by Ellen Wood
“DEAR MADAM, —
“I grieve much to have to inform you that an accident has happened to your nephew Leopold. It being a half-holiday yesterday afternoon (granted, according to annual custom, on the auspicious occasion of Mrs. Keen’s birthday), the young gentlemen had leave accorded them to go into the fields and gather blackberries. Engaged in this (hitherto deemed harmless) recreation, Leopold unfortunately met with a fall. In stretching up to reach a high branch, he lost his balance, and fell from the top of a bank. I fear he may have been pushed, but the boys appear not to be quite clear upon the point. At any rate, he fell in some way with his arm doubled under him, and on examination it proved to be broken.
“Deeply sorry as I am to be obliged to impart to you this sad news, I can yet qualify it in some degree by stating that it is a simple fracture. It was at once set, and the surgeon assures me it will do as well as possible. Mrs. Keen bids me say that she does not think Master Leopold has appeared very strong of late; I have remarked myself that he looks delicate. Master Davenal, I am happy to say, is quite well, and gives us every satisfaction in his studies, in which he takes great pleasure.
“With very kind remembrances from Mrs. Keen to yourself and Miss Sara Davenal, and best compliments from myself, — I remain, dear
Madam, faithfully yours, — JOHN KEEN.
“Miss Davenal.”
Miss Bettina gave the letter to her niece in an excess of vexation. “If that mischievous Dick was not at the bottom of it, I shall wonder!” she exclaimed. “He pushed him off in his roughness. He is rough.”
Sara gathered in the words of the letter in silence, with strained eyes and a beating heart “I’d have every blackberry-tree in the land rooted up, if I had my will,” proceeded Miss Bettina. “Boys are as venturesome as monkeys when their mouths are in question. They don’t care for their clothes or how they get torn; they don’t care for their shirt-fronts or how they get stained; they fight, and quarrel, and climb, and scratch their hands and faces with the thorns, and all for greediness — that they may fill themselves with those rubbishing berries. And now they have caused this mischief! The boy’s arm may be weak for life. Yes, if I had the power, I’d destroy every blackberry-tree that grows. I should think Dr. Keen will interdict ‘ blackberrying ‘ for the future.”
“I wonder how it happened?” said Sara, musingly.
“So do I,” said Miss Bettina, in a tart tone. “One would think the bank was as high as a house. They’d climb up a house, boys would, if they thought they should find blackberries growing upon its roof. Ah, never shall I forget — it has this moment recurred to my mind — Leo’s father coming home in a sorry plight when he was a boy. He went blackberrying. He went without anybody’s knowledge, too, and was absent for hours, and we grew alarmed at home, as was natural, for he was but a little fellow of eight I remember my dear mother feared he had fallen into some pond, but we children thought Johnny had gone after the wild-beast caravan, which had been in the town exhibiting two bears and an elephant He arrived at home at dusk; and I’m sure he looked more fit to belong to a caravan than to a gentleman’s house. His knees were out of his trousers, and his brown-holland blouse was in flounces, and his shirt-frill bad three hanging rents in it, and his hair and face and hands were crimson with the stains, causing my mother to cry out with fear at the first sight of him. To crown all, he had filled his new straw hat with the blackberries, and the juice was dropping through the crown! John does not forget that exploit, I know, to this day. Your grandpapa gave him a sound whipping and sent him to bed supperless; not so much for the plight he had put himself into as for roaming out alone and frightening my dear mother. Johnny was ill for three days afterwards with stomach-ache, from the quantity he had devoured. He remembers blackberrying, I know; and I should think Mr. Leo will, after this.”
“I hope his arm will soon be well!”
“Dr. Keen might have mentioned what surgeon was attending to it! If Mark Cray had remained at Hallingham,” continued Miss Bettina, very sharply — for it was impossible for her to speak of that exit of Mark’s without sharpness—” he might have gone over by rail, and seen that it was being properly — What do you say, Neal?”
Miss Bettina’s interruption was caused by the entrance of Neal. Mrs. Cray’s maid had come round, and was waiting to speak to Miss Sara.
“Let her come in,” said Miss Bettina.
The tone was as sharp a one as that just given to the absent Mark. Caroline’s maid, a remarkably fashionable damsel, did not reign in the favour of Miss Bettina. She came in in obedience to orders; a pink gauze bonnet on the back of her head, and a pair of dirty and very tight straw-coloured gloves strained on her hands. Miss Bettina’s countenance lost none of its severity as she surveyed her.
“What do you want, Long?”
“If you please, mem, my message is to Miss Sara Davenal,” returned Long, pertly, for she did not like Miss Bettina any more than Miss Bettina liked her.
“Tell it, then. Miss Sara Davenal’s there, you see.”
Long fairly turned her back on Miss Bettina as she delivered the message she was charged with. She explained that Mr. Cray’s mother and sisters had arrived unexpectedly the previous night, and the object of her coming round now was, to ask if Miss Sara Davenal would go out with Mrs. Cray senior that morning.
“Arrived last night unexpectedly!” exclaimed Miss Bettina, who had been bending her ear. “How many of them?”
“Four,” replied Long. “Mrs. Cray and three Miss Grays.”
“It’s well the house is large! I should not like to be taken by storm in that way.”
“I suppose I can go, aunt?”
“I suppose you can’t refuse. What’s it for? Where is she going?” —
“Where is Mrs. Cray going, do you know, Long?” asked Sara.
“I believe she’s only going shopping, miss,” answered the girl, who was always civil to Sara. “ I heard her say she must get a bonnet, and other things, before she could appear in London. My mistress has promised to take the young ladies out, and she said perhaps you’d be so good as accompany Mrs. Cray senior, as she does not know London.”
“I don’t think I know it much better than she does,” observed Sara, smiling. “But you can tell Mrs. Cray that I shall be happy to accompany her, and to render her any service that I can. Oh, and, Long, will you tell your mistress that we have received sad news from Dr. Keen,” she resumed, as the maid was turning away. “Poor little Leopold has broken his arm.”
“And that he did it scrambling after blackberries,” indignantly added Miss Bettina.
The maid departed, saying that Mrs. Cray senior would be round in the course of the morning. Sara went up to the drawing-room, and opened her letter-case, which she used sometimes instead of her desk. Her first thought was to write a few words to poor Leo. But ere she began she leaned her aching brow upon her hand; the vision she had seen at the window of Bangalore Tenace, as they drove to Lady Reid’s the previous evening, had left its sting upon her brain.
A slight tap at the door, and Neal came in. He could not but note the weary expression of her face as she looked up at him. He advanced to the table, some papers in his hand, and spoke in a low voice as if what he said was for her ear alone.
“The postman brought another letter, Miss Sara. It was enclosed in this envelope addressed to me by Master Richard. Perhaps you would like to see what he says.”
Neal was really honest in this. Possibly he saw no opportunity to be otherwise. Sara, in some curiosity, took the papers from Neal’s hands. The whole lot was characteristic of Dick. The envelope was addressed “ Mr. Neal, at Miss Davenal’s. Private,” the proper address of their residence being added. On opening it when delivered to him by the postman, Neal had found it to contain a sealed letter for Miss Sara Davenal and a scrap of paper evidently torn from a copy-book for himself. On the latter he read the following lines, and these he now showed to his young mistress.
“Dear Neal, give t
he note to my couzin Sara when nobodys buy and be sure don’t let aunt bett see it or there’ll be a row, R. D.”
“Oh, thank you, Neal,” she said heartily. But as the man left the room and she broke the seal, a half-dread came over her of what it would contain “DEAR SARA, —
“The most horrid catastrofy has hapened, leo’s gone and broke his arm, and I want to tell you how it was done I must tell somebody or I shall burst, leo’s a brave littel chap and kept his mouth shut when old Keen and the docter were asking questions and let him think it was through the blackberys, we had half holliday it was Mrs. Keens berthday and we went after the blackberys, this was yesterday afternoon, and about 6 of us, me and Jones and torn Keen and Halliday and leo and Thomson, if you want to know which of us it was, where separated from the rest and got into one of farmer clupp’s feilds and what should we see but his poney trying to nible at the short grass, we set up a shout, which Halliday stoppt for fear of being heard, and caught him, and then there was a shindy as to which 3 of us should have first ride, for we were affraid thered not be time for the other three if the school came up, and the under master dogskin (thats our name for him hes a sneek) was with them, so to end the dispute we all 6 got on the poney and a stunning gallopp we had only it was rather close to sit, well leo was the hindmost and as he hadnt much beside the tail to sit on he fell off, but he must be a great duff for he had held on all round the feild once, he says it was Jones moved and made him fall and torn Keen says hes sure it was, for Jones who has got the longest legs kept jogging them to make the poney go and he was next to leo and leo held on by him, I was first and guided the poney and in taking the sweep round at the turning leo shot off behind, his arm was doubled under him and a soft duffer of an arm it must be for it took and broke, we didnt know he was gone at first, Jones called out, young Davenal’s off, but we thought nothing and galloped all round the feild again, he was lying there when we got back, and his face was white and we called to him and he never answered so we stopt the poney and went to him, Jones tried to pull him up and leo sereamed, and halliday calls out I’m blest if I dont think hes hurt, leo began saying he hoped he wasnt kill’d, you know what a regular little muff he is, we picked him up at last and when we saw his arm hang down we were frightened above a bit, well we didnt know what was to be done, we carried him into the next feild where the poney wasnt, for fear of anybody suspecting and just as we had laid him by the bank the rest of the fellows came down the lane and saw us and torn keen called out that davenal junior was hurt, with that they came up and Marsh (thats dogskin) looks up at the high bank above leo and sees the blackberys growing atop of it and sings out to leo, I know how this was done, you where on the top of that bank trying to get blackberys beyond your reach and you fell off it, well if you’ll believe me sara we never told the story to say yes, only Jones said says he I’m sure I dont know sir how ever he managed to fall, and Marsh he thought he did fall off the bank and went off to take the news to Keen, and us 6 all thought what a jolly chance it was that we had happened to lay him down by the bank, and none of them ever saw the poney, leo was carried home and Mrs. Keen she came out with a face as white as his, torn how did it happen, says she laying hold of torn, and we got affraid again, for toms uncomon fond of his mother, but he didnt split, and then Keen came and the surjon came and Keen he says to leo how did you fall did any body push you off the bank, no sir says leo, and the surjon he asked how it was done, and leo shook like anything, and began to cry, affraid he should have to tell a story at last which he cant bare, he was shut up in a room then with the doctor and Keen and one or two more and we heard him cry out when they were setting his arm, but you know what a baby he is poor little chap and I wish with all my hart it had been me instead of him, the worst is I should have lost my share of the supper and a jolly good one they give us on her berth-day every year, cakes and tarts and pidjon pies and lots of things and we have to dress for it and a heap of duffing girls come to it in white frocks but we dont mind em much, and dear sara thats the whole facts of how it came about and I couldn’t write it truer if I were telling it to poor Uncle Richard himself, leos all jolly this morning and he is in bed and has got no lessons to do and he says I am to tell you that he’ll never get on a poney with 6 again and Mrs. Keens very kind to him, and Miss Keen (shes the big one you know) is going to read him some storys, he says I am to tell you it doesn’t hurt much and oh sara there’s only one thing we are sorry for, that Uncle Richard isnt alive to cure him because hed have him home to Hallingham to do it and perhaps me as well and I should get a holliday from these horrid books, I shall send this to neal for fear of aunt bett, and mind you hide it, and dont let a sight of it reach her, we are aufully afraid of that about the poney getting to old keens ears for thered be the dickens to pay, yours affectionately “DICK.
“p s leo sends his love and he hopes you wont be angry with him for breaking his arm and I am writing this after school at twelve instead of playing, Good buy.”
Sara smiled, in spite of herself, as she folded up the letter. But she thought it rather a wonder there had not been a few broken legs among the “6,” instead of one broken arm.
She got ready for Mrs. Cray, and went down to the dining-room. Miss Bettina was gone out then. She took up a book, but had not been looking at it many minutes when she saw Neal coming up the street talking to a young person whose condition in life it was rather difficult to guess. In these days of dress it is difficult. She had a pretty face, Sara could see that, though a veil covered it; her gown was one of those called a “washing silk” — and very much “washed out” it seemed to be; and a smart shawl, just flung on the shoulders, trailed on the ground behind. But for this trailing shawl and a sort of general untidiness, there would have been something superior about the girl. In the face she looked like a lady, and Sara had seen many a lady worse dressed.
Sara, behind the blind, could see them, but they could not see her. Neal stood a moment at the door, and then looked down over the railings of the area.
“Are the ladies out?” he asked.
“Yes,” came back for answer in Dorcas’s voice. The woman evidently did not know that Miss Sara had not accompanied her mistress.
“You can come in then,” Sara distinctly heard Neal say to the lady — if lady she was. And he opened the door with his latch-key.
They stood talking in the passage for some little time in an undertone, and then Neal took her into the back room. It opened to the dining-room with folding-doors; but the doors were always kept closed: and indeed the back room was chiefly used as Neal’s pantry. Sara, who at first had been doubtful whether it might not be a visitor to herself, came to the conclusion that it was only a visitor to Neal, and she resumed her reading.
But the voices grew rather louder; and the words “Captain Davenal” caused her to look up with a start. No wonder she should start at that name, remembering the past. A sudden fear came over her that something or other connected with that past was again threatening her brother.
She could not hear more, for the voices dropped again to their covert tone. Another minute, and Neal was conducting the stranger to the front door.
“We shall hear more by the next mail; but there’s not the slightest doubt he’s married,” Sara heard him say as he passed the room. “The lady is an heiress: a Miss Reid.”
“Well,” cried the other voice, “I’ll have satisfaction. I’ll have it somehow. I don’t care what punishment it brings him to, I’ll have it.”
The visitor went away. Neal closed the street-door upon her and turned to behold his young mistress at that of the dining-room, a scared look in her eyes, a white shade upon her face.
“Neal! what has that young” — Sara hesitated between the words person and lady, but chose the former—” person to do with Captain Davenal?”
She had spoken without reflection in her impulse; in her renewed fear, which she had deemed buried with the past. Neal for once in his life was confounded. He did not speak immediat
ely: he was probably striving to recall what had been said, inconvenient for her to hear.
“Tell me at once, Neal; I insist on your speaking,” she reiterated, attributing his hesitation to unwillingness to speak. “Indeed it is better that I should know it. What was she saying about my brother?”
That alarm of some nature had been aroused within her, that she was painfully anxious, and that the alarm and anxiety were connected with Captain Davenal, Neal could not fail to read. But his speech was certainly less ready than usual, for he still kept silence.
“I heard you tell her that Captain Davenal was married; that further news would be in by the next mail,” pursued Sara, growing more inwardly perturbed with every moment “ What was it to her? Who is she? For what purpose did she come here? Neal, can’t you answer me?” and her voice grew quite shrill with its alarm and pain.
“Miss Sara — if I hesitated to answer, it is that I do not like to speak,” he said at length. “I tell the young woman she must be mistaken in what she says — that it can’t be. But she won’t hear me.”
“What is it that she says? Have you seen her before today?”
“She has been here once or twice before. But for understanding that you and my mistress were out I should not have allowed her to come in this time. I am very sorry that it should have happened, miss.”
“But what is it?” returned Sara, nearly wild with suspense. “What has she come for?”
“She has come to ask questions about Captain Davenal.”
“But what about him? What is he to her?”
Neal coughed. He took out his handsome silk handkerchief — he always used very handsome ones — and wiped his mouth. Sara trembled. His manner was unpleasantly mysterious, and it seemed that she was on the verge of hearing something terrible.
“Does she know my brother?”
“She says she does. Miss Sara, I would have given a great deal to prevent this happening to-day. It will only worry you, and I daresay I could still have put her off and kept her quiet.”