In those days after her mysterious and secret visit to London Mrs. Bertram was a considerably altered woman. All her life hitherto she had enjoyed splendid health; she was unacquainted with headaches; neuralgia, rheumatism, gout, the supposed banes of the present day, never troubled her.
Now, however, she had absolutely an attack of the nerves. Mabel found her mother, on coming to wish her good-morning one day, shivering so violently that she could not complete her dressing. Loftus was not at home. He had rejoined his regiment for a brief spell, so Catherine and Mabel had to act on their own responsibility.
They did not hesitate to send for the local doctor.
Dr. Morris, who was calmly shaving in his bedroom was very much excited when his wife rushed in to tell him that he was summoned in haste to the Manor.
"And you might peep into the Manor drawing-room on your way downstairs, doctor," whispered the good lady, in her muffled tone, "and find out if the carpet is really felt. Mrs. Gorman Stanley swears that it is, but for my part I can scarce give credence to such an unlikely story, for surely no woman who could only afford a felt covering for the floor of her best sitting-room would give herself the airs Mrs. Bertram has done."
"Just see that my black bag is ready, Jessie," was the husband's retort to this tirade. "And you might hurry John round with the pony-chaise."
Dr. Morris felt intensely proud as he drove off to see his august patient. He drew up his rough pony once or twice to announce the fact to any stray passer-by.
"Good-day, Bell,—fine morning, isn't it? I'm just off to the Manor. Mrs. B. not quite the thing. Ah, I see Mrs. Jenkins coming down the street. I must tell her that I can't look in this morning."
He nodded to Mr. Bell, and drove on until he met the angular lady known by this name.
"Good-morning, good-morning," he called in his cheery tones, and scarcely drawing in the pony at all now. "I meant to look round in the course of the forenoon to see how the new tonic agrees with Miss Daisy; but I may be a little late; I'm summoned in haste to the Manor."
Here he touched his little pony's head with the whip, and, before Mrs. Jenkins could utter a word of either astonishment or interest, had turned the corner and was out of sight.
The fashionable disease of nerves had not yet become an epidemic at Northbury, and Dr. Morris was a little puzzled at the symptoms which his great patient exhibited. He was proud to speak of Mrs. Bertram as his "great patient," and told her to her face in rather a fulsome manner that he considered it the highest possible honor to attend her. He ordered his favorite tonic of cod liver oil, told her to stay in bed, and keep on low diet, and, having pocketed his fee drove away.
Mrs. Bertram was outwardly very civil to the Northbury doctor, but when he departed she scolded Catherine and Mabel for having sent for him, tore up his prescription, wrote one for herself, which she sent to the chemist to have made up, and desired Catherine to give her a glass of port wine from one of a treasured few bottles of a rare vintage which she had brought with her to Rosendale.
"It was a few days after her visit to the Meadowsweets that Mrs. Bertram had been taken ill. She soon became quite well again, and then rather astonished Catherine by telling her that she had herself seen Beatrice Meadowsweet; that she had found her daughter's judgment with regard to her to be apparently correct, and that, in consequence, she did not object to Beatrice visiting at the Manor.
"You may make Miss Meadowsweet your friend," she said to both girls. "She may come here, and you may sometimes go to see her. But remember, she is the only Northbury young lady I will admit into my society."
A few days afterwards, Loftus, who had again managed to obtain leave of absence from his military duties, reappeared on the scenes. As has been seen, Loftus would admit of no restrictions with regard to his acquaintances, and after the remarkable fashion of some young men, he tried to secure an interest in the affections of Beatrice by flirting with Matty Bell.
Mrs. Bertram knew nothing of these iniquities on the part of her son. It never entered even into her wildest dreams that any son or daughter of her could associate with people of the stamp of the Bells. Even had she been aware of it, however, she knew better than to try to coerce her captain.
She had quite worries enough of her own, poor woman, and not the least of them, in the eyes of the girls, was the fresh mania she took for saving. Meals had never been too plentiful at Rosendale. Now, the only remark that could be made in their favor was that they satisfied hunger. Healthy girls will eat any wholesome food, and when Loftus was not at home, Catherine and Mabel Bertram made their breakfast off porridge.
Mabel ate hungrily, and grumbled not a little. Catherine was also hungry, but she did not grumble. She was never one to care greatly for the luxuries of life, and all her thoughts now were taken up watching her mother. The effect of her mother's sudden confidence in her, the effect of the trouble which had undoubtedly come to her mother had altogether an extraordinary influence over Catherine. She ceased to be a wild and reckless tom-boy, she ceased to defy her mother in small matters; her character seemed to gain strength, and her face, always strong in its expression and giving many indications of latent power of character, looked now more serious than gay, more sweet and thoughtful than fastidious and discontented.
Catherine had plenty of tact, and she watched her mother without appearing to watch her. She was loyal, too, in heart and soul, and never even hinted to others of the confidence reposed in her.
It was a lovely summer's morning. Catherine and Mabel were up early; they were picking raspberries to add to the meagre provisions for breakfast. It was always difficult to manage a pleasant breakfast hour when Loftus was at home. Mrs. Bertram used to flush up painfully when Loftus objected to the viands placed before him, and Catherine was most anxious to spare her mother by satisfying the fastidious tastes of her brother.
"Why should Loftus have all the raspberries?" angrily queried Mabel. "I should like some myself, and so would you, Kate. Why should Loftus have everything?"
"Nonsense, May, he's not going to have everything. This plate of special beauties is for mother."
"Well, that's quite right. Loftus and you and I can divide the rest."
"May, I'm going to whisper a secret to you. Now, don't let it out, for the lords of creation would be so angry if they knew. But I do think in little things girls are much greater than men. Now what girl who is worth anything cares whether she eats a few raspberries or not. While as to the men—I consider them nothing but crybabies about their food. Here, Mab, race me to the house."
Mabel puffed and panted after her more energetic sister. It was a very hot morning, and it really was aggravating of Kate to fly on the wings of the wind, and expect her to follow.
"Kate has no thought," she muttered, as she panted along. "I shall feel hot and messy for the day now, and there's nothing nice for me to eat when I do get in. It's all very fine to be Kate, who, I don't think, is mortal at all about some things, but I expect I'm somewhat of a cry-baby too, when I see all the nice appetizing food disappearing down a certain manly throat. Hullo, what's the matter now, Kitty?"
Catherine was standing by the window of the breakfast-room waving an open note in her hand.
"Three cheers for you, Mabel! You may be as greedy as you please. The knight of the raspberry plantation has departed. Read this; I found it on my plate."
Catherine was about to toss the note to Mabel, when a hand was put quietly over her shoulder, and Mrs. Bertram took Loftus's letter to read.
"Mother, I didn't know you were down."
"I just came in, my dear, and heard you speaking to Mabel. What is this?"
She stood still to read the brief lines:
"Dearest Sis,—I have had a sudden recall to Portsmouth. Will write from there. Love to the mother and Mab.—Your affectionate brother,
"Loftus."
Mrs. Bertram looked up with a very startled expression in her eyes.
"Now, mother, there's nothing to fret you in this," said Kate, eagerly. "Was not Loftie always the most changeable of mortals?"
"Yes, my dear, but not quite so changeable as not to know anything at all about a recall in the afternoon yesterday, and to have to leave us before we are out of bed in the morning. Did anybody see Loftus go? Had he any breakfast?"
Catherine flew away to inquire of Clara, and Mabel said in an injured voice:
"I dare say Loftie had a telegram sent to him to the club. Anyhow, he has all the excitement and all the pleasure. I watched him through the spy-glass last night. He was in the Bells' boat, and Beatrice was all alone in hers. Beatrice was talking to Loftus and the boats were almost touching. Mother, I wish we could have a boat."
"Yes, dear, I must try and manage it for you at some future time. Well, Catherine, have you heard anything?"
"No, mother. Loftus must have gone away very, very early. No one saw him go; he certainly had no breakfast."
Mrs. Bertram was silent for a few moments; then, suppressing a sigh, she said, in a would-be cheerful tone:
"Well, my loves, we must enjoy our breakfasts, even without the recreant Loftus. Mabel, my dear, what delicious raspberries! They give me quite an appetite."
"Kitty picked them for you, mother," said Mabel. "She has been treasuring a special bush for you for a week past."
Mrs. Bertram looked up at her eldest daughter and smiled at her. That smile, very much treasured by Kate, was after all but a poor attempt, gone as soon as it came. Mrs. Bertram leant back in her chair and toyed with the dainty fruit. Her appetite was little more than a mockery.
"It was very thoughtful of Loftus not to waken any one up to give him breakfast," said Catherine.
Her mother again glanced at her with a shadow of approval on her worn face. Artful Kitty had made this speech on purpose; she knew that any praise of Loftus was balm to her mother.
After............