Part 30 (2/2)
”No,” I said, ”I cannot ask her; besides, I know she would not. Though she is a d.u.c.h.ess she has not got a lot of money to spare. The Duke manages everything, and she just has her allowance, and a great deal to do with it. I cannot ask her.”
”There is one other way in which ruin could be averted,” said Jane slowly, ”but that I suppose is not to be thought of. Well, I have told you, and I suppose it is a sort of relief. Things may go on as they are for another week or two, but that's about all.”
I felt that I trembled, but I would not let Jane see.
”You have been very brave. You have ruined yourself for our sakes,” I cried impulsively. But at the same time I could not help adding, ”That friend of yours who promised you seven thousand pounds ought not to have failed you at a critical moment like the present.”
”I won't have him blamed,” said Jane, her face turning crimson; ”it is not his fault. Man could not do more.”
”Jane,” I said, facing her, ”tell me the truth now; what is the name of your friend?”
”You won't get his name out of me,” answered Jane. ”Mr. Randolph has gone to Australia to put things straight with him. When I hear from Mr. James Randolph all will be well.”
”Have you never heard since he left?”
”Twice during the voyage, but not since. It is wonderful why he is so silent. There, I seem to have lost hope.”
”Jane,” I cried, ”why don't you give us up and go back to your own little house?”
”Bless you, child, I'm not the one to leave a sinking s.h.i.+p. Oh, we'll go on a little bit longer, and it has cheered me a little to confide in you. I will work the s.h.i.+p for another week or so, and there will be an extra nice dinner to-night, and spring asparagus, real English grown, and your mother shall have the greater portion of it. Oh dear, oh dear, if the house were twice its size we _might_ make it pay, but as it is it's too big and it's too small; it's one of the betwixt-and-betweens, and betwixt-and-between things _never_ do, never, never. Child, forgive me, I am sorry to add to your cares. If it were not for your mother I should not mind a bit.”
I could do nothing to comfort Jane. I went up to her and kissed her, and held her hand for a moment, and then went slowly away to my own room. I did not attempt to shed a tear, I was not going to cry just then, it behoved me to be very brave; there was a great deal to be borne, and if I gave way it seemed to me that everything must come to an end. I felt some pride in my young strength and my courage, and was resolved that they should not fail me in my hour of need. So I put away the new hat and pretty jacket and went down to mother, and I amused mother by showing her the lace I had bought, and I told her all about the d.u.c.h.ess, and mother was much pleased at the thought of seeing her old friend on the following morning, and she and I sat that afternoon in the drawing-room making up the pretty lace fichu, and I resolved that mother should wear it the next day when the d.u.c.h.ess came.
There was the most awful trouble hanging over us all; my mother's days on earth were numbered, and my scheme, my lovely castle in the air, was falling to ruins about my head. But all the same mother and I laughed and were cheerful, and the visitors who came into the drawing-room that afternoon thought what a picturesque group mother and I made, and what a lovely room it was, and how much superior to most boarding-houses; and they inquired, more than one of them, when there would be a vacancy, and said they would write to Miss Mullins on the subject. Poor Jane Mullins! she was bearing the brunt of the storm. I pitied her from the depths of my heart.
CHAPTER XXI
MR. PATTENS
The next day the d.u.c.h.ess called, and mother was looking so well for her, and so pleased to see her old friend again, that I do not think at first the d.u.c.h.ess of Wilmot half realised how ill she was. I just saw her for a moment, and then went out. I came back again at the end of an hour. Mother's cheeks were quite bright, and her eyes s.h.i.+ning, and her hand was in the d.u.c.h.ess's hand, and when she looked at me her eyes grew brighter than ever, and she said to me--
”Come here, darling,” and she raised her dear lips for me to kiss her.
I did kiss those lips, and I thought them too hot, and I said to the d.u.c.h.ess--
”You are tiring mother, you have stayed with her long enough.”
”Oh no, let her stay; I do love so much to see her,” said my mother, so I could not have the heart to say any more, and I went away to a distant part of the room, and they began whispering again just like the dearest friends which they really were, and at last the d.u.c.h.ess came up to me and said--
”Come downstairs with, me, West.”
I went with her, and wondered why she called me by mother's pet name, but I loved her very much.
”Tell me the truth about your mother,” said the d.u.c.h.ess as soon as we got into the hall. ”At first I thought her fairly well, but she is feverish, quite feverish now. Have I overtired her?”
”I cannot tell you anything except that she is not strong,” I said; ”that you have come so seldom to see her, that you have over-excited her now. Oh, I cannot wait, I must go back to her.”
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