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The lines graven by habitual fretfulness and sourness of temper, by long-indulged vices of the feminine will, could not of course be obliterated, but her complexion had a healthier tone, her eyes were brighter, and the smile with which she answered Bertha's welcome expressed a more spontaneous kindliness than had appeared on her face for many a year.
Bertha's face was pale and her eyes darkly luminous as she falteringly answered. "I'd like to but Perhaps I can some time. I'm much obliged," and then she gave him her hand in parting. Mrs. Congdon was subtly moved by something in the girl's face as she said good-night, and to her invitation to come and see her cordially responded: "I certainly shall do so." Little Mrs.
There was a book lying near which she was reading. He picked it up, and was just turning away when a scrap of thin paper scribbled over in Bertha's well-known hand arrested his eye. Before he meant to do so he found that he had read a sentence on this paper.
Trees grew close to the waterfall, and bent over it as though to hide it from curious eyes. It was a pretty spot. "Let us sit down at the foot of this cascade," said Bertha's father, "It is a pleasant place to rest." Every one liked the plan. Bertha nestled close to her father's side. "Tell us a story. Please do," she said. "Ask neighbour Abel. He knows many a legend of just such places as this.
I laughed as I read this, but when on the next line I saw from the date of her entrance to the level that Bertha's thirty days was in reality nearly three years, my mirth turned to anger. I looked down the list of entries and found that for some time she had been cashing each month the maximum figure of a thousand marks.
"I have heard wonderful stories about your learning. Then I hope you will talk to Mr. Stocks, for I am afraid he is shocked at Bertha's frivolity. He asked her if she was in favour of the Prisons Regulation Bill, and she was very rude."
He was inclined to be governed entirely by Bertha's predilection, to leave the affair wholly to her, throwing off the trouble with the responsibility. He could have no objection to see her affianced to the Duke de Montauban, he would have had none to her union with Maurice de Gramont.
While he was worrying over this, and over her, his little wife was merely shielding a secret belonging to Edward Plummer, Bertha's brother, who had just come back, after many year's absence in the golden South Americas. So unaccustomed was Dot to keeping a secret that it caused her to act very strangely, and give her husband reason to misjudge her, which almost broke her loving little heart.
She was too proud and obstinate to succumb and eat anything, although the cravings of her healthful appetite were making themselves keenly felt, and so the tempting breakfast was removed. When the servant finally disappeared, after brushing up and putting the room in order, Bertha's passion broke all bounds. She threw herself prone upon the floor, and began to cry and sob violently.
His delicacy, his sympathy for her, was made apparent by the unusual hesitation of his speech, and she would have broken down completely had not Julia Moss called out: "Joe, turn on the lights it's getting dark." Conscious of Bertha's emotion, he did not immediately do as he was bidden. "I wish you'd talk this over with Julia," he ended gently; "she's a very wise little woman."
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