Bessie's Fortune Part 39

"I shall see you again before I go to America, and it possible will bring my Aunt Lucy with me," he said to her, when at parting he stood a few moments with her small, thin hand in his, while he spoke a few words to her of Him who can heal all pain and cure the sorest heart sorrow, because he has felt it all.

Grey's piety, which was genuine, did not so often manifest itself in words as in deeds, but he felt constrained to speak to Bessie, whose tears fell like rain as she listened to him, and who felt when he was gone a greater sense of loneliness than before, even though Jack was left to her; Jack, who tried so hard to soothe her, and who was tender and thoughtful as a brother, and gave no sign to her of the volcano raging within when he thought of the Hon. John and Neil, neither of whom sent a word to the stricken girl waiting so anxiously for news from them. But he wrote to them both. To the Hon. John, he said:

"DEAR SIR:--Mr. Grey Jerrold and myself saw your nephew buried _decently_ as you suggested, but there is no bill to send you, as Miss Bessie would not allow it. I am sorry you did not find it convenient to come to the funeral. The presence of some one of her family would have been such a comfort to Miss Bessie, who, in that respect, was quite alone, though I may say that hundreds of people attended the funeral, and had the deceased been the eldest son of an earl, instead of your nephew, more respect could not have been paid him. I must leave here to-morrow for Trevellian Castle, and then Miss Bessie will be quite alone, but I dare say you and Lady Jane will soon arrive to take charge of her.

"Respectfully,

"JACK TREVELLIAN."

"That will settle him," Jack thought, and taking a fresh sheet, he commenced a letter to Neil, which ran as follows:

"STONELEIGH, July ----.

"OLD BOY; Where in the name of wonder are you, that you neither come, nor write, nor answer telegrams, nor pay any more attention to your Cousin Bessie than if she were not your cousin, and you had never been pretty far gone in regard to her and afraid a chap like me would look at her! Don't you know her mother is on the sea, going to America, sick as a horse, I hope, as she ought to be, and that her father is dead and buried, and not a soul of her kin here to comfort her? But she was not deserted, I a.s.sure you, and I call it a dispensation of Providence which sent Grey Jerrold here the night before Mr. McPherson died, and a second dispensation which sent me here the day after. I never pitied anybody in my life as I did the little, tired out, girl, who stood between Jerrold and myself at the grave. And now, the day after the funeral, she is white as a piece of paper and seems as limp and exhausted, as if all the muscle were gone from her. Poor little Bessie! Foolish Bessie, too, to make the moan she does for some of her relatives to be here--for you, old chap, for I heard her say, 'Oh, if Neil were here.' By Jove! if I'd had you by the nape of the neck, I'd have shaken you into shoestrings, for I know well what you are at--saying soft speeches to Blanche as if that were not settled long ago. But no matter, Bessie will not need attention from her relatives much longer if I can have my way. I do not mind telling _you_ that I intend to make her Lady Trevellian, if she will be that. But meantime your mother ought to take her in charge and not leave her here alone. The thing is impossible, and I have no idea that b.u.t.terfly of a Daisy will come back at once. I shall not ask Bessie _now_ to be my wife, but in a week or two, I shall do so, and will then report success. I think Jerrold is hard hit, too; but I mean to get the start of him.

I need not tell you that, notwithstanding I am so disgusted with you, I shall be glad to see you at Trevellian Castle whenever you choose to come. I cannot get accustomed to my change of fortune, and I am so sorry poor Hal is dead.

"Yours truly, JACK."

The next day Jack left Stoneleigh, as it was necessary for him to be at the castle, he said, alluding for the first time to his new home.

"Yes," Bessie replied, looking up at him with the first smile he had seen upon her face since her father died, "you are _Sir Jack_ now. I had scarcely thought of it before, or remembered to give you your t.i.tle."

"Don't remember it now," he said, with a look of deep pain in his eyes and a tremor in his voice, "Believe me, I'd give worlds to bring poor Hal back to life again, and you do not know what anguish I endured during the few moments I held him in my arms and knew that he was dying.

Just an instant before and he had bandied some light jest with me, and I had thought how handsome he was with that bright, winning smile, which death froze so soon upon his lips. It was awful, and the castle seems to be so gloomy without him."

"Is that young girl there still?" Bessie asked, and he replied:

"Yes, Flossie Meredith, the sweetest, prettiest little wild Irish girl you ever saw; but she cannot stay, you know."

"Why not?" Bessie asked, and he replied.

"Mrs. Grundy will not let her live there alone with me. Hal was her cousin, but I am no kin to her, and so she must go back to Ireland, which she hates, unless--Bessie," he cried, impulsively, then checked himself as he saw the startled look in her eyes, and added, quite calmly: "You and Flossie would be the best of friends, and would suit each other exactly. You are so quiet, she so wild and frolicsome. Let me bring her to see you this summer."

"I am sure I should be so glad if you would," Bessie said, and then Jack went away, promising to write her from London, whither he was first going.

And in a few days his letter came, saying he had learned that Neil had gone to Moscow with a party, and so his silence and absence were explained.

"I wrote him a savage letter," he said, "and shall have to apologize for it when I see him, I dare say you will hear from him ere long.

Remember, I am coming again to Stoneleigh very soon.

"Always your friend,

"JACK TREVELLIAN."

Bessie's heart beat rapidly as she read this letter, and comprehended its meaning; but she was true to Neil and waited patiently for the letter she knew was sure to come as soon as he heard of her trouble.

Two weeks went by, and then one lovely July day Jack came again, and sitting with her on the bench in the garden where her father once sat and made love to Daisy, he told her first of his home with its wide-spreading pastures, its lovely views, its terraces and banks of flowers, and of Irish Flossie, who cried so hard because she must give up this home and go back to her old house by the wild Irish sea, with only a cross grandmother for company.

"And so, Bessie," he said, "I have come to ask you to be my wife, and make both Flossie and myself the happiest people in England. It is too soon after your father's death to speak of love and marriage, perhaps; but under the circ.u.mstances I trust you will forgive me, and believe it is no hasty step with me. I think I have loved you since the day I first saw you in the park and looked into your bright face, the fairest and truest I ever saw. Flossie is beautiful and sweet and good, and makes one think of a playful kitten, which you wish to capture and caress awhile and then release before you get a spit and scratch; but you, Bessie, are my ideal of a woman, and I could make you so happy. Think what it would be to have no care or thought for the morrow, to do nothing but rest, and you need it so much. You are so tired and worn, and up there among the hills you would grow strong, and I would surround you with every comfort and make you a very queen. Will you come, Bessie?

Will you be my wife? and when I ask _you_ to share my home I do not mean to exclude your mother. She shall be welcome there for your sake, and we will try to make her so happy that she will stay with us, or live here if she chooses, and give up her wandering life. Dear Bessie, answer me.

Can you not like me a little?"

As he talked Bessie had covered her face with her hands, and he could see the great tears dropping through her fingers.

"Don't cry, darling," he said, winding his arm around her and trying to draw her to him. "Don't cry, but answer me; don't you like me a little?"

"Yes, a great deal, but not that way. I think you one of the n.o.blest, best of men, and always have thought so since I first knew you, and you were so kind to father and me; but I cannot be your wife."

"Oh, Bessie, don't say that," Jack cried, with such bitter pain in his voice that Bessie looked quickly up at him, and asked wonderingly:

"Do you then care so much for me?"

"Care for you!" he exclaimed. "Never man cared for or loved another better than I love and care for you I have staked my all upon you. I cannot give you up. Trevellian Castle will have no charm for me if you are not its mistress. I want you there; we need you there, Flossie and I. Ah! I had forgotten _this_," and taking a letter from his pocket he handed it to Bessie, saying: "It is from Flossie. She knew of my errand here and wished to send a message. I do not know what she has written, but read it, please. She may be more successful than I have been."

Opening the letter, which was written in a bold, das.h.i.+ng, schoolgirl hand, Bessie read as follows:

"Trevellian Castle, July ----.

"DEAR DARLING BESSIE:--I must call you that, though I have never seen you, but I have heard so much of you from Sir Jack that I feel as if I knew you, and very soon I hope to see you face to face, for you _are_ coming here as Lady Jack, and so save me from that horrid, pokey place on the Irish coast, where I never can be happy, never. I do so want to stay at the castle, but Madam Propriety says it would not be proper. I hate proper things, don't you? and I do love the castle! Such a grand old place, with lovely views from every window.

Acres of green sward, smooth as satin, with shade trees here and there, and banks, and borders, and beds of flowers, and from the room I have selected as your sitting-room you can see a broad, gra.s.sy avenue nearly a mile long, with the branches of the trees which skirt it meeting overhead. Every day I gallop down that avenue, which they call by my name, on Midnight, my black horse, and I always clear the gate at a bound. I like such things, and there is not a fence or a ditch in the neighborhood which I cannot take.

Hoidenish, do you call me? Well, perhaps I am, but I am a pretty nice girl, too, and I love you and want you to come here at once and be happy. Sir Jack has told me how different your life has been from mine, and how tired and worn you are; but here you shall never know weariness again. Your life shall be one long rest, in the loveliest place you ever saw, and we will all care for you so tenderly, and bring the roses back to the dear face Sir Jack says is now so pale.

I am seventeen, and not a mere child, though I am not much larger than your thumb, and I can be your companion and friend, if you will only come. You must love Sir Jack. You cannot help loving him when you know how good he is! Why, if I tried real hard I could love him myself! But he looks upon me as a child, though he does not play with and tease me as Cousin Harry did. Poor Hal! There is such a pain in my heart when I think of him so strong and full of fun in the morning, and then dead before noon. Oh, Hal. Hal! My tears are falling fast for him, and I am so lonely without him. Come to me, Bessie, and you shall never have a more devoted friend than little

"FLORENCE MEREDITH."

There were tears in Bessie's eyes when she finished this letter, which told her something of the warm, loving nature of the impulsive Irish Flossie, whom she knew she could love so much, while the perfect rest promised her at Trevellian Castle looked so very pleasant to her and she was so tired, oh, so tired in mind and body, that it seemed to her she could gladly lie down in some quiet spot and die, if only thus she could rest. And Jack had offered her rest and happiness and luxury with him, but she must not take it, must not consider it for a moment. She was promised to Neil. She would be true to Neil, even though he neither wrote nor came. She had loved him always, and tired as she was, she was ready to take up life's work again and battle and toil for him, if need be. And when Jack said to her, "You will be my wife, Bessie?" she answered him, sadly, "No, I cannot. I might learn to love you in time, if I could forget the past--forget that I love another, am promised to another."

"Love another! Promised to another! Not Grey Jerrold?" Jack exclaimed, and Bessie answered him:

"No, not Mr. Jerrold. He never thought of me that way. It surely cannot be wrong to tell you now, though I am pledged to secrecy for awhile. I told father just before he died, I am plighted to my Cousin Neil, and we are only waiting for him to find something to do, or his mother to be reconciled to me, to be married."

"Plighted to Neil! To Neil McPherson! _You_!" Jack exclaimed, and for a moment his cheek grew pale and then flushed with resentment, as he thought of this fair young girl being thus sacrificed to one who, he knew, was not worthy of her.

Jack was fond of Neil in a certain way, but he knew him thoroughly and knew that supreme selfishness was his ruling principle, and that Bessie's life with him would be quite as hard as it had been with her father; besides this, he could not reconcile this engagement with the fact that he knew Neil to be very attentive to Blanche Trevellian, to whom current rumor said he was certainly engaged. Hence, his astonishment, which Bessie was quick to detect, for she answered him a little proudly:

"Yes, I! Do you think it so very strange that Neil should have chosen me?"

"No, Bessie," he replied; "but strange that you should have chosen him.

I cannot help it, Bessie, and I do not mean to be disloyal to Neil, when I say that he will not make you happy, and further, that you will never marry him. I am sure of it, and knowing that _he_ only stands in my way, I can still hope for the future, and when you are free, remember I shall come again. Good-by, Bessie, and forgive me if I have wounded you. In my bitter disappointment I spoke out what I thought. I must go now, and with a heavy heart, Flossie will be so disappointed, too."

He had risen as he spoke, and offered her his hand, which she took, and lifting her eyes full of tears to his face, she said:

"I have faith in Neil; if I had not, I believe I should die. He cannot help his mother's pride and opposition to our marriage. He is true to me through all, and he will come to me as soon as he knows of my trouble, I am sorry for you, Mr. Trevellian, if you really care for me, but you will get over that feeling and be again my friend. I do not wish to lose you, I have so few friends, oh, so few. I am sorry too, for Flossie, and interested in her. Mr. Trevellian, why don't _you_ marry Flossie yourself and so keep her at the castle?"

"_I_ marry Flossie! That child!" Jack exclaimed, staring blankly at Bessie, who smiled faintly and said:

"She is seventeen; I am eighteen, and yet you sought me!"