Part 17 (1/2)
”Indeed, he does. He came that time when you saw him, the middle of August; and he wrote Berry a note to say that he must speak to us, and that if we didn't meet him somewhere, he should appeal to Mrs. Joy. We had to consent, of course, and we gave him all the money we had, and we thought he was gone; but just a few days after he appeared again on the Polo Ground, and handed Berry a note, which he pretended she had dropped out of the carriage. But it was really from himself; and he said that he had lost the money we gave him on a bet which had turned out badly, and he must have a hundred dollars more. You can't think how hard it has been for us to raise all this money, Cannie. Berry has her own income, but her mother likes to know what she does with it; and mamma chooses my things for me, so I don't have much of an allowance. We have been at our wits' end sometimes to know how to manage.”
”And how did you?”
”Berry sold a diamond ring which she doesn't often wear, so her mother has not missed it, and I put in thirty dollars, which was all I had; and he went away, for good as we hoped. He promised solemnly not to come to Newport, or ask us for money again this season; and we were so relieved.
For a few days I was almost happy,” with a miserable little laugh. ”But what fools we were to believe him! I can't imagine why we should, for he has deceived us all through. I don't think he has spoken the truth once from the very beginning. Berry came just now to tell me that he is back already. She saw him herself this morning in Thames Street. He didn't see her, for she was in the close coupe, and he was looking in at a shop window; but, of course, he has come for money, and neither of us has any more. We shall have to refuse, and he will go straight to papa, and then--oh, what will become of me?” She buried her face again in the pillows.
Candace was trembling with a mixture of sensations,--pity for her cousin, indignation at this mean persecution of which she was the victim, and withal a fine touch of scorn over the weakness which was so easily played upon. With all her country breeding and ignorance of the world and its ways, there was in our little maiden a large share of the strong, self-respecting pride of her ancestry. _She_ would never have stooped to buy the silence of a low knave like this Alexander; and her clear truthfulness of soul indicated at once the single, straight, unerring clew which could lead out of this labyrinth of difficulties.
”Georgie,” she said, after a moment's thought, ”there is just one thing for you to do. You must tell Cousin Kate all about this.”
”Oh, Candace, never!” screamed Georgie. ”Tell mamma! Have mamma know!
I'd rather die at once. You have no idea how she despises concealments and deceits; and I have had to plot and contrive, almost to tell lies, all through this wretched time. She would never get over it. Even if she _said_ she forgave me, I should always read a sort of contempt in her eyes whenever she looked at me. Oh, mamma, mamma! And I love her so!
Candace, I couldn't.”
”It is the only way,” repeated Candace, firmly.
”You have promised not to tell!” exclaimed her cousin, starting up from her rec.u.mbent position. ”You promised me solemnly! You'll not forget that, will you, Cannie? You'll not tell mother yourself?”
”Certainly not. What use would it be for me to tell her? It would be only next best to having Alexander do it. But you,--you, Georgie,--that is a different thing.”
”Even Gertrude said she couldn't advise me to tell mamma,” continued Georgie.
”Gertrude! Does Gertrude know about it then?”
”Yes; I had to tell somebody, I was so miserable. It was only a little while ago that I told her. I kept it to myself for a long time.”
”Gertrude!” repeated Candace, unable to hide her amazement. ”And what did she say?”
”Oh, she was horrified, of course. Any one would be; and she threw a great deal of blame on Berry. I don't think she has ever liked her since. She always goes out of the room when she comes. She wanted me to do all sorts of impossible things, such as going to the chief of police.
But about mamma, she felt just as I did. You see we both think so much of mamma, Cannie; we care so much about having her approve of us. You haven't any mother; so perhaps you can't understand.”
”No,” said Candace, ”I have no mother. Perhaps it makes a difference.
But there is another thing I can't understand, and that is how girls who _have_ a mother--such a mother as yours, Georgie--can be content to keep her love by means of a cheat. If I did have a mother, I should want her to know all about me, and approve of me honestly, not because I was hiding things from her. Besides,”--there was a little choke here,--”I think mothers can stand a good deal, and still keep on loving their children. I don't believe Cousin Kate would be hard on you, Georgie, or despise you because you have been foolish.”
”You don't half know mamma,” repeated Georgie. ”She has such high ideas about conduct. It would half kill her to know that I had even spoken to a man like this Alexander.”
”Of course she would be sorry,” persisted Candace. ”Of course she would rather that you had never got into this sc.r.a.pe. But she is so just always, as well as kind. She always sees both sides. She will understand how it began,--that Berry over-persuaded you--”
”What makes you say that?” interrupted Georgie. ”I never told you that Berry over-persuaded me.”
”No; but I knew it all the same. It's a matter of course,” said Candace, too deeply in earnest to pick her words, or realize what a very uncomplimentary thing she was saying, ”Berry Joy always makes you do whatever she likes. Cousin Kate will realize how it was in a minute.”
”Well, never mind that. I want to talk about mamma. Don't you see that if I did tell her she couldn't do anything unless she told papa? and that is the very thing I want to prevent. Oh, what was that?” as the clock began to strike. ”Six! They will be here in ten minutes. Oh, dear!
how can I meet her? My eyes are swelled out of my head. She will be sure to notice.” And Georgie hurried to the looking-gla.s.s, and began to smooth the tangled fluffs of hair on her forehead.