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Updated: June 23, 2025
Now, here come the best-lookin' young ladies and young gentleman we have set eyes on yet." And then Mrs. Day's own daughters, with Franky clinging to Deleah's arm, would be seen to approach. "We think so, don't we, Emily? It's because they're our own, you know," the mistress would say, with her deprecating smile. "It's because they're ours, that they seem to look so nice."
I will help you to write the letter," Deleah promised. They wrote it between them, after Bessie had gone to bed, whither she quickly repaired upon their return. The composition was mostly Deleah's, and when finished it ran "I did not feel equal to an interview with you, and I am sure you will excuse my having failed to keep the appointment.
Black ribbons instead of blue run in the lace of the bodices. Deleah's skirt would be short, but who would see that if Deleah were sitting down? Deleah drooped as she listened, leaving the tea in her cup and the bread-and-butter untouched on her plate. "Elbows off the table, Deda," Franky reminded her, who was frequently commanded to remove his own. Deleah took no heed.
To Miss Forcus, who, in spite of the advantages of education, loved the wrong things consistently in music, and liked to be moved to tears by the plaintive songs of Claribel, it was a great pleasure to lie back in her chair, book or embroidery fallen to the floor, and watch Deleah's fingers tripping through the variations of Brinsley Richards's masterpieces; to hear her tunefully lamenting that "she could not sing the old songs," or in cheerfuller mood announcing that she might "marry the Laird" if she would "the Laird of high degree."
Lovely bunches of violets 'for Miss Deleah. Miss Deleah's name done in printing characters, so that no one should discover by the handwriting. Then we went on to a basket of sweets sweets of my very most particular kind, such as none of us can afford any longer to look at. Oh, my mouth waters to think of them even now! No, I didn't ask for any more water in my glass, thank you, Mr. Gibbon."
Franky, having pulled his mother's face down to his own, was whispering, "What is it, mama? What is the matter with Bessie, now? Does she feel sick?" To feel sick was Franky's idea of the greatest earthly misery. Having wiped her eyes on Deleah's handkerchief Bessie rolled it into a ball and flung it across the table, with greater force of will than directness of aim, at Bernard's face.
A police officer brought me a message from him from the station-house last night." She let go his arms, and sank into her chair again; and Franky, who could find no comfort in Deleah's embrace, left her, and still screaming his terrified "Papa! papa! papa!" flew to hang upon his mother's neck. Deleah crept round to Bernard. "Oh, Bernard, what can we do?" she said. "What ought we to do?"
'Let us do our best for the public while it pays reasonable prices, he says, 'and when it won't, let us do the public." "All that is so low, Mr. Gibbon." "But it's business, Miss Bessie. Business is low." "Oh, don't let us talk about it now," Deleah pleads. "Deleah has a secret. She's dying to tell us all," Deleah's mother said. "It's something Deleah's been up to!" "No, Bess. Calm yourself.
You may not think so to-day, but you may take my word for it that you will come to think so." He clasped her hand reassuringly for a moment; then she went. The letter from Sir Francis Forcus had been on Deleah's breakfast plate. The family had the bad habit of expecting to see each other's letters. They all knew who it was who had written, and what he had asked.
She gave no thought to the man to whom she was going, nor to the words she would say to him. The difficulty of asking such a favour of such a stranger did not distress her. Her father her father her father! was her only thought. Deleah's Errand
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