Part 25 (1/2)
”You look awfully pretty; you look quite lovely.”
”What a dear little flatterer you are! Does it really matter whether I look pretty or not? Aunt Marjorie would scold you, child, for praising my looks to my face; she would say you were encouraging vanity.”
”And I should tell her to her face that I was not,” answered Judy stoutly. ”It's right to look beautiful; it's copying the flowers. Now run and put on your India muslin dress, Hilda.”
Hilda left the room, and half an hour later the two sisters met in the little drawing room. There were fresh flowers in the vases; and a great bowl of primroses, which Aunt Marjorie had sent from the Rectory, was placed on the little table in the square bay-window.
Judy in her white dress stood near the flowers. She took up one, and in an absent sort of fas.h.i.+on pulled it to pieces. Susan announced dinner, and the sisters dined together in great state, and with apparent enjoyment. Hilda joked about everything, and Judy, catching up her spirit, did likewise.
”Let us imagine, just for to-night, that I am grown-up,” she said; ”treat me as if I were your grown sister--not your little sister--Hilda.”
Hilda felt in the humor to comply with any request Judy made.
”We will have our coffee in the drawing room,” she said. ”Black coffee for me, please, Susan, but bring in a little jug of cream for Miss Judy's. Now, dearest,” turning to the child, ”don't forget that the play is going on; we have dined out with numbers, oh, numbers of guests, and now we are in the large a.s.sembly-room, alone in the crowd, happy because we are together.”
Judy had thrown herself back into a deep arm-chair in the little drawing room while Hilda was speaking; her eyes had a sort of starry radiance about them, her cheeks were slightly flushed, her cloudy soft brown hair was thrown back from her white brow.
Hilda moved about the room; she was restless notwithstanding the enforced calm she was putting upon herself. Judy smiled when Hilda spoke, but in her heart certain words kept repeating themselves--they had repeated themselves like a sort of mournful echo in that poor little heart all day.
”All the moments you are away from me are long and wearisome,” Hilda had said to her husband. ”All the moments.”
And then he had said to her:
”You don't find three trumpery. I wish I didn't!”
”So I'm the trumpery,” thought Judy to herself. ”I'm three. And all the moments while Hilda is away from Jasper are long and wearisome. Poor Hilda! poor darling! how well she hid it all from me; how good, how very good she has been to me; but I'm glad I know. It was a lucky, a very lucky thing that the door of the breakfast room was left slightly open this morning, and so I was able to hear Jasper's words.”
”How silent you are, dearest,” said Hilda, looking at the child.
”I beg your pardon,” said Judy, jumping up. ”I was thinking.”
”Think aloud then, sweet. Let me share your pretty thoughts.”
”But they are not pretty, Hilda; and I think I'd rather no one shared them. Now let us talk about old times--about the dear old times before there was a Jasper.”
”Judy,” said Hilda, ”there is just one thing I should like to say to you. Even if it gives you pain, I ought to remind you, my darling, that Jasper is my husband; that I love him. Oh! Judy, Judy, my heart aches with love to him. My heart aches because I love my husband so much.”
Judy clenched her hands; a great wave of crimson swept over her face.
Hilda had hidden her own face in her hands, and did not notice the child's agitation. Presently the little sister's hand softly touched her forehead.
”And you're lonely to-night, poor Hilda, because your Jasper is away?”
”Yes, Judy, it's true. I'm afraid even to tell you how lonely I am.”
”And you've been trying to seem cheerful, just to please me.”
”And to please myself too,” said Hilda, starting up and wiping the tears from her eyes. ”There, we won't talk about it any more; we'll go on pretending that we are having an awfully jolly time.”
”You're very brave, Hilda,” said Judy; ”and when people are brave, things generally come right. Now, may I sit on your knee, just as if I were a baby instead of a tall girl with long legs? _I_ wouldn't make you unhappy, Hilda darling. When there's an inevitable I must face it; I must, and you will see that I will. Jack the Giant Killer shan't beat _me_ over difficulties when I've made up my mind.”