The Bertrams

"Miss Todd," she said, and Miss Todd, looking round from a neighbouring table, shone upon her with her rosy face. But all the shining was of no avail.

"Miss Todd, if this is to be a conversazione, we had better make it so at once. But if it's whist, then I must say I never heard so much talking in my life!"

"It's a little of both," said Miss Todd, not sotto voce.

"Oh, very well; now I understand," said Miss Ruff; and then she resumed her work and went on with her calculations.

Miss Baker and Sir Lionel got up, of course, and going over to the further part of the room continued their conversation. She soon told him all she knew. She had hardly seen George herself, she said. But Caroline had had a long interview with him, and on leaving him had said that all – all now was over.

"I don't know what to make of it," said Miss Baker, with her handkerchief to her eyes. "What do you think, Sir Lionel? You know they say that lovers always do quarrel, and always do make it up again."

"George is a very headstrong fellow," said Sir Lionel.

"Yes, that is what I have always felt; always. There was no being sure with him. He is so wild, and has such starts."

"Has this been his doing?"

"Oh, yes, I think so. Not but that Caroline is very spirited too: I suppose somehow it came about between them."

"He was tired of waiting."

"That might have been a reason twelve months ago, but there was to be no more delay now; that is as I understood it. No, it has not been that, Sir Lionel. It makes me very unhappy, I know;" and Miss Baker again used her handkerchief.

"You mustn't distress yourself, my dearest friend," said Lionel. "For my sake, don't. Oh, if you knew how it pains me to see you suffering in that way! I think more of you in the matter than even of George; I do indeed." And Sir Lionel contrived to give a little pinch to the top of one of Miss Baker's fingers – not, however, without being observed by the sharp eyes of his hostess.

"But, Caroline!" sobbed Miss Baker, behind her handkerchief. She was nicely ensconced in the depth of a lounging-chair, so that she could turn her face from the card-tables. It is so sweet to be consoled in one's misery, especially when one really believes that the misery is not incurable. So that on the whole Miss Baker was not unhappy.

"Yes, dear Caroline," said Sir Lionel; "of course I can say nothing till I have heard more of the matter. But do you think Caroline really loves him? Sometimes I have thought – "

"So have I, sometimes; that is I used. But she does love him, Sir Lionel; that is, if I know anything about it."

"Ah, dearest friend, do you know anything about it? that is the very question I want to ask you. Do you know anything about it? Sometimes I have thought you knew nothing. And then sometimes I have thought, been bold enough to think – " And Sir Lionel looked intently at the handkerchief which covered her face; and Miss Todd looked furtively, ever and anon, at Sir Lionel. "I declare I think it would do very well," said Miss Todd to herself good-naturedly.

Miss Baker did not quite understand him, but she felt herself much consoled. Sir Lionel was a remarkably handsome man; as to that she had made up her mind long since: then he was a peculiarly gentlemanlike man, a very friendly man, and a man who exactly suited all her tastes. She had for some weeks past begun to think the day tedious in which she did not see him; and now it was driven in upon her mind that conversation was a much pleasanter occupation than whist; that is, conversation with so highly-polished a man as Sir Lionel Bertram. But, nevertheless, she did not quite understand what he meant, nor did she know how she ought to answer it. Why need she answer him at all? Could she not sit there, wiping her eyes softly and comfortably, and listen to what might come next?

"I sometimes think that some women never love," said Sir Lionel.

"Perhaps they don't," said Miss Baker.

"And yet in the depth of many a heart there may be a fund of passion."

"Oh, there may, certainly," said Miss Baker.

"And in your own, my friend? Is there no such fund there? Are there no hidden depths there unexplored, still fresh, but still, perhaps still to be reached?"

Again Miss Baker found it easiest to lie well back into her chair, and wipe her eyes comfortably. She was not prepared to say much about the depths of her own heart at so very short a notice.

Sir Lionel was again about to speak – and who can say what might have come next, how far those hidden depths might have been tried? – when he was arrested in the midst of his pathos by seeing Mrs. Garded and Mr. Fuzzybell each rush to a shoulder of Lady Ruth Revoke. The colonel quitted his love for the moment, and hurried to the distant table; while Miss Baker, removing her handkerchief, sat up and gazed at the scene of action.

The quarrelling had been going on unabated, but that had caused little surprise. It is astonishing how soon the ear becomes used to incivilities. They were now accustomed to Miss Ruff's voice, and thought nothing of her exclamations. "Well, I declare – what, the ten of spades! – ha! ha! ha! well, it is an excellent joke – if you could have obliged me, Lady Ruth, by returning my lead of trumps, we should have been out," &c., &c., &c. All this and more attracted no attention, and the general pity for Lady Ruth had become dead and passive.

But at last Miss Ruff's tongue went faster and faster, and her words became sharper and sharper. Lady Ruth's countenance became very strange to look at. She bobbed her head about slowly in a manner that frightened Mr. Fuzzybell, and ceased to make any remark to her partner. Then Mrs. Garded made two direct appeals to Miss Ruff for mercy.

But Miss Ruff could not be merciful. Perhaps on each occasion she refrained for a moment, but it was only for a moment; and Mrs. Garded and Mr. Fuzzybell ceased to think of their cards, and looked only at the Lady Ruth; and then of a sudden they both rose from their seats, the colonel, as we have said, rushed across the room, and all the players at all the tables put down their cards and stood up in alarm.

Lady Ruth was sitting perfectly still, except that she still bobbed her old head up and down in a strange unearthly manner. She had about ten cards in her hand which she held motionless. Her eyes seemed to be fixed in one continued stare directly on the face of her foe. Her lower jaw had fallen so as to give a monstrous extension to her cadaverous face. There she sat apparently speechless; but still she bobbed her head, and still she held her cards.

It was known at Littlebath that she had suffered from paralysis, and Mrs. Garded and Mr. Fuzzybell thinking that she was having or about to have a fit, naturally rushed to her assistance.

"What is the matter with her?" said Miss Ruff. "Is anything the matter with her?"

Miss Todd was now at the old lady's side. "Lady Ruth," said she, "do you find yourself not well? Shall we go into my room? Sir Lionel, will you help her ladyship?" And between them they raised Lady Ruth from her chair. But she still clutched the cards, still fixed her eyes on Miss Ruff, and still bobbed her head.

"Do you feel yourself ill, Lady Ruth?" said Miss Todd. But her ladyship answered nothing.

It seemed, however, that her ladyship could walk, for with her two supporters she made her way nearly to the door of the room. There she stood, and having succeeded in shaking off Sir Lionel's arm, she turned and faced round upon the company. She continued to bob her head at them all, and then made this little speech, uttering each word very slowly.

"I wish she had a glass tongue as well, because then perhaps she'd break it." And having so revenged herself, she suffered Miss Todd to lead her away into the bedroom. It was clear at least that she had no fit, and the company was thankful.

Sir Lionel, seeing how it was, left them at the door of the bedroom, and a few minutes afterwards Miss Todd, Mrs. Flounce, and Lady Ruth's own maid succeeded in getting her into a cab. It is believed that after a day or two she was none the worse for what had happened, and that she made rather a boast of having put down Miss Ruff. For the moment, Miss Ruff was rather put down.

When Miss Todd returned to the drawing-room that lady was sitting quite by herself on an ottoman. She was bolt upright, with her hands before her on her lap, striving to look as though she were perfectly indifferent to what had taken place. But there was ever and again a little twitch about her mouth, and an involuntary movement in her eye which betrayed the effort, and showed that for this once Lady Ruth had conquered. Mr. Fuzzybell was standing with a frightened look at the fireplace; while Mrs. King Garded hung sorrowing over her cards, for when the accident happened she had two by honours in her own hand.

When Miss Todd returned some few of her guests were at work again; but most of the tables were broken up. "Poor dear old lady," said Miss Todd, "she has gone home none the worse. She is very old, you know, and a dear good creature."

"A sweet dear creature," said Mrs. Shortpointz, who loved the peerage, and hated Miss Ruff.

"Come," said Miss Todd, "Parsnip has got a little supper for us downstairs; shall we go down? Miss Ruff, you and I will go and call on Lady Ruth to-morrow. Sir Lionel, will you give your arm to Lady Longspade? Come, my dear;" and so Miss Todd took Miss Baker under her wing, and they all went down to supper. But Miss Ruff said not another word that night.

"Ha! ha!" said Miss Todd, poking her fan at Miss Baker, "I see all about it, I assure you; and I quite approve."

Miss Baker felt very comfortable, but she did not altogether understand her friend's joke.

CHAPTER VIII

THREE LETTERS

George Bertram, as we have seen, returned to town after his interview with Miss Waddington without seeing his father. Neither to his mind nor to hers was any comfort brought by that grammatical rule in which Miss Baker had found so much consolation. For both of them the separation was now a thing completed. Each knew enough of the other to feel that that other's pride was too high to admit of his or her making any first fresh advancement.

George endeavoured to persuade himself that he was glad of what he had done; but he failed utterly. He had loved her, did love her dearly, and found that he never valued her as he did now. She had behaved shamefully to him. He said that to himself over and over again. But what had that to do with love? He did not love her the less because she had made public his letter, the secrets of his heart, that which should have been as private as the passion of her own bosom. He could not love her less because she talked over these with another man, however much he might feel himself bound to cast her off for doing so. So he shut himself up in his chambers; wrote pages for his new book that were moody, misanthropical, and unbelieving; and on the whole was very unhappy.

Nor was Caroline much better able to bear the shock; though with her there was more propriety of demeanour under the blow, and a better mental control. That was of course, for she was a woman – and being a woman, she had to take care that the world knew nothing of what was going on within her heart.

For two days she remained perfectly calm. She allowed herself no vent whatever for her feelings. She made the breakfast; sat close at her tambour frame, or more frequently close at her book; read aloud to her aunt; went out and made calls; and attended minutely to all the ordinary occupations of her life. Her aunt never once caught her with a tear in her eye, never saw her sitting thoughtful, unoccupied, with her head leaning on her arm. Had she done so, she would have spoken to her about George. As it was, she did not dare to do so. There was during these days, and indeed outwardly for many days afterwards, an iron stubbornness about Caroline which frightened Miss Baker and altogether prevented her from alluding to the possibility of a reconciliation. Nothing could be more gentle, nay, more obedient, than Caroline's manner and way with her aunt at this time: she yielded to her in everything; but her aunt perceived that all utterance as to the one subject which was nearest to both their hearts was effectually forbidden.

Caroline allowed two whole days to pass before she would allow herself to think of what had taken place. She read through half the nights, so as to secure sleep for herself when she lay down. But on the third morning she opened her desk in her own room, and sat down and wrote to Adela Gauntlet.

    Littlebath, Friday.