The Honorable Miss: A Story of an Old-Fashioned Town by L. T. Meade (best smutty novels .txt) 📖

Catherine to give her a glass of port wine from one of a treasured few bottles of a rare vintage which she had brought with her to Rosendale.

"It was a few days after her visit to the Meadowsweets that Mrs. Bertram had been taken ill. She soon became quite well again, and then rather astonished Catherine by telling her that she had herself seen Beatrice Meadowsweet; that she had found her daughter's judgment with regard to her to be apparently correct, and that, in consequence, she did not object to Beatrice visiting at the Manor.

"You may make Miss Meadowsweet your friend," she said to both girls. "She may come here, and you may sometimes go to see her. But remember, she is the only Northbury young lady I will admit into my society."

A few days afterwards, Loftus, who had again managed to obtain leave of absence from his military duties, reappeared on the scenes. As has been seen, Loftus would admit of no restrictions with regard to his acquaintances, and after the remarkable fashion of some young men, he tried to secure an interest in the affections of Beatrice by flirting with Matty Bell.

Mrs. Bertram knew nothing of these iniquities on the part of her son. It never entered even into her wildest dreams that any son or daughter of her could associate with people of the stamp of the Bells. Even had she been aware of it, however, she knew better than to try to coerce her captain.

She had quite worries enough of her own, poor woman, and not the least of them, in the eyes of the girls, was the fresh mania she took for saving. Meals had never been too plentiful at Rosendale. Now, the only remark that could be made in their favor was that they satisfied hunger. Healthy girls will eat any wholesome food, and when Loftus was not at home, Catherine and Mabel Bertram made their breakfast off porridge.

Mabel ate hungrily, and grumbled not a little. Catherine was also hungry, but she did not grumble. She was never one to care greatly for the luxuries of life, and all her thoughts now were taken up watching her mother. The effect of her mother's sudden confidence in her, the effect of the trouble which had undoubtedly come to her mother had altogether an extraordinary influence over Catherine. She ceased to be a wild and reckless tom-boy, she ceased to defy her mother in small matters; her character seemed to gain strength, and her face, always strong in its expression and giving many indications of latent power of character, looked now more serious than gay, more sweet and thoughtful than fastidious and discontented.

Catherine had plenty of tact, and she watched her mother without appearing to watch her. She was loyal, too, in heart and soul, and never even hinted to others of the confidence reposed in her.

It was a lovely summer's morning. Catherine and Mabel were up early; they were picking raspberries to add to the meagre provisions for breakfast. It was always difficult to manage a pleasant breakfast hour when Loftus was at home. Mrs. Bertram used to flush up painfully when Loftus objected to the viands placed before him, and Catherine was most anxious to spare her mother by satisfying the fastidious tastes of her brother.

"Why should Loftus have all the raspberries?" angrily queried Mabel. "I should like some myself, and so would you, Kate. Why should Loftus have everything?"

"Nonsense, May, he's not going to have everything. This plate of special beauties is for mother."

"Well, that's quite right. Loftus and you and I can divide the rest."

"May, I'm going to whisper a secret to you. Now, don't let it out, for the lords of creation would be so angry if they knew. But I do think in little things girls are much greater than men. Now what girl who is worth anything cares whether she eats a few raspberries or not. While as to the men—I consider them nothing but crybabies about their food. Here, Mab, race me to the house."

Mabel puffed and panted after her more energetic sister. It was a very hot morning, and it really was aggravating of Kate to fly on the wings of the wind, and expect her to follow.

"Kate has no thought," she muttered, as she panted along. "I shall feel hot and messy for the day now, and there's nothing nice for me to eat when I do get in. It's all very fine to be Kate, who, I don't think, is mortal at all about some things, but I expect I'm somewhat of a cry-baby too, when I see all the nice appetizing food disappearing down a certain manly throat. Hullo, what's the matter now, Kitty?"

Catherine was standing by the window of the breakfast-room waving an open note in her hand.

"Three cheers for you, Mabel! You may be as greedy as you please. The knight of the raspberry plantation has departed. Read this; I found it on my plate."

Catherine was about to toss the note to Mabel, when a hand was put quietly over her shoulder, and Mrs. Bertram took Loftus's letter to read.

"Mother, I didn't know you were down."

"I just came in, my dear, and heard you speaking to Mabel. What is this?"

She stood still to read the brief lines:

"Dearest Sis,—I have had a sudden recall to Portsmouth. Will write from there. Love to the mother and Mab.—Your affectionate brother,

"Loftus."

Mrs. Bertram looked up with a very startled expression in her eyes.

"Now, mother, there's nothing to fret you in this," said Kate, eagerly. "Was not Loftie always the most changeable of mortals?"

"Yes, my dear, but not quite so changeable as not to know anything at all about a recall in the afternoon yesterday, and to have to leave us before we are out of bed in the morning. Did anybody see Loftus go? Had he any breakfast?"

Catherine flew away to inquire of Clara, and Mabel said in an injured voice:

"I dare say Loftie had a telegram sent to him to the club. Anyhow, he has all the excitement and all the pleasure. I watched him through the spy-glass last night. He was in the Bells' boat, and Beatrice was all alone in hers. Beatrice was talking to Loftus and the boats were almost touching. Mother, I wish we could have a boat."

"Yes, dear, I must try and manage it for you at some future time. Well, Catherine, have you heard anything?"

"No, mother. Loftus must have gone away very, very early. No one saw him go; he certainly had no breakfast."

Mrs. Bertram was silent for a few moments; then, suppressing a sigh, she said, in a would-be cheerful tone:

"Well, my loves, we must enjoy our breakfasts, even without the recreant Loftus. Mabel, my dear, what delicious raspberries! They give me quite an appetite."

"Kitty picked them for you, mother," said Mabel. "She has been treasuring a special bush for you for a week past."

Mrs. Bertram looked up at her eldest daughter and smiled at her. That smile, very much treasured by Kate, was after all but a poor attempt, gone as soon as it came. Mrs. Bertram leant back in her chair and toyed with the dainty fruit. Her appetite was little more than a mockery.

"It was very thoughtful of Loftus not to waken any one up to give him breakfast," said Catherine.

Her mother again glanced at her with a shadow of approval on her worn face. Artful Kitty had made this speech on purpose; she knew that any praise of Loftus was balm to her mother.

After breakfast Mrs. Bertram showed rather unwonted interest in her daughters' plans.

"It is such a lovely day I should like you to go on the water," she said. "At the same time, I must not think of hiring a boat this summer."

"Are we so frightfully poor, mother?" asked Mab.

Mrs. Bertram's brow contracted as if in pain, but she answered with unwonted calm and gentleness:

"I have a fixed income, my dear Mabel, but, as you know, we have come to Northbury to retrench."

She was silent again for a minute. Then she said:

"I see nothing for it but to cultivate the Meadowsweets."

"Mother!" said Catherine. The old fire and anger had come into her voice. Unusual as it may be with any girl brought up in such a worldly manner, Catherine hated to take advantage of people.

"You mistake me, Kate," said her mother, shrinking back from her daughter's eyes, as if she had received a blow. "I want you to have the pleasure of Beatrice Meadowsweet's friendship."

"Oh, yes," replied Catherine, relieved.

"And," continued the mother, her voice growing firm and her dark eyes meeting her daughter's fully, "I don't mean to be out in the cold, so I shall make a friend of Mrs. Meadowsweet."

Mabel burst into a merry girlish laugh. Catherine walked across the grass to pick a rose. Mrs. Bertram took the rose from her daughter's hand, although she knew and Catherine knew that it was never intended for her. She smelt the fragrant, half-open bud, then placed it in her dress, with a simple, "Thank you, my dear."

"I am going to write a note to Mrs. Meadowsweet," she said, after a minute or two. "I know Beatrice is coming here this afternoon. It would give me pleasure if her mother accompanied her."

"Shall we take the note to the Gray House, mother?" eagerly asked Mabel. "It is not too long a walk. We should like to go."

"No, my dear. You and Kate can amuse yourselves in the garden, or read in the house, just as you please. I will write my note quietly, and when it is written take it down to Tester at the lodge. No, thank you, my loves, I should really like the walk, and would prefer to take it alone."

Mrs. Bertram then returned to her drawing-room, sat down by her davenport, and wrote as follows:

"Rosendale Manor.

"Thursday.

"Dear Mrs. Meadowsweet,—Will you and Miss Beatrice join the girls and me at dinner this afternoon? Your daughter has already kindly promised to come here to play tennis to-day—at least I understand from Kate that such is the arrangement. Will you come with her? We old people can sit quietly under the shade of the trees and enjoy our tea, while the young folks exert themselves. Hoping to see you both,

"Believe me,

"Yours sincerely,

"Catherine de Clifford Bertram."

Mrs. Bertram put this letter into an envelope, directed it in her dashing and lady-like hand, and then in a slow and stately fashion proceeded to walk down the avenue to the lodge. She was always rather slow in her movements, and she was slower than usual to-day. She scarcely owned to herself that she was tired, worried—in short, that the strong vitality within her was sapped at its foundation.

A man or a woman can often live for a long time after this operation takes place, but they are never the same again. They go slowly, with the gait of those who are halt, through life.

Mrs. Bertram reached the lodge, and after the imperious fashion of her class did not even knock at the closed door before she lifted the latch and went in.

It was a shabby, little, tumble-down lodge. It needed papering, and white-washing, and cleaning; in winter the roof let in rain, and the rickety, ill-fitting windows admitted the cold and wind. Now, however, it was the middle of summer. Virginia creeper and ivy, honeysuckle and jasmine, nearly covered the walls. The little place looked picturesque without; and within, honest, hard-working Mrs. Tester contrived with plentiful scouring and washing to give a clean and cosy effect.

Mrs. Bertram, as she stepped into the kitchen, noticed the nice little fire in the bright grate (the lodge boasted of no range); she also saw a pile of buttered toast on the hob, and the tiny kitchen was fragrant with the smell of fresh coffee.

Mrs. Bertram was not wrong when she guessed that Tester and his wife did not live on these dainty viands.

"I'm just preparing breakfast, ma'am, for our young lady lodger," said good Mrs. Tester, dropping a curtsey.

"For your young lady lodger? What do you mean, Mrs. Tester?"

"Well, ma'am, please take a chair, won't you, Mrs. Bertram—you'll like to be near the fire, my lady, I'm sure." (The Testers generally spoke to the great woman in this way—she did not trouble herself to contradict them.) "Well, my lady, she come last night by the train. It was Davis's cab brought her up, and set her down, her and her bits of things, just outside the lodge. Nothing would please her but that we