Part 19 (1/2)

In that belief she was perfectly right, and perhaps it was a fortunate thing that Aunt Anne was there to help to remove the impression; for, that lady having already had Denys Morton's letter, was prepared for this one, and was glad she had been able to tell the news in her own way to her sister-in-law the day before.

”Don't look so scared, Lucy,” she said. ”I don't suppose there is anything much amiss, though I shall just pack up and go at once. What an irritating woman this must be--quite enough to make any one ill if she talks as she writes.”

With characteristic prompt.i.tude Miss Britton began to make her preparations immediately, and only halted over them once, and that was when she hesitated about packing a dress that had just come home, which she said was ridiculously young for her.

”It will get very crushed,” she muttered discontentedly. ”But then---- Oh, well, I might as well put it in,” and in it went. Mrs. Britton hovered anxiously about her, and watched her proceedings wistfully.

”You don't think I should go too, do you, Anne?” she asked.

”Not at present, certainly,” Miss Britton returned promptly, regarding her with her head on one side. ”I promise I will let you know exactly how things are, and whether you would be better there. I would say 'Don't worry' if I thought it were the least good, but, of course, you will.”

Then she stooped and fastened a strap of her trunk. ”It was a most sensible thing of the young Morton to write straight away, and, probably, if they are there, they will be quite sure to see Barbara has all she wants--the uncle always was a kind-hearted man.”

Then she straightened her back and declared everything was ready.

She crossed by night from Southampton to St. Malo, and was greatly afraid that she would arrive ”looking a wreck,” and, to prevent that she partook largely of a medicine she had seen advertised as a ”certain cure for sea-sickness.” Her surprise equalled her delight when she awoke in the morning, having slept peacefully all night, and she refused to believe that her good night was probably owing to the calmness of the sea and not to the medicine.

She looked with a little dismay at the shouting, pus.h.i.+ng crowd of porters and hotel touts waiting on the quay, wondering how she would manage to keep hold of her bag among them all, and, as she crossed the gangway, clutched it more tightly than before.

”No,” she said, as some one took hold of it as soon as her foot touched the quay. ”You shall not take my bag--I would not trust it to any one of you. You should be ashamed of yourselves, screaming like wild Indians.”

It was just then that Denys Morton and his uncle came through the crowd. ”That is she--there,” the elder man said, recognising her after fourteen years. ”Go and help; I will wait here.”

It was at a crucial moment, when Miss Britton was really getting exasperated and rather desperate, that the young man came up, and she accepted his a.s.sistance and explanation with relief.

”My uncle is down here,” he said. ”We have a _fiacre_ waiting. There is always such a crush and rout on the quay, we thought we had better come to pilot you through.”

The young man, in spite of his easy bearing, had been a little anxious as to how the two would meet again, and dreaded lest there might be some embarra.s.sment. But beyond an air of shyness that sat strangely on both, and a kind of amused wonder at meeting after so many years, there was nothing to show that they had been more than mere acquaintances, and the talk centred chiefly on Barbara.

”She does not know you are coming yet,” Denys said. ”Mademoiselle Therese got your telegram, but said it would be better not to tell your niece in case the s.h.i.+p went down on the way!”

”What a cheerful person to live with!” Miss Britton e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. ”I'm afraid I may be very rude to her.”

”I hope not,” Mr. Morton said. ”It would do no good, and she seems to be an excellent lady in many ways.”

”We shall see!” Miss Britton replied grimly, getting out of the _fiacre_; and Denys felt rather sorry for Mademoiselle Therese.

But Miss Britton was often worse in imagination than in reality, and she behaved with all due politeness to both the sisters, who met her at the door, and led her into the _salon_. She even bore a certain amount of Mademoiselle Therese's explanations with patience, then she got up.

”Well, well, I would rather hear all that afterwards, mademoiselle, and if I may just take off my hat and coat I will go straight up to my niece. I had breakfast on board.”

A few minutes later Aunt Anne opened Barbara's door and entered, a little doubtful lest her sudden appearance might not be bad for her niece, but thinking it could not be much worse than a preparation ”by that foolish woman.”

Barbara was lying with her back to the door, but something different in the step made her turn round, and she sprang up in bed.

”Aunt Anne! Aunt Anne!” and dropping her face into the pillow began to cry.

Aunt Anne stood a moment in doubt. It was such a rare thing to see any of ”the family” cry that she was startled--but not for long; then she crossed the room and began to comfort her niece.

”It was dreadfully foolish of me,” the girl said after a while, ”but it was _so_ nice to see you again. Mademoiselle Therese is very kind, but--she creaks about, you know, and--and fusses, and it is a little trying to have foreigners about when you are--out of sorts.”