A Plucky Girl. Meade L. T.
from any special attachments. The fact is, I was in love with mother. Mother herself seemed to fill all my life. I felt somehow as if father had put some of his spirit into me, and had bound me over by a solemn vow to look after her, to comfort her, to guard her, until he himself came to fetch her, and now my thought of thoughts was how splendid and how necessary it would be to keep her usual comforts round my dainty, darling, lovely mother, to give her the food she required, and the comfortable rooms and the luxury to which she was born; and I felt that my pride, if I could really do that, would be so great and exultant, that I should hold my head higher than ever in the air. Yes, I would have a downright good try, and I vowed I would not fail. It seemed to me as I turned home again in the sweet golden summer evening that fortune's ball lay at my feet, that in the battle I would not be conquered, that like my father I in my own way would win the Victoria Cross.
CHAPTER II
FRIENDS OR QUONDAM FRIENDS
Mother used to say that there were times when her daughter Westenra swept her right off her feet.
"I can no more resist you," she used to remark on these occasions, "than if you were a great flood bearing me along."
Perhaps never did mother find my power so strong, so determined as on the present occasion. It was in vain for her, poor darling, to speak of our friends, of those dear, nice, good people who had loved father and for his sake were good to his widow. I had my answer ready.
"It is just this, mother," I said, "what we do will cause a gleaning – a sifting – amongst our friends. Those who are worth keeping will stay with us, those who are not worth keeping will leave us. And now do you know what I mean to do? I mean this morning, with your leave, to order the carriage, the carriage which we must put down at the end of the week, but which we can certainly keep for the next couple of days, and go round to our friends and tell them what we are about to do."
"You must go alone then, Westenra, for I cannot go with you."
"Just as you please, mother. I would rather you had the courage; but still, never mind, darling, I will do it by myself."
Mother looked at me in despair.
"How old are you?" she said suddenly.
"You know quite well," I replied, "I was twenty-one a month ago."
Mother shook her head sadly.
"If you really intend to carry out this awful idea, West, you must consider youth a thing of the past," she said.
I smiled and patted her cheek.
"Nothing of the sort," I answered; "I mean to be young and vigorous and buoyant and hopeful as long as I have you with me, so there! Now, may I ring the bell and tell Paul to desire Jenkins to bring the victoria round at eleven o'clock?"
Mother could not refuse, and having executed this order I sat down with considerable appetite to breakfast. I was really enjoying myself vastly.
Punctual to the hour, I stepped into our pretty carriage. First of all I would visit my dear old godmother, the Duchess of Wilmot.
Accordingly, early as it was, I told Jenkins to drive me to the Duchess's house in Park Lane. When we drew up at the house I jumped out, ran up the steps and sounded the bell. The man who opened the door informed me that her Grace was at home to no one at so early an hour.
I thought for a moment, then I scribbled something on a little piece of paper.
"Dear Duchess," I said, "I want to see you particularly, the matter is very urgent. – Your god-daughter,
This I twisted up and gave to the man.
"Give that to her Grace, I will wait to see if there is an answer," I said.
He came down in a moment or two.
"Her Grace will see you, Miss Wickham," he said.
I entered the house, and following the footman up some winding stairs and down some corridors, I was shown into the small boudoir where the Duchess generally sat in the morning. She was fully dressed, and busily writing notes.
"That will do, Hartop," she said to the man; "close the door, please. Now then, Westenra, what is the meaning of this? What eccentric whim has induced you to visit me at so early an hour?"
"I wanted to tell you something," I said; "mother is awfully distressed, but I thought you had better know."
"How queer you look, my child, and yet I seldom saw you brighter or handsomer. Take off your hat and sit near me. No, I am not specially busy. Is it about the Russells' reception? Oh, I can take you if your mother is not strong enough. You want to consult me over your dress? Oh, my dear Westenra, you must wear – "
"It has nothing to do with that," I interrupted. "Please let me speak. I want to say something so badly. I want to consult you."
"Of course," said her Grace.
She laid her jewelled hand on my arm. How I loved that white hand! How I adored my beautiful old friend! It would be painful to give her up. Was she going to give me up?
"I will tell you something quite frankly," I said. "I love you very much; you have always been kind to me."
"I am your godmother, don't forget."
"A great trouble has come to us."
"A great trouble, my dear, what do you mean?"
"Mother thinks it a fearful trouble, and I suppose it is, but anyhow there are two ways of taking it. There is the sinking-down way, which means getting small and poor and thin, anaemic, in short, and there is the bold way, the sort of way when you stand up to a thing, you know what I mean."
"You are talking school-boy language. My grandson Ralph would understand you; he is here; do you want to see him? I am a little too busy for riddles, Westenra."
"Oh! I do beg your pardon. I know I am taking a great liberty: no one else would come to you at so early an hour."
"Well, speak, my dear."
"We have lost our money."
"Lost your money!" cried the Duchess.
"Yes; everything, or nearly everything. It was through some bad investments, and mother was not at all to blame. But we have nothing left, or nearly nothing – I mean we have a hundred and fifty a-year, about the price of one of your dresses."
"Don't be personal, Westenra – proceed."
"Mother wants to live in a cottage in the country."
"I do not see how she could possibly do it," said the Duchess. "A cottage in the country! Why, on that pittance she could scarcely afford a workman's cottage, but I will speak to my friends; something must be arranged immediately. Your dear, lovely, fragile mother! We must get her a suite of apartments at Hampton Court. Oh! my poor child, this is terrible."
"But we do not choose to consider it terrible," I replied, "nor will we be beholden to the charity of our friends. Now, here is the gist of the matter. I have urged mother to take a house in Bloomsbury."
"Bloomsbury?" said the Duchess a little vaguely.
"Oh, please Duchess, you must know. Bloomsbury is a very nice, healthy part of the town. There are big Squares and big houses; the British Museum is there – now, you know."
"Oh, of course, that dreary pile, and you would live close to it. But why, why? Is it a very cheap neighbourhood?"
"By no means; but city men find it convenient, and women who work for their living like it also, and country folks who come to town for a short time find it a good centre. So we mean to go there, and – and make money. We will take our furniture and make the house attractive and – and take paying guests. We will keep a boarding-house. Now you know."
I stood up. There was a wild excited feeling all over me. The most daring flight of imagination could never associate the gracious Duchess of Wilmot with a lodging-house keeper, and mother had always hitherto been the Duchess's equal. I had never before felt distrait or nervous in the Duchess's presence, but now I knew that there was a gulf between us – that I