Bluebell. Mrs. G. C. Huddleston
day must be left to the reader's imagination. But stolen they were; for Du Meresq knew Cecil's disposition, and was far from wishing to break with her, though "why should he spare this little girl with the chestnut hair, and the love in her deep-blue eyes?" And Bluebell no longer shrank from being underhand. It did not strike her in that light now. She thought of nothing but Bertie, who was so different before the others, that she learnt to look forward to their brief chances of being alone as much as he did. And Du Meresq, with ingenious sophistry, expatiated on the charm of keeping their delicious secret to themselves, uncommented on by the cold and unsympathetic.
Thus Bluebell, from being a lively, ingenuous, outspoken child, altered into a dreamy maiden, living a hidden life of repressed excitement, whose whole interest was the fugitive, uncertain interviews with Bertie, and an interchanged glance, touch of the hand, or few fond words, ventured on when the others were not attending.
"Bluebell," laughed Cecil, as a cutter drove to the door, "here is your Lubin again." The girls had just returned from the Rink, and were disrobing upstairs.
"Oh, he is so tiresome," said the other. "I declare I won't come down."
"That you must; we should never get rid of him; he would sit on waiting for you. You have made such a goose of him, Bluebell, and he used to be such fun."
"I shouldn't mind him if he was fun now; but he just sits glowering at one, and stays so long. Why can't a person see when he is not wanted?"
"But you do want him sometimes," said Cecil. "You are always 'off' and 'on' with poor Jack. I believe, if he proposed, you would say 'No' one day and retract the next."
They entered the drawing-room, where was young Vavasour, as usual, making conversation to Mrs. Rolleston, who was at once bored and disproving. Cecil shook hands pleasantly enough, but Bluebell, not even looking at him, extended a lifeless hand in passing, and, picking up some work, appeared absorbed in counting stitches.
Jack turned over in his own mind every possible cause of offence. He couldn't perceive that it was he himself that was not wanted, and that she cared not a button for anything he had done or left undone.
He talked on perseveringly with the others, glancing stealthily at Bluebell tatting, till Cecil got up to make tea, when he moved to a seat nearer.
"I wasn't out of uniform till four o'clock, Miss Leigh, or I should have been at the Rink."
"So I suppose. You always go there, don't you?"
"When I expect to meet any one," trying to throw a sentimental look in his generally laughing brown eyes.
"It isn't usually empty: but, of course, you don't go for the skating. You'll never make anything of that."
"Any more than you will be of driving," retorted Jack. "Shall you ever forget that crumpler down the bank? Dahlia hasn't recovered the fright yet."
"Stupid thing; what did she jump over for? I was nearly suffocated. I am sure there must have been a cast of me on the snow."
"It wasn't altogether unpleasant," said Jack. "We were covered up very snug and warm, like babes in the wood. I shouldn't mind doing it again in the same company."
"Shouldn't you?" said Bluebell, indignantly. "Then you may omit the company." And so they went on whispering, to Mrs. Rolleston's annoyance, till the Colonel's voice was heard bringing in a visitor—a lady of unfashionable appearance, chiefly remarkable for the variety of knitted articles, described in work-books as "winter comforts," displayed on her person.
"Ma tante!" ejaculated Jack, incautiously; "who is this old Quiz?"
"Here is Mrs. Leigh," said Colonel Rolleston, "who says she has not seen her daughter for three weeks. Where are you Bluebell?"
Jack felt ready to sink into the earth, while his boyish face became the colour of a peony; and Bluebell, vexed and hurt, advanced to the maternal embrace.
Their mutual confusion was so evident, that the Colonel put another interpretation on it, and remarked, in a tone the reverse of congratulatory—"You have not been long getting out of harness, Vavasour."
Jack muttered something, and tried to catch Bluebell's eye, agonies of contrition in his own.
"Well, my dear, and how well you are looking," said Mrs. Leigh. "But we have missed you at home, Aunt Jane and I. No, thank you, Mrs. Rolleston; not at all tired. I caught the street-car at the corner, which brought me all the way for five cents. Very respectable people in it; only one soldier; he was not at all tipsy. I don't think your men ever are, Colonel. Thank you, Miss Rolleston," as Cecil brought her some tea. "I'll just unbutton my Sontag, or I shan't feel the good of it when I go out again, shall I?"
"I have been thinking," said Mrs. Rolleston, to whom it had just occurred that this would be a good break in Jack's attentions, "that it would be very nice if Bluebell went home for a few days, as you have seen so little of her."
"I'm sure I'm most grateful," said the little lady. "There, my dear, Aunt Jane was saying only yesterday how dull it was without the child. But are you sure she can be spared, Mrs. Rolleston?"
"Only to you," said the lady, kindly, but smiling a little, for certainly her duties were not very onerous.
Bluebell, an anxious listener, felt her heart sink at this proposal. What, go away and leave Bertie, whose daily presence had become a necessity to her! Besides, dreadful thought! his leave might be over ere she returned. In desperation she said, imploringly, "Mamma will not want me for more than a day or two," and gazed anxiously at Mrs. Rolleston, with a world of unspoken entreaty in her eyes.
The appeal was injudicious, only confirming her impression that it was a separation from Jack Bluebell dreaded, and she mentally put on another week to her banishment.
"There's no hurry," said the lady, decidedly; "a change will do you good. She shall walk over to-morrow, Mrs. Leigh; and I am very glad I thought of it."
Bluebell, thinking all was lost, tried not to show her dismay, which would have grieved her mother and done no good; but she remembered, with a sinking heart, that Du Meresq was to dine out that night, and she might get no opportunity of speaking to him alone before changing her quarters.
"I must be off home," said Mrs. Leigh. "Several little things to be done in your room, Bluebell. The stove-pipe has got choked at the elbow, and I must have the sweep in."
Her daughter longed to suggest that it might be more convenient to postpone her appearance for a day; but as Mrs. Rolleston said nothing, she could not either.
Jack, who had been all this time writhing with vexation at his mal-à-propos remark, here saw a chance of propitiating Bluebell and putting himself on visiting terms at her home.
"My cutter is at the door," said he, addressing Mrs. Rolleston. "If Mrs. Leigh will allow me, I shall be too happy to drive her home."
"Oh, he must be going to propose," thought the former lady, "and they won't have twopence between them;" but she could only reply—
"Well, Mrs. Leigh, what do you say? Will you trust yourself to Mr. Vavasour?"
"I'm sure," said the little lady, flutteringly, "the gentleman is most kind; but I am so timid with horses unless they are quite old. Does your horse kick, sir?"
"Only if the rein gets under her tail."
"Ah, I should be sure to scream and snatch it—the reins, I mean, and they say that isn't safe driving. I had better walk; and yet it is getting dark, and I shall miss the car. What shall I do, Colonel Rolleston?"
"Drive, to be sure," said he, who wanted to get rid of them both. "Vavasour only upsets when he gives the reins to young ladies," with a glance at Bluebell.
"Well, I should like a ride in a sleigh, if my poor nerves will let me enjoy it," toddling to the door with Colonel Rolleston.
"I'll take the greatest care of you, Mrs. Leigh," said Jack, heartily, grateful for a re-assuring nod