Part 3 (1/2)

”Please answer me, Sutton, it is most important. Is it dreadful to be engaged to be married? and are people fickle? and are promises broken?”

”But, my dear----”

”Will you answer me, dear, kind Sutton?”

”Well, Miss Judy, well--anything to please you, dearie--it all depends.”

”What does it depend on?”

”Taken from the female point of view, it depends on the sort the young man is; but, my darling, it's many and many a long day before you need worrit yourself with such matters.”

”But I want to know,” persisted Judy. ”People do get married. You were married twice yourself, Sutton; you told me so once.”

”So I was dear, and both my wedding gowns are in a trunk upstairs. My first was a figured sateen, a buff-colored ground with red flowers thrown over it. My second was a gray poplin. I was supposed to do very well with my second marriage, Miss Judy.”

”Then you were twice engaged, and twice married,” said Judy. ”I don't want to hear about the wedding gowns, Sutton. I am rather in a hurry. I want you to tell me about the other things. What were they like--the being engaged, and the being married? Was the person fickle, and did he break his promise?”

For some reason or other Mrs. Sutton's face became so deeply flushed that she looked quite angry.

”I'll tell you what it is, Miss Judy,” she said, ”someone is putting thoughts into your head what oughtn't to do it. You are a motherless child, and there's someone filling your head with arrant nonsense. What do you know about engagements and--and disappointments, and dreams what proves but early mists of the morning? what do you know of fickleness and broken promises? There, child, you won't get any of that bad sort of knowledge out of me. Now you run away, dearie. There's someone been talking about what they oughtn't to, and you has no call to listen, my pet. There's some weddings happy, and there's some that aint, and that's all I can say. Run away now, Miss Judy.”

CHAPTER III.

A QUESTION AND AN ANSWER.

When some beloved voice that was to you Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly, And silence against which you dare not cry Aches round you like a strong disease and new-- What hope? what help? what music will undo That silence to your sense?

--E. BARRETT BROWNING.

Hilda Merton stood in a rather irresolute fas.h.i.+on in her bedroom.

Several people were coming to dine at the Rectory to-night, and she, as the young mistress of the establishment, ought to be in the drawing room even now, waiting to receive her guests. The Rector was a very wealthy man, and all those luxuries surrounded Hilda which are the portion of those who are gently nurtured and well-born. Her maid had left the room, the young girl's simple white dress was arranged to perfection, her lovely hair was coiled becomingly around her shapely head. She was standing before her looking-gla.s.s, putting the final touches to her toilet.

For some reason they took a long time to put. Hilda gazed into the reflection of her own pretty face as if she saw it not. Her brown eyes looked through the mirrored eyes in the gla.s.s with an almost abstracted expression. Suddenly a smile flitted across her face.

”I'll do it,” she exclaimed. ”I'll wear his white rose. He may think what he pleases. I--I do love him with all my heart and soul.”

She blushed as she uttered these last words, and looked in a half-frightened way across the room, as if by chance someone might have overheard her.

The next moment the white rose was snugly peeping out from among the coils of her rich hair. Her dress was fastened at the throat with a pearl brooch. She was in simple white from top to toe.

”How late you are, Hilda,” said Aunt Marjorie. ”I was getting quite nervous. You know I hate to be alone in the drawing room when our visitors come; and really, my love, what a simple dress--nothing but a was.h.i.+ng muslin. Did not you hear your father say that the Dean and Mrs.

Sparks were coming to dinner to-night?”

”Of course I did, Aunt Marjorie. The cook also knows that the Dean is coming to dine. Now don't fret, there's a dear. I look nice, don't I?

that's the main thing.”

”Yes, Hilda, you look beautiful,” said Aunt Marjorie solemnly; ”but after all, when you have a new pink chiffon and--and----”