Blanche: A Story for Girls

by Mrs. Molesworth

see you,"he wrote. "She is back in London, but we have been in great anxietylately. She wants to tell you about it herself. Do come as soon as youcan."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN.

  SOMETHING IMPORTANT.

  The very next afternoon found Mr Dunstan standing at the door of theMarths' house in London.

  "Is Lady Hebe at home?" he inquired at once when it was opened, glancingup with some anxiety as he asked the question.

  But nothing was to be learned from the man-servant's impassive face,though--yes, it was surely unusually grave, for Archie was no strangerto him.

  Her ladyship was at home, he replied, and expecting Mr Dunstan. ForArchie had telegraphed that he would call at a certain hour.

  Then he was ushered up-stairs to Hebe's own little sitting-room, wheremany a happy half-hour had been spent by the circle of young "oldfriends."

  "Well, Hebe," he said, as the door closed behind him, "here I am. Ionly got Norman's letter yesterday afternoon, for I have been out oftown for a few days. What an age it is since I have seen you!"

  He had hardly as yet noticed her face, for the room was very dark; butas she came forward, holding out her hand, he almost started. She wasunusually pale.

  "You've not been ill, have you?" he said. "Its surely not that that hasbeen the matter?"

  "Then Norman did tell you something was the matter?" were her firstwords. "No, I have not been ill, at least not exactly. But, sit down,Archie, dear; I've a good deal to tell you."

  The young man drew a chair near her--she sat with her head to thelight--with a feeling of increasing uneasiness.

  "You make me feel quite frightened, Hebe," he said. "What is thismysterious trouble?"

  To his distress Hebe--happy Hebe--gave a little gasp that was almostlike a sob.

  "Archie," she said, "it is a very great trouble that has come upon me,or rather upon us, for I am sure it is quite as bad or worse for Norman.Do you know there have been, there still are, grave fears that I amgoing blind? That is what I have been at Coblenz for. You know thereis a very great oculist there."

  Archie's bright, sunburnt face had paled visibly.

  "Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "My poor child--my dear little Hebe. It_can't_ be true; those specialists are always alarmists as well."

  "No," she said. "I will tell you all about it, for I quite understand.They've not hidden anything from me. My guardian has been _very_ kind,and Josephine--I did not think there was so much tenderness in her. Itis not hopeless. It has come on gradually. But till this summer I didnot realise it at all; I have always been so strong and well, you know,in every way. Then the glare and the heat of London seemed to make itworse suddenly. I began to think it must be something more serious thanshort-sightedness."

  "You _never_ were short-sighted," Archie interrupted. "You had splendidsight."

  And indeed, as he looked at her eyes now, deep and lustrous, but with asadness in their brown depths which he had never seen there before, itwas difficult to believe that there could be anything wrong.

  "Yes," she agreed; "but for some time I have not seen so well, and I gotin the way of thinking I must be short-sighted. But this summer painbegan, very bad sometimes, and then we consulted our doctor, and he sentme to Coblenz."

  "And the opinion you got there was?--"

  "I will tell you exactly," said Hebe, "for I know you care."

  And she gave him a rapid _resume_ of the whole. It had ended in anoperation being decided upon, in the anticipation of which she wasalready under a course of treatment.

  "We are going back to Germany in a fortnight," she said. "It is to bein about a month or six weeks from now. The Marths can't stay with meall the time, but when Josephine leaves, Aunt Grace will come; and ifall goes well--or, indeed, in any case--I hope to be back at EastModdersham some time in October. But what I wanted to see _you_ about.Archie, was to ask you to look after Norman. He is so miserable, and itis much better for us not to be together. It breaks my heart to seehim, and he says it breaks his heart to see me."

  "What can I do?" said Archie.

  "I thought," said Hebe, with some hesitation--"I thought perhaps, if itdidn't interfere too much with your own plans, you might propose takinghim off to Norway, or something like that."

  Archie did not at once reply.

  "You are such very old friends, you know," said Hebe. "I wouldn't asksuch a thing only for my own sake."

  There was just a touch of hurt feeling in her tone. She had been sosure of the heartiest response from him. She was changed--her happy,almost childlike confidence seemed to have deserted her, and as Archieglanced up at her pale face, he felt disgusted with himself for his evenmomentary hesitation.

  "My dear Hebe," he exclaimed, "as if I wouldn't do far more than that,for you as well as for Norman! I was just considering if I couldexplain everything to you! But I can't just yet. Of course you maycount upon me for Norway. I will set about it at once, and plan it sothat Norman shall not in the least suspect that you had suggested it."

  "Oh, thank you," said Hebe, in a tone of great relief.

  "Let's see," Archie went on. "We might start in ten days or so, andyou'd like me to keep him away till after--"

  "Yes," said Hebe calmly, "till after the operation. That is to say,till its result can be known. I am not afraid of the operation itself--nowadays those things are managed painlessly--but it is the afterwards.Oh Archie, I mustn't cry, they say it is so bad for my eyes; but if I amgoing to be blind, I _can't_ marry Norman. He's so young and full oflife, it would be terrible for him to be tied to--"

  She drove the tears back bravely, but it was all Archie himself could doto reply cheerfully.

  "He would never give you up, I feel convinced," he said. "But I amquite certain that what we have all got to do just now is to be hopeful.I will see you again soon, Hebe, when I've got things into shape alittle. Trust it all to me. I must go back to--the country againto-night, for a day or two."

  He rose as if preparing to go.

  "Where are you staying?" said Hebe--"at Saint Bartram's?"

  "N-no, I'm at Alderwood," he replied. "I had some things to see toabout there."

  Hebe's brown eyes looked at him curiously.

  "At Alderwood," she repeated. "Oh, by-the-bye," and she sighed, "I amso sorry never to have replied to a letter I had from Blanche Derwent.It was a private letter, and I have not been allowed to write at all."

  "Yes," said Archie coolly, "I know about it. She told me."

  "You know all about their troubles, then--their loss of money?" askedHebe, with some surprise.

  "Yes, I heard it when I went down there. And then I saw them. Theyhave left Pinnerton; they are living at Blissmore. They--no, I hatetalking about it--they've actually joined that funny old milliner there;they are working for their daily bread."

  Hebe gasped.

  "Is it so bad as that?" she said. "But how splendid of them, how brave,and oh how horrid I must have seemed! Oh Archie, could you explainabout me if you see them again? I can't write myself, and there isreally no one I can ask to do so, especially now, after what you've toldme."

  "Certainly I can do so," replied Archie briskly. "Nothing can beeasier. I will make a point of seeing Miss Derwent as soon aspossible."

  "Thank you very much," said Hebe, but some amount of reservation creptinto her tone; something in Archie's voice and manner struck her, andrevived her former misgivings.

  "It was thoughtless of me to propose it," she said to herself."Archie," she began again, "I--"

  "No," interrupted Mr Dunstan, with some impatience. "Don't ask meanything, Hebe, for if you do, I can't answer. You blamed me beforeundeservedly, and I deserve it still less now."

  His words startled Hebe still more. She looked very grave.

  "I didn't blame you, Archie," she said. "I only wanted you to becareful. You have always treated some things so lightly, it makes itdifficult to believe you could be in earnest. And in this case--underthe circumst
ances"--She did not like to say what was in her mind--thatserious attentions on the part of the rich and much-made-of ArchieDunstan to Blanche Derwent, however charming personally, would appear inthe eyes of the world highly improbable. Doubly so considering thechange in the latter's position. "I mean," she went on hesitatingly,"you must be very careful."

  Archie smiled at this somewhat lame conclusion to her warning.

  "You may trust me, dear Hebe," he said, as