The Girls of St. Wode's Part 48

"My dear child," she said, "do you know that your appearance quite concerns me? I am certain you are not well; I am also sure that you are troubled about something. Have you no relations, dear, except that extremely nice-looking brother of yours?"

"I have no relations at all," replied Annie, "except Rupert. My father and mother lived in America, where they died. I was quite a child when I came to England. Since then Rupert and I have been practically alone. We were brought up during the early years of our life by a guardian, who has since died."

"Well, at any rate, I congratulate you on your brother, Annie," said Belle from the far end of the room, where she was reading Socrates. "He has what I call a pure taste for the cla.s.sics. I shall be very pleased indeed to see him here again. Mother, don't you agree with me that Mr.

Rupert Colchester is a scholarly and gentlemanly man?"

"Yes, dear Belle, I do," said Mrs. Acheson. "Now, I tell you what it is," she said, turning in a confidential way to Annie, "you and your brother shall see as much of each other as possible while you are with me. If you will just give me his address I will send him a line asking him to dine with us this evening. He feels leaving you so much."

"Leaving me?" said Annie. "Did he say anything about that?"

"Yes, my dear, when he goes to India, he says, you will feel the parting terribly. He has secured an excellent post in the Civil Service, and has to start in about a fortnight. Why, what is the matter, dear Annie?" for Annie's eyes had dropped on to her plate and her face looked like death.

"I did not know that Rupert was going to India," she said at last, raising them desperately and fixing them on Mrs. Acheson.

"Perhaps he did not like to tell you, my love. From the way he spoke I rather judged that he had only just got his appointment. Of course you must know in the end. He feels so very full of sympathy for you, Annie."

Annie got up. She made an excuse to leave the room; she felt that she could not contain herself another moment.

"Give me his address, dear, before you go," said Mrs. Acheson. "I think it might be best for me to send him a telegram. Where is he staying?"

Annie turned, stood bolt upright, and uttered as if she was charging the words out of a cannon:

"I don't know."

"You don't know where your brother is staying? That does seem strange.

But has he no permanent address?"

"Dear me, mother," said Belle from the other end of the room, "does that matter? A man with Mr. Colchester's extensive tastes doubtless cares little where he lays his head at night. He is, I presume, at one of the hotels. There are many hotels in London; have you not discovered that yet?"

"I never thought of the hotels," said Mrs. Acheson in an apologetic voice. "He did not happen to tell you which one he was staying at, my love?"

"No," said Annie, "he did not."

"That is a pity."

"But," continued the young girl, "I can give him your invitation. It is very kind of you to ask him. I had a letter from him this morning asking me to meet him in Regent's Park."

"Dear, dear!" said Mrs. Acheson; "of course he wants to tell you this news about India. Certainly, my love, you shall go; it will be quite convenient. And now, what do you say to having a nice drive? I think a little fresh air would do you good. Belle, suppose you go for a drive with Annie? I will send round to Marchand's for a landau. You might take her to Richmond."

"Really, mother," answered Belle in a tart and injured voice, "do you suppose I have time for such frivolity, for a drive with no object whatever except to inhale the air? Do you not understand that all my life is mapped out, that each moment is lived by rule? This morning I intend to make a careful study of my Greek grammar, as it is my intention to write an exhaustive essay on the characteristics of the aeolic dialect, with ill.u.s.trations from literature."

Mrs. Acheson sighed, and rose hastily.

"You must do as you please, Belle, of course," she said.

"Certainly, dear mother, I intend to. If Annie likes, she can stay and help me, for she has quite a good taste in Greek, and a nice accent; but if, on the other hand, she prefers the utter inanity of a drive, why, surely you can go with her?"

"So I will," said Mrs. Acheson; "and I believe that Annie and I will enjoy the 'inanity,' as you call it, immensely. Annie, we will go to Richmond."

"So be it," said Belle. "I do not expect to see either of you until this evening. I am off at once to my study. The Greek dialects, cla.s.sified as Ionian and non-Ionian, are full of the deepest interest."

She fled from the room in a sort of whirlwind, slamming the door after her.

Mrs. Acheson looked at Annie.

"Belle is a dear, good creature," she said in a half-hesitating way; "but still it seems a pity."

"What?" asked Annie.

"That she should be quite so devoted to the dead languages. Surely things of living moment are much more important?"

"Well, I happen to be very fond of the cla.s.sics myself," answered Annie, "so I ought not to blame Belle; but she does go to the fair with the thing, does she not?"

"It seems so to me, dear; but then I am, comparatively speaking, an ignorant woman. We women of the last generation had not the advantages which you young creatures now receive. What Belle means by the Ionian and non-Ionian dialects I am absolutely ignorant about."

"It does not matter," said Annie gently.

"I agree with you; my love, it scarcely matters much; but your pale cheeks and that anxious expression in your eyes matter a great deal. If I can be of any use to you, Annie, understand that I shall be only too pleased."

"Do you mean it?" said Annie. She went up to Mrs. Acheson. The widow held out her hand, which Annie clasped.

"Do you really mean it?" continued Annie.

"I do, my dear child. I wish you would tell me what really troubles you."

"I long to confide everything to you," replied Annie, "but I dare not; please don't ask me. Let me be happy while I am here, and don't be-oh, don't be too kind!"

"What does the poor child mean?" thought Mrs. Acheson. She now laid her hand on Annie's shoulder, drew her to her side, and kissed her tenderly on her forehead.

"I am drawn to you because you are a motherless girl," she said; "and whenever you feel that you can give me your confidence I shall be only too happy to receive it, and also, Annie, my dear, to respect it. I am an old woman, and have seen much of life; perhaps I could counsel you if you are in any difficulty."

"No, no; it may not be," said Annie in a whisper which nearly choked her.

"Very well; we will say no more at present. I am going now to give directions about the carriage."

At eleven o'clock an open landau was at the door, and Mrs. Acheson and Annie went for their drive. It was a lovely summer's day, and Regent's Park looked its best. Long years afterward Annie Colchester remembered that drive. The delightful motion of the easy carriage in which she was seated, the soft breezes on her cheeks, Mrs. Acheson's kind and intelligent conversation returned to her memory again and again. Oh, why was life so different for her to what it was for other girls! Oh, that she could confide in Mrs. Acheson! But then the knowledge that this good woman pitied her because she imagined that she was suffering from a girlish depression, or some other equally unimportant contretemps, caused her heart to rise with wild rebellion in her breast.

"If I could tell her the truth-the truth-would not her ears tingle and her heart beat," thought Annie to herself. "Good as she is, she is not the person to help me in a great calamity of this sort. In her quiet, sheltered, prosperous life, what can she know of sorrows like mine? Oh, Rupert, why were you and I left alone in the world, and why-why did you turn out bad, and why do I love you so much?"

The drive was over, and the time arrived when Annie was to set off to meet Rupert in Regent's Park. She arrived at the rendezvous a minute or two late, and he was already waiting for her. He still wore the immaculate frock-coat, and looked quite the handsome, smart young man of the world; but when he saw Annie coming to meet him alone a heavy frown completely altered his expression, his lips took a sarcastic and even malignant curve. He went up to his sister and shook her by the shoulder.

"Now, what is the meaning of this?" he said.

But Rupert's very insolence made Annie brave.

"It means," she replied, "that I do not intend to do what you ask."

"You don't? You're a nice girl to help a fellow."