Kitabı oku: «Girls of the True Blue», sayfa 16
“He certainly would tell the others,” said Nancy; “and,” she added, “I must, of course, tell them. You know, Gussie, it would be very, very wrong of me to keep this a secret.”
Augusta sat still, thinking hard. Notwithstanding her softness and gentle appearance, she knew well that Nancy could be obstinate. She could be firm; she could be valiant for the truth. Augusta had proved all that the day before when the little girl had refused to help her in her escapade; so she tried to consider the best possible means of securing poor Nancy’s silence by guile.
“After all, now that I come to think of it, there would be no use in my being vaccinated,” she said.
“Why?” Nancy asked. “I thought it was considered a sort of safeguard.”
“Yes; but I was done two years back, and I didn’t take it. The doctor did me twice, and I didn’t take it either time, and he said that proved I was not liable to smallpox. What a good thing I remembered! I am not half so frightened now, for our clever doctor at home must have known what he was talking about. Don’t you think his opinion worth having, Nancy?”
“Yes; it comforts me too,” said Nancy. “But still, I am sure you ought to tell.”
“Now, why, you little goose? Do consider and be sensible, Nan. Oh, you must squeeze your arms round my neck again; I do so love to feel them! You know I am deeply attached to you, Nancy. I never mean to let you go out of my life – never.”
“Oh!” answered Nancy.
“And you love me too; don’t you, little darling?”
“I – I pity you,” said Nancy, her voice trembling.
“Well, well! pity is akin to love. But now to the point at issue. Remember what my doctor said. I am almost sure I shall not take the smallpox, and there would be no use in vaccinating me, for I certainly should not take that; so what would be the good of frightening every one? Think of the awful fortnight they would have, not being certain any moment whether I should get ill or not.”
“Yes, but Nora and Kitty could go away.”
“Where would be the use of that? I cannot infect them unless I get it. The clothes I wore when I was with Flora are hanging up in my cupboard. I have nothing on me that I wore then. Nancy, do believe that I am wiser than you. It would be cruel to frighten them all. I will tell them afterwards– yes, I will tell them afterwards, when the fortnight is past, when the danger is over; and meanwhile, if you will only be silent, I will do everything for you that I promised to do if you had helped me last night. Think what that means: the paper I robbed you of returned; and all the story of your past life explained. What a time we shall have together! And how wise you will be when you know the truth!”
“And my bird – my darling Sunbeam?” whispered Nancy.
“Perhaps I will tell about that too. I am awfully sorry about it. But, anyhow, you shall know the two other things, and we will be a good bit together for the next few days. Nancy, the moment I feel ill, the least little scrap ill, with a headache or anything, I will go away to my room, and no one shall see me but you. You are not nervous about yourself, are you?”
“Not a scrap,” answered Nancy.
“You promise that you will not tell?”
“Oh, I suppose it is frightfully wrong – I am almost sure it is frightfully wrong – but you do tempt me; and if what you say is quite true – I mean about the vaccination – perhaps it would do no good to tell.”
“But I’ll tell you what you can do. Now that Miss Roy knows about Connie, you can put it into her head to have the rest of you vaccinated. Oh, my dear Nancy, I feel quite happy at last.”
So Nancy yielded. She was sorry enough afterwards, but she yielded, being compelled by Augusta’s entreaties, by the look in her eyes, and the tempting bait she held up for her acceptance.
That night Nancy was in possession of some important pieces of information. She knew exactly the position she held with regard to the Asprays. She could claim the Asprays’ house as her home by right at any moment. She could leave Mrs. Richmond, and go to Mr. Aspray and say, “You owed my father money, and now I have come to you, and you are bound by your own solemn promise to my father to take me and provide for me. This is my right, and I owe nothing to you, because my father helped you with a large sum of money.”
This was the news that Nancy was told by Augusta, but she took good care not to enlighten the little girl as to how she came by the information, Nancy listened with flushed cheeks and shining eyes; and presently, tired out, she went away to bed.
“I suppose I ought to be glad,” she thought as she laid her head on her pillow; “but I am not glad, for I can never consider the Asprays’ house my own. And, yes – oh yes – I would rather be Mrs. Richmond’s little charity-girl than be the grandest girl in the world as Mr. Aspray’s adopted daughter.”
This news kept her from thinking so much about the smallpox, and about the danger which Augusta had run.
“Nan,” said Kitty as she tumbled into bed, “how hot your face is! You tire yourself over Gussie.”
“Oh, I am all right,” said Nancy.
“Isn’t it a good thing,” said Nora, “that Augusta has not been so much with the Asprays? She might have got into most awful danger; but, as it is, all is safe.”
Nancy was silent, and Kitty gave her a very earnest glance.
“You know something, and you are not going to tell us,” she said abruptly.
“I wish you would not question me. I have a headache,” pleaded Nancy.
“Well, no, we won’t. Gussie could not have been so awfully, awfully wicked as to disobey Uncle Peter. We do know that she might be guilty of tiny sins, but a great monstrous one like that – oh, it is impossible! Now, Nan, get into bed and get your headache well. Oh, what a pity you were not downstairs to-night! We were discussing all about prize-day. Uncle Peter has arranged that it comes off on Thursday week – that is, in about ten days from now. Oh, it will be a day and a half, I can tell you!”
CHAPTER XXXI. – UNCLE PETER’S CONSIDERING CAP
Certainly prize-day was to lose no outward manifestation of its great importance. A telegram had arrived from Mrs. Richmond announcing her safe arrival at the Cape. But when she would be back again was quite uncertain.
The girls, however, determined to have a right good time in her absence; and in this they were aided and abetted by the Captain, who, for all his moral qualities, enjoyed a lark with the best.
So far as the special prizes went, they were to be bestowed upon the successful candidates in private. “For our battalion is more or less a secret one,” said the Captain. “We fight, you know, against invisible foes, against the powers of the air, so to speak, and we don’t want visible people – acquaintances, and so on – to behold us either in our defeat or victory. I propose that the prizes should wind up the day, when all the guests have gone, and the dance is over, and the fun is at an end. Then will come the crowning event, after which all must necessarily be bathos.”
The girls willingly agreed, and preparations were set on foot for the festival. Captain Richmond decided that the early part of the day should be given up to the poor people of the neighbourhood. There should be a dinner on the lawn, followed by games and tea. Several prizes for feats of skill were to be offered, and the usual amusements provided.
Captain Richmond, who came down to Fairleigh almost every year, belonged to a workmen’s club and a boys’ cricket club, and was consequently well known by most of the people in the place. Invitations were sent out to quite a hundred poor people, and very busy were the Fairleigh servants preparing for the work which lay before them. For visitors were also to arrive in the afternoon – the several young folks whom the Richmonds happened to know. They were to help to entertain the poor people, who were expected to take their departure at six o’clock. Then would follow a dance in the great drawing-room, ending by supper. Supper would usher in the departure of the guests, and after that the successful winner of the Royal Cross would be decorated with her great honour. This was the plan, and great delight did it cause among the young people.
Augusta was now as gay as the others. She had forgotten all possible danger, and except that she avoided speaking of the Asprays, turning a little white when the subject of Connie’s terrible illness was broached, she certainly looked as if nothing ailed her. She was quite in her element making preparations for the great prize-day, and proved a most useful, clever, and efficient mistress of the ceremonies; for, being the eldest girl, Captain Richmond was forced to put her into this position. Neither Kitty nor Nora wished for it; and as to Nancy, she was of course quite out of the running.
“We must have new dresses for the dance,” said Augusta. “We ought to send to town for them.”
“As to that,” replied Captain Richmond, “you must please yourselves, girls. I never did know anything about dress; but it seems to me that all girls look much alike – that is, as far as their dress is concerned. Oh yes, put on something white and feathery-looking; that is the correct thing, is it not?”
“Uncle Pete, you are quite too killing!” said Gussie; and she laughed with great enjoyment. That afternoon she sent a long letter to her mother’s dressmaker in town, the result of which was that an interesting and mysterious-looking box arrived for her on the day before the dance. It was taken straight up to her room, and she invited the three other girls and Miss Roy to come and witness the unpacking.
“I just do adore finery,” said Gussie. “I don’t pretend for a moment that I am made any other way. I revel in pretty things. No one could ever give me too much dress or too many fine feathers. Now then” —
The cord of the box was removed, the lid was lifted, and between folds of tissue-paper a beautiful white silk, soft as quantities of delicate lace and chiffon could make it, was unfolded.
“Isn’t it just too sweet?” said Gussie. “Fancy me in it. I wish I were quite grown-up so that I might have a train. Well, I shall be grownup in two years’ time. Two years don’t take very long to run – do they, Miss Roy?”
“Not when you get as old as I am,” said Miss Roy; “but at your age they go somewhat slowly. Yes, it is a pretty frock, but, in my opinion, a little too dressy for the occasion. – My dear Nora and Kitty and Nancy, you will look very countrified beside Augusta.”
“Oh, we don’t mind,” said Nora, with a laugh.
“In fact,” said Kitty, “we would rather wear plain washing frocks, which can just be put into the tub and come out as fresh as ever.”
“Sour grapes,” said Augusta. “Now, Nancy here would like a dress of this sort. – Wouldn’t you, Nancy?”
“Yes – very much,” replied Nancy.
Miss Roy gave her a critical and somewhat surprised glance.
“I didn’t know that you cared about fine clothes, Nancy,” she said.
“Not always; but I should have liked a dress like Augusta’s for to-morrow. All the same,” she added, “I am not going to be unhappy about it.”
“Put your dress back, dear,” said Miss Roy. “I am glad you are pleased. And now let us go downstairs. You know, my dears, the news about poor Connie Aspray is very serious indeed. She was so ill last night that she was not expected to live. If anything were to happen to her, our party to-morrow could scarcely take place. However, we must hope for the best. – Augusta, you are looking very white and tired; you won’t be good for anything unless you go to bed soon. Now come down; Uncle Peter is waiting for his supper.”
After supper that night Kitty ran up to Nora and began to whisper to her. Nora looked excited, and nodded her head once or twice. The end of the little girls’ confab was a sudden rushing of two eager pairs of feet all over the grounds looking for Uncle Peter. Eventually the Captain was discovered, smoking by himself in an arbour at one end of the grounds.
“We knew you by the glow-worm in your mouth,” said Nora, with a peal of laughter. “And now we want you to do something for us – oh, so very, very badly!”
“Well, come, young monkeys,” said the Captain, making room for a niece to sit on each side of him. “Now then, what is the news? Oh, how your eager, silly little hearts beat! What is up, young-uns?”
“It is about Nan,” said Nora. “You know, Uncle Pete, that there never was a little girl less vain than Nancy.”
“My dear child, I am quite willing to believe you; but why should Nancy be vain?”
“Oh, you know she is sweetly pretty.”
“She is,” said the Captain; “she has quite a charming face.”
“And we want her to look the very prettiest girl in the room to-morrow night. Augusta has such a grand frock, sent all the way from London – a flounced and billowed and chiffoned dress, Uncle Pete – and she is so conceited about it; and to-night, when we were looking at it, Nancy said she would like a frock like that. Poor darling! we were rather surprised – though, after all, it did seem quite natural. And, Uncle Pete, we want her to have one; and, Uncle Pete, can you manage it?”
“Good gracious, my dear child! I know nothing about clothes.”
“Oh, couldn’t you go to town and see what the very grandest shop has – ready-made, you know? Surely there must be something that Nan could wear.”
“But to-morrow is the day of the festival. Even if I started now to London I could not be back in time.”
“But couldn’t you go to Exeter? You could get to Exeter in an hour and a half.”
“And find all the shops shut, Nora.”
“Couldn’t you take the very earliest train tomorrow morning and get back in time?”
“I could, of course, only what state should I find this place in here?”
“Oh! we will see to that. We will do every single thing in your absence.”
“What devoted little friends Nan has!”
“Of course we are devoted to our darling; who would not be?” said Nora.
“It would be so lovely to see Gussie coming in all bows and smiles and curtsies, and with that sort of affected way she has, and then Nancy dancing in in her pretty dress, looking more beautiful than Gussie could ever look!” said Kitty.
“Really, Kitty, you can be quite eloquent when you please,” said the Captain. “Well, leave the matter to me.”
“You will do it, Uncle Peter; and you will manage the money part?”
“Oh yes, child; I will manage the money part.”
“Well then, good-night, dear Uncle Peter; we must be going to bed.”
They tripped off through the darkness; and the Captain put on his considering cap with a vengeance.
CHAPTER XXXII. – THE BEGINNING OF THE SHADOW
The day of the party dawned on the world as sunshiny as day could dawn. The fierce heat of the sun was tempered by just the right amount of breeze. The sultry weather of the past ten days had given place to a fresher and clearer atmosphere. All the world ought to have been in the best of spirits on such a glorious day in early autumn.
About eleven o’clock Captain Richmond appeared on the scene, carrying a square box in his hand. He entered the library, where Miss Roy happened to be alone.
Miss Roy’s face was preternaturally grave, and when she saw the Captain she uttered an exclamation of relief.
“I am so glad you have come!” she said. “I want to speak to you badly.”
“What is it?” asked Captain Richmond.
“Will you shut the door and turn the key? I don’t want any of the children to overhear us.”
“Where are the children?” asked Captain Richmond.
“Busy all over the place – busy as you might expect such little bees to be on such an occasion. Oh, but I forgot! Gussie is lying down; she has a slight headache and pain in her back.”
“Augusta doesn’t seem too strong,” said the Captain. “I have heard of several headaches lately.”
“She is a very queer girl, and I don’t understand her,” said Miss Roy.
“After all, Miss Roy,” said the Captain, “she must be a very good girl, for beyond doubt she will be the happy possessor of the Royal Cross to-night.”
“You don’t say so! I am amazed!” answered the governess.
“To tell the truth, I am amazed myself, and a little disappointed. It is wrong to say it, but I am. Still, there is no question with regard to the matter. Augusta is the only one of the little battalion who has not had a single bad mark for conduct.”
“I am sure poor Nora and Kitty have tried their best,” said Miss Roy, standing up for her pupils, as was natural.
“Just so. I am sure you are right. Nevertheless, the poor mites have little gray marks for carelessness, untidiness, forgetfulness, registered against them on several occasions.”
“Yes,” said Miss Roy, “that is true. I have entered those marks myself, and regret having had to do so.”
“What else could you do?” said the Captain. “If there was anything in my little scheme, absolute truth and justice were essential.”
“What about Nancy?” said Miss Roy, fixing her eyes on the Captain’s face.
“Nancy!” said the Captain. “Don’t you remember?”
“Remember? Oh yes! Could I forget? But I had hoped” —
“What, my dear lady?”
“That some explanation had been arrived at. How is it possible to credit a child like Nancy with cruelty?”
But then Miss Roy recalled the incident of the starving canary, and her voice faltered as she spoke.
“There is no explanation,” said Captain Richmond. “I feel nearly wild about it, I assure you. I have thought over the matter until my head ached; but the entry was made by my sister-in-law, a woman who does not make mistakes. It is impossible there could be anything wrong in the entry. What Nancy did we don’t know, but that mark takes away even the remotest chance of her winning the Royal Cross.”
“Then you will tell her,” said Miss Roy; “you will at least give her a chance of explaining, if any explanation is possible?”
“Yes; I shall have to speak of it at the time. It will be a painful moment, but it is only just to the little girl.”
“I feel certain,” said Miss Roy, “that Nancy will be able to put matters right.”
But then again she thought of the canary, and once again her speech seemed to choke her.
“You must not worry about it,” said Captain Richmond. “And now,” he added in a good-natured tone, “can I do anything for you? Pray command me.”
“There is something I must speak to you about, Captain Richmond – something very serious and painful. I cannot tell you how grieved I am that such bad news should reach us on this auspicious day. I think it will be our duty to keep what I am about to communicate from the young people. Let them have one day of pleasure at any rate. But the fact is, poor Constance Aspray is not expected to live out the day, and a servant in the house has now developed smallpox.”
“Indeed!” said the Captain. “How terrible!”
“We cannot put off our guests now,” said Miss Roy; “nor would it be wise. Any kind of panic at such a time would be sure to make the mischief worse. There have been a few other cases in the village, and although they have been removed to hospital at once, yet it would certainly be best for us to leave here to-morrow morning. I should not feel I was fulfilling my duty to Mrs. Richmond if I allowed the children to run any further risk.”
“Very well,” said the Captain, “you must do as you think best. Only let them all be happy for this day at least.”
He was about to leave the room, when he turned suddenly:
“Could you have this box conveyed to Nancy’s bedroom?” he said. “There is a little surprise within for her; and I only wish I were able to give her the Royal Cross to-night.”
Miss Roy promised to attend to Captain Richmond’s request, and the young man left the house.
Outside, Kitty, Nora, and Nancy were rushing wildly about, arranging benches, seeing to the best position for garden chairs, and helping here, there, and everywhere. They rushed to the Captain with glad welcomes, and he was soon as busy as the rest making preparations for the evening.
Lunch was extra early that day, in order to have everything in readiness for the advent of the poor people early in the afternoon.
Nancy and the other two girls went up to their rooms, and soon a shriek from Nancy brought Kitty and Nora running to her bedroom.
“Oh, is it a fairy – is it – is it? I don’t know whether I am on my head or on my heels,” cried the little girl; “but such a darling, such a beauty! Oh, isn’t it just sweet? Who gave it to me? Kitty, it can’t be true; it must be meant for some other little girl.”
“No, it isn’t. See what is written on that piece of paper,” said Kitty, whose face was red and her eyes dancing with joy. “See for yourself, Nancy; see for yourself.”
Nancy read the following words on a little white card:
“From a genie to a good fairy, with compliments.”
“Oh, it is quite mysterious!” said Nancy. “But are you certain that I am the good fairy?”
“Certain – positive,” said Kitty. “Why, I could not wear that dress; it is a great deal too small. What a figure of fun I should look with my long legs! But it will suit you, Nancy, to perfection. I knew that” —
“Hush, Kitty!” said Nora.
“You are hiding something from me,” said Nancy.
“Nothing – nothing, truly: but do let us examine it. Is it not wonderful to have a genie for a friend?”
“What is a genie?” said Nancy.
“A sort of grown-up fairy – better than a fairy, because he is stronger, and he is quite grownup, you know. And if a little girl has a genie for a friend, why, anything may happen to her. She might ask for anything and she would probably get it. And, oh, what sweet little shoes! And the stockings! Well done, Unc” —
“Kitty, you are quite incorrigible,” said Nora. “But there, Nan! you are in luck; the dress is yours, and you are to wear it to-night. Now do come, Kit, for if we don’t hurry we shall be late for lunch.”
Nancy folded the pretty frock and put it into its box. Kitty’s words had enlightened her: Uncle Pete was the genie; and, of course, she was the good little fairy.
“But am I a good fairy?” thought the child. “Oh, if he only knew! And if he could only guess how my heart aches – often, often. I know I have no chance of the Royal Cross to-night. I wonder who will get it. Gussie hopes that she will. Perhaps she will, for she is so clever; no one guesses when Gussie does wrong things – no one but me. Oh, how unhappy she has made my life! Well, I must go to her now. I must find out if her head is any better.”
Nan flew along the corridors, and soon reached Augusta’s room, opened the door without knocking, and went in.
Augusta was lying in an uneasy doze, and her face was considerably flushed.
“It is lunch-time,” said Nan; “aren’t you coming down?”
“No,” said Augusta; “I could not eat anything.”
“Are you ill?” asked Nancy in a low, terror-stricken whisper.
“No, I am not a bit ill,” said Augusta; “but I have got one of my stupid headaches. Don’t look so scared, child. Come here, close to me, Nan.”
“Yes,” said Nancy; and she went to Augusta’s side and bent over her. “You are hot, Gussie; and, oh dear, how your face burns!”
“I always get hot like that when I have these stupid headaches; but it is better. I don’t feel it when I am lying down. Nancy, has there been any news from the Asprays?”
“I have not heard of any,” said Nancy.
“Oh, what a relief” —
“We would have heard if – if the worst – ” said Nancy.
“Oh, of course; but don’t let as think any more about them,” said Augusta. “And I am not a bit ill, really. Tell them all I am coming down this afternoon, but I shall stay quiet until then.”
“But won’t you have anything to eat, Gussie?”
“No, no; nothing. I could not touch a morsel. Go away now; there’s a good child.”
“Do you know, Gussie, Uncle Pete – a good genie, I mean – has brought me such a lovely frock; very like yours, only, I think, nicer. It was in a box, and the box was on my bed. I have just unfastened it and looked at the frock. But isn’t it just too sweet of him?”
“Yes,” said Augusta. “Then there will be two of us to look pretty to-night.”
“I want to look very, very pretty,” said Nancy, “just to show Uncle Pete how grateful I am to him.”
“Well, don’t chat any more now; your silly talk makes my head worse than ever. Run away now. Only listen; if there is any worse news, be sure you let me know.”
“Yes,” said Nancy; and she left the room.
Augusta tossed from side to side of her bed. Troubled thoughts were visiting her. A fear, grave and mighty, was lying dormant in her breast; very little would make it start into full growth. She sat up presently and pushed the thick hair from her brows.
One of the housemaids came in, and started when she saw Augusta; then coming forward, she said in a tone of commiseration:
“Oh, Miss Gussie! I didn’t know you were here. And you do look bad, miss. Is there much the matter?”
“Only a stupid headache,” said Augusta. “It will be all right presently. I shall come down to have my fun when those tiresome poor people have gone; I am not going before.”
“We are all going to have a lark,” said the girl, who saw no reason for being extra respectful to Augusta, who was no favourite with the servants. “There are a lot of them coming; but Gaffer Jones can’t, nor can old Tilbury.”
“Who are they? And why can’t they come?” asked Augusta.
“Because of the sickness, miss.”
“Sickness!” said Augusta, at once on the alert. “Is any one ill?”
“Three cases of smallpox in the village, miss. But the sick people is took to the hospital – two in Gaffer Jones’s house, and one in Tilbury’s – three in all. It do seem sad about that poor, handsome young lady.”
“Miss Aspray, do you mean?” said Augusta, whose face had now turned deadly white.
“Yes, miss – of course.”
“She is not dead?”
“No, no, miss. How bad you look! But she is likely to be afore long. There! I won’t talk to you no more, miss, if I can’t do nothing for you; but if you would like a cup of tea” —
“No; leave me, please, Jane. All I want is to be quiet.”
Jane withdrew, and Augusta flung herself once more on her bed and covered her head.
“Of course it is nothing,” she said to herself; “only this headache. I am safe now, and I won’t even think there is anything to fear. But – but, oh, the pain in my back!”
Notwithstanding the shadow of illness which rested so darkly over one house, and which was already making its cruel and awful presence felt in the village, the party at Fairleigh was a merry one. Everything was done to make the guests happy. There was no selfish element at work, and the guests were delighted – there was no hitch anywhere. Poor Augusta upstairs, in pain and terror, was for the time forgotten.
But the gayest time will come to an end, and when the party had run races innumerable, swarmed up greasy poles, leapt barriers, and jumped about in sacks, and gone through the different feats which are the pride and honour of an Englishman’s holiday, a good meal followed. Then the children of the neighbourhood appeared on the scene, and soon after six o’clock the first batch of guests took their leave.
It was now the turn of the young people of the house to rush off to their rooms to get ready for the dance, which was to be, in one sense, the greatest event of the day.
Nan, with her heart smiting her for having forgotten Augusta so long, went first to that young lady’s room.
She knocked. Gussie said, “Come in;” and she entered.
“How do I look?” said Augusta.
Nancy started with genuine pleasure when she saw her. She was up, and was arrayed in her beautiful frock. The maid Jane had been summoned, and had tied all the strings and fastened the different hooks.
“You do look well now, Gussie,” said Nancy. “I am so happy!”
Augusta, always a striking-looking girl, looked distinctly handsome to-night. The brightness of incipient fever shone in her eyes, making them both large and dark; a rich colour mantled her cheeks, and the very dread which filled her softened her beauty and gave character to her face. Her lovely dress fitted her to perfection, and showed off her young graces, making her look quite remarkable.
“How nicely you have your hair done! Did Jane do it?” asked Nancy.
“No; I did it myself.”
“And is your headache quite well now?”
“It aches now and then, but it is nothing to signify. When I have danced a little I shall be quite all right.”
“Oh Gussie! you are shivering, and your face has turned white.”
“I must have taken a chill,” said Augusta. “I have been like this, off and on, all day.”
“Have you had anything to eat, Gussie?”
“No; I could not eat. But I should like something to drink. My eyes burn, and I am awfully thirsty.”
“Oh, there are such piles of ices downstairs! I will go and fetch you a strawberry ice.”
“You really are a good little thing. But come here. Have you heard anything fresh about the Asprays?”
“About the Asprays?” said Nancy. “No – nothing at all.”
“But I have. Jane has told me that Constance is worse – so bad that they don’t think she can recover. And, oh! if Connie dies, I can’t – I can’t bear it.”
“Oh, but she won’t die! And please – please, Gussie, do bear up. I am sure God will spare Constance.”
“I don’t know. I don’t seem able to believe anything – anything good, I mean, Nancy. But did I tell you that there are cases in the village?”
“Are there?” said Nancy. “But it can’t be true,” she added, “for if there were Miss Roy would have told us.”
“It is true; and I watched the people as they came on the lawn. I watched them on purpose. Gaffer Jones was not there, nor was Mrs. Tilbury, nor any of her family. Some of the Tilburys are down with it, Nancy, and some of the Joneses. And, oh dear! I wish I could get it all out of my head – it is so – so dreadful.”
“I must rush away to dress,” said Nancy. “It is very sad, but we are bound to make ourselves happy to-night, and forget such things.”
She ran off, having quite forgotten about the ice which she had promised to bring to Augusta.
Augusta stood for a long while by the window; then she went downstairs.
The final touches had been given to the long supper-table. Nancy was right; there were pails full of ice under the sideboard.
“I am so thirsty, Walter; will you give me some ice?” said Augusta.
The man helped her to a strawberry ice, which she ate greedily. “Now I will have something to drink,” she said; “iced champagne – anything.”
There was no iced champagne, but iced claret-cup was forthcoming, and Augusta drank it, declaring to herself that she felt vastly better. She then went out on the lawn.
