The Beautiful Wretch by William Black (dar e dil novel online reading txt) 📕

man's life cannot approach without causing some mental disturbance, even in the most hopeful. Long before the Kingscourt family had assembled round the breakfast-table, Frank King had ridden over, on these two or three cold mornings, to the postal town, which was nearly two miles off, so that he should not have to wait for the arrival of the bag. And at last came a letter with the Brighton postmark. He glanced at the handwriting, and thought it was Madge's. That was enough. He put it in his pocket without opening it; went out and got on his horse; and went well outside the little town into the quietude of the lanes before putting his hand into his pocket again and taking the letter out.

No, he was not very apprehensive about the result, or he could not have carried the letter thus far unopened. But all the same the contents surprised him. He had expected, at the worst, some mild refusal on the ground of haste; and, at the best, an evasive hint that he might come to Brighton and talk to Lady Beresford. But all the writing on this sheet of paper consisted of two words, '_From Madge;_' and what accompanied them was a bit of forget-me-not--not painted, this time, but a bit of the real flower. It was a pretty notion. It confessed much, without saying much. There was a sort of maiden reticence about it, and yet kindness, and hope. What Frank King did not know was this--that it was Nan Beresford who had suggested that answer to his letter.

He never knew how he got home that morning. He was all in a tempest of eagerness and delight; he scarcely lived in to-day--it was next day. It was the future that seemed to be around him. He burst into his friend's bed-room before the breakfast gong had sounded.

'Beresford, I'll go with you whenever you like now. Whenever you like. I'm going to Brighton with you, I mean.'

'Oh, that's it, is it?' said Mr. Tom, without looking up--he was tying his shoes.

'I've heard from your sister, you know----'

'I thought so. It's all right then, is it?'

'I hope so. I'm very glad it's settled. And you know I don't want to turn you out of the house; but you've been very kind, waiting a day or two longer; and I _should_ like to get to Brighton at once.'

'I'll start in five minutes if you like,' said Mr. Tom, coolly, having finished with his shoes. 'And I suppose I ought to congratulate you. Well, I do. She's a very good sort of a girl. Only----'

He hesitated. It was inauspicious.

'What do you mean?' said Captain Frank.

'Well, I've seen a good deal about women and their goings on, don't you know?' said Mr. Tom, with a sort of shrug. 'They're always changing and chopping and twisting about. The best way is to marry them offhand, and take the nonsense out of them.'

Captain Frank laughed. This was not at all alarming. And when it became secretly known that Captain Frank was immediately going to Brighton to secure his promised bride, there was a great, though discreet rejoicing at Kingscourt; and even pretty Mary Coventry came with her demure and laughing congratulations; and Mr. Tom was made more of than ever during the few hours longer that he remained in the house. Frank King had not time to think about Nan now; it was Madge Beresford who had sent him that bit of forget-me-not.


CHAPTER XVI.


REVERIES.

No sooner had Nan come back to Brighton again, and been installed once more in her former position, than the whole house seemed to be pervaded by a quite new sense of satisfaction, the cause of which was not even guessed at. The wheels of the domestic machinery worked far more smoothly; even the servants seemed to partake of the general brightness and cheerfulness. Edith, the stupid sister, put it down to the Christmas-time, and congratulated herself on her evergreens on the walls. Mr. Tom observed that the house was far better managed when Nan was at home: that meant that he found his slippers when he wanted them, and that there was always a taper on the chimneypiece in the billiard-room. Lady Beresford had all her little whims attended to; and as for Madge, that young lady was greatly delighted to have a safe and sure confidante. For she was much exercised at this time both with her fears about Mr. Hanbury, who followed her about like a ghost, kept silent by the dread of Vice-Chancellors and tipstaffs, and her vain little hopes about Captain Frank King, whose intentions were scarcely a matter of doubt. Nan listened in her grave, sweet way that had earned for her, from Madge, the name of 'Old Mother Nan;' and then would say some nice thing to her sister; and then would carry her away on some charitable enterprise.

For this was the Christmas time; and what with continual choral services, and evergreens, and unearthly music in the still cold nights, there was a sort of exaltation in the air; and Nan wished to be practical. In consequence, Lady Beresford was gravely oppressed.

'I do believe, Nan,' she said, vexedly, one morning as she was writing out a cheque--'I do believe your only notion of Christianity is the giving away coals.'

'And a very good notion too,' said Tom, who would allow no one to say anything against Nan.

But then came that fateful letter from Frank King. It arrived on a January morning--on a clear and brilliant forenoon, just as Nan and her younger sister were going out for a walk, tempted by the sunlight and the colours of the sea. Madge herself took it from the postman at the door; glanced at the address, hastily opened the envelope, and guessed at, rather than read, the contents.

'Oh, Nan,' she said hurriedly, 'wait a moment. There is something--something I want to speak to you about--come into the dining-room--oh, do you know what this is, Nan?--Captain King has written.'

'Yes, dear,' said Nan, calmly and kindly, as she followed her into the empty dining-room.

'I must not show you the letter, must I?' said the younger sister, eagerly, though she was herself still reading and re-reading it. 'But you know what it is, Nan. And I must send an answer--oh, dear, what shall I do?'

'You ought to know, Madge,' her sister said. 'You were not unprepared, surely. I thought you expected it. I thought you would have had your mind made up.'

'But it is so dreadful--so sudden--so terrible! Look at my hands--I am all shaking. Oh, Nan, what would you do--what would you do if you were me?'

Nan seemed to be thinking of something far away; it was after a second that she recalled herself to this question, and then she answered with some astonishment--

'Don't you know your own mind, Madge?'

'Well, I do in a way,' said the younger sister, still staring at the letter. 'I like him well enough. I think it would do very well; and there would be no trouble with any one. I am sorry for that poor fellow Hanbury; but what _is_ the use of his hanging about, and keeping one nervous? There is no use in it all--nothing but bother. And I know Captain King is very fond of me, and I think he would be very kind; and you know he is not going to sea again. And mamma would be pleased. Do you think I should go to her now?'

'What is the use of going to any one until you know what your mind is?'

If the unhappy Hanbury could only have seen his sweetheart at this moment--staring blankly at the open letter, with a doubt on her face which was most probably inspired by some vague and tender recollection of himself! What might not have happened if only he could have intervened at this crisis, and appealed to her with eyes and speech, and implored her to defy these terrible authorities in London? But Madge kept looking at the letter; and then she shut it together; and then she said with decision--

'I think it's the best thing I can do. Wait a minute, Nan; I'll go and tell mamma.'

When she came downstairs again she was quite radiant and eager in her joy.

'Oh, I'm so glad it's all settled and over. I'm so glad there'll be no more worry and bother. And really Captain King is one of the nicest-looking men we know--Edith has always said so--and he is so quiet and pleasant in his manner, and very amusing too: that is because he has no pretence. And grateful for small kindnesses; I suppose being so long at sea, and not seeing so many people, he hasn't got blase. Then he never pretends to be bored--but why are you so solemn, Nan; doesn't it please you?'

Nan kissed her sister.

'I hope you will be very happy, dear,' she said, in her grave, kind way.

'Then I suppose I must answer his letter at once,' continued Madge, in her excited way. 'But how am I to do it, Nan? See how my fingers are all shaking; I couldn't write. And it would take me a month to find out what to say--and here you are being kept in, when you are always wanting to be out in the open air----'

'Oh, don't mind me, Madge. I will stay in with pleasure, if you want me.'

'But you shan't stay in on my account, dear Mother Nan--not a bit of it--not for all the men in the world. And yet I ought to send him a message. I ought to write.'

'I think, Madge,' the elder sister said, slowly, 'if that is any trouble to you, you might send him a message he would understand, without your writing much--a flower, perhaps----'

'But what sort of flower?' said the younger sister, eagerly.

Nan's face flushed somewhat, and she seemed embarrassed and slow to answer.

'You--you should know yourself,' she said, turning her eyes aside. 'Any flower, perhaps--a bit of--of forget-me-not----'

'Of course that would do very well; but where could you get forget-me-nots just now?'

Nan again hesitated; she seemed to be forcing herself to speak.

'There's a little bit in a button-hole in ----'s window,' she said, at last; 'I saw it there yesterday at least.'

'Dear Mother Nan,' said Madge, enthusiastically, 'you are as clever as twenty Vice-Chancellors! We will walk along at once, and see if it is still there. And in the meantime I will write a word on a sheet of paper--I can manage that anyway--and you might address an envelope----'

'Oh no, I couldn't do that,' said Nan, inadvertently shrinking back.

'Very well, I will struggle through it,' said Madge, blithely; and she went and got writing-materials, and scrawled the few words necessary.

They went out into the beautiful clear cold morning, and walked along through the crowd of promenaders with their fresh-coloured faces and furs telling of the wintry weather. And in due course of time they arrived at the florist's window, and found the bit of forget-me-not