They all went. They hated to go, but they went, for the mantle of innocence and ignorance in which Mrs. Meadowsweet was so securely wrapped gave her a certain dignity which they could not resist. Jane shut the door on them, and they stood still outside the house, and wrangled, and talked, and worked themselves into a perfect rage of excitement and curiosity and longing. "Well, well, all surmises would soon be at rest. Who would win, Beatrice or Josephine? Who would be to-morrow's bride."
"Mother," said Beatrice, when the ladies had left—she looked into her old mother's face. There was an expression in her eyes which made Mrs. Meadowsweet cry out:
"Bee, you have got a hunger at your heart. Oh, child, you want your mammy—I never saw that look in your eyes since long, long ago, when you were a little tot, and wanted your mammy more than anything else in all the wide world."
"I want her now," said Beatrice.
She put her arms about her mother, and wept on her shoulder.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE MORNING OF THE WEDDING.
Beatrice had seen Mr. Ingram. She had gone to him, but not to stay.
"You must go to Mrs. Bertram's," she said; "she has a trouble on her mind. Get her to tell it to you. She will be better afterwards. She fears much. I guess a little of what she fears. She does not know that by to-morrow night all her anxieties will be over."