CHAPTER IX.
COUSINS.
"Come in," called Beth, answering a knock at her door.
Louise entered, and with a little cry ran forward and caught Beth inher arms, kissing her in greeting.
"You must be my new cousin--Cousin Elizabeth--and I'm awfully glad tosee you at last!" she said, holding the younger girl a little away,that she might examine her carefully.
Beth did not respond to the caress. She eyed her opponent sharply,for she knew well enough, even in that first moment, that they wereengaged in a struggle for supremacy in Aunt Jane's affections, andthat in the battles to come no quarter could be asked or expected.
So they stood at arm's length, facing one another and secretly formingan estimate each of the other's advantages and accomplishments.
"She's pretty enough, but has no style whatever," was Louise'sconclusion. "Neither has she tact nor self-possession, or even aprepossessing manner. She wears her new gown in a dowdy manner and onecan read her face easily. There's little danger in this quarter, I'msure, so I may as well be friends with the poor child."
As for Beth, she saw at once that her "new cousin" was older and moreexperienced in the ways of the world, and therefore liable to provea dangerous antagonist. Slender and graceful of form, attractiveof feature and dainty in manner, Louise must be credited withmany advantages; but against these might be weighed her evidentinsincerity--the volubility and gush that are so often affected tohide one's real nature, and which so shrewd and suspicious a woman asAunt Jane could not fail to readily detect. Altogether, Beth was notgreatly disturbed by her cousin's appearance, and suddenly realizingthat they had been staring at one another rather rudely, she said,pleasantly enough:
"Won't you sit down?"
"Of course; we must get acquainted," replied Louise, gaily, andperched herself cross-legged upon the window-seat, surrounded by amass of cushions.
"I didn't know you were here, until an hour ago," she continued. "Butas soon as Aunt Jane told me I ran to my room, unpacked and settledthe few traps I brought with me, and here I am--prepared for a goodlong chat and to love you just as dearly as you will let me."
"I knew you were coming, but not until this morning," answered Beth,slowly. "Perhaps had I known, I would not have accepted our Aunt'sinvitation."
"Ah! Why not?" enquired the other, as if in wonder.
Beth hesitated.
"Have you known Aunt Jane before today?" she asked.
"No."
"Nor I. The letter asking me to visit her was the first I have everreceived from her. Even my mother, her own sister, does not correspondwith her. I was brought up to hate her very name, as a selfish,miserly old woman. But, since she asked me to visit her, we judged shehad softened and might wish to become friendly, and so I accepted theinvitation. I had no idea you were also invited."
"But why should you resent my being here?" Louise asked, smiling."Surely, two girls will have a better time in this lonely old placethan one could have alone. For my part, I am delighted to find you atElmhurst."
"Thank you," said Beth. "That's a nice thing to say, but I doubt ifit's true. Don't let's beat around the bush. I hate hypocrisy, and ifwe're going to be friends let's be honest with one another from thestart."
"Well?" queried Louise, evidently amused.
"It's plain to me that Aunt Jane has invited us here to choose whichone of us shall inherit her money--and Elmhurst. She's old and feeble,and she hasn't any other relations."
"Oh, yes, she has" corrected Louise.
"You mean Patricia Doyle?"
"Yes."
"What do you know of her?"
"Nothing at all."
"Where does she live?"
"I haven't the faintest idea."
Louise spoke as calmly as if she had not mailed Patricia's defiantletter to Aunt Jane, or discovered her cousin's identity in the littlehair-dresser from Madame Borne's establishment.
"Has Aunt Jane mentioned her?" continued Beth.
"Not in my presence."
"Then we may conclude she's left out of the arrangement," said Beth,calmly. "And, as I said, Aunt Jane is likely to choose one of us tosucceed her at Elmhurst. I hoped I had it all my own way, but it'sevident I was mistaken. You'll fight for your chance and fight mightyhard!"
Louise laughed merrily.
"How funny!" she exclaimed, after a moment during which Beth frownedat her darkly. "Why, my dear cousin, I don't want Aunt Jane's money."
"You don't?"
"Not a penny of it; nor Elmhurst; nor anything you can possibly layclaim to, my dear. My mother and I are amply provided for, and I amonly here to find rest from my social duties and to get acquaintedwith my dead father's sister. That is all."
"Oh!" said Beth, lying back in her chair with a sigh of relief.
"So it was really a splendid idea of yours to be frank with me at ourfirst meeting," continued Louise, cheerfully; "for it has led to yourlearning the truth, and I am sure you will never again grieve me bysuggesting that I wish to supplant you in Aunt Jane's favor. Now tellme something about yourself and your people. Are you poor?"
"Poor as poverty," said Beth, gloomily. "My father teaches music, andmother scolds him continually for not being able to earn enough moneyto keep out of debt."
"Hasn't Aunt Jane helped you?"
"We've never seen a cent of her money, although father has tried attimes to borrow enough to help him out of his difficulties."
"That's strange. She seems like such a dear kindly old lady," saidLouise, musingly.
"I think she's horrid," answered Beth, angrily; "but I mustn't let herknow it. I even kissed her, when she asked me to, and it sent a shiverall down my back."
Louise laughed with genuine amusement.
"You must dissemble, Cousin Elizabeth," she advised, "and teach ouraunt to love you. For my part, I am fond of everyone, and it delightsme to fuss around invalids and assist them. I ought to have been atrained nurse, you know; but of course there's no necessity of myearning a living."
"I suppose not," said Beth. Then, after a thoughtful silence, sheresumed abruptly; "What's to prevent Aunt Jane leaving you herproperty, even if you are rich, and don't need it? You say you like tocare for invalids, and I don't. Suppose Aunt Jane prefers you to me,and wills you all her money?"
"Why, that would be beyond my power to prevent," answered Louise, witha little yawn.
Beth's face grew hard again.
"You're deceiving me," she declared, angrily. "You're trying to makeme think you don't want Elmhurst, when you're as anxious to get it asI am."
"My dear Elizabeth--by the way, that's an awfully long name; what dothey call you, Lizzie, or Bessie, or--"
"They call me Beth," sullenly.
"Then, my dear Beth, let me beg you not to borrow trouble, or to doubtone who wishes to be your friend. Elmhurst would be a perfect boreto me. I wouldn't know what to do with it. I couldn't live in thisout-of-the-way corner of the world, you know."
"But suppose she leaves it to you?" persisted Beth. "You wouldn'trefuse it, I imagine."
Louise seemed to meditate.
"Cousin," she said, at length, "I'll make a bargain with you. I can'trefuse to love and pet Aunt Jane, just because she has money and mysweet cousin Beth is anxious to inherit it. But I'll not interfere inany way with your chances, and I'll promise to sing your praises toour aunt persistently. Furthermore, in case she selects me as herheir, I will agree to transfer half of the estate to you--the halfthat consists of Elmhurst."
"Is there much more?" asked Beth.
"I haven't any list of Aunt Jane's possessions, so I don't know. Butyou shall have Elmhurst, if I get it, because the place would be of nouse to me."
"It's a magnificent estate," said Beth, looking at her cousindoubtfully.
"It shall be yours, dear, whatever Aunt Jane decides. See, this is acompact, and I'll seal it with a kiss."
She sprang up and, kneeling beside Beth, kissed her fervently.
"Now shall we
be friends?" she asked, lightly. "Now will you abandonall those naughty suspicions and let me love you?"
Beth hesitated. The suggestion seemed preposterous. Such generositysavored of play acting, and Louise's manner was too airy to begenuine. Somehow she felt that she was being laughed at by thisslender, graceful girl, who was scarcely older than herself; but shewas too unsophisticated to know how to resent it. Louise insisted uponwarding off her enmity, or at least establishing a truce, and Beth,however suspicious and ungracious, could find no way of rejecting theovertures.
"Were I in your place," she said, "I would never promise to give up apenny of the inheritance. If I win it, I shall keep it all."
"To be sure. I should want you to, my dear."
"Then, since we have no cause to quarrel, we may as well becomefriends," continued Beth, her features relaxing a little their setexpression.
Louise laughed again, ignoring the other's brusqueness, and was soonchatting away pleasantly upon other subjects and striving to draw Bethout of her natural reserve.
The younger girl had no power to resist such fascinations. Louiseknew the big world, and talked of it with charming naivete, andBeth listened rapturously. Such a girl friend it had never been herprivilege to have before, and when her suspicions were forgotten shebecame fairly responsive, and brightened wonderfully.
They dressed in time for dinner, and met Aunt Jane and Silas Watson,the lawyer, in the great drawing-room. The old gentleman was veryattentive and courteous during the stately dinner, and did much torelieve the girls' embarrassment. Louise, indeed, seemed quite at homein her new surroundings, and chatted most vivaciously during the meal;but Aunt Jane was strangely silent, and Beth had little to say andseemed awkward and ill at ease.
The old lady retired to her own room shortly after dinner, andpresently sent a servant to request Mr. Watson to join her.
"Silas," she said, when he entered, "what do you think of my nieces?"
"They are very charming girls," he answered, "although they are atan age when few girls show to good advantage. Why did you not inviteKenneth to dinner, Jane?"
"The boy?"
"Yes. They would be more at ease in the society of a young gentlemanmore nearly their own age."
"Kenneth is a bear. He is constantly saying disagreeable things. Inother words, he is not gentlemanly, and the girls shall have nothingto do with him."
"Very well," said the lawyer, quietly.
"Which of my nieces do you prefer?" asked the old lady, after a pause.
"I cannot say, on so short an acquaintance," he answered, withgravity. "Which do you prefer, Jane?"
"They are equally unsatisfactory," she answered. "I cannot imagineElmhurst belonging to either, Silas." Then she added, with an abruptchange of manner: "You must go to New York for me, at once."
"Tonight?"
"No; tomorrow morning. I must see that other niece--the one who defiesme and refuses to answer my second letter."
"Patricia Doyle?"
"Yes. Find her and argue with her. Tell her I am a crabbed old womanwith a whim to know her, and that I shall not die happy unless shecomes to Elmhurst. Bribe her, threaten her--kidnap her if necessary,Silas; but get her to Elmhurst as quickly as possible."
"I'll do my best, Jane. But why are you so anxious?"
"My time is drawing near, old friend," she replied, less harshly thanusual, "and this matter of my will lies heavily on my conscience. Whatif I should die tonight?"
He did not answer.
"There would be a dozen heirs to fight for my money, and dear oldElmhurst would be sold to strangers," she resumed, with bitterness."But I don't mean to cross over just yet, Silas, even if one limb isdead already. I shall hang on until I get this matter settled, and Ican't settle it properly without seeing all three of my nieces. One ofthese is too hard, and the other too soft. I'll see what Patricia islike."
"She may prove even more undesirable," said the lawyer.
"In that case, I'll pack her back again and choose between these two.But you must fetch her, Silas, that I may know just what I am doing.And you must fetch her at once!"
"I'll do the best I can, Jane," repeated the old lawyer.