Then Mrs. de Vere decided that she would call upon the Bentleys at once to express her sympathy in their trouble. Thea need not go, she thought, as the girl had owned frankly to all that had passed between herself and Cameron last night.
“They would rather not see you, I know, for it is natural they should feel some little resentment against you,” she said.
“But, dear Mrs. de Vere, I am not to blame. I never gave him any encouragement,” opening her blue eyes reproachfully.
“The Bentleys will believe the reverse for awhile, of course, but when Cameron gets well they will get over their nonsense, especially as you will be married and gone.”
So Mrs. de Vere went alone to Orange Grove, where she had the satisfaction of learning that Cameron’s wound was by no means as serious as supposed, and that if all went well he would be out again in a few weeks.
“Miss Faris is playing her part very skillfully, and if Cameron is as fickle as he is reckless, it is likely that she will catch his heart in the rebound. So do not worry yourself, dear, over the fate of this desperate youth,” she said, consolingly, to Thea.
CHAPTER XLVI.
Thea could not help writing a surreptitious little note of farewell to her dear friend Nellie Bentley:
“Dear Nellie,—I hope you are not mad with me about Cameron. They say he shot himself on my account. Oh, Nellie, please don’t think I led him on, for I never thought of such a thing. You know we were all just sociable together, but I didn’t try to make him love me. I liked him ever so much as a friend, but I was desperately in love with my dear guardian all the time. And now I am to marry him, you know, and I am so happy I can not describe my feelings. I hope dear Cameron will soon be well again, and that he will forget his fancy for me, and marry some lovely girl like that Miss Faris, who likes him that way, I feel certain—only don’t tell her I said so, for she might get mad. To-morrow I am going to New York with Mrs. de Vere to order my wedding-dress. Only think of it—and I not eighteen, probably! But I am to be married in a month, and we will go to Paris on our wedding-tour. I shall bring you a souvenir, Nellie. And, oh! I hope that everything will blow over in a month, and that your mamma will let you be my bride-maid. I will write to you again from New York, and I will never forget the lovely week I spent at Orange Grove. I would send my love to everybody, only I am afraid they are a little vexed with me. A dozen kisses. Your loving
“Thea.”