"the weather is hopeless, there's no doubt about that," said lulu tillotson, as she lolled on a sofa in her bedroom, on the afternoon subsequent to the flower show. "what a good thing it was it did not rain like this yesterday; if it had the show would have been an utter failure. oh, dear me, i'm tired of everything—the day, the weather, and myself!"
celia, who was seated in a comfortable wicker chair, with her feet on an ottoman, and a novel on her knee, made no response. she had come to a most entertaining point in her story, and had no desire to be interrupted. her taste for light literature was increasing, fed as it had been by a series of sensational stories during the past fortnight. lulu regarded her with a decidedly discontented expression on her face. she was in the humour for conversation, and seeing her friend was not, she proceeded crossly:
"do you hear what i say, celia? talk, and make yourself agreeable, do! you're not a very cheerful companion for a wet day. do you always consider your own pleasure before other people's?"
celia closed the book, and looked up with a flash of resentment in her eyes. lulu was not very polite to her, considering she was a visitor, she thought; but she refrained from uttering the retort which rose to her lips, and replied pacifically:
"i don't know what you mean, lulu. i'm quite ready to talk. but what's wrong?"
"everything! i feel so ill-tempered and dissatisfied."
"i don't know that you have anything to be dissatisfied about, though. no one can help the weather; we must put up with the rain, and hope it will clear soon."
"oh, it's not the rain that i mind so much," lulu cried, impatiently, "but of course a wet day like this is very depressing. i'm tired of things in general."
celia stared at her companion in amazement. what could lulu mean? had she not everything that heart could wish? and she had only herself to please in all the world, for her father seldom interfered with her pursuits, and was satisfied to let her go her own way.
"don't you ever feel discontented, celia?" lulu inquired.
"yes, sometimes," was the frank response, "when i can't have things i want. before we came to the moat house, that was pretty often."
"father told me your mother was poorly off. you lived in a little house at a—, did you not? i wish you'd tell me about it."
"there's really not much to tell." celia was rather ashamed of the small way in which she and her family had lived, but since lulu evidently knew something of their circumstances, she saw no reason why she should not gratify her curiosity. "it was a poky little place," she admitted, "the dining-room about a quarter of the size of yours, and the drawing-room smaller still. we had no garden worth mentioning, and the house was semi-detached."
"and you only kept one servant?"
"yes—jane. joy writes to her occasionally still, i believe."
"does she? fancy writing to a servant!"
"oh, that's joy all over! she makes friends with all sorts of people; she's so odd. and she doesn't mind in the least what she does. she used to help jane in the kitchen—washing dishes, and so on. and she was always ready to answer the front door bell. joy is very obliging."
"yes, i've noticed that. tell me about the school at a—, where you used to go."
"oh, it was not much of a school! joy had several friends amongst the girls, though, i believe she was sorry to say good-bye to them. for my part, i hope we shall never go back to a—"
"i don't suppose you will," lulu said meaningly. "sir jasper will want to keep you at the moat house, you will see. i shouldn't be surprised if he makes you his heiress. i shouldn't indeed! more unlikely things have happened than that, before now. you remember the story we were reading the other day, about a poor gutter child who was adopted by a rich, old man? i thought of you when i read it. depend upon it, sir jasper would not have given you that beautiful, diamond brooch if he had not some intention of that kind. diamonds are not meant for poor people to wear."
celia had listened silently, her eyes downcast, her face flushing and paling by turns. she had not altogether relished being put on a level with a gutter child.
"sir jasper does not give joy diamonds," lulu proceeded; "he makes a great difference between you and her. i wonder if she minds. do you know, i believe she is happier than either you or i, celia. i've often thought so."
"why? what makes you think that?" celia asked, curiously.
"oh, many things! you know, i saw a good deal of her that time i was at the moat house, when your ankle was sprained; and she and i had several talks together. she was very good to me, considering i'd never taken much notice of her before; i saw she was trying to make my visit pass pleasantly. but oh, how upset she seemed because i had lent you 'lady isabella's treachery!' she gave me quite a lecture about the sin of deception, and i've had a feeling ever since that she has formed a very poor opinion of me. i've no doubt she was right in all she said; but, in spite of that, here am i as devoted to light literature as ever, you see!"
"joy is very particular about—about trifles," celia returned, scarcely knowing whether to take her companion seriously or not.
"i remember i told her i never troubled my head whether things were right or wrong," lulu remarked reflectively, "and she said i should care, and that we ought to live as in god's sight—remembering he sees us. it's an awful thought that, isn't it? and yet, of course it's true. god does see us."
"yes," celia agreed, uneasily.
"i don't know that i ever committed any great sin," lulu proceeded, "but i've done scores of little mean tricks that i shouldn't like to confess to anyone, and i know you have too."
"what do you mean?" celia cried, half in indignation, half in alarm.
"just what i say! i've seen a good bit of you now, and i've found out that you're pretty much like myself. you please yourself whenever you can, and are not above using a little deception to get your own way. what i can't understand is, why you're like that. i think if i'd had a mother, like you, i should be altogether different. i like you very much, celia; we suit each other capitally; but i'm not blind, and i know we're neither of us a patch on joy for goodness, and why sir jasper hasn't found that out i can't imagine."
there was a frankness in this speech which considerably surprised celia. she had thought her friend perfectly satisfied with herself, but the picture lulu had seen fit to draw of them both had shown that not to be the case. what was the cause of her obvious dissatisfaction?
"oh, dear," exclaimed lulu, yawning and stretching lazily, "how idle i feel, to be sure! i wish i had something to do. i wish joy was here with that puppy she's so fond of, then we'd have some fun. i expect she and your brother have good times together, celia?"
celia assented. to amuse her companion, she gave her an account of the doings of the crumleigh cricket club, and the tea which the members had had at the moat house followed by the presentation of the caps.
"and you missed all that fun!" cried lulu. "i expect you are vexed."
"no, i'm not particularly interested in the cricket club," celia rejoined. "i'd far rather be here with you. hark! isn't that your father's voice?"
"yes, he's calling me. i wonder what he wants?" lulu rose from the sofa in a leisurely fashion; but her father calling her again, she ran downstairs and joined him in the hall. in a very short while she returned with all the dissatisfaction gone from her face.
"oh, celia," she cried, "father's going to take us to a concert to-night! a grand affair! he has just told me that he has bought tickets."
"oh, how nice!" celia exclaimed. "how very kind of mr. tillotson!"
"and he wishes us to put on the same frocks we wore at the flower show. he says several people remarked to him how well we looked. you'll wear your butterfly brooch, won't you? think how the diamonds will flash by gaslight."
celia hesitated. she had almost made up her mind not to wear the brooch again; but, when lulu expressed surprise at her indecision, she reconsidered the matter, and finally said she would put it on to please her friend.
"and to please yourself too," lulu retorted, laughingly. "don't pretend you're not vain."
when celia came downstairs dressed for the concert, lulu drew her father's attention to the butterfly brooch, and told him it was a present from sir jasper.
"it is very pretty," he said, looking surprised. "i don't think i've seen you wear it before, have i?" he asked, doubtfully.
"i wore it at the flower show," celia answered, avoiding his glance.
"i did not notice it."
"everyone will notice it to-night, though," remarked lulu, "for see how the stones sparkle by gaslight! i said they would."
"it is a very handsome brooch for a little girl," mr. tillotson said. "i believe sir jasper showed it to me some years ago. did it not belong to his late wife? yes, i thought so. it is a most valuable ornament, let me tell you. i am no judge of diamonds, myself, but i distinctly remember sir jasper telling me these were of the first water, and worth—i really forget the amount he named, but i know it was a lot of money."
celia was shrewd enough to see that mr. tillotson was amazed to find the butterfly brooch in her possession. during the evening she constantly caught his gaze fixed upon the sparkling jewel at her neck, until she longed to take it out, and put it in her pocket as she had done on the previous afternoon at the flower show. would he speak of it to sir jasper? she wondered. the possibility of his ever doing so struck terror to her heart.
it is almost needless to say that celia's guilty conscience would not allow her to enjoy the entertainment; and she found herself wishing that her sister was there in her place. joy was so fond of music that the concert would have been a greatly appreciated treat to her.
many eyes were turned from time to time upon the fair, golden-haired girl who sat between lulu and mr. tillotson, her blue eyes fixed upon the performers. she certainly did not look in the least unhappy, for she smiled when either of her companions addressed her, so that they were utterly unconscious of the misgivings and fears by which she was tortured.
it was all over at last, and celia found herself following mr. tillotson from the crowded concert hall with lulu close behind. she drew a breath of relief when they passed through the doorway into the street, and her spirits began to revive. she was quite determined never on any account to be tempted to wear the butterfly brooch again. it had completely ruined her happiness that evening. how foolish she had been ever to touch it! she had had no right to do so, she had known that at the time she had taken possession of it, though she had tried to stifle her conscience by telling herself that as the ornament would be hers some day, she was therefore doing no harm. when lulu slipped her arm through hers, and discussed the different performers at the concert, celia scarcely heard a word she was saying. her great terror was that mr. tillotson might betray her to sir jasper when next they met by some mention of the butterfly brooch. she recalled mr. tillotson's look of blank amazement when lulu had informed him the trinket had been sir jasper's gift, and felt that there was danger ahead for her.
"oh, why did i ever touch it!" thought the girl despairingly. "i wish i had left it alone. i ought not to have taken it. it was like stealing it, really. oh, i never meant to be a thief!"
"it was a splendid concert, wasn't it?" lulu said, as she and her friend went upstairs together on their return. "joy would have enjoyed it, would she not? i wish she had been there."
"i was wishing that all the time," celia answered; "when i hear good music i always think of joy."
the two girls went into their respective rooms, lulu humming one of the airs she had heard at the concert, whilst celia, her face wearing an unusually sober expression, the moment she was alone raised her hands to her throat for the purpose of unfastening the butterfly brooch, and placing it in safety. what was her horror to feel nothing but the lace which trimmed the neck of her gown! for a moment she stood perfectly still, too terror-stricken to stir; then, pulling herself together, she turned up the gas, rushed to the dressing-table and gazed at her reflection in the mirror with eyes distended with fright and despair. there were no diamonds sparkling at her throat. the butterfly brooch was gone!
