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"Now, lads, you had better get a hand cart, and get these things on board as soon as you can." "Which is the Osprey?" Amy Sinclair asked Bertha, as they took their places in the boat. Bertha looked with a rather puzzled face at the fleet of yachts. "That is," she said, confidently, after a moment's hesitation, pointing to one towards which the boat was at the moment heading.
Bertha, her wealth still new upon her, had no suspicion of the motives of those who addressed her, was deeply flattered by this request, and as Moss made no objection, she consented. The only thing that troubled Moss was her growing tendency to lapse into troubled thought. "Remember, now, you're the crocus, the first violet, or something like that not the last rose of summer.
The old woman crossed the room and stopped before her, raising her weak and watery eyes to the fresh young face of the newcomer. Then she scanned her from head to foot and once again the old eyes returned to the girl's face. Bertha Kircher on her part was not less frank in her survey of the little old woman. It was the latter who spoke first.
A pang of envy that was almost jealousy pierced her heart as she looked at them so young, so vigorous, and so blithe. "I should be sitting with Captain Haney on the porch," she thought, with bitterness. "I am out of place here." The words which passed between Bertha and her cavalier meant little, but their glances meant much. It was, indeed, a fateful ride.
"Yes," said Bertha, calmly, pleasantly, "we have decided that there's no choice. The business is a very good one; it improves from day to day; now that there are two assistants, Mr. Warburton need not work so hard as he used to." "But, my dearest Bertha, you mean to say that you are going to be the wife of a grocer?" "Yes, mother, I really have made up my mind to it.
And often those who did so cannot see them. That will leave a scar upon one which makes not a scratch upon another." "But of what were you thinking, Aunt, if I may know?" "That thou mayest. I fancy, when thou spakest, I was thinking as I very often do about my little Lady." "Now, if Aunt Avice is very good," said Bertha insinuatingly, and with brightened eyes, "that means a story."
The matter was soon arranged, and Mrs. Cross left home. This was a Friday. The next day, sunshine and freedom putting her in holiday mood, Bertha escaped into the country, and had a long ramble like that, a year ago, on which she had encountered Norbert Franks. Sunday morning she spent quietly at home. For the afternoon she had invited a girl friend.
"So late as that!" exclaimed Bertha, and sank into a chair with a faint laugh. "Why, to-day is over," she said. "It is to-morrow." M. Villefort had approached a side table. Upon it lay a peculiar-looking oblong box. "Ah," he said, softly, "they have arrived." "What are they?" Bertha asked. He was bending over the box to open it, and did not turn toward her, as he replied:
His reply almost stunned her. A fortnight previously he had secretly married a Miss Willoughby really a Miss Bertha Crouch, and quite possibly of Crouch End who was appearing in a piece at the Alhambra Theatre, but who had not yet arrived at the dignity of a "speaking part." This young lady, it seemed, had already "landed" Louth in expenses which he didn't know how to meet. What was he to do?
Tell her that my father is reviving." Bertha lost no time in obeying, and was soon sitting by Madeleine's side, receiving rather than giving comfort. Dr. Bayard, whose visits were necessarily brief, was compelled to leave, but he did so with the assurance that he would return speedily.
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