CHAPTER XXXIII
“SO she has known for a whole fortnight and kept it to herself,” said Mrs. Hesketh with luminous eyes. “I had no idea that Cara was capable of such amazing self-control. This accounts for her inexplicable silence, sullenness, and studied insolence to me.”
“Of course, the information was startling,” pleaded Letty. “Her whole little world turned upside down; the child has taken the news amazingly well, and is so sweet and affectionate. This morning she asked me to tell you that she is very sorry and ashamed of her rudeness to you, and intends to turn over a new leaf.”
“I am not sure that I have much faith in these new leaves,” rejoined Mrs. Hesketh ungraciously; “but I am prepared to accept the olive branch. You say the girl is sitting at home sewing, whilst you are abroad? You appear to have changed places.”
“Only for once. It was so important that I should see you. Now Cara has been enlightened, perhaps it is for the best—it had to come some day.”
“And malicious Miss Plassy has spared no details—you have no further disclosures to fear. Bring Cara to dinner to-night, I should like to have a talk with her, and we will smoke the pipe of peace.”
For the next ten days all went smoothly. Cara no longer yearned for solitary excursions into Lucerne; on the contrary, she appeared to be glad of her mother’s companionship, and had figuratively attached herself to her apron string!
Meanwhile, arrangements for a move were in progress. Mrs. Hesketh had written home, announcing the arrival of two friends, ordering alterations in the house, and entering into treaty for a new motor.
A whole month had passed, and there had been no reply to Cara’s filial appeal—an appeal which had cost hours of thought, and been written and rewritten again and again. Her heart and her hopes sank; this condition was salutary, the girl—like all bullies—was absurdly elated by success, whilst failure bowed her to the earth. In despair of her father’s favour and rescue, she now turned to her mother, whom she contemplated by the light of her illuminating story. She dwelt on that passionately pleading figure, that ringing voice, those piteous eyes, and appealing hands; and could not but believe that every word she uttered was true. Her father’s silence was ample proof of his unnatural character; he must be a brute! And she herself had witnessed one of the principal scenes in her mother’s history. That afternoon on the Schiller, when they had met the handsome English officer, who implored her mother to agree to something, and her mother had not consented; now she learnt that he had asked her to marry him, and leave her, Cara, at school—and the Mum had refused. She recalled his urgent air, and her mother’s tears. It was evident that she cared for him—and no wonder! Had she been in her mother’s place, his offer would have been accepted—bien sur! And the Mum was so pretty—no matter how shabby or simple her clothes, she always looked well-born—a lady to the tips of her fingers. Everything she accomplished was so neat, so finished: her room and belongings so orderly; such a contrast to her own apartment, which was always untidy; she never could find anything, and flung away hats, stepped out of skirts, kicked off shoes, and left the Mum to clear up, and put her things straight. She seemed at last to realise, what her mother stood for in her life, and became thoughtful, helpful, and affectionate. She ran errands, carried parcels, and was altogether another and softer Cara. These were indeed halcyon days for Letty! She brought her good news to the bedside of her friend, who was confined to her room with a serious bronchial attack.