Part 16 (2/2)

--D. G. ROSSETTI.

Hilda Quentyns, Judy's idol, was not the strongest of characters. She was very sweet and amiable, intensely true and affectionate to those to whom she gave her heart, but she was somewhat timorous and somewhat easily led.

Long ago, when Babs was a baby, Hilda's mother had died. Since then Judy had been her special care.

Now with trembling hands she packed her portmanteau, gave the young cook and parlor-maid directions what to do in her absence, and then sitting down before her davenport, prepared to write an explanatory letter to her husband.

She thought it quite probable that Jasper would be angry with her for rus.h.i.+ng off like this, but for once she intended to brave his displeasure.

In her heart of hearts she knew exactly the state Judy was in. The ardent soul was wearing out the delicate little frame. That suffering which Judy would not speak of, which she was too brave to show sign or whisper of, was making her body ill. If Hilda went to her darling, the suffering would cease. Love would s.h.i.+ne all round Judy's starved heart, and she would soon be well and strong again.

”Yes, it is my manifest duty to go to her,” whispered the wife to herself. ”I will go to Little Staunton and nurse her for a few days, and when she is better she must come to London and live with me. Jasper won't like it--I know he won't like it, but he has really nothing to complain of, for I told him from the very first what Judy was to me.

Yes, I must go, but I wish--I do wish that the train for Little Staunton left Waterloo at six instead of seven. I should be well on my journey before Jasper came back. Oh, Jasper, my darling, why do I say words of this sort, as if I were--as if I could be--afraid of you!”

Hilda dipped her pen into the ink and wrote the first words of her letter.

”MY DEAREST HUSBAND:

”When you read this you will be surprised--”

A rather crooked dash of her pen finished this sentence--she was startled by a quick double knock at the front door. A moment later Susan, the neat maidservant, brought in a telegram on a salver.

”The boy is waiting to know if there is any answer,” she said.

Hilda tore open the yellow envelope; her eyes rested on the following words:

”Rivers will dine with us. Have everything nice, and expect me home at 6.30.

”JASPER.”

Mrs. Quentyns' first sensation was one of relief.

”It is all right,” she exclaimed, looking up at the servant, who was startled at her mistress's pale cheeks. ”I thought my little sister, Miss Judy, was worse, but the telegram is from your master, Susan. Tell the boy there is no answer, and send cook to me without a moment's delay.”

Susan left the room, and Hilda slipped the telegram into her pocket. She still felt only a sense of relief, and the first faint qualms as to what Jasper would think of her sudden departure had not begun to visit her. A knock was heard at the drawing-room door.

”Come in, come in,” said the young mistress. ”Oh, cook,” exclaimed Hilda, ”I have just had a telegram from your master. He is bringing a gentleman home to dine. A rather particular gentleman, and we want a specially nice dinner. I--I forget what I ordered this morning.”

The fat cook bestowed a pitying glance upon Hilda.

”The boiled chicken was to be frica.s.seed, mum,” she said, ”and you ordered me to open one of the tins of oxtail soup; there were to be apple fritters afterward, and a cheese savory--that is all.”

”Yes, yes,” said Hilda, putting her hand to her head, ”that dinner would have done very well for Mr. Quentyns and me, but we must make some alterations now. You had better run round to the fishmonger's, cook, and go to the butcher's, and order----”

Hilda rushed to her davenport, scribbled some hasty directions on a piece of paper, and handed them to the servant.

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