The Beautiful Wretch - William Black (freda ebook reader .TXT) 📗

was different with Frank King. The conditions in which he was placed were altogether peculiar. He had made two gigantic mistakes--the first in imagining that any two human beings could be alike: the second in imagining that, even if they were alike, he could transfer his affection from the one to the other--and he was now engaged in a hopeless and terrible struggle to convince himself that these were not mistakes. He would not see that Madge Beresford was very different from Nan. He was determined to find in her all he had hoped to find. He argued with himself that she was just like Nan, as Nan had been at her age. Madge was so kind, and good, and nice; of course it would all come right in the end.

At the same time, he never wished to be alone with Madge, as is the habit of lovers. Nor if he was suddenly interested in anything did he naturally turn to her, and call her attention. On the other hand, the little social circle did not seem complete when Nan, with her grave humour, and her quiet smile, and her gentle, kindly ways, was absent. When she came into the room, then satisfaction and rest were in the very air. If there was a brighter green on the sea, where a gleam of wintry sunshine struck the roughened waters, whose eyes but Nan's could see that properly? It was she whom he addressed on all occasions; perhaps unwittingly. It seemed so easy to talk to Nan. For the rest, he shut his eyes to other considerations. From the strange fascination and delight that house in Brunswick Terrace always had for him, he knew he must be in love with somebody there; and who could that be but Madge Beresford, seeing that he was engaged to her?

Unhappily for poor Madge, Frank King was now called home by the old people at Kingscourt; and for a time, at least, all correspondence between him and his betrothed would obviously have to be by letter. Madge was in great straits. A look, a smile, a touch of the fingers may make up for lack of ideas; but letter-writing peremptorily demands them, of some kind or another. As usual, Madge came to her elder sister.

'Oh, Nan, I do so hate letter-writing. I promised to write every morning. I don't know what in the world to say. It is such a nuisance.'

Nan was silent; of late she had tried to withdraw as much as possible from these confidences of her sister's; but not very successfully. Madge clung to her. Lady Beresford would not be bothered. Edith was busy with her own affairs. But Nan--old Mother Nan--who had nothing to think of but other people, might as well begin and play the old maid at once, and give counsel in these distressing affairs.

'I wish you would tell me what to say,' continued Madge, quite coolly.

'I? Oh, I cannot,' said Nan, almost shuddering, and turning away.

'But you know what interests him; for he's always talking to you,' persisted Madge, good-naturedly. 'Anybody but me would be jealous; but I'm not. The day before yesterday Mrs. ---- went by; and I asked him to look at her hair, that every one is raving about; and he plainly told me your hair was the prettiest he had ever seen. Now, I don't call that polite. He might have said "except yours," if only for the look of the thing. But I don't mind--not a bit I'm very glad he likes you, Nan----'

'Madge! Madge!'

It was almost a cry wrung from the heart. But in an instant she had controlled herself again. She turned to her sister, and said with great apparent calmness,

'Surely, dear, you ought to know what to write. These are things that cannot be advised about. Letters of that kind are secret----'

'Oh, I don't care about that. I think it is stupid,' said Madge at once. 'There is no use having any pretence about it. And I don't know in the world what to write about. Look,--I have begun about the Kenyons' invitation, and asked him whether he'd mind my going. I like those little dances better than the big balls----'

She held out the letter she had begun. But Nan would not even look at it.

'It isn't usual, is it, Madge,' she said, hurriedly, 'for a girl who is engaged to go out to a dance by herself?'

'But we are all going!'

'You know what I mean. It is a compliment you should pay him not to go.'

'Well,' said Madge somewhat defiantly, 'I don't know about that. One does as one is done by. And I don't think he'd care if I went and danced the whole night through--even with Jack Hanbury.'

'Oh, how can you say such a thing!' said her sister, staring at her; for this was a new development altogether.

But Madge was not to be put down.

'Oh, I am not such a fool. I can see well enough. There isn't much romance about the whole affair; and that's the short and the long of it. Of course it's a very good arrangement for both of us, I believe; and that's what they say now-a-days--marriages are "arranged."'

'I don't know what you mean Madge! You never spoke like that before.'

'Perhaps I was afraid of frightening you; for you have high and mighty notions of things, dear Nan, for all your mouse-like ways. But don't I see very well that he is marrying to please his parents; and to settle down and be the good boy of the family? That's the meaning of the whole thing----'

'You don't mean to say, Madge,' said the elder sister, though she hesitated, and seemed to have to force herself to ask the question, 'You don't mean to say you think he does not--love you?'

At this Madge flushed up a little, and said--

'Oh, well, I suppose he does, in a kind of way, though he doesn't take much trouble about saying it. It isn't of much consequence; we shall have plenty of time afterwards. Mind, if only Jack Hanbury could get invited by the Kenyons, and I were to dance two or three times with him, and Frank get to hear of it, I suppose there would be a noble rampage: _then_ he might speak out a little more.'

'Have you been dreaming Madge?' said Nan, again staring at her sister. 'What has put such monstrous things into your head? Mr. Hanbury--at the Kenyons'--and you would dance with him!'

'Well, why not?' said Madge, with a frown; for this difficulty about the letter-writing had clearly operated on her temper and made her impatient. 'All the world isn't supposed to know about the Vice-Chancellor's warning. Why shouldn't he be invited by the Kenyons? And why should he know that I am going? And why, if we both happen to be there, shouldn't we dance together? Human beings are human beings, in spite of Vice-Chancellors. They can't lock up a man for dancing with you? At all events, they can't lock me up, even if Jack is there.'

'Madge, put these things out of your head. You won't go to the Kenyons', for Captain King would not like it----'

'I don't think he'd take the trouble to object,' Madge interjected.

'And Mr. Hanbury won't be there; and there will be no dancing, and no quarrel. If you wish to write to Captain King about what will interest him, write about what interests yourself. That he is sure to be interested in----'

'Well, but that is exactly what I can't write to him about. I know what I am interested in well enough. Edith has just told me Mr. Roberts has been pressing her to fix a time for their marriage. She thinks the end of April; so that they could be back in London for the latter end of the season. Now I think that would do very well for us too--and it is always nice for two sisters to get married on the same day--only Frank has never asked me a word about it, and how am I to write to him about it? So you see, wise Mother Nan, I can't write to him about what interests me.'

Nan had started somewhat when she heard this proposal; it seemed strange to her.

'April?' she said. 'You've known Captain King a very short time, Madge. You were not thinking of getting married in April next?'

'Perhaps I'd better wait until I'm asked,' said Madge, with a laugh, as she turned to go away. 'Well, if you won't tell me what to write about, I must go and get this bothered letter done somehow. I do believe the best way will be to write about you; that will interest him anyway.'

Frank King remained away for a few weeks, and during this time the first symptoms appeared of the coming spring. The days began to lengthen, there were crocuses in the gardens, there were reports of primroses and sweet violets in the woods about Horsham; in London Parliament was sitting, and in Brighton well-known faces were recognisable amongst the promenaders on the Saturday afternoons. Then Mr. Roberts, as Edith's accepted suitor, received many invitations to the house in Brunswick Terrace; and in return was most indefatigable in arranging riding-parties, driving-parties, walking-parties, with in each case a good hotel for luncheon as his objective point. Madge joined in these diversions with great good-will; and made them the excuse for the shortness of the letters addressed to Kingscourt. Nan went also; she was glad to get into the country on any pretence; and she seemed merry enough. When Mr. Roberts drove along the King's Road with these three comely damsels under his escort, he was a proud man; and he may have comforted himself with the question, that as beer sometimes led to a baronetcy, why shouldn't soda-water?

Strangely enough, Nan had entirely ceased making inquiries about sisterhoods and institutions for the training of nurses. She seemed quite reconciled to the situation of things as they were. She did not cease her long absences from the house; but every one knew that on these occasions she was off on one of her solitary wanderings; and she came home in the evening apparently more contented than ever. She had even brought herself to speak of Madge's married life, which at first she would not do.

'You see,' she said to her sister on one occasion, 'if you and Edith get married on the same day, I must remain and take care of mamma; she must not be left quite alone.'

'Oh, as for that,' said Madge, 'Mrs. Arthurs does better than the whole of us; and I'm not going to have you made a prisoner of. I'm going to have a room at Kingscourt called "Nan's room," and it shall have no other name as long as I am there. Then we shall have a proper house in London by and by; and of course you'll come up for the season, and see all the gaieties. I think we ought to have one of the red houses just by Prince's; that would