The Palace Beautiful: A Story for Girls by L. T. Meade (short novels in english TXT) 📗

come out, and the robins and thrushes in the hedge close to Daisy began to sing. They poured out full notes of thrilling sweetness and their music comforted the child, and she began to smile very faintly to herself, and to hope that as God had let the sun come out, and the birds sing, so He had forgiven her.

The poor little Pink began to mew loudly in her basket, and Daisy let her out of her prison, and when kitty rubbed her soft head against her little mistress's sleeve the child felt some fresh thrills of comfort. She felt terribly disinclined to move, however, and was really more weak and exhausted than absolutely hungry. The day wore on, and the little girl and her cat remained unnoticed in their corner of the large field. There was a right of way through the field, and foot-passengers came and went, but Daisy in her sombre little black dress failed to attract any attention. She was quite in the shade under her hedge-row, and it is to be doubted if any one saw her. At last from utter weariness she sank down on the ground and fell asleep. The Pink curled herself up by her little mistress's side and slept also. It was then that the sun, slowly travelling across the heavens, found them out in their shady corner, and kissed them, and made pussy's soft little grey coat shine. The child and the cat were thus made visible, and attracted the attention of a woman who was walking across the field with a market-basket on her arm. She came up at once to examine the little group; then she bent down close, then she gave an exclamation half of horror, half of delight, and then she took the sleeping child up in her arms, and covered her with passionate kisses.

SHE CAME UP TO EXAMINE THE LITTLE GROUP. Palace B.

"Oh! my own little Miss Daisy—my own little darling precious lamb! And is it thus you have come back to your poor old Hannah again!"

Nothing could have comforted Daisy more under present circumstances than to find herself in her old nurse's arms. She quite gasped with the joy and relief, and putting up her little hand to Hannah's face, she stroked it fondly.

"Now, my darling, where have you come from? and what are you doing? and—why, if that isn't the little Pink, I declare! Now, my pet, tell me, have you all three come back to Rosebury again?"

"No, Hannah, I'm the only one who has come back. Oh Hannah, will you please take me to our little cottage for a few hours—I should so like to die there—I was born there, wasn't I, Hannah?"

"Yes, love, but you're not going to die there, nor nowhere else. I can't take you back to the cottage, dearie, for it's let, and I'm not living there. I've a little bit of a place of my own in the village of Teckford and I keep a small shop, and don't do so bad. You must come home now with me, darling. Oh, yes, you must—not a word must you say against it; then, when you've rested, and have had some nice bread and milk, you shall tell old Hannah your story; and if so be as you're in any trouble, why, your old nurse Hannah will set her wits to work to find a way out of it. Now, my darling, I'm going to carry you to my cottage."

Daisy was certainly very weak. She tried to expostulate with Hannah—she tried to say that her one and only duty was to try and get tidings of Mrs. Ellsworthy's whereabouts, and then to follow her on foot if necessary; but if the little spirit was willing, the flesh was weak. The comfort of seeing her nurse again was too much for Daisy—the knowledge that those were the very arms which had carried her as a baby, and soothed her and tended her as a little child, was quite too cheering to be resisted. Daisy made a valiant effort to say "No," but instead, her lips formed a faint "Yes, Hannah, take me to your home," and then Hannah, who was a strongly-built woman, lifted the slight little girl in her arms, and carried her across the fields to her tiny cottage at Teckford. All the time, while she was being carried in those kind arms, Daisy kept repeating to herself, "I'll have some bread and milk, for I am a little hungry, and I'll rest for perhaps an hour, and then I'll go away on foot with my dear Pink to find Mrs. Ellsworthy."

But when the child and the woman reached the house in the village Daisy was too faint and weary to take more than a spoonful or two of bread and milk, and long before the night arrived she had forgotten that she meant to undertake any journey, and lay with burning cheeks and bright, feverish eyes on Hannah's bed in her little home.

CHAPTER XLIV. TOO MUCH FOR DOVE.

Mrs. Dredge's remarks had by no means been lost on Noel. When he left Miss Egerton's house he consulted his watch, and found that he had still an hour to spare before he need try to catch his train. He thought for a moment or two, recalled certain expressions on Daisy's face, certain words which dropped from her lips, and, above all, a look which had filled her pretty eyes on the one and only occasion when they had met Dove together.

Noel began to feel more and more certain that this man, to whom he had taken a great dislike, had something to say to all the child's misery. Noel knew, however, that suspicion in such a case would be of little avail—he must have certainty, and certainty could only be his by cautious and wary movements.

Again he consulted his watch, and now he determined on a bold course. He remembered that the girls had once told him that Dove was a painter by trade, but that he seldom or never had anything to do. Noel was extremely fastidious, and, if possible, almost over-refined in the arrangements of his own home. He made his little plan with a sigh, but he would have done more than this for the sake of pretty little Daisy.

Walking quickly, he soon found himself at the Doves' address in Eden Street. His knock at the hall door was answered by Tommy Dove, who assured him that both his father and mother were having high tea with shrimps and watercresses in the back parlor.

Noel said he wanted to see Dove on business, and Tommy, remarking that the back parlor was as good a place as any other for this purpose, ushered the visitor in direct.

"I believe you are a painter," said Noel—"I have chambers at Westminster, and want to have my balcony and front windows painted. I've heard of you through the Miss Mainwarings, and as I'm in a hurry to get the job completed at once, I have called round to know if you are disengaged."

"Of course you are, Dove," said his wife.

"Softly, my only love," replied her husband. "Sir, be pleased to take a seat. I shall be glad to do my best for you, and any recommendation from the young ladies you mention is most gratifying to me. Sweet young ladies they was, and ever will be—and my wife and me, we mourns unceasing for their departure."

"Speak for yourself, Dove," said the wife—"we are doing better with our present attics than we ever did with our late attics. Sir, you'll excuse me, but truthful I ever will be at all costs."

"Can you paint my windows or not?" said Noel, rising to his feet, and speaking with some asperity. "If you are too busy to undertake the work pray say so, and let me seek some one else, for my time is precious."

"Of course he'll do it, sir," said Mrs. Dove. "Say yes to the gentleman, Dove, and thank him, and have done with it."

"Well, sir, I am very busy," said Dove. "I haven't a moment to call my own for weeks to come, but all the same, I wouldn't disoblige the late attics for a good deal, so I'll just put off the Cooks, who are wild to get their house-cleaning through, and Mr. Martin, who keeps the bacon and 'am shop, must wait. Yes, sir, I wait your pleasure, sir—I can come."

"To-morrow morning, then, early," said Noel, "this is my address. Ask for my servant when you arrive, and he will show you what you are to do, and will also give you directions as to the colored paint I wish used. I must hurry off now, for I'm going down to the country on some very sad business. You will be sorry to hear, Mr. Dove, that Miss Daisy Mainwaring has lost a considerable sum of money, and the poor little child is in such trouble about it that she has run away. Of course, I don't believe for a moment that she has really lost the money—of course it was stolen from her. Well, good-bye, I'm going to seek her, and to try to catch the thief. Be sure you arrive at my house in good time in the morning, Dove."

"Yes, sir, very sorry to hear your bad news," said Dove, in a self-possessed voice, but Arthur saw that his color had changed, and he wanted no stronger clue to confirm his suspicions. When he got into the street he not only consulted his watch, but a time-table. A later train than he had intended to travel by would take it to Rosebury early in the morning. He would go by this train. Now he jumped into a hansom and drove to his chambers. His servant came to him, to whom he gave hasty directions.

"You're to buy the paint yourself, Lawson; see that it is properly mixed, and the right shade. Move the plants from the balcony early in the morning—the man will arrive in good time, and listen, Lawson, I don't want him to be too closely watched."

"What do you mean by that, sir?" said Lawson.

"Only that you need not stay in the room all the time—come in and out, of course—but don't imagine the man to be a thief until he is proved such."

"Well, sir, your commands must be obeyed, of course, but you have many articles of virtue and elegance about."

"Never mind that, Lawson—do as I tell you."

When his servant left the room Noel took a five-pound note out of his pocket, and enclosing it in an open envelope laid it carelessly on the chimney-piece. There was no writing on the envelope, and the note might well have been slipped into it by mistake. Noel also slipped a ring of some value from his finger, and dropped it into a little tray, which contained odds and ends of different descriptions.

"Now I've laid my trap," he said to himself. "My poor little Daisy, I hope I may ensnare your ogre to his destruction."

The next morning early Dove, well pleased with his job, and never guessing that the smallest suspicions had attached themselves to him, arrived at Noel's rooms. He was a most idle man, and seldom cared for work, but he was pleased at Noel's singling him out, and imagined that notwithstanding her running away, he owed this visit to little Daisy.

"She's a pert little thing," he said to himself, "and if she's so true to me as all this, why I suppose I must leave her alone in the future. I made a nice little haul out of her the other day, and I've got several of them sovereigns about me still; but lor, wasn't she in a piteous fright when I took that cheque away with me!"

Dove was highly pleased with the appearance of Noel's rooms. He could see no beauty in the simplicity of the girls' Palace Beautiful, but although he was quite incapable of judging of the value of the pictures and exquisite little statuettes which adorned the walls, he was judge enough of the depth and richness of the Turkey rugs, and of the wealth which must have been expended over the very select furniture of Noel's sitting-room.

Lawson, wondering much at his master's directions but supposing that Dove must be a very special protégé, received him with much cordiality, gave him directions with regard to his work, and then left him alone. Dove painted and cleaned, and whistled as he worked; he felt quite cheerful and virtuous, and began to consider that the position of British workmen was not such a bad one after all. He felt more and more pleased with Daisy Mainwaring for