Bessie's Fortune Part 51

"Yes, it was kind in you, but I am sorry you found me out, I promised no one should know me. Neil will be so angry and disgraced."

"Drat that Neil, whoever he is!" Jennie exclaimed, energetically.

"Disgraced, indade, I only wish I had him by the scruff of his neck, if he thinks anything can disgrace you, or make you less a lady. Them smells, and they are awful sometimes, when half the folks is sick, can't do it."

At this speech Bessie laughed aloud, the first real laugh since her mother died, but it did her good; and when Jennie had washed her face and brushed her hair and given her her breakfast she declared herself able to get up. But this Lucy would not allow.

"You must be quiet to-day, and to-morrow you can go on deck," she said; and then, as Jennie had gone out, she sat down by Bessie's side, and taking one of her hands, continued: "Do you think you are strong enough to see an old friend by and by?"

Bessie knew she meant Grey, and the hot blood surged into her face as she answered, eagerly:

"Yes, oh, yes. He will bring Stoneleigh back to me; he was so kind when father died, and in Rome, and everywhere. Can I see him now?"

"Not just yet," Miss Grey said, smiling at the young girl's eagerness, which showed itself in every feature. "I doubt if Grey is yet up. He has been sick all the voyage, and is very weak, and I must prepare him first. He thinks you are dead."

"Dead!" Bessie repeated. "How can he think so? I do not understand."

As briefly as possible Miss Grey explained all she knew of the mistake which the messenger boy must have made when he told Grey, in Florence, that Bessie had died the very day he left Rome.

"Oh, yes, I see," Bessie rejoined. "It was the American girl on the same floor with me. Flossie told me of her, and I heard them taking her away that night. Oh, it was so sad; and Mr. Jerrold thought it was I!

Was he sorry, Miss Grey?"

She asked the question timidly, and into her eyes there came a look of great gladness when her friend replied:

"Yes, very, very sorry."

"Will you tell him I am not dead? It was poor mamma who died. Tell him I am here," Bessie continued; and Miss Grey looked curiously at the girl, who, being, as she supposed, engaged to Neil, could be so glad that Grey was sorry, and so eager to see him.

"Yes, I will tell him and bring him to you after a little; but you must be quiet, and not excite yourself too much. I must have you well when we reach New York, and we have only three days more," Miss Grey replied, and then, with a kiss, she went away to Grey's state-room at the other end of the s.h.i.+p.

But he was not there, and upon inquiry she learned that he had gone up on deck, where she found him in his chair, sitting by himself, and gazing out upon the sea, with that sad, troubled look on his face, which had of late become habitual, and of which she now knew the reason.

"Grey," she said, drawing an unoccupied chair close to him, and speaking very low, "you are better this morning. Do you think you can bear some very good news?"

"Yes," he answered her. "What is it? Are we nearer New York than we supposed?"

"No; it has nothing to do with New York, or the s.h.i.+p, but somebody in it. Grey"--and Lucy spoke hurriedly now--"did it never occur to you that possibly you were mistaken with regard to Bessie's death--that it might be some one else who died in Rome and was buried at Stoneleigh--her mother, perhaps?"

"What!" and Grey drew a long, gasping breath, as he stared wonderingly at her. "Go on," he added: "tell me what you mean."

"I mean," his aunt replied, "that Bessie is not dead. I have seen her. I have spoken with her. She is on the s.h.i.+p. She is in my state-room, waiting for you. She is the sick girl I told you about."

Grey made an effort to spring from his chair, but had not the power to do so. The shock had been too great, and he sank back half fainting, whispering as he did so:

"Tell me everything--now--at once. It will not harm me; joy seldom kills. Tell me the whole."

So she told him all she knew, and the particulars of her finding Bessie among the steerage pa.s.sengers, and having her removed to her room.

"Yes, I see--I understand how the mistake occurred." Grey said. "But why did not Neil tell me he had been to see her off?"

"He was probably ashamed to let you know that she was in the steerage.

He hoped you would not find her," Miss Grey replied; and Grey exclaimed:

"The coward! If it were not wrong, I should have him;" while a fierce pang shot through his heart that Bessie was bound to Neil, and that, though living, she was no nearer to him than if she were dead and in that grave by which he had so lately stood.

Still it would be something to see her again, to hear her voice, to look into her eyes, and have her all to himself for the remainder of the voyage, which he now wished had just commenced.

"Thank G.o.d she lives, even though she does not live for me," he said to himself; and then, at his aunt's suggestion, he tried to control his nerves and bring himself into a quieter, calmer condition before going down to see her.

It was nearly an hour before he felt himself strong enough to do it, and when at last he reached the narrow pa.s.sage, and knew there was but a step between him and Bessie, he trembled so that his aunt was obliged to support him as he steadied himself against the door of the state-room.

Glancing in for an instant, Miss Grey put her finger upon her lip, saying to him:

"She is asleep; sit quietly down till she wakens."

There was a buzzing in Grey's ears and a blur before his eyes, so that he did not at once see distinctly the face which lay upon the pillow resting on one hand, with the bright hair clinging about the neck and brow. Bessie had fallen asleep while waiting for him, and there was a smile upon her lips and a flush upon her cheek, which made her more like the Bessie he knew at Stoneleigh than like the white-faced girl he had left in Rome, and whom he had never thought to see again.

"It is Bessie and she is alive," he said, under his breath, and bending over her he softly kissed her forehead saying as he did so, "My darling!

just for the moment _mine_, if Neil's by and by."

For an instant Bessie moved uneasily, then slept again, while Grey watched her with a great hunger in his heart and a longing to take her in his arms, and, in spite of a hundred Neils, tell her of his love. How beautiful she was in that calm sleep, and Grey noted every point of beauty, from the sheen of her golden hair to the dimpled hand which was just within his reach.

"Poor little hand," he said, laying his own carefully upon it; "how much it has done for others. Oh, if I could only call it mine, it should never know toil again."

He might have raised it to his lips if just then the eyes had not unclosed, as with a start Bessie awoke and looked wonderingly at him for an instant; then, instead of withdrawing her hand from his, she held the other towards him, and raising herself up, cried out:

"Oh, Mr. Jerrold, I am so glad! Nothing is half so dreary now that I know you are on the s.h.i.+p, and you will tell Neil it was not my fault that you found me. He may be very angry."

At the mention of Neil a feeling of constraint crept over Grey, and he quietly released his hands from Bessie's lest he should say to her words he ought not to say to one who was plighted to another. And Bessie noticed the change in him, and her lip quivered in a grieved kind of way, as she said:

"You thought me dead, and you were sorry just a little?"

"Oh, Bessie," and with a mighty effort Grey managed to control himself, "you will never know how sorry, or how glad I am to find you still alive; but you must not talk to me now. You must rest, so as to go on deck and get some strength and some color back to your cheeks. I promised auntie not to stay long. I will come again by and by."

Drawing the covering around her as deftly as a woman could have done, he went out and left her alone to wonder at his manner. Bessie had never forgotten the words spoken to her in Rome, and which she had said he must never repeat.

Over and over again, at intervals, had sounded in her ears, "I love you with my whole heart and soul, and whether you live or die you will be the sweetest memory of my life." She had not died--she had lived; she had seen him again and found him changed. Perhaps it was better so, she reasoned, and yet she was conscious of a feeling of disappointment or loss, though it was such joy to know he was near her, and that, by and by he would come to her again. And he came after lunch, and the steward carried her on deck and wrapped her in Miss Grey's warm rug, and Grey himself sat down beside her and talked to her of America, and she told him that she was not going to be a burden to her aunt, or even a guest very long, but to work and earn money with which to pay her debts. And Grey let her do most of the talking, and even promised, if he did not succeed in Allington, to see if he could find something for her to do in in Boston.

"I am very sure that I could find you a situation there if I tried," he said, with a merry look in his eyes which was lost on Bessie, whose thick vail was over her face, and who was gazing off upon the waves bearing her so fast toward the strange land to which she was going.

The next day she was able to walk the deck for some hours with Grey as her attendant; and when, at last, land was in sight, she seemed almost as well and bright as ever as she stood looking eagerly upon either sh.o.r.e, and declaring America beautiful as a picture. It had been arranged that she should stop for a few hours at the hotel with Miss Lucy and Grey, and then go on with them to Allington. But their plans were changed when they reached the wharf, for there they were met by a messenger who had been sent from Mr. Burton Jerrold with the intelligence that Grey's mother was very ill, and that Lucy must come at once with Grey without stopping at her own home.

"I am sorry, for I wished to take you to your aunt myself," Lucy said to Bessie, adding after a moment, "but I will give you a letter of introduction, if you like."

"No, thank you," Bessie replied; "I would rather go to her alone, so that if she is kind I shall know it is to me, and not to you, or because she thinks it will please you."

"No danger of that," Grey said, laughingly; "she is a great stickler for the naked truth, as she expresses it, and all the Aunt Lucys in the world could not make her say she liked you if she did not. She is a singular specimen, but she is sure to like you, and if she does not, go to my Aunt Hannah; she would welcome you as a G.o.dsend. She is the auntie who lives in the pasture-land. I shall soon come to Allington and see you," he added, as he bade her good-by, for he and his aunt were to take the express, which did not stop at Allington, and she was to take the accommodation, which did.

He had made all the arrangements for her, and seen that her baggage was checked and her ticket bought; but still she felt very desolate and helpless when he left her and she was alone with Jennie, who staid by her to the last, promising to let her know if she heard of any situation either as governess or companion.