by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XXIII.
DARK DAYS.
"How bitterly cold it is, Primrose!"
The speaker was Jasmine; she sat huddled up to a small, but brightfire, which burned in the sitting-room grate.
The girls had now been several months in Eden Street, and all thesummer weather and the summer flowers had departed, and the evening inquestion was a very dull and foggy one in late November.
The little sitting-room still wore its rose-tinted paper, but thewhite curtains at the windows had assumed a decided and permanent tintof yellow, and the fog found its way in through the badly-fittingattic windows, and made the whole room look cloudy. The girls' faces,too, had altered with the months. Jasmine had lost a good deal of hervivacity, her expression was slightly fretful, and she no longerlooked the spruce and sparkling little lass who had gone away fromRosebury in the summer. Primrose had lost the faint color which usedto tinge her cheeks; they were now almost too white for beauty, buther eyes were still clear, calm, and sweet; her dress was still theessence of simplicity and neatness, and her bearing was gentle anddignified as of old. The alteration in Daisy was less apparent at thismoment, for she was stretched on two cushions in one corner of thesitting-room, and with a warm rug thrown over her, and with the Pinkcurled up in her arms, was fast asleep.
"How cold it is, Primrose," repeated Jasmine; then, as her sister madeno reply, but went on calmly darning some stockings, she continued, "Ithink you have really grown stingy. Why can't we have some more coal?this is much too small a fire for weather with snow on the ground, anda horrid, odious fog filling every corner."
"Hush!" said Primrose, laying down her work, and stooping towards heryounger sister, who sat on the hearthrug, "I am keeping the coal toput on until Daisy wakes. You know, Jasmine, we resolved not to run upany bills, and I cannot get in any coal until Mr. Danesfield sends usour next quarter's allowance--wrap my fur cloak round you, darling,and then you will be quite warm."
Jasmine shivered, but rising slowly, she went into the bedroom, andreturned in a moment, not with the fur cloak, but with a white woollyshawl. "The day for Mr. Danesfield's money will arrive in less than aweek," she said. "Oh, Primrose! I thought you were going to be a goodmanager; I did not think you were going to bring us to this."
Primrose smiled.
"Jasmine, dear," she said, "you are not quite brave to-night, or youwould not speak to me in that tone. You forget that we should not havebeen short of money had not that five-pound note been stolen from us.When Mr. Danesfield's allowance comes in we shall be able to go on asusual, and then you need not suffer from a short allowance of fire.Jasmine, I know what is the matter with you; you did not eat halfenough dinner to-day. When I was out this afternoon I called to seeMiss Egerton, and she gave me three delicious new-laid eggs--reallynew-laid--we'll have them for supper."
"No, we won't," said Jasmine, her eyes suddenly filling with tears,and her pettish mood changing to a tender and very sad one--"thoseeggs were given for Daisy, and no one else shall eat them. Do youknow, Primrose, that Miss Egerton does not think Daisy at all strong?"
"Oh, she is mistaken," said Primrose. "No one who does not know herthinks Daisy strong; she has a fragile look, but it is only her look.All my courage would go if I thought Daisy were ill--she is not ill;look at her now, what a sweet color she has on her cheeks."
"Miss Egerton says she is like a little sister of her own," continuedJasmine. Then she stopped suddenly. "Oh! Primrose, you are not goingto cry? oh, don't; it would be dreadful if you gave way! No, Primrose,she is not like little Constance Egerton; she is just our own Daisy,who never looks strong, but who is very strong--she shall never becold, and she shall have all the nourishment--you and I don't mind howplainly we live, do we, Queen Rose?"
Primrose had quickly wiped away her sudden tears. She rose to herfeet, and, going up to Jasmine, gave her a hasty kiss.
"We'll remember our good old resolution," she said brightly, "not togrumble, not to fret, not to cry. Ah! here is our dear little birdiewaking from her sleep. Now, Jasmine on with the coals, and let us havea merry blaze while I see to the supper--porridge for you and me, anda nice fresh egg and a cup of warm milk for the Daisy-flower."
"The Pink must have some milk too," said Daisy, as she tumbled lazilyout of her soft nest of cushions; "the Pink isn't half as fat as sheused to be--I can feel all the bones down her spine--I know she wantscream. Oh, Primrose! I had such a darling dream--I thought the Princecame and found us!"
"The Prince, Daisy?"
"Yes; and he had the look of the gentleman we met long, long, long agoat St. Paul's Cathedral! Oh, Primrose, I'm so tired of London!"
"Never mind, darling," answered Primrose; "I'm always telling you youare only seeing the shady side at present. Only wait till Christmascomes, and Mr. Danesfield sends us our money."
"I wrote another poem last night," said Jasmine; "I called it 'TheUses of Adversity.' It was very mournful indeed; it was a sort ofstory in blank verse of people who were cold and hungry, and I mixedup London fogs, and attic rooms, and curtains that were once white,and had now turned yellow, and sloppy streets covered with snow, withthe story. It was really very sad, and I cried a great deal over it. Iam looking out now for a journal which likes melancholy things to sendit to. I have not ventured to submit it to Miss Egerton, for she is sodreadfully severe, and I don't think much of her taste. She will neverpraise anything I do unless it is so simple as to be almost babyish.Now 'The Uses of Adversity' is as far as possible formed on the modelof Milton's 'Paradise Lost'--it is strong, but gloomy. Shall I read itto you after supper, Primrose?"
"If you like, dear," answered Primrose; "but why do you try to writesuch very sad things, Jasmine?"
"Oh, I don't know; they suit me. Primrose, do you know of a very, verymelancholy periodical?"
"Several of the periodicals seem to me rather melancholy," answeredPrimrose; "there is one I sometimes see on Mrs. Dove's table--it iscalled _The Watch_. I glanced at it one day, and I thought it seemedvery morbid."
"Oh, I know," answered Jasmine; "but there is a worse one thanthat--Mrs. Dove showed it to me. Mrs. Dove is very fond of reading,and she told me that she would not give a farthing for any literaturethat could not draw forth the salt and bitter tear; she says themagazine she likes best at present is a new one called _The Downfall_.She says it is very little known, but its melancholy is profound.Shall I send my verses to _The Downfall_, Primrose?"
"If you like, dear; but I don't at all admire the name, and I reallydo not think Mrs. Dove ought to be your guide in such matters,Jasmine."
"Oh, she has very good taste," answered Jasmine; "she says that onlyreal talent is admitted on the staff of _The Downfall_. Of course I'drather write for one of the shilling magazines. Well, if you like,I'll send my poem to one of them first."
Before Primrose could answer Jasmine on this weighty point there camea knock on the sitting-room door, and Mrs. Dove, with her face wrappedup in a thick woollen shawl, entered the room.
"Very sorry to disturb you, young ladies," she said, "but could youoblige me with the loan of three and tenpence-halfpenny. Dove has putin no appearance, and unless I can pay three and tenpence-halfpenny onaccount to the baker he refuses positive to allow me sufficient breadto see Sunday through."
When Mrs. Dove made this request Primrose's face became intenselypale. She was silent for half a minute, then she said--
"I will lend you the money this time, Mrs. Dove, but please don't askme again; you know that at this present moment you owe me very nearlytwo pounds."
"Thank you, my dear Miss Mainwaring," answered Mrs. Dove, in a verysuave voice, as she hastily pocketed poor Primrose's few shillings."You are always obliging, and this, with the other trifle due, shallbe returned the moment Dove comes in--Dove is on a very good piece ofwork just at present, and the money is as safe as safe. Oh, MissJasmine, I have brought you this week's copy of _The Downfall_--theserial in it is really of the most powerful order. I have shed adeluge of tears ov
er it. The lowest person of rank in the pages is amarquess; but the story mostly deals in ducal families. It was aterrible blow to come down to the baker from the duke's ancestralhalls--you read it, Miss Jasmine; you'll be very much overcome."