“Ay, you’re like every one else in love, you see nothing but sunshine before you,” dryly returned Bet, “but it’s possible that even he would turn round and sneer at your former poverty if I allowed him to provide your outfit, as he offered to do. ‘Nothing of the kind,’ I said, quite sharp; ‘Mary will provide all that herself.’ But though I said that to look independent, I can’t for the life of me tell where the money’s to come from. I have not one pound to rub on another.”
“Don’t distress yourself about that, mother dear,” said Mary, with another nestling kiss; “for if he cannot love me for ever without a paltry dress or two, his love isn’t worthy the name. And if his devotion is to change to sneers, all the outfits in the world would not prevent it. So just let the matter rest. I’ll take all the risk. He knows we are poor in everything but a good name, so where is the shame?”
Mary thought she had effectually settled the difficulty; but Bet continued to harp on the same theme. It was an awkward position certainly. There was Mary living in a house of one room and a closet, in a not very choice locality, and her affianced in one of the biggest villas in the Grange. The inequality of their positions cropped out painfully whenever he chanced to visit the humble home, and Bet was in such a feverish state of distress over her poverty that she would have made any sacrifice for a little temporary grandeur. As the time drew near when Mary was to leave her for another’s care, Bet’s uneasiness increased. She had rashly pledged herself to provide Mary’s outfit, and was now further from that than ever. It is difficult to analyse her feelings so as to account for all her actions; but I suppose her mind had got into such a morbid state that she was scarcely responsible for her own actions.
At this critical juncture Bet’s old friend and adviser, Mrs Colbrun, sent for her and Mary to congratulate them on the approaching event, and make some small present to the bride. What the present was I have no recollection, but it was something which led Mrs Colbrun and Mary to leave the room for a few minutes.
Bet had often been left with the free range of the whole house before with no evil result. In the room in which she was now left there stood a writing table, one drawer of which was open, showing quite a pile of bank notes and other money.
Bet fought valiantly with the temptation till Mrs Colbrun was actually crossing the lobby to re-enter the room, when the old thieving nature struggled uppermost, and Bet, with one swift movement of her hand, had possessed herself of a bunch of the notes, and concealed them with magical celerity about her person.
The remainder of her stay in the house was torture to Bet, not only on account of the fear of discovery, but because she had a conscience, and could not disguise even to herself the dastardly act she had committed in robbing a benefactor.
They got away at last, but Bet was nearly an hour at home before she ventured to bring out the notes, which she did with a shaking hand, telling Mary they were for her marriage outfit, which she had better go and purchase forthwith.
Perhaps it was the tone in which the strange request was made, or the guilty look which accompanied the offer of the money, or possibly sheer astonishment at Bet possessing such a sum, that roused Mary’s suspicions; but she had scarcely taken the notes and counted them when a chill thought fell on her heart.
“Where did you get so much money, mother dear?” she tremulously asked. “Did Mrs Colbrun give it you?”