CHAPTER XI.
A PARCEL AND A FRIGHT.
"She ran with wild speed, she rushed in at the door,
She gazed in her terror around."
--SOUTHEY.
But Beata could not look forward to it now. The pleasure seemed to
have gone out of everything.
"Nobody loves me now, and nobody trusts me," she said sadly to
herself. "And I don't know why it is. I can't think of anything I have
done to change them all."
Her letter to her mother was already written and sent before the
answer came from Martha. Bee had hurried it a little at the end
because she wanted to have an excuse to herself for not telling her
mother how unhappy she was about the loss of the necklace.
"If an answer comes from Martha that Fixie had taken it away or put it
somewhere, it will be all right again and I shall be quite happy, and
then it would have been a pity to write unhappily to poor mother, so
far away," she said to herself. And when Martha's letter came and all
was not right again, she felt glad that she could not write for
another fortnight, and that perhaps by that time she would know better
what to say, or that "somehow" things would have grown happier again.
For she had promised, "faithfully" promised her mother to tell her
truly all that happened, and that if by any chance she was unhappy
about anything that she could not speak easily about to Mrs.
Vincent,--though Bee's mother had little thought such a thing
likely,--she would still write all about it to her own mother.
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