Part 29 (1/2)

Five wasted days; and nothing more to tell, though some women mightn't think so; nothing but--another triumph!

I've been to the Charity Ball. I've danced with a Lord--such a little fellow to be a belted Earl! I have scored over brilliant women of Society.

It isn't the simple country girl of a few weeks ago whom Ned loves, but a wonderful woman--a Personage; and I am glad, glad, glad! Though no woman could be good enough for him. I'm not; I am only beautiful enough. And oh, so feverishly happy, except that waiting is hard, so hard. I'm so restless that I scarcely know myself.

If I might tell him that I love him--as other Queens do! I am afraid of his glance when he is here, because he knows. But when he's not here, I imagine that he does not know, that he will never come again unless he learns the truth, and I say it over and over: ”I love him! I love him!”

and am glad and panic-stricken as if he had heard.

I have never had any other secret, but the Bacillus, I would sooner die than tell that, to Ned. My love I would cry aloud, but I cannot until he speaks, and he cannot speak until--has Milly no pride?

I thought--I thought that the very day after the dance--why, I could have rubbed my eyes, when I went down to a late breakfast, to find Mrs. Baker chirping with sleepy amiability, and Milly doling out complacent gossip to Ethel. The very sky had fallen for me to gather rainbow gold--and here we were living prose again, just as before.

I had struggled with my joy through all the short night, for I had imagined them suffering and angry; but I do believe that on the whole Milly had enjoyed the dance, and liked to s.h.i.+ne even by her reflected importance as the beautiful Miss Wins.h.i.+p's cousin. She had been vexed by Ned's admiration for me; and yet--and yet she didn't understand. The stupid! Didn't see that his love is mine.

There may have been a pause as I came, dazzling them like a great rosy light; but then my aunt stifled a yawn as she said, ”Here's Nelly,” and the chatter went on as before.

But I didn't hear it. Gliding confusedly into a seat, I had opened a note from John. ”--Called West on business; start to-day,” it said; and then indeed I began to feel the tangle, the terrible tangle--my cousins blind, John gone, when I was counting the minutes until I could see him. Oh, I must be free! It is his right to know the truth, and--what can Ned say while I'm affianced? I am Milly's cousin, and he John's friend.

I hurried to escape. I longed to be by myself that I might recall Ned's every look and word. Without reason--against reason--I felt that at any minute Ned might come, and waves of happiness and dread and impatience swept over me, and kept me smiling and singing and running anxiously to my gla.s.s.

Ned loves my beauty; I pulled down my hair and reknotted it and pulled it down again, fearful--so foolish have I grown--lest I might fail to please him; and frowned over my dresses and rummaged bureau drawers for ribbons, until Milly, who had tapped at my door and entered almost without my notice, asked abruptly:--

”Who's coming?”

”No one; John--no, he's out of town.”

I flushed to see her regard the litter about me with calm deliberateness.

”Oh, you don't have to take pains for John,” she said with a short laugh.

”But come; Meg's down stairs.”

The General had followed Milly up; she whisked into the room, showering me with congratulations on my success at the dance, she claimed me for a dinner, a concert--half a dozen engagements.

”Oh, by the way,” she said, checking her flood of gossip. ”Who d'you suppose is to be at the Charity Ball? Lord Strathay. You'll talk with a real Earl, Nelly--for of course he'll ask to be introduced.”

”Another dance!” groaned my aunt, who had trotted panting in the General's wake; ”I'm sure I wish I'd never said she might go; I'm as nervous as a witch after last evening.”

Poor Aunt; she looked tired. She's really becoming the great objector.

Such a day as it was! I started at every footstep; my heart gave an absurd jump at every movement of the door hangings. Of course I knew that Ned couldn't--that we mustn't see each other until--but Ned is mine; it's so wonderful that he loves me. If I were Milly, I wouldn't remain an hour-- not a minute!--in such a false position.

Yet the next day pa.s.sed just like that day, and the next and the next and the next; every morning a note from John, scrawled on a railway train, and begging for a line from me. I wrote, poor fellow; so that's settled, and I'm very sorry for him.

I got rid of one morning by calling on Prof. Darmstetter. It was three weeks since I had seen him, and he was testy.

”I see much in t'e newspapers about t'e beautiful Mees Veensheep, but v'y does she neglect our experiment?” he demanded, following me across the laboratory to my old table. ”V'ere are my records, my opportunities for observation? Has t'e beautiful Mees Veensheep no regard for science?”

”You've always said she hadn't, and pretended to be glad of it; I won't contradict,” I returned. ”But hurry up with your records; it doesn't need science or the newspapers, does it, to tell you that the beautiful Miss Wins.h.i.+p cannot go about very freely?”

”Ach, no,” said he humbly; for he could not look upon my face and hold his anger. ”If I haf not alreaty gifen to Mees Veensheep t'e perfect beauty t'at I promised, I cannot conceive greater perfection. You are satisfied vit' our vork--vit' me?”