The d.u.c.h.ess sank feebly back in her chair. She looked me all over.

"Was there ever?" she asked, "I scarcely like to ask, but was there ever any trace of insanity in your family?"

"I have never heard that there was," I replied. "It is certainly not developing in me. I have always been renowned for my common sense, and it is coming well to the fore now."

"My poor child," said the d.u.c.h.ess tenderly. She drew me close to her.

"You are a very ignorant little girl, Westenra," she said, "but I have always taken a deep interest in you. You are young, but you have a good deal in your face--you are not exactly pretty, but you have both intelligence and, what is more important from my point of view, distinction in your bearing. Your father was my dear and personal friend. The man he rescued, at the cost of his own life, was my relation. I have known your mother too since we were both girls, and when she asked me, after your dear father's death, to stand sponsor to his child I could not refuse. But now, what confused rigmarole are you bringing to my ears? When did the first symptoms of this extraordinary craze begin?"

"A fortnight ago," I answered, "when the news came that our money, on which we had been living in great peace and comfort, had suddenly vanished. The investments were not sound, and one of the trustees was responsible. You ought to blame him, and be very angry with him, but please don't blame me. I am only doing the best I can under most adverse circ.u.mstances. If mother and I went to the country we should both die, not, perhaps, of physical starvation, but certainly of that starvation which contracts both the mind and soul. It would not matter at all doing without cream and meat, you know, and----"

"Oh dear," interrupted the d.u.c.h.ess, "I never felt more bewildered in my life. Whatever goes wrong, Westenra, people have to live, and now you speak of doing without the necessaries of life."

"Meat and cream are not necessary to keep one alive," I replied; "but of course you have never known the sort of people who do without them.

I should certainly be hand and glove with them if I went into the country, but in all probability in the boarding-house in Bloomsbury we shall be able to have good meals. Now I must really say good-bye. Try and remember sometimes that I am your G.o.d-daughter ... and that mother loves you very much. Don't _quite_ give us both up--that is, as far as your memory is concerned."

The d.u.c.h.ess bustled to her feet. "I can't make you out a bit," she said. "Your head has gone wrong, that is the long and short of it, but your mother will explain things. Stay to lunch with me, Westenra, and afterwards we will go and have a talk with your mother. I can either send her a telegram or a note."

"Oh, I cannot possibly wait," I replied. "I drove here to-day, but we must give up the carriage at the end of the week, and I have other people to see. I must go immediately to Lady Thesiger. You know what a dear little Yankee she is, and so wise and sensible."

"She is a pretty woman," said the d.u.c.h.ess, frowning slightly, "but she does not dress well. Her clothes don't look as if they grew on her.

Now you have a very lissom figure, dear; it always seems to be alive, but _have_ I heard you aright? You are going to live in apartments.

No; you are going into the country to a labourer's cottage--no, no, it isn't that; you are going to let apartments to people, and they are not to have either cream or meat. They won't stay long, that is one comfort. My poor child, we must get you over this craze. Dr. Paget shall see you. It is impossible that such a mad scheme should be allowed for a moment."

"One thing is certain, she does not take it in, poor darling," I said to myself. "You are very kind, d.u.c.h.ess," I said aloud, "and I love you better than I ever loved you before," and then I kissed her hand again and ran out of the room. The last thing I saw of her round, good-humoured face, was the pallor on her cheeks and the tears in her eyes.

Lady Thesiger lived in a large flat overlooking Kensington Gardens.

She was not up when I called, but I boldly sent my name in; I was told that her ladyship would see me in her bathroom. I found her reclining on a low sofa, while a pretty girl was ma.s.saging her face.

"Is that you, Westenra?" she said; "I am charmed to see you. Take off your hat. That will do, Allison; you can come back in half-an-hour. I want to be dressed in time for lunch."

The young woman withdrew, and Lady Thesiger fixed her languid, heavily-fringed eyes on my face.

"You might shut that window, Westenra," she said, "that is, if you mean to be good-natured. Now what is it? you look quite excited."

"I am out of bondage, that is all," I said. I never treated Jasmine with respect, and she was a power in her way, but she was little older than I, and we had often romped together on rainy days, and had confided our secrets one to the other.

"Out of bondage? Does that mean that you are engaged?"

"Far from it; an engagement would probably be a state of bondage. Now listen, you are going to be awfully shocked, but if you are the good soul I think you are, you ought to help me."

"Oh, I am sure I will do anything; I admire you very much, child. Dear me, Westenra, is that a new way of doing your hair? Let me see. Show me your profile? I am not sure whether I quite like it. Yes, on the whole, I think I do. You have pretty hair, very pretty, but now, confess the truth, you do wave it; all those little curls and tendrils are not natural."

"As I love you, Jasmine, they are," I replied. "But oh, don't waste time now over my personal appearance. What do you think of my physical strength? Am I well made?"

"So-so," answered Lady Thesiger, opening her big dark eyes and gazing at me from top to toe. "I should say you were strong. Your shoulders are just a trifle too broad, and sometimes I think you are a little too tall, but of course I admire you immensely. You ought to make a good marriage; you ought to be a power in society."

"From this hour, Jasmine," I said, "society and I are at daggers drawn. I am going to do that sort of thing which society never forgives."

"Oh, my dear, what?" Lady Thesiger quite roused herself. She forgot her languid att.i.tude, and sat up on her elbow. "Do pa.s.s me that box of Fuller's chocolates," she said. "Come near and help yourself; they are delicious, aren't they?"

I took one of the sweetmeats.

"Now then," said her ladyship, "speak."

"It is this. I must tell you as briefly as possible--mother and I have lost our money."

"Oh, dear," said the little lady, "what a pity that so many people do lose their money--nice people, charming people who want it so much; but if that is all, it is rather fashionable to be poor. I was told so the other day. Some one will adopt you, dear; your mother will go into one of the refined order of almshouses. It is quite the fashion, you know, quite."

"Don't talk nonsense," I said, and all the pride which I had inherited from my father came into my voice. "You may think that mother and I are low down, but we are not low enough to accept charity. We are going to put our shoulders to the wheel; we are going to solve the problem of how the poor live. We will work, for to beg we are ashamed.

In short, Jasmine, this diatribe of mine leads up to the fact that we are going to start a boarding-house. Now you have the truth, Jasmine.

We expect to have charming people to live with us, and to keep a large luxurious house, and to retrieve our lost fortune. Our quondam friends will of course have nothing to do with us, but our real friends will respect us. I have come here this morning to ask you a solemn question. Do you mean in the future to consider Westenra Wickham, the owner of a boarding-house, your friend? If not, say so at once. I want in this case to cut the Gordian knot quickly. Every single friend I have shall be told of mother's and my determination before long; the d.u.c.h.ess knows already."

"The d.u.c.h.ess of Wilmot?" said Lady Thesiger with a sort of gasp. She was sitting up on the sofa; there was a flush on each cheek, and her eyes were very bright. "And what did the d.u.c.h.ess say, Westenra?"

"She thinks I am mad."

"I agree with her. My poor child. Do let me feel your forehead. Are you feverish? Is it influenza, or a real attack of insanity?"

"It is an attack of downright common-sense," I replied. I rose as I spoke. "I have told you, Jasmine," I said, "and now I will leave you to ponder over my tidings. You can be my friend in the future and help me considerably, or you can cut me, just as you please. As to me, I feel intensely pleased and excited. I never felt so full of go and energy in my life. I am going to do that which will prevent mother feeling the pinch of poverty, and I can tell you that such a deed is worth hundreds of 'At Homes' and receptions and flirtations. Why, Jasmine, yesterday I was n.o.body--only a London girl trying to kill time by wasting money; but from this out I am somebody. I am a bread-winner, a labourer in the market. Now, good-bye. You will realise the truth of my words presently. But I won't kiss you, for if you decide to cut me you might be ashamed of it."

CHAPTER III

MY SCHEME

I arrived home early in the afternoon.

"Dear mother," I said, "I had an interview with the d.u.c.h.ess of Wilmot and with Lady Thesiger. After seeing them both, I had not the heart to go on to any more of our friends. I will describe my interview presently, but I must talk on another matter now. Our undertaking will be greatly prospered if our friends will stick to us and help us a little. If, on the other hand, we are not to depend on them, the sooner we know it the better."

"What do you mean?" asked my mother.

"Well, of course, mother dear, we will have our boarding-house. I have thought of the exact sort of house we want. It must be very large and very roomy, and the landlord must be willing to make certain improvements which I will suggest to him. Our boarding-house will be a sort of Utopia in its way, and people who come there will want to come again. We will charge good prices, but we will make our guests very comfortable."

Mother clasped my hand.

"Oh, my dear, dear child," she said. "How little you know about what you are talking. We shall have an empty house; no one will come to us.

Neither you nor I have the faintest idea how to manage. We shall not only lose all the money we have, but we shall be up to our ears in debt. I do wish, Westenra, you would consider that simple little cottage in the country."

"If it must come to our living within our means," I said slowly, "I have not the least doubt that the d.u.c.h.ess of Wilmot would allow me to live with her as a sort of companion and amanuensis, and influence would be brought to bear to get you rooms in Hampton Court; but would you consent, mother darling, would you really consent that I should eat the bread of dependence, and that you should live partly on charity?"

Mother coloured. She had a very delicate colour, and it always made her look remarkably pretty. In her heart of hearts, I really do think she was taken with the idea of Hampton Court. The ladies who lived in those suites of apartments were more or less aristocratic, they were at least all well connected, and she and they might have much in common. It was, in her opinion, rather a distinction than otherwise to live there, but I would have none of it.

"How old are you, mother?" I asked.

"Forty-three," she answered.