you? And--and--Bee? How do you do, Bee?"
Matty came over and kissed her friend awkwardly.
"I am very glad to hear of your happiness, Matty," said Beatrice; "and I congratulate you, too, Augustus," she added, turning to the bashful swain.
"Oh, you want us to leave this room to yourselves, you two naughty things!" said the mother, shaking her head in fat ecstasy over her two turtle-doves. "Come, Bee; by-the-way, there"s a young girl upstairs, a Miss Hart, a friend of mine, who is very anxious to see you."
Mrs. Bell and Beatrice left the drawing-room, and Augustus Jenkins turned to his fiancee "By Jove," he said, "that girl _is_ a bouncer!"
"What girl?" said Matty, in a quick jealous voice. She had flung herself in a languid att.i.tude on the sofa, now she sat bolt upright.
"Killing, I call her," proceeded Gus; "simply killing. Such an eye, such a curl of the lip! By Jove--she"d bowl any fellow over."
Matty flushed deeply, and turned her head away to look out of the window.
"What"s up, now, little duck?" said the lover. "Oh, she"s jealous, is she? By George, that"s a good un! You were in luck, missy, to come in my way first, or I don"t know what mightn"t have happened; and she"s got lots of the tin, too, I"ve been told! So she"s Captain Bertram"s fancy.
Well, he"s a good judge and no mistake."
"I don"t know that she"s his fancy at all, Gusty. Ma always said that I--I--"
"Oh, by Jove! Matty, don"t you try to come it over me like that. What a thunder-cloud? So she"s frightfully jealous, is she, poor little duck? I say, though, you"d better keep me out of that girl"s way; engaged or not, she"d mash any fellow. Now, what"s up? Is that you, Alice? What a noisy one you are, to be sure!"
Alice had rushed into the room followed by Sophy, who was followed again by Daisy Jenkins.
"The bride"s-maid dresses have come!" screamed Alice. "Let"s all go and try them on, Matty!"
When Mrs. Bell took Beatrice out of the room, she said a few more words about Miss Hart. Finally she took Beatrice upstairs, and ushered her into her young visitor"s bedroom.
Amongst the other luxuries which Josephine"s money had secured for her in the Bells" house was an old-fashioned sofa, which was drawn across the windows. On this sofa Josephine often lay for hours. She was lying on it now, in a white morning dress. Mrs. Bell introduced the girls to each other, and then left them.
"I have seen you before," said Beatrice, the moment they were alone; "once before I have seen your face. You were looking out of a window.
Stay," she added, suddenly, "I think I have seen you twice before. Are you not the girl who brushed past Captain Bertram and me the other night in the dark? Yes, I am sure you are the girl."
"You are right," said Josephine; "I am the girl." She spoke in an eager voice, two burning spots rose to her pale cheeks; her eyes always bright now almost glittered. "I am the girl," she repeated. She half rose from her sofa, but sat down on it again, and panted heavily, as though her breath failed her.
"You are ill," said Beatrice, with compunction; "you look very ill. Have you been long here? Mrs. Bell says that you are a friend of hers, a visitor."
"Yes, I am a friend and visitor. Mrs. Bell is very good to me."
"But you are ill. You ought to see a doctor."
"I ought not--I will not."
"Can I help you? It was kind of you to send for me. Can I do anything for you?"
"Wait until I get back my breath. I will speak in a minute. Sit quiet.
Let me be still. It is agitation enough to have you in the room."
Her eyes glittered again. She pressed her white transparent hands to her throbbing heart.
Beatrice sat motionless. She had a queer feeling at her own heart, a kind of premonition that a blow was about to be struck at her. Several minutes pa.s.sed. Then the girl on the sofa spoke.
"The struggle of seeing you is past. I see--I endure. Your name is Beatrice Meadowsweet--?"
"Yes, I am Beatrice Meadowsweet."
"You are engaged to Captain Bertram?"
"Yes."
"You are to be married on the 10th of this month."