Part 81 (2/2)
”Why, it's a cheque,” he rejoined, with an affectation of surprise.
”What luck! I haven't been able to sleep for nights thinking of the butcher's bill.”
”For shame!” Beth said, bantering--”talking about bills before your guest! But since you introduced the subject I may add that the butcher must wait. I want this myself. I am going to stay with Mrs. Kilroy at Ilverthorpe on Wednesday, and it will just cover my expenses.”
”This is the first I have heard of the visit,” Dan e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.
”I only decided to go this afternoon,” Beth replied.
”You decided without consulting me? Well--I'm d.a.m.ned if you shall go; I shall not allow it.”
”The word 'allow' is obsolete in the matrimonial dictionary, friend Daniel,” Beth rejoined good-humouredly.
”But you are bound to obey me.”
”And I'm ready to obey you when you endow me with all your worldly goods,” she said; then, suddenly dropping her bantering tone, she spoke decidedly: ”I am going to stay with Mrs. Kilroy on Wednesday, understand that at once, and do not let us have any vulgar dispute about it.”
”But you can't leave Miss Petterick here alone with me!” he remonstrated.
”No, but she can go home,” Beth answered coolly. ”Her mother wants her, you know, and I have written to tell her to expect her to-morrow.
Now, if you please, we will end the discussion.”
She put the letter in her pocket, and began to crack nuts and eat them. But Dan could not keep away from the subject. ”Gad!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, ”I thought they'd get hold of you, that lot, and flatter you, and make a convenience of you--that's what they do! _I_ know them! They think you're clever--how easy it is to be mistaken! But you'll see for yourself in time, and then you'll believe me--when it's too late. For then you'll have got your name mixed up with them, and you'll not get over that, I can tell you--they are well known for a nice lot. Your Mrs. Kilroy was notorious before she married. She was Angelica Hamilton-Wells, and she and her brother were called the Heavenly Twins. They are grandchildren of that blackguard old Duke of Morningquest. n.o.body ever speaks of any of the family with the slightest respect. It's well known that Miss Hamilton-Wells asked old Kilroy to marry her, and when a girl has to do that, you may guess what she is! But they are all besmirched, that lot,” Dan concluded with his most high-minded manner on.
”I never believe anything I hear against anybody,” said Beth, unconsciously quoting Ideala; ”so please spare me the recital of all invidious stories.”
”You'll only believe what suits yourself, I know,” he said. ”And I've no doubt you'll enjoy yourself. Galbraith will be there, and Mr.
Theodore Hamilton-Wells, the fair-haired 'Diavolo,' who will suit your book exactly, I should think.”
”I beg your pardon?” said Beth politely.
Dan poured himself out another gla.s.s of wine, and said no more.
He and Bertha managed to have a moment's conversation together before they retired that night.
”What does it mean?” Bertha anxiously demanded. ”Does she suspect anything?”
”G.o.d knows!” Dan said piously, then added, after a moment's consideration, ”How the devil can she? We've played our cards too well for that! No, she's just bent on making mischief; that's the kind of pill she is. If she keeps that money it will be downright robbery. But now you see what I have to put up with, and you can judge for yourself if I deserve it.”
When he went to Beth, however, he a.s.sumed a very different tone. He entered the room with an air of deep dejection, and found her sitting beside her dressing-table in a white wrapper, reading quietly. She smiled when she saw his pose. It was what she had expected.
”I can't do without that money, Beth, on my word,” he began plaintively. ”I've been reckoning on it. I wouldn't take it from you, G.o.d knows, if I could help it; but I'm sore pressed.” He took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes, imagining that he still had to deal with the gentle sensitive girl, upon whom he had imposed so long and so successfully.
Beth watched him a moment with contempt, and then she laughed.
”It is no use, friend Daniel,” she said in her neat, incisive, straightforward way. ”I am not going to take you seriously any more. I am neither to be melted by your convenient tears, nor dismayed by your bogey bills. I have never seen any of those bills, by the way; the next time you mention them, please produce them. Let us be business-like. And in the meantime, just understand, once for all, like a good man, that I am not going to be domineered over by you as if I were a common degraded wife with every spark of spirit and self-respect crushed out of me by one brutal exaction or another. I shall do my duty--do my best to meet your reasonable wishes; but I will submit to no ordering and no sort of exaction.” She rose and faced him. ”And as we are coming to an understanding,” she pursued, ”just explain. Why did you tell me that Miss Petterick was to be a paying patient?”
”I never told you anything of the kind,” said Dan, losing his head, and lying stupidly in his astonishment.
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