The Testing of Diana Mallory Part 66

As she reached the beautiful old terrace at the back of the house, on which the drawing-room opened, suddenly a figure came flying through the drawing-room window--the figure of a girl in a tumbled muslin dress, with a large hat, and a profusion of feathers and streamers fluttering about her. In her descent upon the terrace she dropped her gloves; stooping to pick them up, she dropped her boa; in her struggle to recapture that, she trod on and tore her dress.

_"d.a.m.n_!" said the young lady, furiously.

And at the voice, the word, the figure, Mrs. Roughsedge stood arrested and open-mouthed, her old woman's bonnet slipping back a little on her gray curls.

The young woman was f.a.n.n.y Merton. She had evidently just arrived, and was in search of Diana. Mrs. Roughsedge thought a moment, and then turned and sadly walked home again. No good interfering now! Poor Diana would have to tackle the situation for herself.

Diana and Mrs. Colwood were on the lawn, surrept.i.tiously at work on clothes for the child in the spinal jacket, who was soon going away to a convalescent home, and had to be rigged out. The gra.s.s was strewn with pieces of printed cotton and flannel, with books and work-baskets. But they were not sitting where Ferrier had looked his last upon the world three weeks before. There, under the tall limes, across the lawn, on that sad and sacred spot, Diana meant in the autumn to plant a group of cypresses (the tree of mourning) "for remembrance."

"f.a.n.n.y!" cried Diana, in amazement, rising from her chair.

At her cousin's voice, f.a.n.n.y halted, a few yards away.

"Well," she said, defiantly, "of course I know you didn't expect to see me!"

Diana had grown very pale. Muriel saw a s.h.i.+ver run through her--the s.h.i.+ver of the victim brought once more into the presence of the torturer.

"I thought you were in London," she stammered, moving forward and holding out her hand mechanically. "Please come and sit down." She cleared a chair of the miscellaneous needlework upon it.

"I want to speak to you very particularly," said f.a.n.n.y. "And it's private!" She looked at Mrs. Colwood, with whom she had exchanged a frosty greeting. Diana made a little imploring sign, and Muriel--unwillingly--moved away toward the house.

"Well, I don't suppose you want to have anything to do with me," said f.a.n.n.y, after a moment, in a sulky voice. "But, after all, you're mother's niece. I'm in a pretty tight fix, and it mightn't be very pleasant for you if things came to the worst."

She had thrown off her hat, and was patting and pulling the numerous puffs and bandeaux, in which her hair was arranged, with a nervous hand.

Diana was aghast at her appearance. The dirty finery of her dress had sunk many degrees in the scale of decency and refinement since February. Her staring brunette color had grown patchy and unhealthy, her eyes had a furtive audacity, her lips a coa.r.s.eness, which might have been always there; but in the winter, youth and high spirits had to some extent disguised them.

"Aren't you soon going home?" asked Diana, looking at her with a troubled brow.

"No, I'm--I'm engaged. I thought you might have known that!" The girl turned fiercely upon her.

"No--I hadn't heard--"

"Well, I don't know where you live all your time!" said f.a.n.n.y, impatiently. "There's heaps of people at Duns...o...b.. know that I've been engaged to Fred Birch for three months. I wasn't going to write to you, of course, because I--well!--I knew you thought I'd been rough on you--about that--you know."

"_Fred Birch!_" Diana's voice was faltering and amazed.

f.a.n.n.y twisted her hat in her hands.

"He's all right," she said, angrily, "if his business hadn't been ruined by a lot of nasty crawling tale-tellers. If people'd only mind their own business! However, there it is--he's ruined--he hasn't got a penny piece--and, of course, he can't marry me, if--well, if somebody don't help us out."

Diana's face changed.

"Do you mean that I should help you out?"

"Well, there's no one else!" said f.a.n.n.y, still, as it seemed, defying something or some one.

"I gave you--a thousand pounds."

"You gave it _mother I_ I got precious little of it. I've had to borrow, lately, from people in the boarding-house. And I can't get any more--there! I'm just broke--stony."

She was still looking straight before her, but her lip trembled.

Diana bent forward impetuously.

"f.a.n.n.y!" she said, laying her hand on her cousin's, "_do_ go home!"

f.a.n.n.y's lip continued to tremble.

"I tell you I'm engaged," she repeated, in a m.u.f.fled voice.

"Don't marry him!" cried Diana, imploringly. "He's not--he's not a good man."

"What do you know about it? He's well enough, though I dare say he's not your sort. He'd be all right if somebody would just lend a hand--help him with the debts, and put him on his feet again. He suits me, anyway.

I'm not so thin-skinned."

Diana stiffened. f.a.n.n.y's manner--as of old--was almost incredible, considered as the manner of one in difficulties asking for help. The sneering insolence of it inevitably provoked the person addressed.

"Have you told Aunt Bertha?" she said, coldly--"asked her consent?"

"Mother? Oh, I've told her I'm engaged. She knows very well that I manage my own business."

Diana withdrew her chair a little.

"When are you going to be married? Are you still with those friends?"

f.a.n.n.y laughed.

"Oh, Lord, no! I fell out with them long ago. They were a wretched lot!

But I found a girl I knew, and we set up together. I've been in a blouse-shop earning thirty s.h.i.+llings a week--there! And if I hadn't, I'd have starved!"

f.a.n.n.y raised her head. Their eyes met: f.a.n.n.y's full of mingled bravado and misery; Diana's suddenly stricken with deep and remorseful distress.

"f.a.n.n.y, I told you to write to me if there was anything wrong! Why didn't you?"

"You hated me!" said f.a.n.n.y, sullenly.

"I didn't!" cried Diana, the tears rising to her eyes. "But--you hurt me so!" Then again she bent forward, laying her hand on her cousin's, speaking fast and low. "f.a.n.n.y, I'm very sorry!--if I'd known you were in trouble I'd have come or written--I thought you were with friends, and I knew the money had been paid. But, f.a.n.n.y, I _implore_ you!--give up Mr.

Birch! n.o.body speaks well of him! You'll be miserable!--you must be!"

"Too late to think of that!" said f.a.n.n.y, doggedly.

Diana looked up in sudden terror. f.a.n.n.y tried to brazen it out. But all the patchy color left her cheeks, and, dropping her head on her hands, she began to sob. Yet even the sobs were angry.

"I can go and drown myself!" she said, pa.s.sionately, "and I suppose I'd better. n.o.body cares whether I do or not! He's made a fool of me--I don't suppose mother'll take me home again. And if he doesn't marry me, I'll kill myself somehow--it don't matter how--before--I've got to!"

Diana had dropped on her knees beside her visitor.

Unconsciously--pitifully--she breathed her cousin's name. f.a.n.n.y looked up. She wrenched herself violently away.