Bluebell / A Novel

by Mrs. G. C. Huddleston

Cecil made a slow recovery. The rheumatic fever, caused by sitting so many hours in wet clothes, and aggravated by the shock she had since received, hung about her many weeks, and as soon as she could be moved they took her back to Toronto. Then her father most unwillingly gave her Du Meresq's letter. He was too honourable to destroy it; but, looking upon him as the frustrator of his plans for Cecil, and the indirect cause of her illness, viewed with impatience any chance of a renewal of intercourse.

Cecil read it repeatedly; but though her heart longed to believe, her mind remained unconvinced. She shrank from all mention of the subject with her step-mother, knowing how one-sided a partisan she would be, but could not deny herself the self-torture of questioning Lola again. The child relentlessly stuck to her text, painting the scene with a vividness that did credit to her descriptive powers; and being one of those vivacious and ubiquitous children never to be sufficiently guarded against, was able to mention one or two other occasions on which she had "popped on them."

And all that time Bertie had apparently been devoted to herself! This was decisive. Lola could have no interest in deceiving her. She must not answer his letter or be his dupe again.

Bluebell's approaching departure to England still further corroborated Lola's story. At that picnic on Long Island, Bertie had evidently acknowledged his engagement to herself, which she now fully believed to be a mercenary one, as, doubtless, he had also assured her rival. But perpetual lonely walks and rides were unfavourable to oblivion, and had Du Meresq been but on the spot, I think even then the mists between these two lovers would soon have been drawn aside.

Mrs. Rolleston wondered that she had not heard from Bertie, but imagined he was somewhere on leave. Cecil would not speak on the subject, but she mentioned it sometimes to Bluebell with surprise, who was much perplexed to guess what could have divided them. Her own conscience was easy; she had told Cecil nothing—indeed, they had never met since the latter's illness. Bluebell was now with her mother, preparing for her journey to England, and had persistently avoided going to "The Maples."

A very cordial acceptance had come from Mrs. Leighton, who said Evelyn was all impatience for her musical friend. Mrs. Rolleston, who was now a frequent visitor at the cottage, laughed a little at the letter, which was very gushing, and told Bluebell they were an emotional pair. Evelyn was strangely brought up,—every fancy, however extravagant, gratified, partly on account of her delicate health, and partly from the sentimental sympathy of her mother. One whim was, she would never learn from ugly people, and the supply of beautiful governesses being limited, her education was proportionably so also.

Mrs. Leighton sent minute directions. She would pay Miss Leigh's passage-money, giving her rather less salary the first year. Of course she was to come under protection of the captain, to whom the rôle of heavy father to unchaperoned girls is usually relegated; and on arriving at Liverpool the railway journey to Leighton Court would be only a few hours.

Mrs. Rolleston gave her a pretty travelling dress, and otherwise replenished her slender wardrobe. She also contributed a little good advice as to abstention from flirting, explaining that in her unprotected situation she could not be too sceptical of the honest intentions of would-be wooers.

Bluebell indignantly repudiated the possibility of thinking of such a thing for the present, if, indeed, ever, and professed the most ascetic sentiments.

It was rather hard on Mrs. Leigh, this far-away separation from her only child—indeed, she could not understand why she was not engaged to one or other of the whilom visitors at the cottage, but comforted herself with the reflection that there were doubtless many rich husbands in England. Bluebell, like her father, seemed of a roving disposition, and she must let her fledgling try her wings.