Part 44 (1/2)
”And of course you will come to us, too, dear?” Miss Burroughs said to Janetta. ”This will be your home always: Andrew particularly wished me to say so.”
”It is very kind of Dr. Burroughs,” said Janetta, gratefully. ”I have no claim on him at all: I am not Mrs. Colwyn's daughter.”
”As if that made any difference! James Colwyn was one of Andrew's best friends, and for his sake, if for no other, you will be always welcome.”
”I am very much obliged to you,” Janetta replied, ”and I shall be pleased to come to you now and then as a visitor; but I have made up my mind that now--now that my duty seems to be done, I had better go out into the world and try to make a career for myself. I shall be happier at work than leading an idle, easy life. But please do not think me ungrateful--only I _must_ get away.”
And Miss Burroughs, looking into the girl's worn face, and noticing the peculiar significance of her tone, refrained from pressing the point.
She was sure from both that some hidden pain existed, that there was some secret reason why Janetta felt that she ”_must_ get away.” She was anxious to help the girl, but she saw that it would be no true kindness to keep her in Beaminster against her will.
These matters took some time to arrange, and it was while some of them were still pending that Janetta was startled by a visit from Margaret Adair.
It was a sultry day towards the end of July, and Miss Adair looked for once hot and dusty. She was much thinner than she had been, and had a hara.s.sed expression which Janetta could not fail to remark. As she hurriedly explained, she had walked some little distance, leaving Alicia Stone at the Post Office, and it afterwards transpired, giving her mother the slip at a confectioner's, in order to see Janetta once again.
”It is very kind of you, dear,” said Janetta, touched, rather against her will, by so unwonted a proof of affection. ”But I am afraid that Lady Caroline would not be pleased.”
”I know she would not,” said Margaret, a little bitterly. ”She did not want me to see any more of you. I told her how unjust it was to blame you, but she would not believe me.”
”It does not matter, Margaret, dear, I do not much mind.”
”I thought I should like to see you once again.” Margaret spoke with unusual haste, and almost in a breathless manner. ”I want to know if you would do something for me. You used to say you would do anything for me.”
”So I will, if I can.”
”We were going abroad in a few days. I don't know where, exactly: they won't tell me. They are angry with me, Janetta, and I can't bear it,”
cried Margaret, breaking suddenly into tears which were evidently very heartfelt, although they did not disfigure that fair and placid face of hers in the slightest degree; ”they were never angry with me before, and it is terrible. They may take me away and keep me away for years, and I don't know what to do. The only thing I can think of is to ask you to help me. I want to send a message to Wyvis--I want to write to him if you will give him the letter.”
”But why do you not write him through the post?”
”Oh, because I promised not to post anything to him. Mamma said she must supervise my correspondence unless I promised not to write to him. And so I keep my word--but a few lines through you, Janet, darling, would not be breaking my word at all, for it would not be a letter exactly.
And I want to arrange when I can see him again.”
Janetta drew back a little. ”It would be breaking the spirit of your promise, Margaret. No, I cannot help you to do that.”
”Oh, Janetta, you would never be so hard as to refuse me! I only want to tell Wyvis that I am true to him, and that I don't mind what the world says one bit, because I know how people tell lies about him! You know you always promised to stand by me and to be my best friend.”
”Yes, but I never promised to do a dishonorable action for you,” said Janetta, steadily.
Margaret started up, her face a-flame directly.
”How dare you say such a thing to me, Janetta?” she exclaimed.
”I cannot help it, Margaret, you know that I am right.”
The two looked at each other for a moment, and then Margaret turned away with the mien of an insulted princess.
”I was wrong to come. I thought that you would be true to the old bond of friends.h.i.+p between us. I shall never come to you again.”
Poor Janetta's heart was very tender, although her resolution was impregnable. She ran after Margaret, putting her hands on her arm, and imploring her with tears to forgive her for her refusal. ”If it were only anything else, Margaret, dear! If only you did not want me to do what your father and mother do not wis.h.!.+ Don't you see that you are trying to deceive them? If you were acting openly it would be a different thing! Don't be angry with me for wanting to do right!”