The Beautiful Wretch, William Black [digital ebook reader .TXT] 📗
- Author: William Black
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'Oh no, dear.'
'Is your headache any better?'
'A great deal.'
'Shall I get you some eau-de-cologne?'
'Oh no.'
'Does it sound strange to you that I should call him Frank? It did to me at first. But of course it had to be done; so I had to get over it.'
'You don't seem to have had much difficulty,' said Nan, with an odd kind of smile.
'Well,' Madge confessed, 'he isn't like other men. There's no pretence about him. He makes friends with you at once. And you can't be very formal with any one who is lugging you through the snow.'
'No, of course not,' said Nan gravely. 'I was not saying there could be anything wrong in calling him Frank.'
'Well, the pantomime; did I tell you how good it was? Mr. Roberts says he never saw such beautifully-designed dresses in London; and the music was lovely--oh! if you had heard Cinderella, how she sang, you would have fallen in love with her, Nan. We all did. Then we had ices. There's a song which Cinderella sings Frank promised to get for me; but I can't sing. All I'm good for is to show off Edith.'
'You ought to practise more, dear.'
'But it's no good once you are married. You always drop it. If I have any time I'll take to painting. You see you have no idea, in a house like this, the amount of trouble there is in keeping up a place like Kingscourt.'
'But you know, Madge, Mrs. Holford King is there.'
'She can't be there always; she's very well up in years,' said the practical Madge. 'And you know the whole estate is now definitely settled on Frank--though there are some heavy mortgages. We shan't be able to entertain much for the first few years, I daresay--but we shall always be glad to have you, Nan.'
Nan did not say anything; she turned her face away a little bit.
'Nan,' said her sister, presently, 'didn't Mary and Edith have a notion that Captain King was at one time rather fond of you?'
Nan's face flushed hastily.
'They--they--imagined something of that kind, I believe.'
'But was it true?'
Nan raised herself up, and took her sister's hand in her two hands.
'You see, dear,' she said, gently, and with her eyes cast down, 'young men--I mean very young men--have often passing fancies that don't mean very much. Later on they make their serious choice.'
'But,' said Madge, persistently, 'but I suppose he never really asked you to be his wife?'
'His wife!' said Nan, with well-simulated surprise. 'Recollect, Madge, I was just over seventeen. You don't promise to be anybody's wife at an age like that; you are only a child then.'
'I am only eighteen,' said Madge.
'But there is a great difference. And recollect that Captain King is now older, and knows better what his wishes are, and what way his happiness lies. You ought to be very proud, Madge; and you should try to make him proud of you also.'
'Oh, I will, Nan; I will really. I wish you would teach me a lot of things.'
'What things?'
'Oh, you know. All the sort of stuff that you know. Tidal waves and things.'
'But Captain King won't have anything more to do with tidal waves.'
'Then we'll go round the shops to-morrow, Nan; and you'll tell me about Chippendale furniture and blue china.'
'Don't you think there will be enough of that at Kingscourt; and just such things as you couldn't get to buy in any shops?'
'Then what am I to do, Nan?'
'You can try to be a good wife, dear; and that's better than anything.'
Madge rose.
'I'll let you off, Nan. But I do feel terribly selfish. I haven't said a single word about you----'
'Oh, but I don't want anything said about me,' said Nan, almost in alarm.
'Well, you know, Nan, everybody says this: that a clergyman's wife has more opportunities of doing good than any other woman; for, you see, they are in the middle of it all, and they can interfere as no one else can, and it is expected of them, and the poor people don't object to them as they might to others.'
'Oh, I think that is quite true,' said Nan, thoughtfully--perhaps with a slight sigh. 'Yes, I have often thought of that.'
'And you know, dear, that was what Providence meant you to be,' said Madge, with a friendly smile. 'That is just what you were made for--to be kind to other people. Good-night, old Mother Nan!'
'Good-night, dear.'
They kissed each other; and Madge turned off the gas and left. Presently, however, Madge returned, opened the door, and came in on tiptoe.
'Nan, you are not asleep yet?'
'Of course not.'
'I wanted to ask you, Nan; do you think he would like me to work a pair of slippers for him?'
'No doubt he would,' was the quiet answer.
'For I was thinking it would be so nice if you would come with me to-morrow and help me to choose the materials; and then, you see, Nan, you might sketch me some design, out of your own head, for you are so clever at those things, and that would be better than a shop pattern. And then,' added Madge, 'I should tell him it was your design.'
Nan paused for a second.
'I will do whatever you want, Madge--but you must not say that I made the design for you. It won't be worth much at the best. I would rather have nothing said about it, dear.'
'Very well, Nan; that's just like you.'
CHAPTER XVIII.
A WHITE WORLD.
Next morning it still snowed and blew hard; no one could go out; it was clearly a day to be devoted to indoor amusements. And then Frank King, despite the state of the streets and the absence of cabs, made his way along, and was eagerly welcomed. As Mr. Tom's companion he was to spend the whole day there. Billiards, music, lunch, painting--they would pass the time somehow. And meanwhile the gusts of wind rattled the windows; and the whirling snow blurred out the sea; and Mr. Tom kept on big fires.
Nan remained in her own room. When Madge went up to bring her down she found her reading Thomas a Kempis.
'Frank has asked twice where you were,' Madge remonstrated.
'But that is not a command,' said Nan, with a smile. 'I should have thought, judging by the sound, that you were being very well amused below.'
Madge went away, and in about an hour after came back. She found that her sister had put away _De Imitatione Christi_, and was at her desk.
'Writing! To whom?'
'To the Editor of the _Times_', said Nan, laughing at her sister's instantaneous dismay.
'The _Times_? Are you going to turn a blue-stocking, Nan?'
'Oh no; it's only about blankets. You can read the letter; do you think he will print it?'
This was the letter which Madge read, and which was written in a sort of handwriting that some editors would be glad to see oftener:--
'Dear Sir--The Government interfere to punish a milkman who adulterates milk with water; and I wish to put the question in your columns why they should not also punish the manufacturers who dress blankets with arsenic? Surely it is a matter of equal importance. Poor people can get along without milk, unless there are very small children in the house; but when they have insufficient food, and insufficient fire, and scant clothes, and perhaps also a leaky roof, a good warm pair of blankets is almost a necessity. You cannot imagine what a compensation it is, especially in weather like the present; but how are the charitably disposed to take such a gift to a poor household when it may become the instrument of death or serious illness? Dear Sir, I hope you will call upon the Government to put down this wicked practice; and I am, yours respectfully, AN ENGLISH GIRL.'
'Oh, that's all right,' said Madge, who had feared that her sister had taken to literature; 'that's quite the right thing for you. Of course, a clergyman's wife must know all about blankets, and soup-kitchens, and things.'
Nan flushed a little, and said quickly and with an embarrassed smile--
'I thought of putting in something about his "eloquent pen" or his "generous advocacy," but I suppose he gets a great deal of that kind of flattery, and isn't to be taken in. I think I will leave it as it is. It is really most shameful that such things should be allowed.'
'When are you coming down to see Frank?'
'By and by, dear. I am going now to get mamma her egg and port wine.'
'I know Frank wants to see you.'
'Oh, indeed,' she said, quietly, as she folded up the letter.
That memorable snowstorm raged all day; the shops fronting the sea were shut; the whole place looked like some vast deserted white City of the Dead. But towards evening the squalls moderated; that fine, penetrating, crystalline snow ceased to come in whirls and gusts; and people began to get about, the black figures making their way over or through the heavy drifts, or striking for such places as the force of the wind had driven bare. Here and there shovels were in requisition to open a pathway; it was clearly thought that the gale was over; the Beresfords and their guest began to speak of an excursion next day to Stanmer Park, lest peradventure it might be possible to have a lane or two swept on the ice for a little skating.
The next morning proved to be brilliantly beautiful; and they were all up and away betimes on their somewhat hopeless quest. All, that is to say, except Nan: for she had sundry pensioners to look after, who were likely to have fared ill during the inclement weather. Nan put on her thickest boots and her ulster, and went out into the world of snow. The skies were blue and clear; the air was fresh and keen; it was a relief to be out after that monotonous confinement in the house.
Nan went her rounds, and wished she was a millionaire, for the fine snow had penetrated everywhere, and there was great distress. Perhaps she was really trying to imagine herself a cleryman's wife; at all events, when she had grown tired, and perhaps a little heart-sick, it was no wonder that she should think of going into that church, which was always open, for a little rest, and solace, and
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