The Adventures of an Ugly Girl

by Mrs. George Corbett

“That remains to be proved. I believe a little bird has already whispered something to me about alteration of plans since you came in this afternoon.”

“It is quite true,” supplemented madame. “What I said this afternoon to you about not leaving us was sincerely meant. But while you and Sergius were making your future arrangements, Victor and I decided that life would not be worth living so long apart. So Feo and I are going to South America with him, and may probably stay there much longer than Victor would care to stay without us.”

“Meanwhile,” said Nina, “you are to stay with us as our guest, until Sergius gets a house nicely furnished for you.”

“And your visit is to be a very short one. A fortnight at the most. I shall make upholsterers and decorators fly around, so that when we return from our wedding-trip you will find everything to your liking.”

So said Sergius, and since everybody seemed inclined to dispose of me so unceremoniously, I could but utter very feeble protests, and virtually surrender myself to their management. I only made one stipulation. My marriage must be as private as possible. My happiness seemed too great to be true, and I had a vague feeling that, if fate should dash the cup from me, I could best bear it with few onlookers. The feeling may have been morbid. But my past experience must plead my excuse.

The next morning lessons for Feo were out of the question. We elders had so much to talk about, and so many plans to discuss, that madame told Trischl to take the child for a walk, while we completed our arrangements. Trischl had been offered the option of joining her own people, who were now in Germany, but had preferred to travel with madame in the capacity of maid. So her immediate future was disposed of also. The Karniaks would have liked to stay to the wedding, but considered it advisable to secure a passage in a quick boat that was sailing in four days. There was thus little time for preparation. But I rendered all the help I could, and be sure that my dear friends and I parted from each other with tears of regret, though we expected to have the happiness of seeing each other again some day.

I had had two letters from Mrs. Garth, in which she informed me that Lady Elizabeth was very much better; that Belle was more beautiful than ever, and apparently very much delighted at the approaching consummation of her ambitious projects. Jerry was at home, and was a jolly little fellow, but said that the Grange wasn’t like home without Dorrie. My father, too, I was told, had fretted somewhat about me, having evidently come to the conclusion that his treatment of me had not been the exclusive outcome of wisdom. “I am sure,” continued Mrs. Garth, “that if you were to return home now, your father would welcome you as gladly as would Jerry and Lady Elizabeth. Of your sister’s sentiments I know nothing, as she holds herself very much aloof from me. I have an idea that she dislikes me. By-the-by, you remember May Morris? She is going to marry Mr. Graham, the young doctor. He has bought a practice at Brightburn, and will take his bride thither next week.”

I was very much amused when I remembered May’s rhapsodies about the actor, but had no doubt that a healthy affection for a good man who loved her would oust all the rubbishy romance with which she had formerly been filled. It was good news to hear that my stepmother’s health had improved so much. I could but hope that the improvement might continue, and that she might be spared all knowledge relating to the particulars of her father’s death. I resolved that when I saw her again, I would, indirectly, try to set her mind at rest on the subject by explaining the irrational and unfounded nature of the suspicions I had, in my bitter sorrow, shared with her. Her illness had always struck me as having a mental origin, and I concluded, since she was improving, that she was already inclined to think the best of her brother and Belle.

I was just revolving all this in my mind, and thinking how glad I would be to go to the Grange again, when a servant announced a visitor for me, and my father came quickly into the room in which I sat. I was not wholly surprised by his visit, for both Sergius and I had written to him, giving him the particulars of our engagement, and asking his consent to our immediate marriage. But if I expected anything like a demonstrative greeting from him, I was disappointed, for he merely touched my hand, as though I had been a comparative stranger, and then plunged straight into the business which had brought him hither.

“I have, after an unwarrantable silence on your part,” he said, “received a letter of so extraordinary a tenor that I have decided to answer it in person. You say you have promised to marry an individual who calls himself Count Volkhoffsky. What proof have you that he is a genuine count?”