Mollie's Prince: A Novel

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

  CHAPTER XX.

  "DAD'S LITTLE BETTY."

  "We have seen better days."

  ROMEO AND JULIET.

  "Her little face, like a walnut shell, With wrinkling lines."

  HENLEY.

  On Monday morning, when Waveney went into the library, Althea wouldalways ask a kindly question or two about the previous evening, to whichWaveney would gladly respond. But when the girl told her, with sparklingeyes, about Mollie's promised treat, and Mr. Ingram's kindness, shelooked extremely surprised, and not a little amused.

  Doreen, who had followed them into the room, and was hunting through thebook-shelves for a volume she needed, turned with an exclamation. ButAlthea put her finger on her lip, with a warning gesture.

  "_Aylmer's Dream!_ Why, that is the very play that Thorold is so anxiousfor us to see," she observed, calmly. "Why should we not have a box,too? You are driving into town this afternoon, Dorrie, and you caneasily go to St. James's. It will be a treat for Waveney--and you knowwe always intended to go."

  "Yes, but not on Wednesday," returned Doreen, in a doubtful tone. Butagain Althea looked at her meaningly. As for Waveney, she was speechlesswith delight.

  Althea sent her into the dining-room the next moment to fetch the_Times_ and Doreen took instant advantage of her absence.

  "Althea, are you serious? Do you really wish me to take a box forWednesday?"

  "Oh, yes," returned Althea, flushing a little; but there was amischievous smile on her lips, "I am quite serious. Moritz ismasquerading, and I want to find out his little game. My lord is toobusy to call on his old friends. But I will be even with him. Hush! herethe child comes, Dorrie. We will have a nice little drama of our own onWednesday. I long to see pretty Mollie, and that 'lad of pairts,' Noel,and it will be a grand opportunity." Then, as Waveney returned with thepaper, Doreen contented herself with a disapproving shake of the head.Althea was very impulsive, she thought, when she at last left the room.It was all very well to talk about Moritz, but she feared that she wasputting herself in an awkward situation. Everard Ward would be there aswell as Mollie and Noel, and they could hardly leave the theatre withoutspeaking to him. But, old maid as she was, the idea of hinting this toAlthea made her feel hot all over. "Althea would only laugh at me, andpretend not to understand," she said to herself; "and if she makes aplan, nothing will induce her to give it up."

  In truth Althea was quite enamoured of her little scheme. "Now,Waveney," she said, in a mysterious voice, "you are not to say onesyllable to Mollie, mind that!"

  "Is it to be a surprise?" asked Waveney, opening her eyes as widely asthe wolf in Red Riding Hood.

  "Why, of course it is. We will all remain snugly hidden at the back ofour box until the curtain draws up, and then they will be too absorbedto notice us. Think how delightful it will be to see Mollie's start ofastonishment, when at last she catches sight of you!"

  "Oh, what fun it will be!" exclaimed the girl, joyfully. "Yes, yes, itwill be far better not to tell Mollie; but I hope she will not call outwhen she sees me. Monsieur Blackie, too, and father and Noel. Oh, MissAlthea, how glorious it will be! There; I am forgetting your letters,and you wanted them written for the early post;" but Althea only smiledindulgently.

  Waveney could settle to nothing properly that day; she had only been tothe theatre twice in her life, and then only in the gallery. But to bein a box!--well, her excitement was so great that she took a long walkover the Common to calm herself.

  Presently an unwelcome thought obtruded itself. Her white frock waslosing its freshness with constant wear, but there was no possibility ofbuying a new one until Christmas, and she had no suitable wrap--not even"Tid's old red rag of a shawl." For a moment she was full of dismay,then, with her usual good sense, she determined to confide thedifficulty to Miss Althea. She found her opportunity that very evening.Althea listened to her attentively. "My dear child," she said, verykindly, when Waveney had finished, "do you know the same thoughtoccurred to me; but there is no need to trouble yourself. I have two orthree evening cloaks that Peachy will not let me wear because she saysthey do not suit me, and of course you can have one. Oh, yes, there is ablue plush one that will just do." And Waveney thanked her delightedly.

  There was nothing now to mar her enjoyment or to damp her anticipation.And the next morning a letter from Mollie gave her fresh pleasure.

  "Oh, Wave, darling," it began, "it is so late, and father says I oughtto be in bed; but I must write and tell you about such a wonderful thingthat has just happened. I was mixing father's salad for supper andthinking how he would enjoy it with the cold pheasant when the door-bellrang, and the next minute Ann brought in a big box--one of thosecardboard boxes that always look so tempting. It was from Marshall &Snelgrove, she said, and there was nothing to pay; and there was myname, 'Miss Mollie Ward,' written as plainly as possible. Oh, dear, howexcited I was? But father would not let me cut the string, and he wassuch a time fumbling over the knots; and all the while he was laughingat me and calling me an excitable little goose.

  "There were layers and layers of tissue paper, and then--oh, Wave, dear!never, never in all our lives have we seen such a cloak! I was almostafraid even to touch it. Father was right when he said rather gravelythat it was more fit for one of the young Princesses of Wales than forhis daughter.

  "But I must try to describe it. It is a rich ivory silk, with a lovelypattern running through it that looks like silver, and it is so warm andsoft, and lined with the faintest and most delicate pink, like the palmof a baby's hand--that was father's idea; and all round is the mostexquisite feather trimming. And when I put it on, father said I lookedlike a white pigeon in its nest.

  "Oh, Wave, do you think that our good little Monsieur Blackie sent it?There was no name, no clue of any kind. What am I to do? Ought I tothank him for it? But there is no one else who would do such a kindthing; and yet if he did not send it, how awkward that would be! Youmust think over it and help me, darling.

  "Your loving but distracted

  "MOLLIE."

  * * * * *

  Waveney did not long delay her answer.

  "I am delighted about the cloak, sweetheart," she wrote, "and he is thevery Prince of Black Princes, to make my sweet Moll so happy; and nowmother's old red shawl can go back into the cedar box.

  "Why, of course it is Monsieur Blackie. Do you suppose any other personwould do such a delightfully unconventional thing. It is like a fairystory; it is Cinderella in real life, the pumpkin coach and all. ButMollie, take my word for it, he will never own it.

  "Perhaps if you get an opportunity you might tell him that you had beenmuch mystified by receiving a beautiful present anonymously, and thatyou greatly desired to thank the kind donor, and then you will see whathe says. Oh, he is a deep one, Sir Reynard, and I should not besurprised if he professes entire ignorance on the subject. If I couldonly peep at you on Wednesday! 'Oh, had I but Aladdin's lamp, if onlyfor a day!' I have been singing that ever since I read your letter." Andthen Waveney closed her note abruptly, for fear she should say too much;but some subtle feeling of delicacy prevented her from telling Althea.That the cloak was Mr. Ingram's gift she never doubted for a moment; butthough she had written jokingly to Mollie, and called him the veryPrince of Black Princes, in reality she was secretly dismayed.

  "If he loves her, why does he not tell her so?" thought the girl,anxiously, "instead of showering gifts on her in this Oriental fashion.Is it because Mollie is so unconscious and that she will not see, andthis is his way of winning her? Mr. Ingram does nothing like other men;he is an Idealist, as he says. He is good and kind, but he is not goodenough for my Mollie. She is worth a king's ransom; she is the dearest,and the loveliest, and the best;" and here Waveney broke down and shed afew tears, for her heart felt full to overflowing with mingled pride andpain.

  Waveney had some errands to do in the town that afternoon, and amongstother things she had to take t
he usual basket of flowers to MissChaytor.

  Waveney never cared for these visits. She liked Mr. Chaytor--heinterested her more than any man she had ever seen; but his sister boredher. She told Mollie once that "she was as soft and damping as aNovember mist."

  She found her this afternoon in one of her most depressing moods. Shehad been having an argument with Jemima, and, as usual, had retiredbaffled from the contest. Jemima was a clever girl, and had long agotaken her mistress's measure; and she had an invariable resource onthese occasions.

  "If I don't suit you, ma'am, I can leave this day month," she would say,crushingly; and then Joanna would hurriedly reply, "Please don't talknonsense, Jemima. You suit me very well. But all the same you had noright to stand talking to the milkman for a quarter of an hour. Well,ten minutes, then," as Jemima, with some heat, protested against this;"and I will thank you to be more careful for the future."

  Waveney heard the whole history of Jemima's misdemeanours. Joanna hadtaken a fancy to the girl, and often mentioned her to her brother. "Shehas such a pretty manner, and she is bright and sympathetic. She is justthe person for Althea;" and Thorold had assented to this.

  Joanna wanted her to stay to tea; but Waveney had had an excuseready--she was only too glad to get out of the house. Her own vitalitywas so strong, and the interest of her own personality so absorbing,that she could not understand how any human existence could be so meagreand colourless as Miss Chaytor's seemed to be. "Is it because she is anold maid?" thought the girl, as she walked over the bridge. "If Mollieor I did not marry, should we ever be like that?" and then she added,piously, "Heaven forbid!"

  What was it Miss Althea had said that first Sunday morning, as theywalked through the village?--that it always made her angry when peopletalked of empty, blighted, or disappointed lives, and that it was theirown fault if they did not find interests. "I wondered at the time whatMiss Althea could mean," she said to herself; "it sounded a little hard.But I have thought it out since. We must fertilise and enrich our livesproperly, and not let them lie fallow too long; there is no need thatany life should be thin and weedy. I suppose Miss Chaytor has had hertroubles, but she is not without her blessings, too. I daresay herbrother is very good to her. Oh, yes, certainly, Miss Chaytor has hercompensations."

  Waveney had finished all her errands, but she meant to take a turn onthe Embankment. The grey, November afternoon had a certain charm forher. It was not at all cold, and she wanted to sit down for a fewminutes and watch the barges being tugged slowly against the tide. Howmysterious they looked, emerging from the dark arches of the bridge!Already they were lighting the gas, and bright flickers were perceptibleacross the river. A faint wind was flapping the brown and tawny sails ofsome vessels that were waiting to be unladen; they reminded her of thetattered pennons in the chapel at Chelsea Hospital. And then she thoughtsadly of the dear old sergeant.

  He had died peacefully in his sleep about a week after her visit, andhis last conscious words had been about Sheila.

  Mollie had seen the corporal two or three times, and one Sunday she andWaveney had gone over to the Hospital. The little corporal had lookedaged and dwindled; but at the sight of Waveney he had brightened.

  "Aye, he is gone," he said, in a subdued voice. "McGill is gone, and Iam fairly lost without him. Ah! he was a grand man for argufying, andwould stick to his guns finely. 'For it stands to reason,' says I, 'thata man with two eyes can see farther than a blind one'--not that McGillwas blind then?--'and I'll take my oath that there were only two ofthose darned black niggers'; and then, how he would speechify andbluster, and there would be a ring round us in no time--and 'Go it,McGill!' and 'Up at him, corporal!' Ah, those were grand times. But theLord gave and the Lord hath taken away"--and here Corporal Marks baredhis grey head. "And must you be going, Miss Ward? Well, good-bye, andGod bless you!" And now the slow tears of age were coursing down thecorporal's wrinkled face.

  "Aye, Jonadab frets sorely after his old comrade," remarked Nurse Marks,when Waveney told her about her interview with the corporal. "What is itwe are told, my lamb?--'One taken and the other left'; and it stands toreason that the world is a poorer place for him."

  Waveney was thinking about her old friends as she seated herself on abench overlooking the river. At the farther corner a little girl wassitting. But there was no one else in sight.

  Waveney was fond of children, so she smiled and nodded to the child inquite a friendly way.

  "You must not sit long, or you will take cold, my dear!" she said.

  "Oh, I am always cold," returned the child, in a plaintive little voice,"and I am tired, too, for I have got two bones in my legs, and they doache so!"

  Waveney looked at her curiously; she was not a pretty child--indeed, itwas rather a singular little face, with oddly pronounced features. Shehad pathetic-looking eyes, and fair hair, which she wore in a longplait, and in spite of her shabby dress and worn boots her voice wasrefined and sweet. When she made her little speech, she sidled up toWaveney in the most confiding way.

  "Do you have bones in your legs, too--but you are one of the grown-ups;grown-ups don't mind being tired. Daddie says when my legs grow longerthey will leave off aching, and I suppose daddie knows."

  "Poor mite!" thought Waveney, pityingly; and then she said, kindly, "Areyou alone, little one? Is your home near?" But the child shook her head.

  "Daddie and I have not got any home," she returned, wearily. "Therearen't any homes in England, are there? We live with Mrs. Grimson inChapel Road. I think she is a good woman," she continued, gravely, inher old-fashioned way; "she bathed my feet so nicely when I got wet. ButI don't like her rooms; they are not like my own dear home."

  "Where was your home, my dear!" asked Waveney, taking the little coldhand in hers; but the child hesitated.

  "We had many homes, but they were all across the sea, a long, long wayoff. We came in a big ship, with such a nice captain. Daddie's gone toHamerton to look for Aunt Joa, and Mrs. Grimson's Susan left me here. Inever knew before that grown-ups could be lost, but we have been lookingfor Aunt Joa, till I have got the aches in my legs, and we have notfound her yet!"

  This was rather puzzling to Waveney, but she was one of those motherlygirls who knew by instinct how to win a child's heart, so she onlycuddled the cold little hands comfortably, and asked her if she had apretty name. Then the little girl smiled, showing a row of white, pearlyteeth as she did so.

  "Dad and I think it nice," she returned, nodding her head; "but it isvery short. Daddie says I am too small to have a big name. I am Betty,"with an important air. "Dad's little Betty. But dad does always call meBet. Is your name long or short?"

  Waveney was about to answer this friendly question when a man's voicebehind them made her start.

  "Why, Bet," it said, "why are you perched up here, like a lost robin?And Susan has been looking for you half over the place."

  "It is my daddie. It is my dear dad," cried the child, joyously, and thenext moment she was running to meet a tall man, who was walking quicklytowards them.

  Waveney watched the meeting. She saw the man stoop and kiss the littleone fondly; and then Bet took hold of his rough coat and drew himtowards the seat.

  "Susan was naughty, dad. She did tell me to sit there, and she wouldfetch me, and she did never come at all, but this young lady was verykind, so I did not cry."

  "That's my brave little Bet." And then the man took off his hat toWaveney. "Thank you, very much," he said, heartily. "I was obliged toleave my little girl, and I am afraid they neglected her."

  Waveney felt vaguely perplexed. The man's face, and even his voice,seemed strangely familiar to her, and yet she was sure she had neverseen him before. He was a handsome man, though his face lookedweather-beaten and somewhat worn. His clothes were rough and shabby, buthis voice was unmistakably cultured; he had evidently seen better days.

  "Susan is not always naughty," observed Betty. "She gave me a peppermintonce, and it was very nice. Dad, dear, did you find Aunt Joa?" Then th
eman shook his head in rather a depressed way.

  "No, Bet, and we are still down on our luck. There is no such name atHamerton. Perhaps this lady may know it"--and then he looked a littleeagerly at Waveney. "I am a stranger in these parts. Can you tell me ifany one of the name of Chaytor lives at Dereham?"

  "Why, yes," returned Waveney, surprised by the question. "Miss Chaytorand her brother live in High Street."

  "And their names?--their Christian names, I mean?" asked the stranger,hoarsely.

  "Mr. Chaytor's name is Thorold," returned Waveney, simply, "and hissister is Joanna." Then the man snatched up the child in his arms; heseemed almost beside himself. "Thank God, we have found them, Bet. Mydear old Theo and Joa! Oh, what a fool I have been, going so far afield,and all the time they are actually at Dereham;" and then he sat down,and a few words cleared up the mystery.

  About an hour later, as Joanna was drawing the crimson curtains over thewindow, Jemima threw open the door with a little fling.

  "There is a child outside wanting to speak to you, ma'am. I would notlet her into the passage, because she might have come to beg; but shesaid she wanted Miss Chaytor most particular."

  "Very well, Jemima, I will go and speak to her;" and Joanna, who wasvery tender-hearted and never turned away a tramp unfed, went quickly tothe door.

  A little girl, a tiny creature, was standing there. She looked up inJoanna's face wistfully.

  "Oh, please will you tell me if you are Miss Chaytor--Miss JoannaChaytor," correcting herself with careful pronunciation.

  "That is my name, certainly," returned Joanna, rather surprised at this."And what do you want with me, my little girl?"

  "Oh, please, Aunt Joa," returned the child, "I am Betty, dad's littleBetty, and daddy is at the gate." And then, the next moment, a man'sshadow was distinctly visible.