"It wouldn't be I--it would be you. It would
frighten them to think
that you should
absorb his
lordship's young affections."
Bessie Alden, with her clear eyes still overshadowed by her dark brows,
continued to interrogate. "Why should that
frighten them?"
Mrs. Westgate poised her answer with a smile before delivering it.
"Because they think you are not good enough. You are a
charming girl,
beautiful and
amiable,
intelligent and clever, and as bien-elevee
as it is possible to be; but you are not a fit match for Lord Lambeth."
Bessie Alden was
decidedly disgusted. "Where do you get such extraordinary
ideas?" she asked. "You have said some such strange things lately.
My dear Kitty, where do you collect them?"
Kitty was
evidently enamored of her idea. "Yes, it would
put them on pins and needles, and it wouldn't hurt you.
Mr. Beaumont is already most
uneasy; I could soon see that."
The young girl meditated a moment. "Do you mean that they spy upon him--
that they
interfere with him?"
"I don't know what power they have to
interfere, but I know
that a British mama may worry her son's life out."
It has been intimated that, as regards certain dis
agreeable things,
Bessie Alden had a fund of skepticism. She abstained on the present occasion
from expressing disbelief, for she wished not to
irritate her sister.
But she said to herself that Kitty had been misinformed--that this
was a traveler's tale. Though she was a girl of a
lively imagination,
there could in the nature of things be, to her sense, no
reality in
the idea of her belonging to a
vulgarcategory. What she said aloud was,
"I must say that in that case I am very sorry for Lord Lambeth."
Mrs. Westgate, more and more exhilarated by her
scheme, was smiling
at her again. "If I could only believe it was safe!" she exclaimed.
"When you begin to pity him, I, on my side, am afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Of your pitying him too much."
Bessie Alden turned away
impatiently; but at the end of a minute she
turned back. "What if I should pity him too much?" she asked.
Mrs. Westgate hereupon turned away, but after a moment's
reflection she also faced her sister again. "It would come,
after all, to the same thing," she said.
Lord Lambeth came the next day with his trap, and the two ladies,
attended by Willie Woodley, placed themselves under his guidance,
and were conveyed
eastward, through some of the duskier portions
of the
metropolis, to the great turreted donjon which overlooks
the London
shipping. They all descended from their
vehicle and
entered the famous inclosure; and they secured the services of a
venerable beefeater, who, though there were many other claimants for
legendary information, made a fine
exclusive party of them and marched
them through courts and corridors, through armories and prisons.
He delivered his usual peripatetic
discourse, and they stopped and stared,
and peeped and stooped, according to the official admonitions.
Bessie Alden asked the old man in the
crimsondoublet a great
many questions; she thought it a most
fascinating place.
Lord Lambeth was in high good humor; he was
constantly laughing;
he enjoyed what he would have called the lark. Willie Woodley kept
looking at the ceilings and tapping the walls with the knuckle
of a pearl-gray glove; and Mrs. Westgate, asking at frequent
intervals to be allowed to sit down and wait till they came back,
was as frequently informed that they would never come back.
To a great many of Bessie's questions--chiefly on collateral
points of English history--the ancient warder was naturally
unable to reply;
whereupon she always appealed to Lord Lambeth.
But his
lordship was very
ignorant. He declared that he knew nothing
about that sort of thing, and he seemed greatly diverted at being
treated as an authority.
"You can't expect
everyone to know as much as you," he said.
"I should expect you to know a great deal more," declared Bessie Alden.
"Women always know more than men about names and dates
and that sort of thing," Lord Lambeth rejoined.
"There was Lady Jane Grey we have just been
hearing about,
who went in for Latin and Greek and all the
learning of her age."
"YOU have no right to be
ignorant, at all events," said Bessie.
"Why haven't I as good a right as anyone else?"
"Because you have lived in the midst of all these things."
"What things do you mean? Axes, and blocks, and thumbscrews?"
"All these
historical things. You belong to a
historical family."
"Bessie is really too
historical," said Mrs. Westgate,
catching a word of this dialogue.