Chapter XXIX: A Lonely Day

DIANA'S displeasure continued unabated during the next day, and the hours passed in uncomfortable silence. Beryl wondered how long this was to last. She had sudden liberty granted her to come and go as she pleased, and Diana seemed oddly to lay aside, for one day, her invalid habits. Was it the cheering effect of Miss Carmichael's visit, or was it the excitement of her own anger upholding her? Beryl could not tell.

This condition of affairs went on during the best part of a week. A letter then arrived for Diana from Marian, and another from Pearl by the same post. Beryl recognised the handwritings, and waited for news, but received none. Diana gave her a look, and put both letters straightway into the fire.

"When are they coming, Aunt Di?" Beryl asked, and no answer was vouchsafed. She had difficulty in restraining her vexation at this petty revenge.

On the following morning, Diana's mood seemed to have changed. She came downstairs unwontedly early, dressed unwontedly well, and looking unwontedly lively. In the middle of breakfast, she said—"I am going to London to-day."

"Shall I come with you, Aunt Di?"

"No." The monosyllable was sufficiently ungracious.

"I thought you might want me to help you," said Beryl soberly.

Diana passed over the suggestion. "You may as well spend the day at Miss Carmichael's," she said. "Of course you will be welcome there. Pearson is going with me to London, and I have told Maria that she will have no cooking to do."

"I should not like to invite myself for a whole day to Miss Carmichael's," said Beryl.

"Nonsense. Of course she will be glad to have you. I thought you were on such terms that you could go in whenever you chose."

"Yes,—go in to see her. I could not invite myself there for a day," repeated Beryl.

Diana took no further notice of her, and presently disappeared. When, after the lapse of half an hour, she came back, she was dressed for a journey.

"Pearson is just ready," she said. "We are going to walk to the station. Have you arranged about going to Miss Carmichael's?"

"I have not done anything," said Beryl, in surprise. "I did not know you were going yet, and I don't like the thought of asking for meals there."

"Well, I have no time to stay and discuss the question," said Diana coldly. "You will take your own way of course, as usual. Come, Pearson,—I do not wish to miss my train."

Pearson gave Beryl a look, full of meaning, and followed her mistress out of the house. Beryl stood still, in utter perplexity. What should she do?

Go to Miss Carmichael, and tell her the truth! That suggestion came to her mind as a real relief. She could depend upon her friend's truth and kindness.

Somewhat slowly Beryl went for her hat, and crossed the road. She had hopes of seeing Miss Carmichael's face in the bow-window, but it was not there. The servant, answering the bell, said,—"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Fordyce, but Miss Carmichael isn't at home."

"Not at home," repeated Beryl.

"No, Miss; she and Miss Wyatt went away yesterday evening to see some friends, and they don't come back till to-morrow."

That settled the matter. Beryl said only, "I am sorry," and turned away, conscious of keen disappointment. She had not liked to invite herself, but a long day with her friends would have been full of delight.

A day alone did not offer to Beryl the enjoyment that it offers to some people. Her mind was by no means to her a kingdom, and she cared little for reading.

Moreover, the sense of being left out in the cold, which had often assailed her as a child, came over her sharply now. She was hurt at Diana's continued anger, after all her careful attentions through weeks past.

"But I haven't been doing it all for Aunt Di's own sake," Beryl murmured, after standing forlornly in the hall for a few minutes. "I have been trying because I wanted to please God, and that ought to be enough. As for Aunt Di, I suppose I do owe her a great deal, and I think she counts all that I can do for her only a paying back. I am not going to be dull and unhappy to-day, just because she has not chosen to take me to London. I am quite sure I should not have been right to betray Pearl's secret; and if Aunt Di is angry with me for doing right, it can't be helped. I just have to be patient."

Mrs. Fenwick's cook, a stout and middle-aged personage, appeared on the scene. "If you please, Miss Beryl, your aunt said you was to spend the day with Miss Carmichael," she said. "And if I knowed when you was agoing—"

"I am not going at all, Maria. Miss Carmichael is away: so I must stay here. I suppose there is a little cold meat that I can have for dinner."

Private plans of Maria's own were plainly disconcerted. Her face clouded over, and she clumped heavily down the kitchen stairs, giving vent to discontented mutterings.

Beryl vigorously determined to have a pleasant time. After all, she found herself in possession of an unexpected holiday, and it was well to make the best of the same. The day was cloudy and dull, with threatenings of rain, but she dressed herself in weather-defying costume, and started on a ramble, which lasted two hours. It would have lasted yet longer, had not a sharp downpour driven her in. She came back, fresh and glowing, having lost sight of all dismal feelings, and the remainder of the morning was taken up with a thorough turn-out of her clothes and orderly arrangements of her drawers.

At half-past one Beryl descended, in a hungry condition, to the rather bare bone of cold mutton which lay on the dining-room table, and which she left the barer. Maria had not seen fit to provide vegetables or pudding, but Beryl found enough to satisfy her hunger, and she was happily of a contented temperament. Luncheon over, she worked for an hour, and then, the rain having ceased, she went off on another ramble.

At half-past four she returned, and saw a railway cab drive away from the door, three minutes before she reached it. Diana back already! Beryl could hardly believe her eyes. She entered with a latchkey, went to the drawing-room, and was face to face with Marian Crosbie.

"How do you do?" And kisses were exchanged quietly, the two being alike habitually sober in manner.

Beryl, in her astonishment, actually forgot at first to miss Pearl.

"I didn't know you were coming to-day," were her words.

"Diana knew," said Marian composedly.

"She did not tell me."

"Di has her own way of doing things. The cook says she has gone to London;—to avoid me, I presume."

"She has only gone just for a day, to see an oculist," said Beryl.

"Only for that! You are sure?"

Beryl considered. "She did not say so this morning, Miss Crosbie,—I remember now. But she has talked lately of going soon, and I thought it was that."

"It may be. She would choose the day—" Marian began and paused. "Diana mentioned a weakness in her eyes some months ago, and I notice that she writes seldom. Is anything seriously wrong with the eyes, Beryl,—or with her health?"

Beryl was embarrassed. "Aunt Di has not been well," she said. "But she would not like me to repeat anything. I think she would be angry at my even mentioning the oculist."

"That is nonsense," said Marian. "I have a right to know, if any one has. Pearl described to us the state Di was in before she left, and called it 'nervous;' but no doubt there was a cause."

"I don't think I must say anything," replied Beryl. "She would be so vexed. Can't you ask Aunt Di herself?"

Marian moved her head assentingly. "You and she get on better now than in old days?"

"Yes, it has been much better, only she is angry with me now, because I could not show her Pearl's letter."

"Could not!"

"Pearl told me I mustn't,—and I thought it would be wrong; but Aunt Di has been vexed ever since."

"Di never knew what it was to have her will crossed in childhood—a miserable training for any human being," said Marian.

Beryl broke out suddenly—"But, Pearl,—Miss Crosbie, why isn't Pearl here?"

"I was surprised that you did not ask sooner. I have a letter for you from her. She will come by and by—not now."

"I thought she was to come with you," said Beryl, looking much disappointed.

"Yes, so matters were arranged,—but there have been changes. Pearl and Escott are engaged."

Beryl stirred suddenly.

"Escott had asked her, and she half refused him, seeming unsettled and uncertain about her own mind. She promised to write him a decisive answer from England. I don't suppose it ever occurred to Pearl as a possibility that Di might not give her a welcome. But Diana has plainly taken offence at something, perhaps at Pearl's remaining so long away. It doesn't much matter what. When people get into a habit of being offended about trifles, anything will do. She wrote a most cold cutting letter to Pearl, and another to me in the same style,—good clear handwriting, both of them, as is generally the case when Di is at white heat. I should not have thought there was much the matter with her eyes judging from those letters. I suppose you know nothing of this."

"No," said Beryl. "Was it after Pearl wrote to me?"

"It was immediately after you and Di knew of our intended return. Di must have written that same night or the next morning, and her letters came a few hours before we meant to start."

"And Pearl changed her mind then?"

"Di's ways are no novelty to me, and I was only more determined than ever to come home; but Pearl nearly broke her heart, cried and clung to Millie, and said she had no home. Millie and Escott did their best to comfort her, and Pearl gave in then and there. I don't know exactly how it came about: only within an hour after the letters arrived, she and Escott were engaged. I wanted her still to return with me, but Pearl said she could never be happy again with Di, and the others would not hear of it. Escott was overjoyed, and Millie is delighted with anything that makes him happy. I hope it is all for the best. He is a dear fellow, wonderfully good and sweet-tempered; but I always think Ivor was her real hero."

Beryl was silent. Her first distinct feeling was of relief that she had burnt Pearl's letter. Every word seemed stamped on her own memory, but nobody else needed ever to know what Pearl had said.

"This is for you," said Marian, taking out an envelope. "When you have read it, I shall be glad of some tea."

Beryl hardly heard the words. She perused the sheet eagerly.

"DEAR BERYL,—I am not coming home with Miss Crosbie after all. I 'can't.' Aunt Di has written such a horrid unkind letter. I don't feel as if I wanted ever to see her again. I shall never believe any more that she loves me. I can't think how she 'could.' But I believe she is tired of me.

"She seems very angry about what she calls you and I 'plotting together.' Such nonsense! I suppose it is because I told you not to show her that letter of mine. Please burn it, Beryl, and never tell anybody what I said.

"I have settled not to come home. I am going to be married to Escott; and I don't think we shall wait long, either. Escott is so very eager that we should not. It will be so nice to call dear Mrs. Cumming 'mother.' There never was anybody like her for kindness and sweetness.

"I don't mind if you show this letter to Aunt Di.

"Miss Crosbie wants me to go home now, and not be married till the spring. But how can I, after that letter? I don't mean to be beholden any more to Aunt Di, if I can help it. And Escott and Mrs. Cumming are both set against the plan. So I think we shall be married here quite quietly. I wish you could come and be my bridesmaid, but I suppose Aunt Di couldn't spare you, and the expense would be too great. She seems to have taken 'you' up at last, instead of me.

"But I have a home now, and I am quite happy.—Believe me, your
affectionate sister,—

"PEARL."