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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78471-0.txt b/78471-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9636e3a --- /dev/null +++ b/78471-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10493 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78471 *** + +Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. + + + +[Illustration: Mr. Crosbie dropped into his arm-chair + with a grunt of discomfort. _Frontispiece._] + + + + BERYL AND PEARL. + + + BY + + AGNES GIBERNE + + AUTHOR OF "MISS CON," "ENID'S SILVER BOND," "KATHLEEN," + "DECIMA'S PROMISE." + + + "Mine be the reverent listening love + That waits all day on Thee, + With the service of a watchful heart + Which no one else can see— + The faith that, in a hidden way + No other eye may know, + Finds all its daily work prepared, + And loves to have it so." + A. L. WARING. + + + FOURTH EDITION + + + + London + JAMES NISBET & CO., LIMITED + 21 BERNERS STREET + + + + Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. + At the Ballantyne Press + + + + CONTENTS. + + [Illustration] + +CHAP. + + I. THREE SISTERS + + II. THE FORDYCES + + III. PLANS FOR THE FUTURE + + IV. DIANA'S NEW PET + + V. MR. CROSBIE'S GRIEVANCES + + VI. ABOUT THE VASE + + VII. SCHOOL LIFE OVER + + VIII. MILLICENT'S "BOYS" + + IX. WHAT BERYL HAD TURNED OUT + + X. MEETING AGAIN + + XI. CONFIRMATION + + XII. IN THE WOODS + + XIII. UNEASINESS + + XIV. ILL TIDINGS + + XV. OVER THE WAY + + XVI. PLAIN, YET BEAUTIFUL + + XVII. THE WORST + + XVIII. WHETHER OR NO + + XIX. VARIETIES + + XX. A HAPPY NEST + + XXI. BRIGHT HOURS + + XXII. DISAPPOINTMENT + + XXIII. A PERPLEXING CONDITION + + XXIV. DIANA'S TROUBLE + + XXV. EXPLANATION + + XXVI. IN THE MOUNTAINS + + XXVII. LIFE-TRAINING + + XXVIII. PEARL'S LETTER + + XXIX. A LONELY DAY + + XXX. WRONG ON BOTH SIDES + + XXXI. WHICH WAY TO TURN? + + XXXII. A DECISION + + XXXIII. TOGETHER AGAIN + + XXXIV. PAST AND FUTURE + + XXXV. DIANA'S RETURN + + + + BERYL AND PEARL. + + [Illustration] + +CHAPTER I. + +_THREE SISTERS._ + +"MILLICENT! My dear! Hey—I say! Millicent! Milli-'cent!'" + +The last syllable rose to a shout. Mr. Josiah Crosbie, a +ruddy-complexioned old gentleman, benevolent as to his head, gouty +as to his feet, and impatient as to his manners, paused thereafter, +and listened. No response came. Evidently unaccustomed to wait other +people's convenience, he made his way with some difficulty to the study +door, brought down his stick with a sounding rap, and sent forth a +stentorian summons,— + +"Millicent! I say Milli-'cent!'" + +"I am coming, uncle." + +The silver voice was not raised or hurried. + +A lady entered by the back garden door, and crossed the hall to his +side, with the question, "Did you want anything?" + +"Of course I did. I shouldn't have called you otherwise," said the old +gentleman testily, as he hobbled back. + +Millicent followed him, and stood awaiting his pleasure. She was +young-looking still, with a pale complexion, features of faultless +regularity, and almond-shaped brown eyes, below pencilled brows. It was +a Madonna-like face, in calmness and purity, albeit certain lines and +shadows told of tempests past. Her slight figure was clothed in some +soft black material, closely fitting, plainly made, and graceful in its +fall; and her hair was brushed smoothly back under a widow's cap. No +one could induce Millicent Cumming to discard this cap; yet, though in +age only thirty-two, she was a ten years' widow. + +Mr. Crosbie dropped into his arm-chair, with, a grunt of discomfort, +possibly also of annoyance. The sunshine of a lovely spring day showed +through the window, but he had been shivering all the morning over a +blazing fire. + +"You don't mean to say you have been guilty of the folly of going into +the garden without your bonnet," said Mr. Crosbie. + +"I did not mean to say anything about it," she answered, with a smile. + +"Keen east wind,—and your chest,—enough to lay you by for a month! +Folly!" repeated Mr. Crosbie, who was rather given to the use of strong +expressions. "But of course my opinion is worth nothing in the matter. +I thought you were a sensible woman. What were you doing out there?" + +"Only seeing Ivor and Escott off to school." + +"As if they were not big enough to see themselves off! You just spoil +those boys out and out, Millicent! It will be the ruination of them. I +believe you think of nothing else from morning till night." + +"Of my boys and you,—yes. Is it not natural?" + +Millicent's gentle face was irresistible, and Mr. Crosbie looked +mollified. "Well, well!—There, there!—You are a good girl, Millie." He +often called his nieces "girls," though two were widows, and the other +had reached the questionable age for spinsterhood of eight-and-twenty. + +Millicent smiled at the term, but let it pass. + +"You are a good girl," he repeated, "but you should be at hand when I +call, my dear,—you should take care to be at hand. And mind, it won't +pay to spoil those boys of yours. They are fine fellows, but mothers +shouldn't be slaves to their children." + +"I don't think they are spoilt yet," she said, with a gleam of motherly +pride. + +"Well, well, don't do it, that's all. They are nice lads, so +far,—promising on the whole,—but thirteen is an awkward age. +Fourteen,—dear me, I forgot. It's an awkward age, Millie, just the age +when boys begin to think too much of themselves. But now, what I wanted +you for, was this letter from Di. Can't make head or tail of it, and +that's a fact. Di has no business to write letters, if she can't say +her say in plain English. Read it, Millie, read it, and tell me, if you +can, what she means. Why on earth doesn't she come and see me, and ask +what she wants to know? I shouldn't think ten minutes' walk so much +more trouble than four sheets of writing. And what's all this fuss and +rubbish about not saying anything to Marian? Why isn't Marian to know? +'I' can't make it out at all, my dear: so I hope you'll be able." + +Millicent was patiently endeavouring to decipher the illegible scrawl, +while listening to her uncle's remarks. + +"Hey!" he said, after a brief pause. "Found any sense in it, Millie?" + +Mrs. Cumming put down the sheet. "I saw Di this morning for a minute, +and she told me she was anxious to consult you." + +"To consult me! Eh, indeed! What about? What about?" + +"About those poor children, the little Fordyces. She has heard again +from Mr. Bishop—" + +"Bishop! Bishop! Who's he?" + +"The clergyman of the place where they have been living. Di has +heard from him again, and he speaks of them as quite friendless and +destitute." + +"Why didn't their own parents provide for them, I should like to know. +Tell me that, Millie." + +"I believe the father was a man of very small means, and they have been +some years orphans, living with their aunt. Most of her income seems to +have consisted of a life annuity, and whatever else she possessed goes +to a distant relative. Mr. Bishop is in great perplexity to know what +can be done with the little girls." + +"I'm not going to have them here," said Mr. Crosbie resolutely. "Two +boys are enough. I won't have my house turned into an orphanage. I +hate children swarming about everywhere, like bees in a hive. You +understand, Millicent! I wouldn't consent under any consideration. +That's flat." + +"No one thought of such a thing," Millicent answered serenely, as +the old gentleman bit the head of his stick with an indignant air. +"The Fordyces are no connections of yours, uncle. Of course they can +scarcely be said to have a positive claim upon even Diana; still she +seems to be the nearest relative that they possess." + +"No relative at all. It's a mere pretence. Let them go to the +workhouse," said Mr. Crosbie, showing a severity greatly at variance +with his real tenderness of heart. + +Millicent knew what all this was worth, for he would have been the +first to cry out against such an arrangement; but she only said— + +"Poor children! I should not like the workhouse for my boys." + +"'Your' boys!! But I tell you, the little brats are not related to +Diana." + +"No; only she seems to feel that if her husband were living, he would +feel bound to do something." + +"Frank Fenwick would have felt bound to do nothing that his spoilt pet +of a wife didn't wish. Besides, he 'isn't' living. And Di will marry +again." + +"She says not." + +"Absurd." + +Millicent was silent. + +"Absurd," repeated Mr. Crosbie. "Married for nine months to a man old +enough to be her father, and left a widow at twenty-one! Why, she has +life before her. She's but a chicken still." + +Silence still on Millicent's part. Mr. Crosbie reflected for the space +of twenty seconds. + +"Well," he burst out, "and what does Di want to do? Adopt the children?" + +"That is her idea." + +"She'll sicken of the sight of them in a week." + +Mrs. Cumming had nothing to say to this. Probably she would have +controverted the idea had she been able. + +"Di's conscientiousness isn't always in so active a state. There's +something else at the bottom. Is she afraid of what might be said of +her? Or does she want to enact a pretty tableau? Mrs. Fenwick going +about with two elegant protégés under her wing! Pshaw!" + +Millicent Cumming could not control a smile. + +"Ay, that's it, eh? Absurd, Millie. Why doesn't she get them into an +orphanage, and be content to pay so much towards their keep?" + +"Di does not think she could afford that. She has not always command of +ready money." + +"And this plan is to cost less than the other, hey?" + +"Di is not very good at money calculations, uncle." + +"And why, pray, is Marian to know nothing of the scheme? Why is Marian +to be kept in the dark? The bother of the whole will rest on Marian's +shoulders. Di will just make a plaything of the children till she is +tired, and then toss them into Marian's keeping." + +"Don't you think the interest and occupation would be good for Di?" + +"No, I don't," Mr. Crosbie answered brusquely. Then he relented. "That +is to say—anything would be good for Di, if she would keep to it. But +she won't." + +Millicent was silent again. + +"And why isn't Marian to know, pray? I hate mysteries. Why can't the +thing be open and above-board?" + +"She will know, of course, but Di seems anxious to have your opinion +first. She said Marian was certain to throw cold water on the scheme." + +"I shall throw it—and much good that will do. Di likes the importance +of a secret, that's what it is. But look here, Millie, if Di's income +isn't enough for her own wants, how is she to support two children in +addition?" + +"She does not think it will cost much. A little bread-and-butter, and a +print frock or so—" + +"Humph!" said Mr. Crosbie. "I won't have her coming to me to supply +deficiencies." + +"I think you had better talk the matter over with Di, dear uncle. If +you would place the matter before her in a common-sense light—" + +"How can I, if she doesn't come and see me? Am I to go to her, pray?" + +"She is coming presently. She told me she would write first, that you +might have time to consider the matter." + +"And save her the trouble. I shall let it alone till I see her." And +Mr. Crosbie chucked the pink note-sheets into the fire. + +Finding her presence no longer required, Millicent went to the +drawing-room, and sat down with her work near one of the open French +windows. This was the side of the house, and a pretty lawn swept away +outside, bordered by a fringe of lilacs and laburnums bursting into +flower. A high wall, lined with young trees, shut off in great measure +the house and garden which lay beyond. + +While her fingers were busied in stitching a linen collar for one of +her boys, Millicent's thoughts were busied about the two little orphans +left in so forlorn a position. Would Diana take them in? Would they +find a happy home with Diana if she did? Millicent had doubts on this +point, knowing her sister's impulsive and inconsequent ways; yet a home +with Diana was better than no home, and the unmarried sister, Marian, +would supply ballast to the scheme. + +A shadow darkening her work made Millicent look up, to meet the gaze of +this same sister, Marian Crosbie, resident in the same place, under the +roof of Mrs. Fenwick, the other widowed sister. + +Strangers would have noticed a resemblance between Millicent Cumming +and Marian Crosbie, yet it was a resemblance with a difference. Marian +was as tall as Millicent, and had much the same general contour; but +the slightness of the one was angular thinness in the other. The +outline of features, in both regular, was in the one delicate, in the +other sharp; and the sweet gravity of the one was in the other almost +austerity. Marian had been one of a lovely trio in early girlhood; but +at twenty-eight, though a woman to be noticed, she was no longer lovely. + +"What is the matter with Di to-day?" she asked, after first greetings. + +"Can't you guess, Marian?" + +"Guessing is not of much use unless you have some one to say 'No' and +'Yes.' Don't tell me particulars if you think you ought not. Di is +confidential with all the world except me. Yes, of course I guess. Some +plan about the little Fordyces is evidently on the 'tapis.'" + +"I wish she would talk it over with you." + +"Better not. Whichever side I took, she would take the opposite." + +"Then she has said nothing?" + +"Di never can resist saying something, but I am not supposed to be in +her counsels. I only wish she may decide to take the children to live +with her. O yes—" at a glance of surprise—"of course Di gave you to +understand that she was the victim of opposition from me." + +"Why not tell her that you would like it?" + +"Because I should not like it. I think it would be the right thing to +do, and that is not the same as liking it. Besides, Millie, I don't +think you ever will really understand Di. If I took up the idea, she +would drop it immediately. I am not to manage anything in the house. +She must arrange, and I may acquiesce meekly. I suppose that if only +I were five years her junior, instead of her senior, she would not be +quite so sensitive." + +"Poor Di!" + +"Poor Marian, I think. However, it is good discipline. Di's only +objection to the plan seems to be that there are two children. She +would rather have had only one, and thinks two will be cumbersome. +If I were more independent as to means, I would consider whether to +adopt one and leave the other to Di. But even if I could afford it, I +don't think I should be right to leave Di, and to set up a separate +establishment. She wants looking after—little as I can do. And for each +of us to have a child, in the same house, would result in the sort of +rivalry which takes place when two children have each a tame kitten,—a +perpetual domestic contest of 'I' and 'mine.' If the children do come, +I shall take the opportunity to get away for some visits." + +"Di would need you then." + +"Not at first. Better to let her have full swing with them for a time, +till she really wants my help. To be present during the first spoiling +process, would be to sacrifice all future authority over the poor +little waifs." + +"Uncle Josiah says she will tire of them in a week." + +"No, I think we may give her a month or two,—possibly a quarter of a +year." + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_THE FORDYCES._ + +"AND whatever in the world is to become of them children, 'I' don't +know, nor nobody else neither." + +These words smote ruthlessly upon the ears of Beryl Fordyce. Six +seconds before she had been sleeping the placid and dreamless slumber +of healthy childhood, and six seconds later she would have been again +unconscious. But sleep now suddenly fled. She lay listening, with +quickened breathing, her eyes fixed upon the partially closed door, +through the opening of which streamed yellow candle-rays, in contrast +with the white moonbeams entering at the window. + +"Poor little dearies!" chimed in somebody else. The tones of the second +speaker were smooth and slow, not rasping and rough like those of the +first. "Poor little dearies! It is very melancholy, Mrs. Dixon, very +melancholy indeed, and there's no denying of it. Now you'll wake 'em,—" +as a small object fell with a click against the fender. Probably some +such sound had roused Beryl. + +"Never you fear. Miss Beryl sleeps like a top, and Miss Pearl too when +she's tired. It's a mercy they do sleep, for there's no peace in life +when Miss Beryl's awake." + +"And their aunt hasn't left them nothing at all?" + +"Not one single penny nor farthing. 'I' don't know why. Seems +unnatural, seeing they was her own flesh and blood. But Mr. Bishop he +seems to know: for he says to me the very day she died, says he to +me,—'There won't be not one penny for them poor children,' says he. +'And whatever is to become of them?' says he, and he shakes his head +like this, Mrs. Medhurst." + +Beryl was seized with a strong inclination to laugh at the uncouth +version of Mr. Bishop's utterances, and also at the very unclerical +appearance of Dixon's cap-shadow, as it bobbed forward upon the door +for an instant. + +"And there isn't nobody else—aunt nor uncle nor nothing?" + +"Not as I knows. Mr. Bishop he is a making of inquiries, I believe. +But Miss Fordyce said to me, when first they come, says she, 'There's +nobody else but me to take 'em in, Dixon,' says she. And she sighs, +like as if it wasn't agreeable to her no more than it was to me. And +if I'd ha' known what was before me, I'd have given warning then and +there, and took my departure,—I would, Mrs. Medhurst, and I means +it, for all the time I've lived with Miss Fordyce, since I was but a +slip of a girl. For it's been 'a' three years, and no mistake; and +I wouldn't live through them again, no, not if you was to give me a +hundred pounds. And I wouldn't have the bringing up of Miss Beryl, not +for nothing you could mention, Mrs. Medhurst. She's that headstrong and +'mischeevious,' as there's no doing anything with her." + +"She's isn't so pretty as Miss Pearl, nor so nice in her manners." + +"Pretty! She's as ugly as her temper. I never knowed a downright +uglier child than Miss Beryl, nor nastier to deal with. Miss Pearl's +different. She's easy led into naughtiness, and her frocks do take a +deal of mending, but if it wasn't for Miss Beryl, she'd be as good as +she is pretty. I've got no fault to find particular with Miss Pearl. +But Miss Beryl!—nobody can't manage her, and that's a fact." + +"She hasn't the look of a bad sort of child, neither," the other said +musingly. "Not downright altogether bad." + +"I don't know as you'd call her bad, but she's ugly, and she's worrying +in her ways. She'd worry the life out of anybody. She's an odd sort of +child: don't seem to care for nobody, and nobody don't seem to care +for her. Oh, she don't mind, not she. Miss Pearl is the one to mind. +Miss Pearl would cry her eyes out, if she thought anybody was angry; +but Miss Beryl is that hard, nothing touches her. Nobody likes her, and +she's none the wiser. She never cares a straw what's said. That's her +sort. It's aggravating, Mrs. Medhurst, and 'she's' aggravating. I just +wish you had to do with her one week, and you'd know. Oh, you'd know +fast enough. You wouldn't like Miss Beryl. Nobody does." + +Indignation rose high in the heart of the listening child. For Beryl +was sure that Pearl loved her. + +Raising herself cautiously to a sitting posture, Beryl obtained a +glimpse of two figures, seated on either side of a table in the next +room, a tallow candle being on the table. One of the two women was +spare and angular, and wore a cap. The other was plump and round, and +wore a bonnet. + +Beryl and Pearl were in two little iron beds, placed side by side. A +ray of moonlight fell upon the small fair face of the younger sister, +with its framework of glossy hair, and across the slender hands, +tossed gracefully out upon the coverlet. Pearl had always lain in +unconsciously graceful attitudes from very babyhood. She was at this +time just eleven, but of small and slight make. Beryl, eighteen months +her senior, was somewhat large-boned, and awkward in movement. + +Dixon had been the servant of Miss Fordyce during forty years, and she +had unwillingly tended Miss Fordyce's nieces during the last three +of the forty. She was, after her fashion, conscientious, and never +neglected that which she undertook. But she hated children, and did not +scruple to express in plain terms her dislike to their presence in the +house. + +Beryl and Pearl Fordyce had been six years motherless and three years +fatherless. Now they were yet farther orphaned by the sudden death of +their aunt. She had been an invalid for many years, but the attack +which carried her off at last was sharp in nature, lasting only a few +hours. + +The children's loss was to them less of a heart-trouble than might have +been expected. Miss Fordyce was a person of cold manners, and the two +little girls had been seldom with her. She was not indeed one to endear +herself greatly to other people. They had cried a little when first +told that they would never see their aunt again. And Pearl had shed a +few more tears, as the two watched the nodding hearse-plumes move from +the front door, making Beryl feel rather naughty to be unable to do the +same. But probably the only real mourner was Dixon, and whatever she +felt, she concealed from observers. + +The three years of Beryl and Pearl's life in their aunt's house had +been tolerably happy. Children possess a remarkable aptitude for +fitting in with their surroundings. Dixon and Beryl were at chronic +war, yet Dixon saw well to the children's bodily needs. A worn-out +old governess gave them two hours of nominal lessons every morning, +followed by a walk. Beryl liked reading, but hated learning. Miss Catt +avoided unnecessary struggles, and took things quietly, with increase +of composure to herself, though scarcely with increase of knowledge to +Beryl. + +In play-hours, the two children were, as a rule, exceedingly content +together. Pearl was alike Beryl's pet and slave; and Beryl was alike +Pearl's protector and tyrant. Beryl's temper was never tried in that +direction, since Pearl never opposed her will. If Beryl were in +disgrace, Pearl was for the time forlorn; but of disagreements between +them, there were none. + +Thus things had gone on, and thus things seemed likely to go on, when +suddenly the change came. + +But Beryl had not at all realised the position in which she and her +sister stood, until she heard the matter discussed between Dixon and +her friend Mrs. Medhurst, wife of the greengrocer round the corner. +No one had spoken to her about it, and she was an odd child, full of +thought on some subjects, strangely ignorant on others. Dixon had +always seemed to her a much more necessary individual in the house than +Miss Fordyce. + +Perhaps even now, sitting up in bed, and looking at the opening through +the doorway, Beryl did not realise it. Certainly, the leading thought +in her mind was not concerning the uncertainties of her future, but the +question, "Was she really so very ugly?" + +Dixon had often called her ugly before. The word, however, had made +less impression, when spoken to her in the heat of passion, than when +spoken of her quietly to another. To be ugly at all was bad enough. To +be so hopelessly ugly that no one except Pearl could ever like her, was +serious. + +People in general little know the lasting effect which a few careless +words may have upon a child's mind, or how far their influence may +extend in the after-shaping of character. + +These words of Dixon sank deeply, making an impression not soon to +be effaced. As Beryl sat thinking them over, a vision of future life +rose before her—a cold and comfortless vision of a life, Esau-like in +kind, wherein her hand was to be against every man, and every man's +hand against her. For Beryl was, as Dixon had truly implied, of a +hasty and headstrong nature; and she said to herself, in the childish +wrath and pain of that hour, that if nobody liked her, she would like +nobody—always excepting Pearl, dear little Pearl, who should ever be +her one darling. Dixon had said that she did not care what other people +thought of her ways. Beryl felt that this was not true; for she knew +she had cared in the past, after her own fashion. But she determined +now to care no longer. Why should she? She would do as she chose, and +please herself. + +Then she came back to the question, "Am I really so very ugly?" + +Beryl slipped out of bed, and stole to the window, bare-footed. The +moon dipped behind a cloud, leaving the room in darkness, save for the +candle-gleams which stole through the door. Beryl stood waiting, and +presently it shone out again with increased brightness. A face in the +glass met hers, white with the ghastly hue lent by moonlight, having +rough hair in a tangled mass on either side, and eyes widely opened in +anxious scrutiny. + +"I know I have freckles and a big mouth, and I'm not so pink and white +as Pearl, and my waist is thick too," murmured Beryl pathetically. +"But I can't help all that. And after all, my hair is the same colour +as hers, and my eyes are the biggest. I'm ugly, of course, but I don't +think I am so ugly as Dixon—not nearly. Her eyes are almost no colour +at all, and her nose is so queer and flat, it is like nobody else's. I +wouldn't change to Dixon, I'm sure, even if I could." + +"Now, Miss Beryl, if that isn't 'just' like you—listening at the crack +o' the door!" exclaimed Dixon. + +Beryl was back in her bed with a bound, turning then to face Dixon +defiantly. + +"I'm not," she said. "I wasn't near the door." + +"Always spying out something that don't concern her! Oh, 'I' know!" +Dixon said scornfully. "'I' know your ways. 'I' saw you, Miss Beryl, +a-stealing away when you heard me a-coming." + +"I didn't, I tell you," repeated Beryl, shaking with cold and anger. "I +never spy. And it does concern me, too—ever so much." + +"And to be sure, so it does," acquiesced Mrs. Medhurst, who, candle +in hand, had followed Dixon into the bedroom. "It does concern her, +there's no doubt whatsomever, Mrs. Dixon. But I shouldn't wonder if +Miss Beryl was only just a-looking at the moon." + +"No," said Beryl shortly, "I was looking at myself in the glass." + +"Now did you 'ever?'" inquired Dixon expressively. + +"What was it for, my dear?" asked Mrs. Medhurst. + +"Because I chose. And I don't see why you are to call me 'my dear,'" +pursued Beryl, reining up her tangled head. "I am a young lady, and you +are only a greengrocer." + +"'Did' you ever?" reiterated Dixon. "But that's Miss Beryl all over! +Never you mind, Mrs. Medhurst; her pride 'll be took down some day, and +that it will." + +"I am not proud," protested Beryl. "I only like to be spoken to +properly. But it was not the moon that I went to look at. I only wanted +to find out if I really was as ugly as Dixon said." + +"Didn't I tell you she'd been listening?" interjected Dixon. + +"And I don't think I am. At least I am ugly, of course, but not nearly +so ugly as Dixon," concluded Beryl. + +Dixon was speechless. + +"It don't so much matter about looks, after all," Mrs. Medhurst +remarked, fearing an explosion, and taking refuge in conventionalities. +"It don't really matter about looks, Miss Beryl, so as you behave +proper and do your duty. 'Beauty is only skin deep,' you know, and +'Handsome is as handsome does,' and that's a true saying. And if you're +good, nobody 'll think you ugly; and if you're naughty, nobody 'll +think you pretty." + +Beryl did not appreciate the truth underlying these homely words. She +knew nothing as yet of the transforming effects of a loving spirit, or +of an indulged temper, on the features. + +"And if you gives way to pride, and takes to underhand ways, why, of +course—" began Mrs. Medhurst anew. + +"I am not underhanded," Beryl said fiercely, in her helpless +self-defence. "I was lying here, and you were sitting there, and you +chose to talk and I chose to listen. If you had any secrets to tell, +you ought to have shut the door. But I don't care, and I don't believe +it all either." + +With which Beryl lay down, hid her face in the pillow, and refused +to say another word. Nobody saw the tears with which the pillow was +bedewed. Pearl slept peacefully through all. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_PLANS FOR THE FUTURE._ + +"I AM desirous of a little conversation with you, my dear, on the +subject of your future." + +"Don't you want Pearl too?" asked Beryl, looking straight up into the +clergyman's gentle and venerable face. + +"I—I—think not," hesitated Mr. Bishop, an elderly and shy man, who, +having had no children of his own, was somewhat at a loss in dealing +with them. "Pearl is very young. You are old enough to comprehend me, I +hope. Sit down, my dear—Miss Fordyce." + +"Oh, I'm not that," said Beryl, with a gasp of dismay. "I'm only Miss +Beryl—and I don't see that you need call me 'Miss,' because you aren't +a greengrocer." + +Mr. Bishop looked at her dubiously for two or three seconds, and then +recommenced, with his soft and deliberate utterance,— + +"Beryl, then—since you wish it, by all means so let it be. I desired +Mrs. Dixon to send you to me, that I might have a little conversation +with you on the subject of your future life. You are, of course, aware +that this can no longer be your home." + +"Yes, I know that," said Beryl promptly. "I heard Dixon talking about +it last night to Mrs. Medhurst, and they said Aunt Anne hadn't left me +and Pearl any money, and we have no friends, and nobody to take care +of us. And I've been thinking a great deal this morning—a great deal," +repeated the child earnestly. "I woke up ever so early, and I thought +and thought. I don't want to live with Dixon, please, because she isn't +kind. She always says she can't bear me. I would so much rather have +a little room alone with Pearl, all to ourselves. We'll keep it quite +clean and nice. And I suppose I should have to sell something, like the +children in story-books—only I'd rather it should be match-boxes, and +not oranges, because I don't like the smell of oranges. + +"And the only thing that puzzles me is about Pearl, because I think she +would be afraid to be left quite alone—she is so little—and yet she +couldn't go out if it rained. She always gets a cold if she does; and +'I' should have to go out every day, of course. But I dare say there's +sure to be a nice woman in the house who will take care of her for me. +And I shouldn't mind selling matches one bit. I do like running about +out of doors." + +Mr. Bishop listened to this outpouring in absolute silence, his face +growing longer each moment, as he more fully realised the fact of +Beryl's utter childishness. Her eyes flashed, and her cheeks grew hot +with eagerness while she talked. + +"My dear," he said at length deprecatingly. + +"I should 'like' it," pursued Beryl, intent on her own line of thought. +"And I don't see what else we can do; because you see I'm not old +enough to be a governess. And I don't like lessons either." + +"But young ladies do not sell matches," said Mr. Bishop, with an +indulgent attempt to come down to her level. + +"No, I know that," said Beryl. "But father used to tell me I was never +to be afraid of honest work. He said Pearl and I would be left alone, +and I was the strong one, and I must always take care of Pearl, and I +mustn't mind what I had to do. And I don't mean to mind, because I have +to take care of Pearl." + +"You are a good child to remember what your father said," Mr. Bishop +observed, half in admiration, half in amusement, for he found Beryl +quite a curious study. "But I am thankful to be able to tell you +that you are not entirely friendless. A very kind lady, connected by +marriage with your parents, offers you a home." + +Beryl did not look delighted. The picture, conjured up by her +imagination, evidently had its charms. + +"Dixon said there was nobody," she remarked, in a somewhat combative +tone. "And I don't see who there can be. Because mamma had only one +sister, and she died; and papa had only one sister, and she is dead +now; and I'm quite sure there isn't any one else. Pearl and I often do +wish there was just one cousin, and then we could have letters from +her." + +"Your mother's sister married a Mr. Fenwick," explained Mr. Bishop. +"Try to understand me, my child. Mr. Fenwick was your uncle by +marriage. Your aunt died, and he lived a lonely life for a great many +years. But at last, he married again—a young lady—" + +"I wonder what her name was?" put in Beryl. + +"Her name was Diana Crosbie, and she became Mrs. Fenwick. After a few +months, he died—about two years ago, I believe—and she was left a +widow." + +"Why, they all seem to die," was Beryl's comment. "How funny! And is +that Mrs. Fenwick another aunt? I never heard of her." + +"She is not your aunt, strictly speaking, but you will of course +designate her by that title." + +"I shan't call her so, if she isn't my aunt really," said Beryl. "It +would not be true." + +"She will be in the position of aunt to you, and you will pay her due +respect," said Mr. Bishop, slightly dismayed at the independent tone. +"Mrs. Fenwick most kindly writes to propose doing what she can for you +both." + +"Shall we live with her?" asked Beryl. + +"I cannot yet speak definitely as to arrangements. She will, I hope, in +some manner provide for you. But much must depend upon yourself—upon +yourselves. If you are good and tractable children, I imagine it to +be most probable that you will find a home in her house. My child, I +do not hear a very cheerful report of you from Mrs. Dixon. She speaks +well of your little sister, but your ways have evidently given her much +trouble at times. I sadly fear that if you yield to the same spirit in +the future, it may seriously affect your happiness, and alienate your +friends." + +Beryl twisted her fingers together, and gazed fixedly on the ground. +She did not like to be found fault with, and she was angry with Dixon +for speaking against her. Moreover, Mr. Bishop, good and kind as he +was, had not learnt the secret of reaching a child's heart. He talked +on for some time rather monotonously, using many words which scarcely +lay within Beryl's understanding. And presently her thoughts wandered +away, so that she did not take in even the general sense of what he was +saying. + +A few more remarks about Mrs. Fenwick closed the interview. Mr. Bishop +went away, somewhat saddened; and Beryl rushed, like a small tornado, +to the nursery. + +"Pearl! Pearl!" she cried breathlessly. "Dixon said all wrong. There +is somebody, and you and I won't have to live in a top garret or to +sell oranges. There's a lady who isn't really our aunt, only we are to +make believe that she is, and she married the man that married mother's +sister, and she lives in a nice place that is called Hurst, and she +means to take care of us somehow, and perhaps we'll live with her. And +Dixon won't be there!" + +With which culminating fact, Beryl glowed. + +"A time 'll come to you yet, Miss Beryl, and maybe not so far distant, +when you won't be so ready for to throw over old friends and to take up +with new ones," Dixon said resentfully. + +"I don't think I have any friends," responded Beryl, assuming a +meditative air. "Because friends are people that love one another, and +you don't love me. I know you don't, for you always say so. But Pearl +loves me—don't you, darling?" + +A change came over the low-browed square face of the elder girl as she +dropped down on the ground beside Pearl, who had coiled herself in the +deep window-seat. Beryl's cheeks flushed, and her eyes shone with a +kind of devouring affection. She lifted Pearl's pretty little hand, and +squeezed it passionately to her own pouting red lips. + +"'You' love me, don't you?" she repeated. "I don't mind if nobody in +all the world cares for me, so long as 'you' love me, darling Pearl." + +Pearl's ivory complexion, with its delicate tinting, remained +unchanged. A sharp word would at any moment bring flushes and tears, +but Beryl's utterances did not seem to stir her deeply. There was even +a touch of perplexity in her blue eyes, as if she could not quite make +out why Beryl was so moved, and she answered placidly,— + +"Yes, of course I do, Beryl." + +"More than all the world, Pearl; more than everybody? I couldn't bear +to have you like any one more than me." + +"Yes, of course I do," repeated Pearl, with a gentle little yawn. "I +love you, and Dixon, and everybody." + +"I hate people to love everybody," said Beryl passionately. Then +changing again to a caressing manner, "But you do care for me most, +Pearl?" + +"Why, of course I do," said Pearl. "I haven't anybody else." + +And Beryl was, for the moment, satisfied. + + +Mrs. Fenwick was an impulsive little person, who greatly disliked +uncertainties in her plans. She had already committed herself to the +care of the children, further than her friends thought prudent. And +it was the wish of both Millicent and Marian that she should take no +further steps until she had well considered the matter. Mr. Bishop had +written word that the children could remain in their present quarters +for two or three weeks if necessary, himself undertaking to arrange for +them. Diana seemed convinced of the wisdom of brief delay. + +But on the morning of the day following that on which Mr. Bishop +had conversed with Beryl, Diana's mood changed. She could stand the +uncertainty no longer. It was absolutely necessary that she should +see the children and judge for herself. What if they should be vulgar +little frights, whom she could not endure to have in her drawing-room? +Four hours there by rail and four back were a mere nothing, compared +with the importance of a personal interview. She would start at once +and return before night, leaving Marian to explain her proceedings. +Diana only wondered that everybody had not counselled this step at the +first. Marian held her peace, and abstained from reminding Diana that +she really had suggested it. + +So it came to pass that, in the afternoon, when the children's early +dinner had been some time finished, a railway cab stopped at the door, +and Dixon was summoned downstairs. A long waiting-time followed. Voices +could be heard faintly issuing through the cracks of the fast-shut +dining-room door. Beryl fidgeted restlessly about the nursery, unable +to settle to any employment, while Pearl serenely hemmed a doll's +skirt, for she was a tidy little needlewoman. + +"I wonder what they are talking about," Beryl said. "I'm quite sure it +is Mrs. Fenwick, and she is asking Dixon all about us, Pearl. And Dixon +will say everything nice about you, and everything nasty about me, and +then Mrs. Fenwick will never like me. I know quite well beforehand." + +"Oh, perhaps she won't. Dixon isn't always cross with you," was the +best comfort Pearl could offer to the troubled Beryl. + +Steps presently drew near. Dixon opened the door and stood with her +hand upon it, smiling in face and respectful in manner, after her wont +with strangers. Beside her was a very handsomely-dressed young lady in +moderate mourning, petite in figure and light in movement, with a pair +of sparkling blue eyes. + +"So these are the children," she said. "They do you credit, Mrs. Dixon. +That is Beryl, of course; and this is little Pearl." + +She passed Beryl over with a glance, and laid her hand caressingly +against the cheek of Pearl, as the elder child hung back, and the +younger came prettily forward. + +"Only a year and a half between them! Hardly credible. I should have +guessed that there were three years. I can't bear great awkward +overgrown children, but this little creature is deliciously small. +Pearl!—The very name for her. Quite a pearly complexion, and just the +least rose-tint in her cheeks. And such abundant hair! You must have +taken great pains with it, Mrs. Dixon. Let me see,—oh, yes, there is +quite a little gold tint in the brown, when it is held up against the +light; just as should be with these blue eyes. Beryl has the brown +without the gold. I never saw a stronger contrast in two sisters. Sweet +little Pearl, do you think you can love me?" + +The lady's own undoubtedly charming face was brought down to a level +with Pearl's. Pearl immediately put out her lips for a kiss, and was +thereupon enveloped, in demonstrative fashion, with black silk and +gleaming jet bugles. + +"We shall just suit, you tiny delightful fairy. People would positively +take us for mother and daughter, if I could manage to look a little +older. I really do think there is a likeness between us. What do you +say, Mrs. Dixon?" + +"Uncommon, ma'am," Dixon responded complacently. + +"I had no idea I should find such a little gem. You sweet child, I +cannot tell you how delighted I am. The only thing I wanted in my +life." Then she looked at Beryl, her countenance falling. "But—the +contrast!" + +Beryl certainly was not prepossessing at that moment. She gazed fixedly +at her own shoes, with a thunder-clouded brow. + +"Wonderfully different," Mrs. Fenwick said, moving a step nearer and +carelessly tapping the elder child's cheek with one finger. + +Beryl drew back, and rubbed the spot indignantly. + +The movement made Mrs. Fenwick laugh. "Sensitive, I see! Well, I must +consider what can be done!" + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_DIANA'S NEW PET._ + +"THE sweetest little creature imaginable,—charming in every respect," +Diana Fenwick declared next morning, as she sat sipping her coffee, +Marian somewhat grimly knitting a sock at the further end of the oval +table. Marian was the very soul of punctuality, while Diana was rarely +in time for anything, least of all for breakfast. The two sisters +seldom had the meal actually together; but Marian was always expected +to remain in her seat until Diana had finished. The younger sister +liked a listener. + +"Absolutely charming," she repeated. "A perfect little lady in her +manners, with lovely hair and hands,—the very child I would pick out +from among ten thousand to adopt as my own. Mrs. Dixon thinks her +remarkably like me,—" and Diana broke into a silvery laugh. "Droll that +she should be so, where there is no relationship. But really I could +not help being aware of a sort of likeness. One does find it sometimes +unexpectedly, even between strangers. People might take us for mother +and daughter, if I could only contrive to look a little older. As +it is, I suppose we are more likely to pass for sisters. I have the +greatest mind in the world to make the pet call me 'Di.'" + +Marian opened her lips, and shut them again. + +"In which case, would you be willing that she should call you 'Marian?'" + +"Certainly not," Marian said decisively. + +"Ah—so I expected. You like to stand upon your dignities. Well, perhaps +I may submit to be 'Auntie Di.' I'll think it over. Aunts and nieces +are often near in age." + +"You are more than twice as old as Pearl Fordyce." + +"Twelve years older;—yes, she is eleven, though she does not look it. +There is often more difference between the oldest and youngest members +of a large family." + +Marian could not gainsay the assertion. "I think you will be wise to +keep your position of authority with the children," she said. "And it +is not a question of Pearl only." + +"Ah," and Diana sighed profoundly. "If only there were not that +unfortunate Beryl as an appendage. A great awkward ill-mannered child. +I declare I don't in the least know what to do with her." + +"It seems to me that Beryl is the most to be pitied." + +"It seems to me that 'I' am the most to be pitied." Marian thought +of her own very similar words to Millicent a day or two earlier, and +was amused. "There is nothing to laugh at," Diana said rather tartly, +misunderstanding her expression. "You are taking good care to shirk +trouble for yourself in the matter, fixing to go away the very day +after they come, the very time when I shall need you most of all." + +"I have my reasons, Di." + +"Of course. Everybody has reasons for everything," said Mrs. Fenwick +petulantly. "I don't see what that has to do with the matter. If you +had the very least consideration for me, you would not dream of such +an arrangement. If you were to be at home, I could just put Beryl into +your hands for training. You could undertake her, if any one could. I +don't know what else to do with the child—tiresome little thing." + +"I could not train one child without training both," said Marian +gravely. "It will never answer to make differences between the two." + +"You are not so unreasonable as to expect me to like them equally, I +hope? Pearl is the most winning little pet that ever lived, and I shall +perfectly adore her. Beryl has to be put up with, I suppose. But as for +'liking' such a child—why, I assure you, Mrs. Dixon told me plainly +that no one ever could care for her. I was positively startled at her +description of Beryl's ways. A most unbearable temper, and never a sign +of sorrow for naughtiness." + +"Is the old woman's account entirely reliable? There may have been some +little temper on her part as well as on Beryl's." + +"Oh, I don't believe it! A most pleasant superior old servant, quite +one of the old-fashioned type. The children are beautifully kept, and +she has evidently devoted herself to them. She spoke in quite a grieved +way about Beryl—showed very nice feeling, I thought. But the child +carries her faults in her face. A regularly sulky look." + +"Better that, perhaps, than to have all the good outside, and all the +evil below." + +"Oh, you—you like ugly faces, and abhor pretty ways. You won't half +appreciate my sweet little Pearl, I know beforehand. But you and I +never think alike about anything. I can't endure clumsy plain people; +they always repel me. And Beryl is more than plain, she is downright +ugly. She has not a single redeeming point in the way of either feature +or expression." + +"Plain people are as God made them," Marian said calmly. + +"Everybody knows that," Diana answered, with some curtness. "You might +say just the same, I suppose, about slugs and toads." + +"You cannot speak of the two together, Di," Marian answered, with a +stir in her quiet face. "Slugs and toads have their hidden beauties, no +doubt,—but 'they' were not made in the likeness of God." + +"You always have the queerest way of putting things!" said Diana. "What +horrid coffee it is this morning." + +"Waiting too long." + +"I shall have some fresh made. It is simply undrinkable. Just ring the +bell, please. Thanks—you are nearest, and really I am so tired with +yesterday's journey—but as for Beryl, I must consider. I have not at +all made up my mind to keep her at home. If she is troublesome, she +must go to school." + +"You would not separate the two?" + +"Certainly I would, if it seems advisable. Why not? Hundreds of sisters +are separated every day. I was separated from you and Millie, when I +went to school. Pearl is too delicate for school life, and I have set +my heart on having her always with me. But for Beryl, I really begin to +think that it would be the right and reasonable plan. The idea is quite +a relief to my mind. In fact, I don't see what else is to be done, +now you will be so long absent. I cannot undertake to subdue such a +temper. She would simply wear me out. But happily, I am free to please +myself in the matter. I am accountable to no one. It is a matter of +pure kindness, my taking up the children at all. No one can say it is +incumbent on me." + +"How would you afford the expense?" asked Marian, checking one remark +after another which rose to her lips. "That would cost more than having +the two children here together." + +"I don't think so. I don't see why it should. Of course I should not +choose an expensive school, but I heard of one lately that might do +nicely." + +"Where?" + +"In Bath." + +"Not the one Mrs. Ellis mentioned!" + +"Mrs. Brigstock,—yes. That is not the first time I have heard of her. +She is just the person to manage a headstrong child like Beryl, and the +terms are low. Of course I cannot afford to put her to a first-rate +finishing school, and it would be absurd too. I don't think I will have +fresh coffee, after all," Diana said, rising, with a manifest wish to +close the discussion. "Pearson has not answered the bell, and really I +have no time to lose. She can clear away the things when she comes. I +am going out almost immediately to choose some chintz for the curtains +in Pearl's room." + +Marian attempted no response. + + +Preparations for the reception of the children,—perhaps it would be +more correct to say "of the child,"—went on vigorously. Diana threw +herself into the work with quite a fatiguing amount of energy. Pearl +was to sleep in a small room opening into her own, and Beryl in another +small room exactly over Pearl's, equal as to size but inferior as to +everything else. Marian protested in vain against this arrangement. + +"It would never do to banish that little frail creature to the attics," +Mrs. Fenwick replied decisively. "It would have been positively cruel. +A great rough child like Beryl would do well enough anywhere; and a +room large enough for the two could not possibly be spared on the first +floor: so no other plan was possible. Marian 'must' see that it was so." + +Marian did not see, but she ceased to oppose, knowing that opposition, +as a rule, only strengthened Diana in her resolution. + +At six o'clock on Tuesday, the pretty little widow, in a black evening +dress of semi-transparent texture and fashionable make, with a faint +suggestion of a lace cap on her head, and fair hair rippling below in +uncontrollable waves—possibly Diana did not try to control them—stood +in the bay-window of the drawing-room, awaiting the children's arrival. + +"Here they are!" she cried ecstatically to her sober sister, and she +rushed into the narrow strip of front garden, to receive Pearl in her +arms. + +Marian kept her seat until they entered, Diana tripping in an excited +style, leading a pretty child in mourning; while another child, older, +darker, and in look moody, followed after. And in the background, an +old woman of eminently respectable appearance stood curtsying. + +"Here they are, Marian. Here is my precious little Pearl. Isn't she a +picture, the darling? Eleven years old, but nobody would dream that she +was more than nine. Now do look at her. Don't you see just a grain of +likeness to me? Odd, under the circumstances, but really it exists." + +"You both have bluish eyes. So have a great many people," said Marian +indifferently. + +"You pre-Raffaelite creature! Bluish, indeed! But kiss her,—you 'must' +kiss her, Marian." + +"Pearl is not the eldest," said Marian. She touched Beryl's cheek first +with her lips, and then Pearl's. + +"Mrs. Dixon, you will like a cup of tea," called Diana gaily. "Pray +have it. I think you said your train did not go for an hour. Pearson +will take you into the kitchen. Give Mrs. Dixon a good-bye kiss, my +little Pearl. Why, what is the matter now?" + +For Beryl, with a sudden sensation of utter friendlessness, had seized +Dixon's arm, and was holding it in a vice-like clasp. + +"What now?" repeated Diana, caressing Pearl, who had obediently given +the kiss and returned to her side. "What do you want?"—And she looked +at Beryl with displeasure. + +"Don't go!" was all that Beryl seemed able to utter. + +Dixon was highly flattered. She had never liked Beryl till that moment, +but in her sudden gratification, she became quite affectionate. She +was well aware that Beryl's involuntary movement would speak well for +herself in the ladies' eyes. + +"There now, Miss Beryl, don't you worry, my dear, don't you! It's the +nicest house you've come to, and the kindest lady as ever was, and no +mistake, and you'll be as happy as the day is long. Don't you go for +to fret now, for there's no need. Children can't abear losing them as +has been good to 'em," Dixon said apologetically to Mrs. Fenwick and +Miss Crosbie—"but she'll be all right. Don't you worry, Miss Beryl, my +dear. She's got a warm heart you see, ma'am, and I always do say it. +And she's going to be a good girl, too, ain't you, Miss Beryl? Now, my +dear, you mustn't fret, and hinder, and you've got to let me go, you +know." + +Beryl was not fretting audibly. She shed no tears; but a forlorn and +scared look had come into her eyes, and her clutch did not loosen. +Diana looked appealingly at her sister, and Marian advanced. + +"Come, Beryl," she said, "you want something to eat after your journey, +and so does Pearl. You must not keep Mrs. Dixon, or she will have no +time for a cup of tea. We are going now into the dining-room. Come." + +She laid her quiet firm hands on Beryl's fingers, and loosened their +grasp. Beryl did not resist; she only made a catch at Dixon's other +arm, which Dixon was quick enough to evade. Marian took both Beryl's +hands into her own keeping, and led Beryl out of the room, Diana and +Pearl following. + +"I don't want Dixon to go," broke from Beryl's lips. + +"I dare say you are very fond of her. She is a faithful old servant." + +"O no, I'm not fond of her," said Beryl. "Only there is nobody else." + +Marian was rather perplexed. She made Beryl remove hat and jacket, and +sit down at the table, and then supplied her plate liberally, while +Diana hovered and fluttered around Pearl. Beryl's distress did not +prevent her from making a hearty meal. Pearl's appetite always failed +her under excitement, and Diana coaxed in vain. + +"Do let the child alone, Di," Marian said at length. "She only wants a +night's rest." + +"She shall go to bed directly, but she must eat something first. Could +my pet manage a bantam-egg so delicately boiled? Or a little bit of +cheesecake pudding?" + +Children, as a rule, respond readily to the spoiling process. Dixon had +never encouraged fancies over food, but Pearl had a natural tendency +towards fastidiousness in eating, and she saw at once that something +was to be gained by making a little fuss. So, with a sweet plaintive +smile, she did not think she could manage this, and she thought perhaps +she might try that. And Mrs. Fenwick hurried the servant to and fro; +and finally the egg and the helping of pudding were both disposed of. +Beryl looked up wonderingly from time to time. + +"And now my pet must go to bed, and wake up quite rested in the +morning," Diana said at length. "I am going to put you to bed myself, +Pearlie, and you are to have a wee room of your own, quite close to +mine. You will like that, I know." + +"Shall Beryl and I sleep there together?" asked Pearl. + +"No. The room is not large enough for two. Beryl will have another room +over yours, just the same size." + +Beryl dropped a slice of cake, and looked dismayed. "But Pearl and I +always sleep in one room," she said. "I couldn't do without Pearl." + +"You will do as I choose," said Mrs. Fenwick, not unkindly, but quite +decisively; "and Pearl does not mind." + +"Pearl—don't you?" asked Beryl, in an indescribable passion of hope and +fear, as if staking her life's happiness on the answer. "'Don't' you, +Pearl?" + +"You will like to have a little room all to yourself, and close to +mine, will you not, my darling?" asked Diana. + +"Yes, very much," Pearl said, without hesitation. + +"You will be quite happy sleeping so, with Beryl overhead?" + +"O yes, quite," said Pearl serenely; "because you are so kind. And I +like a little room of my own—I can keep it so tidy. And I shall have +Beryl all day, and of course we couldn't play at night." + +"Quite true and sensible, you dear little thing. Come along, my +darling. I want to have these pale cheeks on the pillow. Say good-night +to Beryl." + +Beryl's face was dark with some overmastering emotion. When Pearl came +smilingly near, she straightway turned her back, and declined the +offered kiss. + +"Shocking! What a fearful temper!" Mrs. Fenwick exclaimed, with a +shudder. "Really, Beryl, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Never +mind, Pearl darling—don't distress yourself. Come with me, and leave +that naughty child alone. You see how it is, Marian—just what Mrs. +Dixon led me to expect. I am sure I wish with all my heart that you +were not going to-morrow. But this evening, at all events, I suppose +you can undertake Beryl." + +The two disappeared, embracing as they went. Beryl sat perfectly +still, her hands knotted together till the pink flesh grew white with +pressure, and her eyes fixed on the table. + +"Don't you want to finish your cake?" asked Marian. + +"No," said Beryl gruffly. + +Marian had had little to do with children, and hardly knew how to meet +Beryl's mood. She said, after a pause—"I am sorry to see you vexed with +Pearl. The matter is not worth so much feeling. Pearl is a little girl, +and she naturally likes change." + +Beryl did not speak. + +"I think you must be tired, as well as Pearl," said Marian. "It would +be better for you to go to bed early, and you will wake up quite fresh +to-morrow." + +Silence still. + +"Suppose I show you the way to your room. I dare say you have some +things to unpack." + +"They're with—Pearl's." A gulp came between the words. Beryl had +ardently pre-pictured her own usefulness in unpacking and in attending +to Pearl's needs. + +"Then my sister will see to them, no doubt. Would you rather go to bed +at once, Beryl, or will you come to my room and help me to pack? I am +leaving to-morrow for a time. You must be a good child while I am gone, +and try to fit into your new home." + +Beryl gave a startled glance. "Won't there be anybody here +except—except—her?" she gasped. + +"Except Mrs. Fenwick. By the bye, you have to call her 'Aunt Di.'" + +"She isn't my aunt." + +"Not in reality; but her husband was your uncle by marriage, and she +is doing as much for you as any aunt could do. You must be grateful, +Beryl." + +Beryl looked anything but grateful. + +"My other sister lives near—Mrs. Cumming," pursued Marian. "She has two +nice boys, rather older than yourself, and you will often see them." + +"They won't like me," said Beryl shortly. + +"Why not?" + +"Nobody does." + +Marian secretly feared there might be some truth in the assertion. She +was sorry for Beryl, but certainly she did not find her attractive. + +"Which shall it be?" she asked again. "To bed or to my room?" + +"I don't care." + +"Then I think bed will be best for you." + +Beryl submitted with an uninterested air. She made no remark whatever +about the little room. It had a somewhat bare appearance, especially +when compared with Pearl's, which Beryl had not yet seen. Marian +brought all that she needed for the night, and remarked, "Your little +sister is quite comfortable. I hope she will soon be asleep." + +"Doesn't Pearl—want—me?" asked Beryl, with a singular expression. + +"My sister wishes her to be quiet this evening," said Marian evasively. +"Do you need anything else, Beryl? Dixon says you are accustomed to +manage for yourself. By the bye, I see you have only one Bible between +you, and that is downstairs. I have brought a Testament of my own, +which you can use. I hope you read a few verses every morning and +evening." + +Beryl kept silence. + +"Make haste into bed," Marian said kindly. "Good-night, Beryl. You +shall be called in time for breakfast." But she had to leave without a +response. + +Beryl's whole look changed then. She threw herself down on the ground, +and hid her face in the bed. "O Pearl—Pearl—Pearl!" she moaned, in a +passion of distress. "O Pearl, dear little Pearl, papa told me to take +care of you—and I would, indeed I would—and now I can't. O Pearl, I've +nobody else, nobody but you—and she's going to take you from me." + + + +CHAPTER V. + +_MR. CROSBIE'S GRIEVANCES._ + +"IT'S always the way—always—invariably," grumbled Mr. Crosbie. "I never +yet knew the woman who had a single grain of consideration for anybody +in the world except herself." + +Mr. Crosbie was not commonly visible before eleven o'clock in the day, +but on this particular morning he had actually come down to eight +o'clock breakfast. Certain ideas were alive in his brain, which he +particularly desired to discuss with his niece; and behold, of all +perverse and unreasonable things to do, Millicent Cumming had wilfully +selected that particular morning for remaining in bed with a severe +cold. No wonder Mr. Crosbie was irate with the whole sex. + +"Just exactly like Millicent. She does everything by contraries. If +I had advised her not to get up, nothing on earth would have induced +her to stay in her room. Well, well, well—I am an old man now, and I +can't expect to get my own way any longer. I must look to be shelved, I +suppose,—make way for the rising generation. It's the way of the world. +Just a degree short of heathen customs—smother the old folks in mud or +bury them alive, as soon as they are past being useful. Hey? 'That's' +it," quoth Mr. Crosbie fiercely. + +"I shouldn't think so, grandpapa. Mother didn't know you would be down." + +"Might have guessed it, if she wasn't a woman. But women never do +put two and two together. Why, there are all sorts of things I want +to settle with her this morning. All sorts of things," repeated Mr. +Crosbie indignantly, "and nobody but you two within reach. Absurd! +Marian taking herself off, too, nobody knows where, just when she +is most wanted. The world is coming to a stand-still. I don't know +how anything is to get done. Well, I told your mother she would make +herself ill, and she has nobody but herself to thank. There's nothing +on earth like the wilfulness of a woman. Tell her she'll catch a cold +in a draught, and she'll go and stand in it for half an hour, just to +prove her independence. Well, I suppose we're to have no breakfast this +morning." + +"Escott always makes it when mother is not down," the other lad said +cheerfully. "You'll find it all right, grandpa." + +"More likely to find it all wrong. Get on, then." + +The two boys looked highly amused in a quiet way. They were remarkably +alike, to a stranger's observation; and remarkably unlike, to their +mother's. Of good height for their fourteen years, they were formed +much on the same model as to slimness and uprightness, and much on the +same plan as to refined straight features blue eyes, and neatly-clipped +fair hair. + +"Pretty boys," people sometimes called them, and the term was not +inappropriate. They had the look of thorough "home boys," thorough +"mother's boys," with none of the loutishness of the ordinary +schoolboy, yet without any suspicion of girlishness. Millicent Cumming +was turning out two thorough little gentlemen, but she had the greatest +horror of seeing them develop into "mollies" or "milksops." They were +as good as daughters to her in tenderness and in thoughtful care +for her comfort, and they by no means disliked to hear her say so; +nevertheless, they excelled in boyish exercises, and she was proud +of the fact. Ivor was the stronger in build and the healthier in +colouring. He had the rights of the elder brother. Escott, the younger +twin, was slightly smaller in make, thinner and paler. If either of +the two "had" a faint touch of girlishness about him, despite all his +mother's efforts to the contrary, it was Escott. + +He seemed quite at home with the teapot; measured out the tea with a +quick and ready hand, poured in the due amount of hot water, placed the +sheltering cosy in position, and finally remarked,— + +"Mother has prayers next." + +"Teach your grandfather to suck eggs," muttered Mr. Crosbie. "Well, +ring me the bell, and get me the Bible. Where is your mother reading?" + +"In the Old Testament, grandpapa, because you read the New in the +evening." + +The boys found the place for him, and took their seats, frank and +contented in manner both of them, not the least ashamed of the part +they were acting. + +Prayers over, breakfast followed, and a gay meal it proved. Mr. Crosbie +grumbled on for a while, and then was drawn into a conversation which +soon induced peals of merriment. Mr. Crosbie was a very boy himself in +laughter, and took his full share in the manufacture of jokes. Escott +presently rushed upstairs three steps at a time, to ask after his +mother, and returned more slowly. + +"Her chest was very bad, and he and Ivor were to start in good time, +and ask the doctor to call. Mother didn't think she must come down." + +"Always so," muttered Mr. Crosbie, and he made his way back to the +study, to sit there in high dudgeon, nursing his wrongs. + +About three hours later, Diana Fenwick came tripping in. + +"So Millie is ill," she said, as Mr. Crosbie saluted her with an +injured air. "What has she been doing to herself?" + +"Some folly or other; a more imprudent woman never breathed," growled +Mr. Crosbie. "Always told her she would do for herself some day. +Shouldn't wonder if she has now." + +"Poor Millie!" Diana said, with a touch of younger-sisterly patronage. +"Those gentle soft creatures are just the ones who always 'will' have +their own way." + +"Gentle soft creatures! She!" Mr. Crosbie fairly stamped. "She's one of +ten thousand, Diana. There isn't another woman living her equal. 'You' +don't know what she is." + +"Oh, of course she is very good and all that,—a sort of semi-angelic +being," said Diana lightly. "Millie and I never did really suit +one another. But, dear uncle, don't be vexed. I am not saying +anything unkind of her. How could I? She is a dear good creature, of +course—nobody doubts it. Smith tells me that the doctor orders quiet, +so she won't admit me. Talking makes Millie cough, she says." + +"Smith is a very good judge,—an excellent woman," said Mr. Crosbie. + +"Only I particularly wanted to consult Millicent about something." + +"So do I. Everybody wants to consult Millie," said Mr. Crosbie, finding +satisfaction in the thought. + +"However, I need not complain, having 'you' at hand," pursued Diana, +suddenly assuming her sweetest air. "Now, dear uncle, pray tell me what +you would advise me to do; tell me how you would act in my position." + +"Why, I would obey the doctor, my dear, and keep out of the room," said +Mr. Crosbie, mollified, as he always was, by his niece's engaging ways, +though he did not really believe in them. + +"I don't mean that. I was just going to explain, dear uncle. I was +not thinking of poor dear Millie. Of course, there is nothing to be +done but to leave her quiet. Marian might have been of use in her +room, but Marian has chosen to flit, and really my hands are more than +full—'more' than full. I feel quite overwhelmed with the responsibility +of the charge I have assumed." + +"Look so!" muttered Mr. Crosbie. + +"Ah, that is unkind." And her blue eyes really did fill with tears. "It +is my way to keep up and be cheerful, and people never will believe +what I feel." Diana spoke droopingly. "That is not like you, dear +uncle." + +"Well, well, go on," said Mr. Crosbie, in a gentle tone. + +"The children arrived last night." Diana sighed heavily. + +"The little orphans! Just what I wanted to hear about," said Mr. +Crosbie, with a sudden air of briskness. "You have acted very well, +very well indeed, I must say, Diana, in giving them a home." + +"Oh, I am so glad you say so. Then at least I have 'your' +approval—whatever the results may be. But, indeed, I knew you could +not look on the matter from any other point of view,—with you feeling +heart. Poor little things! Nothing remained but Parish help, if I had +not been willing to take them in, so how 'could' I hesitate? At the +worst, I can but divide my last crust with them." + +This was going a little too far. Mr. Crosbie gave vent to a "Humph!" + +"Of course I speak metaphorically," she said, aware of her mistake. "I +don't quite expect to come to my last crust yet. Still I shall have to +be very careful and economical. I must come to dear Millie for hints. +But at the present moment I have another perplexity. I am terribly at a +loss how to manage." + +"Hey? What? Measles? Whooping-cough?" exclaimed the old gentleman, +with an alarmed gesture; for he had a morbid horror of infection, not +unusual at the age of seventy. + +"No, nothing of that sort. O no, indeed. But the two are such a +contrast—it is quite distressing. The youngest is all I could wish—a +sweet little creature, one to be loved at first sight. I shall find +the greatest happiness in her companionship. It will be the solace of +my loneliness. But the other,—really she is a most unfortunate little +being. I don't know what to do with her." + +"Physical deformity?" asked Mr. Crosbie. + +"No, no." + +"Mental incapacity? You don't mean to say she is an idiot?" + +"O no; but such a fearful temper and headstrong will. Nobody can +control her. Poor little Pearl seems positively to shrink from being +left alone with Beryl. And the old servant showed nothing but relief at +being quit of the charge." + +"Dear me; that's bad." + +"I really don't know what to do. If Marian were to be at home, things +might be different, though even then—But you see, dear uncle, after all +I have gone through—" and Diana looked pathetic,—"I have not spirit to +cope with such a nature. The child would wear me out completely. Her +will must be broken by proper discipline." + +"Broken? Nay, nay! Bent, if you will." + +"True, uncle; I spoke hastily. But the bending is beyond my power." + +"Well, yes; training children is not precisely your 'forte,' I should +imagine." + +"It is not, indeed. I am only too conscious of my own deficiencies. +Beryl ought to have a good education, to prepare her for making her +way by and by. She has not even the elements of a good education now, +for she has evidently resisted all attempts of her last governess to +teach her. She can read, to be sure, but her writing and spelling are +atrocious. And as for the catechism, Mrs. Dixon has been struggling for +three years to make her learn it, without success. What am I to do?" + +"Get a good governess," said Mr. Crosbie. + +"I thought of that. But the two sisters would be together still; and +Beryl's influence must be so bad for little Pearl. Besides, the child +seems under a sort of incubus in Beryl's presence—afraid to move or +speak naturally. She is quite a different being when I have her alone. +And I should come in for all the battles. I really have not health or +spirit to act umpire." + +"Why, then, I don't see that you have any alternative but to send Beryl +to school," said Mr. Crosbie. + +"Do you really think so?" asked Diana. + +Little dreamt Mr. Crosbie that she had meant him to say this all along, +and had step by step led him to the utterance. + +"You do not think it would appear unkind to separate the two? Of course +it is for their good, and children don't distress themselves long about +partings. In fact, I imagine that the relief would be greater than the +pain, so far as poor little Pearl is concerned. If you advise a school—" + +"I don't see what else you are to do," repeated Mr. Crosbie. + +"Thank you so much. It is the greatest relief to my mind. Of course +there is the question of the additional expense,—no light matter with +my limited income. Still, if it is plainly my duty—" + +Mr. Crosbie was silent. + +"I know of a school in Bath. It is a long way off, but the terms are +very reasonable, and it would not be necessary to have her home more +than once a year, perhaps. Mrs. Brigstock shows quite a gift for +managing troublesome pupils, I am told. And she has some children whose +parents are abroad, and who remain with her all the year round; so I +might at any time arrange for Beryl to stay there through the holidays, +if it seemed advisable. That might be an advantage. Of course the pull +upon my purse will be exceedingly heavy." + +"Well, well, I don't mind promising a mite of aid, just for a short +time,—till Beryl is seventeen, we'll say. Twenty pounds a year towards +her schooling,—a five-pound note quarterly, Di, and mind you don't ask +me for a penny more." + +"Dear uncle, 'how' generous!" sighed Diana. "'Ask' you! As if I could! +That will indeed be help." + +After which, she went home, pausing at a linen-draper's on her way, to +order materials for two new frocks for Pearl. + +On arrival, she found Pearl crying in the dining-room, and Beryl +wearing what Diana called "her sullen look." Reasons for the tears were +difficult to get at, beyond a general assertion that "Beryl was so +unkind." + +Beryl attempted no self-defence, beyond one unhappy "I'm 'not,' Pearl." + +Diana flung some indignant reproaches at Beryl, kissed and comforted +Pearl, and sat down to write two letters. One was to Mrs. Brigstock, +asking whether she could receive a pupil, and how soon. The other was +to Marian, and contained the information that "Uncle Josiah advised +Beryl being sent to school, entirely of his own accord; so of course +that settled the matter." + + +"I am going to take Pearl for a drive with me," Mrs. Fenwick said, +after early dinner. "Crying has made her look quite pale, poor child. +There is not room in the chaise for you both, so you must amuse +yourself at home, Beryl. Pray, do not get into any mischief." + +Beryl said nothing. She had not spoken many words all day, beyond a few +burning reproaches to Pearl for her fickleness, when the two were alone +together. Pearl had immediately taken refuge in tears, thereby driving +Beryl to the refuge of silence. + +The little hired chaise drove off, with Pearl seated, affectionate +and happy, beside her new friend. The driver was a boy on a very +small coach-box, and there was ample room for two grown people in the +chaise. A second child might no doubt have been squeezed in; but Mrs. +Fenwick objected to crowding. So Beryl remained behind, alone and very +forlorn. She did not in the least know what to do with herself. The two +servants were in the kitchen regions, shut off by a door, and the rest +of the house was empty and silent. Beryl had always had Pearl for her +companion, and solitude was quite a new experience in her life. She +felt it keenly. + +For a while she stood listlessly at the dining-room window, gazing +out at the little garden, bounded by the back wall of a second garden +which lay beyond. It was not an enlivening look-out, and Beryl did not +find herself enlivened. She had in her heart a kind of dull emptiness, +like that of the house, mingled with a more active feeling of dislike +towards everything and everybody around her—everybody except Pearl. She +would never dislike Pearl. Beryl did not love very readily, but once +to love was always to love with her, and this was a fine point in her +character. Pearl might cease to love Beryl, but Beryl would never cease +to love Pearl. That only made her present pain the more severe. + +Growing tired of inaction, Beryl presently wandered into the +drawing-room, a pretty room, overcrowded with easy-chairs, tiny tables, +and ornamental knick-knacks. Beryl paced aimlessly about, peering at +brackets, admiring a Swiss châlet under a glass shade, gazing at an +Indian elephant of carved ivory, and finding certainly some relief to +her own mind in the slight occupation. + +Suddenly she became conscious of a restraining twitch, and on looking +down she found that her feet were entangled in a length of grey +worsted, wound also about her dress. She had evidently dragged it with +her unconsciously in some of her peregrinations, for the grey threads +were twisted in complex fashion among chairs and tables. Beryl was +rather amused, and she speedily tracked the wandering worsted to its +source in a large work-basket belonging to Miss Crosbie. Seizing the +ball, she began eagerly to wind it up, with divers tugs at the loose +lines, not so careful in kind as they should have been. + +Alas! The worsted in its travels had taken a turn round a small carved +table, on which stood a valuable vase of Sèvres china. Mrs. Fenwick was +unused to children in the house, or such a vase had never stood on such +a table. One more turn of the ball, and crash came table and vase to +the ground together; the table broken, the vase smashed. + +Beryl's enjoyment died out instantly. She looked round in dismay, her +heart beating wildly. The china lay scattered over the carpet. What +"would" Mrs. Fenwick say? Beryl shuddered, and walked from the room, +not daring to touch the worsted again. + +In the passage, she found herself face to face with two pleasant boys, +just in the act of familiarly entering by the front door, with the air +of people at home. They shook hands with her, as a matter of course, +and she submitted, bewildered still. + +"You are Beryl Fordyce, are you not?" one of the two said frankly. +"We've just seen Aunt Di and your little sister, and they told us you +were alone—at least Escott asked. You have heard of us, of course. I'm +Ivor, and this is Escott." + +"Mother is ill, but we knew she would like us to come and see after +you," added Escott, "Ivor and I mean to get her some primroses—it's our +half-holiday, you know, and there's a splendid lot of flowers in the +wood. And Aunt Di says she does not care if you like to come with us. +Would you?" + +Like to go primrosing! Beryl's whole face glowed. The broken vase +disappeared utterly from her memory. She dashed upstairs for hat and +jacket, the boys shouting injunctions from below to "mind and put on +good thick boots, for the woods were awfully swampy in parts." + +A ramble followed, the like of which Beryl had never known in her +life. Through lanes and fields, over hedges and ditches, in dust and +in mud, did the two boys escort their companion. Beryl was wild with +delight. She fell down in mud, and tore her dress, and scratched +herself with thorns, and cared not a whit for it all. Cheeks flushed, +hair disordered, hat awry, dress soiled,—herself eager, excited, noisy, +almost ready to shriek with joy,—Beryl had a rare afternoon! + +The boys were very good to the little stranger. They did not admire +her, as they had admired the sweet and graceful little Pearl, seated +in the chaise beside their aunt. Beryl was not exactly according to +their notions of what a girl ought to be. But it was pleasant to see +her abounding enjoyment; and they exchanged a good many glances, alike +satisfied and amused. + +Beryl did not in the least know which of the two she liked best; +indeed, she could hardly distinguish the one from the other for a +while. But when they were not far from home, on their return, Ivor bade +her good-bye and disappeared down a lane, while Escott undertook to see +her back to her own door. + +"Ivor has some work to do, and that's a shorter cut," he said. + +"It has been such a 'lovely' afternoon," sighed Beryl. "I wish Pearl +was with us." + +"She wouldn't be up to such a scramble, perhaps. I say, Beryl, what a +little beauty she is!" + +Escott did not intend it, but those words were the first shadow on +Beryl's sunshiny walk. He was astonished at the sudden change in her +face. + +"Why, you are not jealous, are you?" he said. "You don't mind Pearl +being pretty?" + +"No—I don't think so," Beryl said slowly. "I'm not the very least +pretty, am I?" + +Escott gave her an involuntary glance, and truth forbade such an answer +as he would fain have given. + +"No; I know I'm not," Beryl said, shaking her untidy head. "And I never +shall be." + +"Everybody can't be pretty. That doesn't matter, so long as people are +nice and pleasant," Escott replied. + +"But I'm 'not' nice or pleasant," said Beryl hopelessly. "And Dixon +said I was so ugly that nobody could ever like me." + +"I don't see that at all," said Escott slowly, somewhat perplexed. For +down in his heart, he knew that he was not very much taken with Beryl +Fordyce—he could not have told why, though he would have indignantly +repudiated such a cause as mere outside plainness. "We don't like one +another for looks." + +If Beryl had not the gift of fascinating other people, she had to some +extent the gift of reading other people's thoughts. She stood still in +the dusty road, with her arms full of delicate primroses, and her eyes +fixed upon him. + +"But you and Ivor don't like me," she said. + +"Nonsense, Beryl," Escott said, with an uneasy little laugh. "Rubbish. +Here, let me carry some of your flowers." + +"I know you don't," she replied. "I am sure you don't." + +"I don't really know you yet," said Escott, with adroit courtesy. "You +have been as merry and good-tempered as possible all the afternoon." + +"But you liked Pearl the very moment you saw her?" + +"Of course I thought her awfully pretty," the boy said, with some +adroitness again. + +"That wasn't all. You 'liked' her," said Beryl resolutely, her face +crimsoning. "And you've only been kind to me because you think you +ought." + +Escott was fairly at a loss for an answer. + +Beryl turned away from him and hurried homewards, dropping some of +her flowers by the way, and dropping one or two tears with them, not +unknown to Escott. + +He was puzzled how to deal with her. And after leaving her on the +doorstep of Mrs. Fenwick's house, he went home to detail to his mother +what had passed. + +"She's the oddest child, mother," he said. "But really, she isn't very +taking, and what is a fellow to say?" + +"Poor little girl!" Millicent said compassionately. "It is not natural +to have such thoughts at her age. There must have been something +unhappy in her bringing up." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_ABOUT THE VASE._ + +THE door was opened, not by Pearson, but by Diana Fenwick,—Diana in +a white heat of rage. Beryl had been angry herself many a time, and +many a time had seen Dixon angry; but she had known nothing before +quite like this. For Diana's very face was changed, and her slender +figure shook with passion, and her lips were colourless. She grasped +Beryl's arm, and dragged the child by main force into the drawing-room, +pointing with her free hand to the overturned table and the shattered +vase. + +"You dared!" she gasped. "You dared—you naughty naughty child—you +'dared' to come in here and meddle with my things—" + +"I didn't mean," Beryl tried to interpose. + +"Take that!" Diana Fenwick, a spoilt child and a spoilt wife, utterly +untrained in self-control, was for the moment beside herself, and her +hand bestowed a ringing box upon Beryl's ear. + +Pearl in Beryl's place would have cried bitterly; but though Beryl +staggered beneath the blow, she did not shed a tear. Her face +crimsoned, and her brow grew sullen, as she wrenched herself free from +Mrs. Fenwick's grasp. + +"Stand still," commanded Mrs. Fenwick. "Do you know what you have done, +you wicked shameless child? Do you know that the vase was worth twenty +pounds if it was worth a penny? There is nothing in all my house that I +would not sooner have lost. And much you care!" + +Beryl retreated another step in silence. Her expression certainly was +not penitent. + +Diana Fenwick, quivering and white still with anger, was by far the +most agitated of the two. + +"Twenty pounds!" she repeated. "Twenty pounds, if it was worth a penny. +And to think of all that I am doing for you—as if it were not enough +without this! Talk of gratitude! I don't believe you know the meaning +of the word. No wonder Mrs. Dixon warned me! The vase that my dear +husband bought to please me,—one of his last gifts. O it is too too +bad!" And Diana's excitement culminated in a fit of sobbing. + +Beryl stood motionless, her brow drawn into puckers, her hands knotted +together, her ear burning and tingling, while the proud spirit within +burnt and tingled yet more sharply under the indignity. + +"A loss that can never be replaced—never!" sobbed Diana. "Fifty pounds +would not pay me back for the loss. To choose out that—the very +thing of all others which I care most about. Nothing else would have +mattered. And to wait till I was gone—so underhand, so deceitful! You +have not told me how it happened," Diana said sharply, drawing her +handkerchief away from her face with a sudden whisk. "Ah, I thought +so, you have nothing to say for yourself. Not even to tell me you are +sorry." + +"No," Beryl said huskily. + +"You are not sorry! You tell me so to my face, Beryl!" + +Beryl would not unsay the word. She was not sorry at that moment, and +her face showed too plainly what she felt. + +"Well, it is no more than I might expect, after all that I was told. +But this quite decides me—quite," said Diana, ignoring the fact that +she had been "decided" before. "I cannot possibly keep you at home. +You will go to school, where this sort of thing will be put down with +a strong hand. That is what you need,—a strong hand over you. Pearl is +a good little gentle girl, and I shall keep her with me, but you will +go to school the very first day I can arrange for it. And if you do not +choose to tell me you are sorry for behaving like this, and to beg my +pardon, I certainly shall not trouble myself to have you home for the +holidays. I am not going to have everything in my house broken. You +may go upstairs now, for you are not fit to be seen, and I have had +enough of your tempers for one day. Racketing about in the fields, and +enjoying yourself, after such behaviour! It just shows that you have no +principle. Don't make a mess with your wretched flowers here,—" as some +primroses fell from Beryl's hand. The greater number had been already +dropped in the brief scuffle. Diana was in a mood to be vexed with +everything. She caught up a handful of pale-yellow blossoms and flung +them into the fire-place. + +"You may go," she repeated to Beryl, "and your tea will be sent to +you. I don't choose to have you downstairs again this evening. That +beautiful vase! There isn't another like it for ten miles round. I +shall never forget what you have done." + +Nor would Beryl. She went slowly out of the room, and upstairs, step +by step in measured style, while her whole frame was pulsating with +suppressed emotion. Passing the open door of her sister's little room, +Beryl walked straight in, and found Pearl brushing her hair before +the glass. Beryl stood beside Pearl, and the two faces were reflected +together; one ivory-white and tinted with rose, fair and serene; the +other burning, gloomy, and troubled. + +"Pearl," Beryl said abruptly, "I meant my primroses for you. But you +won't care for them now." + +Pearl turned with a half-alarmed look. + +"O Beryl, how could you break that beautiful vase?" + +"I didn't mean—" began Beryl, in a thick breathless voice. "It wasn't +on purpose. But it's no good for me to say so. She won't believe me. +Pearl, do you love her?" + +"Aunt Di? Yes, of course I do, very much indeed." + +"I don't. I shall never love her—never, if I live to be a hundred years +old—never," repeated Beryl. + +"I think you ought, though," Pearl said. + +"But you love me most, Pearl—Pearl," said Beryl passionately, and Pearl +made an involuntary step backwards. "You do love me best, Pearl?" + +"I love you both," Pearl said with caution. "She isn't cross to me, as +you are." + +"I am not cross," said Beryl. "It isn't crossness. Oh, I wish,—I do +wish,—if only there was somebody who could understand!" Then, with a +change of tone, "Look, Pearl—she struck me." + +"But it was very naughty of you to break the vase," said Pearl. + +"She had no business to strike me," Beryl answered, her face flaming at +the recollection. "Dixon never did. She says I am to go to school, and +I think I am glad. I think I'd rather. I don't want to live with her, +and I can't bear to see you and she always kissing and hugging." + +"She would kiss you too, if you would be good," said Pearl. + +"Beryl! Go to your own room immediately. Mere naughtiness," Mrs. +Fenwick said, in a displeased voice from the doorway. + +Beryl brushed past her and disappeared. The door of the room over +Pearl's was heard to slam heavily. + +"My poor little girl, you are quite frightened," said Diana, sinking +into a chair. "And no wonder. We cannot go on like this, Pearl. It +makes me positively ill. Beryl must go to school for a time till she +has learnt to command her temper." + +Pearl took the matter philosophically. After all, there is no denying +that her affection for Beryl was mixed with a touch of fear. Having +tasted something of freedom during the last day or two, she was perhaps +the less disposed to wish for a continuation of the former state of +things. + +And Mrs. Fenwick, while condemning Beryl's temper, was not in the least +troubled with recollections that her own temper had been by no means +under control. She counted hers to have been only righteous anger. + +But the breach between her and Beryl seemed to be irreparable. Beryl +appeared no more that evening; and when, next morning, she came +downstairs, she wore a fixed expression of sullen unhappiness. Mrs. +Fenwick addressed her seldom, but when she did she spoke to the child +sharply, and Beryl answered only in the curtest monosyllables. Pride +and temper were thoroughly aroused in Beryl. Towards Pearl, her manner +was constrained and cold, though with an occasional quiver of painful +distress and longing. It was sad that, Millicent being laid by and +Marian away, softening influences were utterly wanting. + + +Two days passed thus, and on the third Diana said stiffly:—"I have +heard from Mrs. Brigstock, and she can receive you at once. There is no +object in delay. You will go on Monday." + +Beryl heard silently, offering no response. + +"Remember, you have not told me yet that you are sorry about the broken +vase, or asked my pardon," said Mrs. Fenwick. + +A cloud came over Beryl's face. "When shall I see Pearl again?" she +asked. + +"That depends upon yourself,—upon your making a proper apology for your +conduct, and also upon the reports that I shall receive from school. I +will not have you here, to behave as you have done the last week." + +"If Pearl 'might' go to school too!" broke from Beryl. + +"Certainly not. I could not be so unjust as to punish Pearl for your +misconduct. Besides, Pearl will be far happier without you. Mrs. Dixon +told me how you tyrannised over the poor little thing, and I find it to +be quite true. You have no idea of consulting Pearl's will in anything." + +Beryl looked bewildered, for, like many children, she was not at all +aware of her own faultful tendencies. "Pearl always liked what I +liked," she said, speaking involuntarily in the past tense, though the +new order of things had lasted but a few days. + +"Pearl is sweetly yielding, and she submitted to your dictation sooner +than have a quarrel. That is different from 'liking' to be domineered +over. If you go on as you have done, all your schoolfellows will +dislike you, Beryl. All depends upon yourself. And if you leave home in +this sulky mood, refusing to apologise for the way in which you have +treated me, you are sure to go wrong." + +Beryl's brows drew together uneasily. "I can't say I am more sorry than +I am," she muttered. + +"Then you admit that you deliberately broke the vase." + +"No," Beryl said in a stolid voice. "The worsted got twined round the +furniture, and I didn't see. And I was winding up the worsted, and it +pulled the table over." + +Diana felt that the words were entirely truthful. + +"And you are not sorry?" + +Beryl's eyes glowed. "I should be—if—if—you had not struck me." + +"Nonsense," said Diana shortly. "Children must be punished, and if +you behave like a little child, you must be corrected like one. +You deserved ten times as much. Then you do not intend to ask my +pardon? . . . Very well, I have made an easy opportunity for you, but +I certainly shall not trouble myself to do it again. You will go to +school next Monday, and you may write to Pearl once a week, but I shall +expect to see neat letters. If you behave well, you will see Pearl now +and then, when I can arrange to have you in the holidays. If not, you +must take the consequences." + +Beryl murmured, "I'll try." + +Somehow the reports from school were not satisfactory. Whether or +no Beryl "tried," she certainly did not for a long while succeed in +pleasing her schoolmistress. Diana had passed on to Mrs. Brigstock +the "character" that she had received of Beryl from Dixon, adding +thereto sundry observations on her own account. Beryl, thus docketed +as an undesirable pupil, was placed necessarily at a disadvantage. +Preconceived opinions adverse to a child usually result in jaundiced +views, and Beryl probably suffered to the full from such views. + +The journey from Bath to Hurst was no light expense, and Diana cared +less and less to undertake it as time went on. Beryl and Pearl met but +seldom during the next five years. Once a year, in the summer, Mrs. +Fenwick took Pearl to the seaside for a month's change, and she usually +arranged to have Beryl there. Through the last three of the five, Beryl +never once set foot in Hurst. And the last summer before her school +life came to an end, an epidemic of measles in the school prevented +any meeting between the two sisters. When Beryl reached the age of +seventeen-and-a-half, she had not seen Pearl for eighteen or twenty +months. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_SCHOOL LIFE OVER._ + +MRS. BRIGSTOCK'S establishment was by no means a "first-rate finishing +school." It lagged very many degrees behind any such attainment of +excellence. + +The house was tall and narrow, and it stood at the corner of a +particularly dull side-street, with shops for near neighbours. Bath is +a beautiful town, but even Bath has its unattractive side-streets, and +Mrs. Brigstock had certainly succeeded in finding one for her school. + +Fifteen young ladies could, by dint of close packing, be stowed under +the roof, but "packing" had never yet proved necessary. The number +present at once rarely rose above nine or ten, and at the close of +Beryl Fordyce's school life, it had sunk to seven. Beryl was the oldest +of the pupils by a matter of two years, but Annie Jones, the smart +befringed little maiden of fifteen, who came nearest in age, could +surpass Beryl in a class, and plumed herself considerably thereupon. + +Annie's father was a wealthy but parsimonious watch-maker, who could +be quite content with a cheap and second-rate education for his clever +daughter. After Annie Jones, came three sisters, varying in age from +fourteen to eleven, daughters of an East Indian coffee-planter. The +eldest of the three was the devoted friend of Annie Jones. The other +two fraternised with two other little girls, about the same age as +themselves, who had lately joined the school. This completed the number. + +But Beryl Fordyce stood solitary, and had no friend. She gave out no +love, and she received none. These younger girls never turned to Beryl +for sympathy. She held herself quietly aloof, and went her own way: +always busy—for it was Beryl's nature to find occupation—but doing +everything alone. + +The last evening of her school life had come, and no regrets were +expressed at her departure. Beryl had not expected any. She sat in the +window of the big barely-furnished schoolroom, looking through her +small desk, apart from the other six, who did things always by twos. +They were gathered together at the further end of the room, chatting +and working. It was a sunny evening in June; for Mrs. Brigstock kept to +the old-fashioned division of terms. + +Beryl joined in none of the conversation. It was "not her way" to +talk much, people said. She was greatly changed by her five years of +schooling. The passionate and impulsive child had developed into a +staid and self-contained girl; square in build still, though not stout, +with a uniform complexion of somewhat muddy paleness. Strangers counted +her "ordinary" as to features, with a "sensible" expression, but on the +whole, decisively and irremediably "uninteresting." She was not even +interestingly ugly, but simply plain, with no redeeming points in the +way of intellect, sparkle, or piquancy; the kind of girl, seemingly, +to go through life in a straightforward downright fashion, making no +attempt to attract others, and quite content to "be" uninteresting. + +Beryl was rather an enigma to her teachers. Mrs. Brigstock had fought +some battles with the sullen and headstrong child of earlier years, not +always coming off conqueror. Miss Walker, the "English teacher," had +been at perpetual war with that same child, for her reckless and untidy +ways. + +But somehow a change had come about, creeping on in gradual inevitable +fashion, as change creeps over the first young shoot of a tree in its +growth to a sapling. No distinct break between two periods could be +pointed out; yet, during many months past, fault-finding had become +altogether needless with this sensible and self-controlled maiden. No +one counted Beryl clever, and nobody was at all surprised that she did +not excel in her studies; but what she undertook was done commendably +well, minutes were no longer wasted, and disorder was at an end. + +Mrs. Brigstock, a woman of clever but shallow mind, and one who never +saw below the surface, counted Beryl a fine result of excellent +training, and was well satisfied. Miss Walker took to holding her up, +as a model of order and good behaviour, to the younger girls, not +greatly to their delectation. None of them exactly disliked Beryl, but +none of them loved her. + +The only person who was not content, the only person who really +troubled her brain about Beryl, was the young Swiss teacher, advertised +in the school circulars as imparter of the best Parisian accent,—poor +little thing, she had never been nearer Paris than Geneva in her +life, and did not know the Parisian accent when she heard it. She was +scarcely over twenty, very simple and transparent, but exceedingly +warm-hearted, and her warm heart was utterly nonplussed by the +cold-mannered English girl. She had resided only three months in the +house, though her life in England had extended to nearer three years. +Those three months had contained daily additions of perplexity, with +regard to the eldest pupil. + +"For Beryl," the Swiss girl pronounced it "Bé-ril," "cares for +none, loves not anybody. It is a life apart and alone. For me, I +cannot comprehend it. She is well-behaved 'à merveille'—she forgets +nothing, neglects nothing. The giddy Annie leaves half of her duties +unaccomplished, but not so Beryl. O no, she is blameless, only she +shows no warmth, no heart." + +"It is the change from childhood to girlhood. People often develop +quite differently from what one would expect," Miss Walker said in her +staid fashion. "Beryl was an odd child from the first. I never felt +that I really understood her." + +"'Je m'étonne'—does she understand herself, the poor girl?" + +Miss Walker did not take up the line of thought suggested. "Beryl's +relatives never show any particular affection for her," she said. "In +fact, I don't think she is one to win love easily. Some people do not +seem to have the power. Though she has been here so many years, she +will be less missed by us all than any one of the other children would +be. I don't know why it is, except that she is proud, and will not take +pains to make herself liked; and also she is very much absorbed in her +own pursuits. She is a singular girl." + +Mademoiselle sighed to herself that it was "triste." She went presently +to the schoolroom, and found the pupils as already described, six +grouped together, with minor divisions into couples, and Beryl seated +apart in the farthest window. Was that to be her fashion of going +through life? + +Mademoiselle was so young and kindhearted that her presence was not +counted a check, as that of Mrs. Brigstock or Miss Walker would have +been. The children threw her affectionate smiles across the room,—all +except Beryl, who seemed quite wrapped up in her employment. The two +elder of the six sprang up and began to play a lively duet on the +piano, and the other four were chattering merrily. + +Mademoiselle Bise stood looking at them. Rather common children they +were in appearance, not very lady-like, with dresses somewhat too +smart, and voices very much too high. Beryl Fordyce, however square and +plain and downright, had a certain something about her which belonged +to a different section of society. Nobody in the house detected the +difference, except Mademoiselle. + +Under cover of the rattling tune, she went straight to Beryl's side, +and said softly, "Your last day here. Are you glad or sorry?" + +Beryl, though of late a steady worker at lessons, had never succeeded +in mastering French so far as to converse easily in the foreign tongue, +and this evening English was permitted. + +"I am not sure," replied Beryl, with a touch of surprise at the +question. "It depends—" + +"Depends?" repeated Mademoiselle. + +"On how things go on. I suppose I am to live at my aunt's." + +"'Chez Madame?'—" + +"Mrs. Fenwick. Pearl's—my sister, I mean,—Pearl's home is with her." + +"And yours also, without doubt." + +"I never think of Aunt Di's house as my home. I believe I am to live +there for the present." + +"You have not any other home?" + +"No." + +"'Pauvre enfant,'" murmured Mademoiselle. "And yet you only +suppose—suppose." + +"I shall know soon. Mrs. Fenwick's sister is in Weston-super-Mare, and +I am to go to her first." Beryl paused, and gave a hard little laugh. +"To be inspected, I dare say." + +Mademoiselle looked compassionate. "And this sister—Pearl, do you call +her,—does she resemble you?" + +Beryl searched in her desk, and presently produced a carte-de-visite. +"That was taken two years ago," she said; "just before I saw Pearl +last. No, she is not like me." + +"'Mais qu'elle est gentille!'" Mademoiselle said admiringly. + +"Yes, everybody calls Pearl pretty. I don't suppose I shall find her +much changed." + +"And she and you are 'only' sisters," said Mademoiselle. "No more +sisters, no brothers, no father and mother; how much then, to draw you +together! If I were you, Beryl, I could keep nothing, nothing, from +that dear only sister, who is all that God has left to you. My very +thoughts would I tell out to her." + +"I never tell my thoughts to any one," responded Beryl. "And Pearl is +not particularly fond of me." + +"Not!" Mademoiselle was at a loss for words. She spread out her hands +expressively. + +"Not particularly. Pearl is very fond of Mrs. Fenwick, and I do not +like Mrs. Fenwick at all." + +The expression of Beryl's face at that moment was inscrutable to the +young Swiss girl. Something unwonted stirred beneath those composed +eyes. Mademoiselle could not divine its nature. + +"But you—you love your sister dearly—love her of all your heart? +'N'est-ce pas?'" + +"Yes." Just the monosyllable and no more. + +"And you will win her love? You will give yourself no rest, short of +gaining that love?" + +"Pearl does not need me," said Beryl, the stir of feeling having +apparently vanished. "She is quite happy with my aunt, and has +everything she cares for. I never thrust myself where I am not wanted." + +"But Pearl has need for you,—it must be so. Others cannot make up to +her for you, Beryl. If you could but see it so." + +"I should see if it were so. You don't know Pearl or Mrs. Fenwick +either, so how can you be a judge, Mademoiselle?" Beryl asked, with a +touch of impatience. "I used to be unhappy about it, but I have made up +my mind now that it is foolish to worry myself when things cannot be +helped. One must take life as one finds it, I suppose. What is the good +of minding? It is Pearl's fate to be made much of, and it is my fate +to be made nothing of. I dare say I shall get through life as well as +Pearl, in the end. I never talk like this to anybody, as a rule, only +you are making me do it—" and again there was a tinge of vexation, as +if Beryl felt herself to be failing in the programme which she had laid +down, and was annoyed at the failure. + +"And I 'will' make you, if I can. I wish from my heart I had made you +speak out thus oftener," Mademoiselle Bise said earnestly. "Anything +rather than to shut up your own self into your own heart, and open +to nobody. It is starvation, Beryl; it is petrifaction. And 'getting +through life' is the least part of what we have to do. And there is no +'fate' for the child of God,—no, nor for any man. Fate is a heathen +word, not Christian. There is God's will, and there is Satan's will, +and there is man's will,—but there is not 'fate.'" + +"I used the word in a general sense. Some people seem born to be happy, +and some not." + +"And you are not happy?" + +It was an assertion rather than a question. Beryl made no answer. + +"You have held apart from me, 'mon amie,' and these three long months +have not sufficed for that I should know you. But this evening,—will +you promise me, on the brink of parting, to love me and to let me love +thee?" + +Beryl's heart sprang in response, but her face did not light up, +neither did her fingers return the pressure of Mademoiselle's hand laid +upon them. + +"I like you better than any one in the house," she said. "But you +do not really care for me, Mademoiselle. If you did, it would be +different." + +She saw one of the younger children eyeing their movements, and drew +away her hand. "I should not like any one to call herself my friend, +just out of pity,—I mean, just because she thought I wanted one." + +Suzette Bise looked steadily at Beryl, with a sudden sense of +revelation. Pride's presence was not shown in the latter by +aristocratic features or short upper-lip, but there, none the less, he +plainly held his habitation. + +"You fear to be patronised," she said. "But think—consider—how might +'I' patronise—I, a poor young governess in a strange land! You shall +pity 'me,' Beryl; and I claim your pity, for I am far from my people, +and I am sad and lonely often. I have no friend in England, and truly +I need one. Will you pity me, and be my friend? Will you write to me, +and let me write to you? I will tell you all about my pleasures and my +troubles, and you shall tell me yours, tell me of your sister and your +aunt and your home. 'N'est'ce pas, mon amie'?' Shall it be a compact?" + +"If you wish," Beryl answered. "Yes, I should like that." + +"And you will call me Suzette,—not Mademoiselle, after to-morrow. I +have none in England to call me by that name." + +The music stopped, and no more could be said. + +Mrs. Brigstock presently sent for Beryl to her own sitting-room, and +had some conversation with her, and gave some good advice, couched in +stiff terms, to which Beryl listened superficially. Five years under +the same roof had not linked these two hearts together. Mrs. Brigstock +regretted the loss of another pupil, but for Beryl personally, she +cared little. + + +Beryl slept in a tiny room alone, and she lay awake that night +unwontedly long, thinking over the past conversation. A stagnant pool +in her heart had been stirred, and the stirring brought some pleasure +and some pain with it. + +All that existed of the impassive in Beryl's nature was not indigenous +to the soil, but rather was fruit of cultivation or outer influences. +There were certain depths below which "could" be lashed into a +tempest,—and not a tempest of the mere storm-in-a-teacup description. +Childish storms were over now, however, lying in the far background; +and with the growth of her girlish common-sense and philosophical +resolution to make the best of things, Beryl counted herself to have +passed quite beyond any danger of unnecessary heart-tempests. What good +would they do to her or to anybody? Only it vexed her a little, this +particular night, that, between Suzette's words and her own uncertainty +as to her future, she could not settle quietly off to sleep as usual, +but found herself compelled to toss restlessly to and fro, with wakeful +heart-communings. + +Suddenly the door opened, and a little figure glided in. + +"'Dormes-tu?'" whispered a voice. + +"No," Beryl said. + +Mademoiselle struck a match, lighted a candle, and bent over the bed. + +"One word with you. See—I have brought something—" + +"What?" Beryl found lying in her hand a plain gold ring, with a few +neat pearls set in a row on one side. + +"It shall be thine own, 'mon amie,' as a link between us." + +Beryl was startled. She had had no present for a very long while. +Nobody had cared to give her presents. She had schooled herself often +against feelings of envy for others upon whom loving gifts were +showered. Now she looked wonderingly in Mademoiselle's face, where +tears were running freely from the black eyes. Not in the least pretty +was Suzette's little brown face, with its most irregular of features, +but it had the light of a loving spirit shilling through from within. + +"It shall be your own, Beryl. Listen,—my father gave me this before he +died, and for his sake, I love it well. But I have other gifts of his, +and this shall be yours, to bind us together when far parted. See, it +will slip on your finger, and it is for mine too large. I have not worn +it since I was a young girl, fatter and plumper than now. But take it +off once more, and look,—nay, you cannot see by candle-light. There are +tiny words printed within the ring. Let me tell you them:— + + "'Or ils seront les Miens, a dit le Seigneur des armées, lorsque je +mettrai à part mes plus précieux joyaux.' + +"I know not the words in your English Bible, but you shall find them +in the third 'chapitre' of Malachi. Stay,—here is your Bible. Will you +that I look? 'Ah, les voici.' + + "'And they shall be Mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I +make up My jewels." + +Suzette Bise returned the Bible to its place, and clasped her hands +over one of Beryl's. + +"'Mon amie,' it is in my heart this night to desire and to pray that +this shall be truth of 'you,'—that you shall be a jewel in the crown +of the Lord of Hosts,—thou a pure Beryl in His crown, and thy sister a +fair white Pearl. And the ring shall bring to mind this wish of mine." + +Mademoiselle came to a pause in her earnest speech, and sat on the side +of the bed, waiting. + +"I never pretend to be what I am not," Beryl said at length. "I do not +suppose I am so religious as you." + +"For the religiousness, I ask not. But are you His? That is the +question for us. In that day when He shall make up His jewels,—oh, +Beryl, shall Christ the King be able to say to thee lovingly, 'THOU ART +MINE,'—or shall He have to cast thee aside, as worthless? 'Pardon',—but +it must be the one thing or the other. There are jewels in the earth +never made meet for the King's use. And even the fairest must still be +cleansed and shaped." + +"But what must I do?" asked Beryl. + +Perplexity and uneasiness were struggling with displeasure. Suzette saw +all three. + +"The King's own blood can cleanse thee, and the King's own hand can +shape thee," she said. "Only go to Him in time. He can make thee pure +and beautiful,—fit for His diadem. And keep this ring, to bring to mind +what we have said." + +"You are very kind," Beryl answered, with something of shyness. "I +don't know whether you ought to part with the ring. But if you really +wish me to have it, I'll—I'll promise not to forget, and not to give it +away. And I will write to you." + +Then they kissed and parted. + +Beryl lay long awake, thinking. "Does Mademoiselle 'really' care for +me, or is it only because she fancies that I am lonely?" The proud +spirit wanted to know. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +_MILLICENT'S "BOYS."_ + +BERYL'S guess that her visit to Mrs. Cumming was for purposes of +"inspection" lay near the mark. + + "You are within such easy distance of Bath," Diana had written to +Millicent,—"could you not just manage, out of pity for me, to invite +Beryl to your lodgings for a few days, and see what sort of being she +has turned out? An opinion beforehand would be an immense help. Two +years ago, she was one of the most unpromising of school girls. If she +has learnt to behave herself,—and at seventeen she ought,—I suppose +I can't well get out of giving her a home for the present. Everybody +seems to expect it of me. But I do not want to commit myself in a +hurry—one learns wisdom as one grows older. Do pray try, my dear, to +bring it about, and send me a report of her. I don't believe Uncle +Josiah would mind, and you know you can always get your own way with +him if you choose. It only wants a little management. Tell him it +would be a kindness to Beryl, and so forth. He is sure to give in, if +he thinks it will be a benevolent action. The last year's reports of +Beryl have been good, but one does not really know what they are worth, +and Mrs. Brigstock is a common sort of person. I am dreadfully afraid +sometimes that I made quite a mistake in sending Beryl there, and that +she may have turned out a vulgar girl, whom we shall all be ashamed +of. If she has, I simply 'cannot' have her in my house. It would fret +me to death. But after all, how could I have afforded anything better? +It is quite dreadful, the way money runs through one's fingers. Now +do, Millie dear, help me in this. I am sure it is little enough of +assistance that I get from anybody." + +Millicent Cumming did not exactly follow the course suggested. She went +indeed to her uncle with the required petition, but she told him quite +frankly about Diana's anxieties, and explained the proposed kindness as +being primarily towards Diana herself, though no doubt the visit would +be a pleasure to Beryl. Mr. Crosbie disliked strangers, and he grumbled +a good deal, but he yielded. + +They had lodgings in one of the large houses on the cliff, facing the +Prince Consort Gardens, with the sea beyond. Millicent sat in the +window, sewing, on the afternoon of the day when Beryl was expected. +She would have gone to the station to meet her visitor, but Mr. Crosbie +placed a veto on the plan. + +"He was not going to let Millie knock herself up for anybody. What +was the good of girls if they could not be independent? Elderly folks +always had to be dancing attendance on young folks in these days,—spoil +them out and out,—" and so forth. For Mr. Crosbie was much the same +that he had been five years earlier, just as kindhearted and just as +discontented. Some men grumble their way through life as unceasingly +as an ill-set wheel creaks throughout a journey,—good men too, many +of them, little realising how dark a blot on the Christian character +is the habit of complaining. Mr. Crosbie was by no means aware of the +defect in himself. It was always somebody else that had done wrong, or +somebody else's fault that things were not right. + +Millicent did not like Beryl to arrive unwelcomed, but she gave in, as +she always did give in on minor points, to Mr. Crosbie's wishes, for +the sake of peace. And she sat quietly sewing in the window, now and +then lifting her eyes to the broad waters beyond and below the cliff +gardens,—brown and green and streaky waters, any kind of colour except +the orthodox ocean-blue. Millicent at thirty-six had silver hairs +showing on either side of her fair brow, and certain shady hollows in +her face, though still Madonna-like in serene beauty. Her boys counted +that no woman in the world ever came near "mother" in looks, though +perhaps one of the two made a small mental reservation in favour of +Pearl Fordyce, looking upon himself almost as disloyal for the same. + +The twin brothers, now nineteen in age, were changed. Ivor was tall +and broad, sunburnt and vigorous. The likeness between the two, so +marked in boyish days, had lessened much in the developments of the +past five years. The strength and energy due to the twain seemed all to +have flowed into the frame of Ivor, while mental growth seemed rather +to have favoured Escott. Not that the young officer, now on leave of +absence from his regiment, was wanting in intellect of fair ordinary +calibre, but certainly his tastes were not bookish. He could wade +through a novel occasionally, and he had had one in his hand during the +five minutes since his return to the drawing-room. Also a newspaper +possessed interests for him, and he studied with tolerable diligence +so much of military lore as appeared necessary for advance in his +profession. Further than this, he cared little to go. He was a fine +young fellow, handsome and popular, and extremely fond of his mother, +and she was unlimitedly proud of him. + +But strange to say, Millicent did not lean upon Ivor. All the leaning +in which she indulged was upon her other boy, the puny wraith-like +faced being, lying on a sofa, with hollow cheeks, and large eyes, and +long thin fingers. Millicent loved both her sons intensely, and lived +for them both, but around Escott her very heart-strings were twined. + +It was said that he had no strength of constitution, that he read too +much and thought too much. Reading may be stopped, but not thinking, +so it was a difficult case to deal with. He was not in a consumption, +but from the age of sixteen, he had dwindled and shrunk out of +comparatively healthy boyhood into sickly young-manhood; and two terms +at college, away from his mother's care, had broken him down utterly. +To Escott, the trial was great of being thus cut off from all the work +in life, which he had planned and for which he longed. To his mother, +the trial was not less, for she knew his to be no common order of +mind, and she had looked to see him distinguish himself. But both were +patient,—outwardly at least. + +Ivor perused his novel steadily for full ten minutes, and then threw it +down. "Mother, I'm going out. Anything I can do for you?" + +"There would have been," she said, looking up: "if I had expected you +in so early. I should have liked you to meet Beryl Fordyce at the +station. But I thought you were engaged, so I would not suggest it." + +"So I thought this morning. I forgot Miss Fordyce. Can't I go now?" + +"Too late. She is a quarter of an hour over-due already." + +"What a lazy set she will count us, sitting here at our ease, and +leaving her to fend for herself. I wonder if she is like the excitable +little being whom we took out primrosing." + +"She is older," said Escott. + +"That stands to reason, five years having elapsed. Pearl and she must +be almost strangers by this time. They will live together now, I +suppose, mother?" + +Millicent moved her head in doubtful style. "The decision rests with +your aunt," she said. "I hope it may be so. We must try to make the +poor child happy while she is with us." + +"It has been rather a forlorn look-out for her certainly," Ivor said, +sauntering to the window. "Here she is, mother,—cab, box, and all." + +He was off like a shot to the front door. + +Millicent looked at Escott, smiling. "Good boy,—he never fails in +politeness," she said. "I shall make him take her for some long walks." + +Beryl came in composedly, much more at her ease in a silent way than +Millicent had expected. She was evidently prepared to be received as +an entire stranger, and her formal manner rendered impossible the kind +kiss which Millicent would have given. For Millicent had often thought +pityingly of the banished girl. + +But somehow Beryl was one of those people whom one does not kiss +easily. She sat down as requested, and returned a succession of +brief answers to Millicent's questions. Her journey had been quite +comfortable, and she was not at all tired; and she agreed that the day +was fine, and she had never seen Weston before. And she liked the sea +pretty well; and she would not have known Mrs. Cumming's sons again. +Millicent, always easily checked, found her powers of small talk +failing fast. She took Beryl upstairs without further delay, told her +how soon afternoon tea would be ready, asked if she had lunched, sent a +maid to unstrap the box, and returned to the drawing-room. + +"Hopelessly dull," Ivor said, with a shrug. "Not the least +objectionable, but, commonplace to the last degree." + +"Not quite so pretty as Pearl," said Millicent. + +"Mother!" both cried indignantly. + +"Don't let us condemn her in a hurry as too—too—utterly uninteresting," +laughed Millicent. "At all events, she is not unladylike." + +"It's a case of negative excellence," said Ivor. "Not unladylike, and +not downright ugly, and not positively disagreeable,—but a sort of +colourless stage bordering on all three." + +"Ivor, you have to take her out for long walks, and act showman to +Weston," said Escott, his eyes sparkling with amusement. + +"I shall decamp. Mother, 'do' probe her and find out what she can talk +about. I'm up to anything—except philosophy, crewels, or silence. +Good-bye; I'll be back to dinner," and Ivor disappeared. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_WHAT BERYL HAD TURNED OUT._ + +"WHAT Beryl could talk about," seemed to Mrs. Cumming a hopeless enigma. + +The girl came presently downstairs, and took a seat opposite the mother +and son, with her back towards the window, her attention becoming +speedily concentrated on a flat square of knitting, dingy white as to +hue. She wore a dress of dust-colour, about the most unbecoming tint +that could possibly have been chosen for her complexion, "trimmed with +itself," as the dressmakers say, and therefore unrelieved by any other +colour. + +Tea was brought in, and Beryl seemed glad to make a heartier meal than +usually belongs to the hour. Having disposed of so much as she wanted, +she returned to her knitting and was silent. + +The sparkle of the Channel waters possessed apparently less attractions +for her eyes than the ins and outs of white cotton, growing into a +close web beneath her fingers. + +"You seem to be more of a workwoman than Pearl," remarked Millicent. + +"Pearl used to like work in old days," said Beryl, in her cut-and-dried +manner, with occupied eyes. + +"I don't think she does now. What are you making, my dear?" + +"A counterpane. This is the fourth square." + +"How long will it take you to complete the whole?" + +"I don't know." Beryl's manner seemed to add,—"and I don't care." + +"Do you take to crewels?" + +"No; I like straightforward work. I have no knack for fanciful things." + +"You must be very sorry to say good-bye to all your schoolfellows," +Millicent said after a pause. + +Beryl did look up now, to ask,—"Why?" + +"People don't generally live together for years, without the growth of +a little mutual liking," observed Escott. + +"I do not like any of them particularly. They are all younger than I +am, and some have not been there long." + +"And you have no especial friends among them, Beryl?" asked Millicent, +determined to avoid the stiff "Miss Fordyce" to which she felt disposed. + +"I don't dislike them." + +"Negative," muttered Escott. + +"But, my dear, you must have cared for somebody in the house," said +Millicent. + +"There was Mademoiselle Bise," said Beryl, with seeming reluctance. + +"The French governess? Is she your friend?" + +Beryl actually paused in her knitting to consider. "I don't know," she +said at length. "We never thought about it till yesterday evening. Of +course I cannot be sure yet." + +"She certainly is an original!" thought the entertained Escott. "Ivor +is wrong. The specimen is not precisely commonplace, except as to the +outside." + +"How long will it take you to be sure?" he asked. + +"I don't know," Beryl answered again shortly. "People sometimes profess +a great deal, and change afterwards." + +"Schoolgirls do, perhaps." + +"I do not mean schoolgirls." + +"Your experience seems to have been more unhappy than mine," said +Escott. "It is well to trust a friend, when one gains him—or her." + +"I would rather not trust than be disappointed?" + +Escott's look expressed dissent, but he did not carry on the +conversation, and Beryl seemed quite content to work at her square in +silence. + +Escott went back to his book, supporting himself on one elbow, while +the thin fingers strayed thoughtfully through the fair hair. Once +absorbed in reading, he heeded nothing else. + +His mother, presently laying down her work to watch him, thought he +looked painfully frail; and he had not turned many pages before a +wearied look stole over the white brow. She dreaded to tease him with +over-solicitude, yet longed to see the book laid aside. In her anxiety, +Beryl's presence was almost forgotten, and mother and son were alike +startled to hear the blunt remark,— + +"I don't think you ought to try to read." + +Escott glanced up, to meet Beryl's gaze. "I beg your pardon?" he said. + +"You don't look fit to read," repeated Beryl, varying her words +slightly. "Are you ill?" + +Millicent wondered how he would take the question. He had at all times +a dislike to observations upon his health, and this dislike had of late +increased to an almost morbid extent. "No," he said curtly, and he went +on with his occupation. + +"I don't think you ought," repeated Beryl. + +Millicent would have given a silencing sign, but she could not catch +Beryl's eye. + +Escott evidently had a moment's struggle with himself. Then he +said,—"Thanks for good advice,"—threw the book on the table, and went +out of the room. + +"He looks ill, whether he is or not," said Beryl. "What is the matter +with him?" + +No answer coming, she glanced up to find a cause,—and saw the mother's +tears. Beryl drew her own conclusion immediately. "Then he is ill—very +ill," she said. "I thought he must be." + +Millicent regained her voice with difficulty. "No," she said; "it is +weakness only. There is no positive disease, I am thankful to say." + +"But why can't something be done?" + +"A great deal has been done; and we hope he will be stronger by and by. +My dear, you must not, if you please, remark on his health or seem to +watch him." + +"Why not?" + +"It troubles Escott,—annoys him. You must not do it, my dear. He does +not like to have his delicacy remarked upon." + +"I don't see the good of making believe that a thing isn't when it is," +said the downright Beryl. "But of course, if you wish it, I will try +not to seem to be noticing." + +Escott soon returned, going to an ordinary chair instead of the sofa, +and—perversely, Beryl thought—taking up his book anew. She fully +meant to follow Mrs. Cumming's directions, but somehow her attention +persisted in wandering from her knitting; and so surely as her eyes +were turned, though but for a moment, in his direction, those large +blue eyes with their heavy lids were raised to meet them. Escott was +evidently on the "qui-vive," and evidently also he was bearing up with +difficulty; but no more was said. + +Millicent was presently summoned into the next room, where Mr. Crosbie +slept away a considerable part of the afternoon, and she came back to +summon Beryl also. + +"You have not been introduced to my uncle yet," she said. + +A brief and not lively interview followed. The old gentleman speedily +gave his niece a hint that he had had enough, and when she had taken +away Beryl, she was herself immediately recalled. + +"So that's the girl," said Mr. Crosbie. "That's Beryl Fordyce,—Pearl's +sister, hey?" + +"Yes, uncle." + +"It's easy to say, yes, uncle,'" growled Mr. Crosbie. "But what is to +be done with her?" + +"I think we must keep her here for a few days at all events. I do not +fancy we shall dislike her." + +"Dislike her! There's nothing to dislike. I don't dislike a post or a +stock or a stone, I hope. But what on earth is to be done with her?" + +"Beryl's home will probably be with Di," suggested Millicent. + +"Well, well, well," said Mr. Crosbie, moving his hands up and down. +"Well—well,—keep her out of my way, my dear—keep her out of my way. +That's all I have to say. I wish Di joy of her, that's all." + + +"She is an odd girl. I can't quite make her out yet," Escott said a few +days later. + +"The greater riddle to me is how you manage to feel enough interest in +her, to trouble your head at all about the matter," Ivor said lightly. + +"I am interested in anything that I don't understand," said Escott, +half smiling. + +"If that is all, I can supply you with a clue to your riddle. You say +you can't make her out—but in my humble opinion, there is nothing to be +made out. When you have seen the outside, you have seen all. It is a +homogeneous substance—solid and respectable, not superior in quality, +but the same throughout." + +"Ah! Is it? I have my doubts there." + +"A good substantial piece of deal boarding," laughed Ivor. "Not the +least ornamental, but quite capable of being useful. It isn't mahogany +or walnut, and it is more fit for kitchen or bedroom use than for +the drawing-room. Nothing of veneer or polish about it,—still, quite +unexceptionable of its kind. Not brilliant, of course; but who expects +brilliancy in a deal board?" + +"You are hard upon her, Ivor." + +"Hard to call a thing by its proper name! I don't see that. But you +would rather have it veneered perhaps?" + +There was some excuse for Ivor. He had really tried his best with +Beryl, and had failed. A handsome and gentlemanly young fellow, +already accustomed, though he had not passed his twentieth birthday, +to be admired and courted on all sides, he found in Beryl's staid +indifference a new and not a fascinating experience. He was steady +and well-principled, popular in his regiment no less than in general +society, and not at all more self-satisfied than any average young +man would be in a like position. His submissive devotion for his +mother and his strong affection for his twin brother, would have been +redeeming points in a much more faulty character. However, a touch +of masculine vanity undoubtedly ranked among his faults, and being +used to appreciation from ladies, he did not quite approve the lack +of it from Beryl. For Beryl certainly did not trouble herself to show +any particular appreciation of him. She showed a growing interest in +Escott; but for Ivor, she did not care. + +It was no fault of his. He had tried walking, and he had tried +talking, without success. Beryl's old love of wild-flowers seemed to +have forsaken her, and her old love of scrambling had died a natural +death. She liked a walk along a well-beaten track, but showed entire +carelessness as to whether Ivor, Mrs. Cumming, anybody or nobody, were +her companion, and to sit indoors over her slowly-growing counterpane +appeared to be the more favourite occupation. In conversation, Ivor +found himself nonplussed. He could make talk to any amount for all the +other young ladies of his acquaintance, whether singly or collectively +encountered; but he could not make talk for Beryl. She never started +a subject herself; and though she answered when he spoke, her answers +caused no rebound of ideas. At the best, the two played a game of +shuttle-cock, wherein the counting rarely advanced beyond two or three +turns. To pick up the shuttle-cock and begin anew so frequently was +fatiguing, more especially as the exertions devolved chiefly on Ivor. + +"It was a herculean task," he said despairingly, after one of these +walks. + +And though his mother laughingly patted his broad shoulders, and told +him he had herculean strength to match, she fully sympathised. + +For Millicent too had failed. She had been from the first anxious +to delve beneath the outer shell of Beryl's mind, but she had been +hitherto unsuccessful. Millicent, in her sweet attractiveness, was as +little used as was Ivor to find her attractions unavailing. Diana was, +perhaps, the only living person hitherto, within reach of Millicent's +influence, who had not bent to it. Millicent had had in her lifetime +about as much spoiling of admiration as falls to the lot of any woman +in an ordinary way. She had had her counterpoising trials also, and was +not spoilt. But Beryl puzzled her. + +"There must be a soft spot somewhere in the nature," she said, not +accepting Ivor's "homogeneous" theory. "If one could find it!" + + +A week had elapsed, and as yet she had not found the "soft spot." Beryl +seemed disposed to pass through life in a jog-trot and uninteresting +fashion, caring little for others, cared for little by others, and not +unwilling to have things thus. Was she really willing? + +Millicent had no definite fault to find with her visitor. Beryl was +tidy, well-behaved, and punctual. She appeared good-tempered; at least, +nothing had caused her to appear the contrary. She did not step out of +her way, commonly, to exercise courtesy and self-denial. But if Mr. +Crosbie lost his spectacles or required a book, Beryl was quite willing +to put down her knitting, and to hunt for the one or fetch the other. +If only there had been a touch of warmth, of spring, of gracefulness, +about what she did! If only she had not been so hopelessly staid and +matter-of-fact! + +Millicent was direfully at a loss what to say in writing to Diana. +A word too much might injure Beryl's standing for years; while a +word too little might be counted untrue. She wrote and tore up three +letters, having waited several days for clearer light as to Beryl's +real character. Then, in despair she went to her uncle, and begged his +advice,—a step which the old gentleman always approved. + +"Tut, tut!" he said. "Tell the truth, my dear. No good to mince +matters. Di will see with her own eyes, if not with yours. A +well-meaning commonplace sort of girl. You can't describe her as +anything else." + +"Poor Beryl! She is very good-humoured and easy to get on with." + +"Tell Di so—if you think it." + +"But Di wants a full and particular account." + +"Sort of diagnosis of the case! Humph! Women always want what they +can't get. Why not have Di and Pearl here for a few days, and let Di +judge for herself?" + +"Here!" repeated Millicent. "She would not come, uncle." + +"Try,—you just try," chuckled Mr. Crosbie. "I've a notion that she +would. Di seems to be under a horror of committing herself. If she +comes here, she can see for herself what Beryl is. The whole thing is +rubbish, to my mind. She could just as well have Beryl home at once, +and leave plans uncertain for a few weeks as to the future. But Di +never can walk straight forward." + +"There are two or three rooms in the house empty," mused Millicent; +"and Di said in her last letter that Pearl looked pale, and wanted +change. Yes; I think the idea is good. I will write directly." + +Which she did, saying nothing to Beryl. + +Diana's answer arrived late on the evening of Saturday. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_MEETING AGAIN._ + +AT breakfast, on Sunday morning, Millicent said to Beryl, without +preface— + +"How will you like a sight of Pearl the day after to-morrow?" + +Ivor had the satisfaction of finding that Beryl could be disconcerted. +She coloured, hesitated, and asked—"Am I to go so soon?" + +"My sister and Pearl are coming here on Tuesday for a week." + +"Mrs. Fenwick!" + +"Your aunt Diana!" Millicent answered a little pointedly, noticing, as +she had noticed before, that Beryl rarely used the title. "You will be +pleased to see them both." + +"I shall like to see Pearl, of course." The tone was not one of delight. + +"But not Mrs. Fenwick," mischievously suggested Ivor. + +"No," said Beryl, with decided shortness of manner. Then, after a +pause: "I do not know Mrs. Fenwick well enough to care for her,—and—" + +"And—what?" asked Ivor. + +Beryl looked towards Millicent. "I was going to say—'and I never +could;' but I thought you might not like it." + +"I think you would be wise not to make up your mind until you know her +better," Millicent said kindly. "People who might be friends are often +kept apart for years by preconceived notions." + +"Mrs. Fenwick and I could not be friends," said Beryl slowly, cutting +her toast into strips. + +"She has been a good friend to you." + +"Yes,—I don't mean that. I mean that we do not care for one another, +and that we could not—" + +"Until you are better acquainted." + +"No; I know her enough for 'that.' I have been with her three times for +a month, and she writes to me sometimes." + +Painful recollections of one kind or another seemed to come up. Beryl +suddenly turned crimson, ceased speaking, and began to eat her toast +with unnecessary speed. + +Ivor exchanged glances with his mother, discovered that he had to speak +to Escott, apologised and disappeared. + +Millicent remarked quietly— + +"Your acquaintance with my sister was unfortunate in its beginning, +Beryl. I always think the report of your aunt's old servant did harm, +and gave a false impression at the first." + +"Did it? I don't know. I suppose I was a troublesome child," said +Beryl, in the manner of one whose childhood lay far in the rear. "But +that is no reason—" + +Beryl paused, and Millicent made a sound of questioning. + +"I was only going to say—that is no reason why she should be always +unkind to me." + +"She has not been intentionally unkind, I am sure," said Millicent. + +"I don't know. Perhaps not," Beryl said with an air of incredulity. + +"One must read people by their actions, at least as much as by their +words," suggested Millicent. + +Beryl evidently understood. "It is not words only," she said. "Cannot +you see by a person's face when she dislikes you? Of course I am not +a child now, and I do not forget that she has given Pearl a home, and +has paid for my schooling. And I—I suppose I am grateful. Of course I +am. Only, I would rather have had things different. I would rather have +kept Pearl." + +"You will probably be much more with Pearl in the future," said +Millicent kindly. + +"I don't know at all. Mrs. Fenwick—Aunt Di, I mean—does not tell me +where I am to live. And she said I might have to go out as a governess. +I should not mind working for my livelihood, but I don't think I am +clever enough to teach. I would much rather be trained as a nurse. I +think I could do 'that.' But Mrs. Fenwick said I must leave it to her +to decide, and she has told me nothing lately. Sometimes she writes as +if I were to live with her and Pearl. But I don't know—it would not be +the same. Pearl is not mine now." + +The last two sentences broke out abruptly, with no dearth of feeling in +them. Beryl gathered some crumbs into a little heap on the table-cloth, +and crushed them in her hand. + +"The uncertainty is trying for you," Millicent said slowly, in some +doubt how to answer. "I do not think my sister has quite made up her +mind yet. A good deal, I suppose, depends on how you meet, and how you +get on together. After all, we must have our times of uncertainty and +waiting. They do not really harm us." + +"It is not the uncertainty that I mind. It is the feeling—" + +Beryl broke off again, and Millicent said—"I am a little afraid that +this feeling of yours about my sister may prevent things from being as +they should be." + +"It is not my fault. Could 'you' like a person who could not bear you?" +asked Beryl. "If she cared for me, I would try to care for her." + +"But, my dear child, the caring must begin on one side," said Millicent +persuasively. "Why should it not begin on yours? My sister has at least +shown you much kindness. Can you not repay it with loving gratitude?" + +"One can't love because one ought," said Beryl. + +"Not precisely; but one can look at the best instead of the worst +in another, because one ought. One can cultivate the kindliness of +feeling which often grows into love. And one can pray to have the wrong +feelings conquered." + +"I don't think the feelings are wrong. I think I have reason," said +Beryl coldly. "I cannot say much to you, of course, because you are her +sister—but—I 'have' reason." + +"I can believe that you have in some measure. My sister is impulsive, +and she may have misunderstood you. Still I do not think you are quite +right to suspect her of unkind motives, or of actual dislike." + +"It is not suspecting. I 'know,'" broke in Beryl. + +"Know her motives?" + +"No; I know she dislikes me." + +"If it were so, there is such a thing as returning good for evil, and +loving those who hate us,—even hate us. That goes far beyond the utmost +feeling which you can accuse her of." + +Beryl thought not. Her face wore a slightly defiant expression. + +"And if she does not love you yet, why should you not sooner or later +win her love?" + +Beryl looked down. "I do not care to try," she said sullenly, her usual +fence of good-humoured indifference broken down for the moment. "It is +Pearl that I want,—not Mrs. Fenwick. She has stolen Pearl from me. I do +not want 'her' love." + +Millicent knew too well what Beryl meant. She had often grieved over +Diana's management of affairs, and over the growing estrangement of the +sisters. Yet she could not in so many words admit the fact to Beryl. + +"There have been mistakes, no doubt," she said. "But the fact that +Pearl is fond of my sister ought not to touch her affection for you. If +Diana has caused you pain, you can at least forgive her. We all make +mistakes, and need to be forgiven." + +Beryl looked up straight in Millicent's face, the old childish glow +shining in her eyes. "I never forgive Mrs. Fenwick for stealing Pearl +from me," she said. + +"'Forgive us—'as' we forgive," uttered Millicent. + +"I cannot help it. One may talk easily enough," said Beryl. "But you +don't know what it is. You don't know what it is to have no home, and +nobody." + +Millicent would have given much to have escaped an interruption at that +moment. It came, however, as such interruptions often do come, when +apparently least to be desired, in the person of Ivor. He evidently +thought he had allowed ample time for exchange of confidences. + +Beryl rose and went to the window, and when, two minutes later, she +turned round, she had entirely regained her usual staid and collected +air, and looked as if she had never in her life been farther from any +display of feeling. But Millicent had obtained a glimpse of what lay +beneath the smooth surface. + +She had no opportunity of obtaining a second. Beryl studiously +avoided another "tête-à-tête" during the remainder of the day. And in +conversation, she glided persistently away from the subject of Mrs. +Fenwick and Pearl. + + +Monday was the same. Beryl worked at her counterpane with an air of +profound attention, and had another long walk with Ivor. But she +gave vent to no remarks beyond the merest commonplaces, and Pearl's +name scarcely passed her lips. Ivor was indignant at the seeming +indifference, for Pearl's sake; and Escott would have been indignant +also, but that he knew something from his mother of the Sunday morning +conversation. + +"It is Aunt Di's fault—not Pearl's," was his view of the matter. +"Perhaps you will be able to give Aunt Di a hint some day, mother, how +to manage differently. And after all—when once Beryl is thrown with +Pearl—" + +He flushed up, and left the sentence unfinished, evidently resting his +hopes there for an improvement in the state of affairs. + +Millicent was not so sanguine as regarded Pearl, and she had no +confidence at all in the good effects of a hint to Diana. Advice in +that direction commonly acted in a reverse fashion from what was +intended. + + +Tuesday afternoon came, and the same train which had brought Beryl +brought Mrs. Fenwick and Pearl. Ivor met them at the station, and +ushered them into the drawing-room, exchanging arch nothings with +Pearl, and showing himself to be on terms of brotherly intimacy. + +Diana looked not a day older than five years before, and her costume +was, as usual, elaborately fashionable. Bugles had gone out of use, +but there was always a sheeny sparkle about Diana's dress, suiting the +sparkle of her face and manner. She wore mourning no longer, though her +prevalent tone of colour was subdued. + +Beryl paid small heed to Diana Fenwick, though the two shook hands, and +exchanged a conventional kiss. Her attention was concentrated on her +sister. + +Pearl Fordyce had grown into a lovely girl. Thu promise of her +childhood was already richly fulfilled. She was not tall, but her +slight figure was perfectly graceful; and the delicate little +face, with its pensive blue eyes, was set off by ivory whiteness +of complexion, and geranium tinting in cheeks and lips. The smile, +too, with which she answered some gay banter of Ivor's, though not +brilliant, was sweetly winning. + +"The sisters are as great a contrast as ever," Diana remarked. + +It was an unnecessary observation, and it jarred on more than one +present. Pearl laughed faintly in a deprecatory way. Diana sat looking +from one to the other, carrying on her comparison. + +"I suppose one could not expect anything different; and after all, +sisters are not always alike. How is Uncle Josiah? I should think he +had had enough of Weston by this time. For my part, I cannot endure the +place. In fact, I almost wrote yesterday morning to say we would not +come, but that silly child nearly broke her heart at the idea, so I had +to give it up." + +"Dear auntie, you promised not to tell," murmured Pearl, with just +enough heightening of colour to add to her loveliness. + +Ivor stood watching her with an air of easy and undisguised admiration. +Escott's hand was shading his eyes, but Millicent knew that those eyes +were bent in the same direction. She could not wonder. Very few people +were able to sit in the room with Pearl and not look at her. Very few +would have been able to knit calmly, with downcast eyes, at a dingy +white counterpane square, as Beryl was now doing. Of a certainty, no +one could have supposed that these two sisters had not met for twenty +months, they had so little to say to one another. + +"Did I? Ah, I forgot!" Diana responded, laughing. "Little goose, was +she not, Millicent! Weston seems to have more charms for her than for +me. I have no predilection for mud. However, a change is a change, and +we must make the best of it, though really journeys are a terrible +expense in these days." + +Millicent wanted to bring the sisters nearer together, but she found it +not easy. A proposal that the travellers should go to their room was +negatived by Diana. She was "dreadfully tired," and so she supposed was +Pearl; and they would rather have tea first. Millicent did not think +Diana carried her fatigue in her face, and she had rarely seen Pearl +less pale, but she could not combat the assertion. She rang for tea, +and dispensed it with as little delay as possible, Ivor making himself +generally useful, and Escott starting up to wait upon Pearl with an air +of subdued pleasure. + +Pearl received the attentions of both brothers as a matter of course, +paying for them with sweet smiles and little soft-toned utterances. + +Beryl worked on in steady silence. Then Millicent proposed that Beryl +should show Pearl her room, and Ivor met this with a counter-proposal +that Pearl should take a turn in the gardens across the road, and have +a nearer view of the sea. Escott protested that she would be tired, but +Pearl said— + +"O no, it would be delicious." + +"Then Beryl must go too," Millicent said decisively. + +And Beryl rose with a reluctant expression. + +"Don't ask me, that is all I entreat," Diana said languidly. + +But Escott volunteered to be of the party. He was not well enough for +the exertion, and Millicent knew he would suffer for it afterwards; yet +she would not tease him by objections. She watched the four from the +window, crossing the road, Ivor and Escott on either side of Pearl, in +eager conversation, and Beryl beyond Escott, walking a little apart and +silently, in contemplation of the dust. + +"She is not improved," Diana observed. + +"Beryl, do you mean? I think she is, Di, in some respects." + +"They must be hidden 'respects,'" said Diana, gaping. + +"She is quiet and obliging, and gives no trouble; and I never saw a +girl more uniformly busy." + +"I hate people to be busy about nothing. Worse than idleness." + +"Hardly, Di. Misdirected energy may be turned in a right direction, but +one can make no possible use of idle tendencies." + +Diana gaped again. "There's a sort of mania for making use of +everything and everybody in the present day. It is quite fatiguing. +Nobody shall make use of me, if I can help it." + +"But, Di, you could not expect Beryl to turn out pretty." + +"I don't know what I expected. All I hope is that she will not turn my +house upside down. If she does, I will not keep her there." + +"I do not think there is much danger. Beryl has at least learnt to +control herself." + +Yet even as Millicent spoke, she wondered how far this self-control +would reach. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_CONFIRMATION._ + +"BY THE BYE, have you ever been confirmed, Beryl?" + +The question came out bluntly next morning in family conclave. Diana +was enjoying the sweets of idleness in an easy-chair, and Pearl was +making believe to get through a little fancy-work, as she sat in the +bow-window chatting with Ivor. Escott had appeared early, and was doing +his best to conceal languor by joining fitfully in the conversation. +Millicent's calm face had a careworn look. Beryl was for once reading +instead of working, and she had not spoken a word since breakfast, +finished about half an hour earlier. She looked up at the sound of her +name, and said, "No." + +"Very careless of Mrs. Brigstock. Of course, I supposed she would see +to all that sort of thing." + +Beryl coloured, and evidently had a difficulty in speaking on the +subject. But after a moment of hesitation, she said stiffly, "I did not +wish—" + +"Didn't wish what?" asked Mrs. Fenwick, with sharpness. + +"Mrs. Brigstock asked me last year if I would be confirmed; and I said +not." + +"Why, pray?" + +"I did not wish it." + +"Absurd," Diana said, with an impatient jerk of her gold watch-chain. +"Why, Pearl is only just over sixteen, and she was confirmed more than +a year ago. You were sixteen last year, 'quite' old enough. Nobody +thinks of waiting longer. It is absurd to put off in that way. Now I +think of it, I remember writing to you, when Pearl was confirmed, and +saying that I wished you to take the first opportunity, if you had not +done so already. You remember?" + +"Yes, I remember." Beryl lifted her eyes to look straight at Mrs. +Fenwick, not defiantly, but with the air of one bracing herself to +resistance. + +"Then why did you not do as you were told?" + +"I did not wish to be confirmed. Mrs. Brigstock gave me the choice, and +I said I would not." + +"Mrs. Brigstock had no business to do anything of the sort. What was +your reason for refusing?" + +Beryl was silent. + +Diana evidently had not the faintest idea that the conversation was one +which should have taken place in private. + +"I hope you have not taken up any ridiculous scruples about the rite +being of no use, and so on," she said, with sufficient vagueness. "One +never knows what notions people will get hold of next, in these days." + +Silence still. + +Diana flipped a crumb from a small crevice in the arm-chair. + +"If you have no reason to give, of course I can only suppose it to +have been a childish fancy. There will be a Confirmation in Hurst next +autumn, and I shall expect you to be confirmed then. I shall give in +your name directly we return. It is provoking, for the classes are +always held at a most inconvenient time, just so as to interfere with +one's meals, and I hate to have arrangements upset. But it can't be +helped. As Mrs. Brigstock did not choose to see to it, I must." + +Beryl was crimsoning. "I would rather not," she said. + +"But I would rather you should," said Mrs. Fenwick. + +The defiant look came now unmistakably, and, Beryl breathed hard. "I +shall not be confirmed," she said. "Not yet, I mean. It would not be +right for me. I do not wish it, and it is not a thing can be forced." + +"Forced! Rubbish," said Diana petulantly. "Why, you are nearly +eighteen. It is not proper or respectable to go on without +Confirmation. Everybody is confirmed." + +"I hope not—in that spirit," Millicent said involuntarily. "If Beryl +does not feel yet that she could take the vows from her heart, she is +right to hold back." + +Beryl's eyes sent one glance of gratitude in her direction, while Diana +reddened angrily. + +"Stuff! Nonsense!" she said. "Why it is a form,—very good and +necessary, of course,—but it is a form. It is a thing one has to do. +Everybody does it. It is just that." + +"Just a piece of respectability," put in Ivor. + +"If it really were 'just that,' and no more, one could not be surprised +at any one counting it a meaningless rite," said Millicent. + +"I am sure 'I' don't know what you mean. It is a form,—everybody knows +that. And everybody goes through with it. You had your boys confirmed +as soon as they were sixteen." + +Millicent's gentle face lighted up. "Yes," she said, looking across to +the "boys" in question. "It was their earnest wish, and I was thankful. +I could not look into their hearts, Di, and God alone knows whether +they felt as much as they seemed to feel, only I know they honestly +thought they did. They did not come forward to make solemn promises +before God, merely as a respectable form, with the deliberate intention +of breaking their word." + +"You talk just as if the baptismal vows were promises in the common +sense of the expression," said Diana. + +"'They did promise and vow three things in my name,'" quoted Millicent. + +"Oh—well, yes,—but everybody knows there is a difference—" + +"I see none. A promise is a promise,—certainly not 'less' when spoken +to God than when spoken to man." + +"Well, I am tired of the subject," said Diana pettishly. "The upshot of +it all is that you encourage Beryl to set up herself against me." + +"You mistake me," said Millicent quietly. "I should be very sorry to +see Beryl opposing you for the sake of opposition. She owes you far too +much. But I think you will agree with me here, when you have considered +the matter. Children, is it not a pity you should waste your morning +indoors this fine day?" She often call them "children" thus, in her +motherly tender way, and the boys liked the word from her lips, though +a good many young fellows of their age would not have liked it. "Why +not take a walk—Beryl and Pearl and Ivor?" + +"And Escott," her other son said. + +"Are you up to it this morning?" + +Escott said, "Quite," and a general stir followed. + +Millicent went out of the room with them, and when the quartette had +disappeared, she came back, to find Diana shedding angry tears. + +"As if I had not worry enough already," she said. "It really is too +bad. The girl will be perfectly unbearable." + +"But, Di, it is evidently a question of conscience." + +"Oh, nonsense! I don't believe it. She likes oppose me, and to make +a fuss. Conscience is the excuse for everything in these days. But I +intend to have my own way in the matter. I will not be baulked by a +girl's whims." + +"I hardly see how you can obtain your way. It would be better to yield +gracefully in the beginning than to be defeated in the end, putting +aside more serious considerations. Beryl has simply to tell Mr. Bishop +that she has no wish for Confirmation, or even to do no more than +decline to answer any questions, and she will not be admitted." + +"Beryl will do what I choose, or she will be sorry for it. Why, I had +no such fuss with Pearl. She said 'Yes' at once, and went through the +classes, and I am sure she looked a perfect picture in her white veil. +Everybody was noticing her. She was like a little bride." + +Millicent felt that the discussion was hopeless. + +"As for making such a fuss about feelings, the less people say the more +they feel, as a rule. I don't believe in all that talk about religion. +It is a pure case of conceit and obstinacy. Beryl likes to go against +me on all occasions, and always did. But she shall learn to submit, or +I will have no more to do with her. Not wish for Confirmation, indeed! +Your boys were not so absurd, say what you like in defence of Beryl." + +"They did wish for it, Di. That made all the difference." + +"Of course they did, and so would any person with proper feelings. 'I' +wished it when I was a girl. I never thought of putting it off. And it +is not that your boys are so tremendously religious either. Escott may +be inclined that way—sickly people often are,—but Ivor is just like any +other young man." + +"I think 'not,'—if you mean any other irreligious young man. Ivor is +reserved, but he has high principle, and I believe there is much deeper +feeling than appears on the surface. I am not denying that he has his +faults,—that is another question. And I do not for a moment contend +that self-deception is not possible,—is not even frequent. I only say +that no one ought to be confirmed, without at least a strong sense of +the reality of the promises, and an earnest purpose to keep them." + +"Well, I am sick of the subject. But I intend to have my own way with +Beryl. It would never do to let her begin by defying me." And Diana +settled herself to the perusal of a yellow-backed novel, with her feet +on the sofa, in a fatigued attitude. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +_IN THE WOODS._ + +THE four wended their way along the Kewstoke Road, turning after a +while into a broad shady path which slanted upwards to the right, +gradually widening its distance from the lower road. It was a +charming way through the woods; one of the few really pretty walks in +Weston-super-Mare. There had been much soft rain in the spring of this +particular year, and the result appeared in a semi-tropical luxuriance +of growth. Almost every trunk had its clothing of ivy; and between +the thick growth below and the dense foliage above, creepers hung in +countless festoons. + +To the right of the path, which was almost broad enough to deserve the +name of a road, the wooded height ascended somewhat steeply, and to +the left it descended in much the same fashion. The path in front rose +steadily, and in the rear it slanted downwards, without a bend, arched +over by boughs, and seeming to terminate in the sea. The road and beach +intervening were not visible. Only the sunlit waters showed in a round +green frame. + +Beryl was thoughtful, but Pearl had a gay fit on her, and looked her +prettiest. She and Ivor chatted together merrily. The little party +did not fall into two and two, as might have seemed more natural. +Escott attached himself persistently to Pearl's other side. And Beryl +walked sometimes evenly with the three, sometimes a little before or +behind. Escott became soon as silent as Beryl, but Pearl was so busily +conversing with Ivor as for some time not to notice this. Happening at +length to make some slight appeal to him, she came to a stand-still. + +"Why, Escott,—are we going too fast for you?" + +"Only the heat," Escott said, attempting to smile, but he was terribly +pale, and thick drops stood on his brow. He leant against the trunk of +a tree, evidently thankful for the pause. "This hill is rather a pull." + +"I hardly noticed that it was a hill at all," Ivor said, with concerned +looks. "But of course it is a warm morning. You must not go any +farther, my dear fellow. What have we all been thinking about?" + +"Had you not better sit down?" asked Pearl, her sweet eyes bent kindly +on him. "Poor Escott! I am afraid you are not much better yet for +Weston air. Shall we all rest here for a few minutes, Ivor? It really +is a tiring climb." + +Escott looked grateful as she betook herself to a little upright +tree-stump, motioning him to another. He obeyed, and sat with his face +resting on his hands, evidently exhausted. + +Ivor hovered about, concerned still, but aware that the kindest plan +was to leave his brother alone. + +Beryl sat on the opposite bank, near, yet apart. And after a minute, +she said bluntly,—"Have you not some eau-de-cologne, Pearl?" + +"Of course I have. Thank you for reminding me. We will all +refresh ourselves," Pearl said, with tact. "Handkerchiefs out, +please,—Beryl—Ivor—Escott." + +Beryl declined, saying she disliked scents, but Ivor was not so +disdainful, and Escott came in for a bountiful share. "What a pity to +give me so much," he said. + +"I have plenty more at home, and it will do you good," Pearl said, with +another of her kind sweet glances, which carried captive most people's +hearts. She did not mean anything by them. Pearl was only fond of +Escott in sisterly fashion. + +Then Escott was left quiet again, and Pearl and Ivor chatted +unceasingly about anything or nothing, and Beryl remained apart, lost +in her own thoughts,—thoughts stirred up by the conversation with Diana +Fenwick. + +Beryl was troubled, and anxious, and unsettled. She did not quite know +what, in her heart of hearts, she really wished. Certain words uttered +by Suzette Bise had been often in her mind of late, bringing unhappy +feelings with them. The year before, she had unhesitatingly decided +against offering herself for Confirmation. This year, though she did +not exactly wish to be a candidate, yet she wished that she "could" +wish it. Beryl was very true and honest. If she took the promises at +all, she would feel herself bound to keep them to the best of her +ability; so much was clear. She was not quite so clear as to what was +contained in the promises; and she believed that a good many things +might be implied which she would not like to do: yet somehow she could +not feel so easy or contented as the year before, to leave the matter +thus. + +Beryl wished she had somebody to consult, but there was nobody. +Millicent Cumming's very beauty and grace made her, despite her gentle +goodness, seem at a hopeless distance, and gave Beryl always a sense +of constraint with her. She wanted to find somebody more like herself, +more on her own level. Suzette Bise, as a foreigner, would know +little about the question, she thought; also Suzette Bise had not yet +answered her letter, written immediately on arrival at Weston. Beryl +was beginning to decide that Suzette Bise was only another example of +fickle human nature. "Another," for she looked upon Pearl as the prime +example in her experience, even while loving her still with unchanged +affection. + +So Beryl sat apart, lonely and self-occupied. Escott sat in a manner +apart too, with attention bent not upon self but upon the picture +opposite,—the graceful little figure, with shady hat, and smiling eyes, +and soft waves of hair showing as gold in the gleam of sunlight which +fell upon it through crossing boughs. Escott was only nineteen, but +ill-health had developed him early, and in feeling, he was far more of +a man than the vigorous sunburnt Ivor. Escott was becoming very much +wrapped up in Pearl Fordyce. He loved his mother dearly, yet there was +a pedestal in his heart occupied by Pearl and not by Millicent. Ivor +could honestly declare his belief that his mother was unrivalled by +living woman. But Escott could not quite echo the words. He did not +think Pearl "like" his mother, but certainly he thought her unequalled. + +Ivor was not at all in love with Pearl. Both boys had been for years +on brotherly terms with her; and the change which had begun of late +to creep over Escott had not affected Ivor at all. He had not even a +boyish fancy that he ought to be in love with so pretty a creature. He +admired Pearl greatly,—almost as much as he admired himself. He liked +Pearl, and he knew she liked him. The brother-and-sister terms of +intimacy were very pleasant, and he was much too gentlemanly to be less +polite and attentive because of the intimacy. + +And Pearl's manner was easy and natural enough. Perhaps, if she had had +a mother living, that mother might have detected danger. For, after +all, mere brotherly and gentlemanly attentions are not always quite +easily to be distinguished from attentions of another sort, and Pearl +at sixteen was not versed in such matters, though already accustomed +to a considerable amount of admiration. She had very simple and pretty +ways with both the brothers; only now and then a tinge of shyness +showed in her manner to Ivor; while her pity for Escott gave her a +particularly gentle and winning air with him. + +A discussion presently arose as to plans. Escott was suffering symptoms +of a bad attack from his inveterate enemy neuralgia, and further +walking was not to be thought of. He proposed to return home alone, +leaving the other three to go on; but no one quite liked the idea. Ivor +and Pearl had been suggesting a ramble "some day" straight up through +the woods, to the Roman encampment. Pearl did not generally affect +scrambling, but she looked prettily eager over the idea. Beryl, when +appealed to, understood it as a suggestion for the present, and held +back, saying she did not care to climb, and would walk home with Escott. + +Ivor seized on the thought, and asked why Pearl should not go at once. +Or at least they could climb a short distance, and decide whether she +could manage the whole another day. + +"Well, just for five minutes while Escott is resting," Pearl said; "and +then we can all walk home together." + +"Beryl must go too," said Escott. + +"I don't care for climbing," repeated Beryl. "One's things get so torn." + +"You are not so great at hedges and ditches as five years ago," +Ivor said, holding out a helping hand to Pearl, though somewhat +unnecessarily. "We shall be back in a few minutes, I expect; but if +not, don't wait for us." + +"Oh, I think we are sure to be," said Pearl, nodding and smiling from +among the trees. + +The two figures slowly disappeared. Escott gazed after them, and +murmured something about "little angel." + +"Is that your idea of an angel?" asked Beryl, in an oddly +matter-of-fact tone. + +Escott looked at her in some wonder, and her eyes met his steadily. + +"You think I am jealous of Pearl," she said. "But I don't think I am. +It is not that. She is very very pretty, only I do not think it is +angel-prettiness. Your mother looks much more like my idea of an angel. +She almost frightens me." + +[Illustration: He looked up, smiling, to say, "You are at least as hard +upon yourself as upon others."] + +"But Pearl's is not mere ordinary prettiness," said Escott, in a low +voice. "She is so sweet and tender,—so self-forgetting." + +"Is Pearl self-forgetting?" asked Beryl slowly. "I should not have +thought so. Girls generally know when they are pretty. I don't see +how they can help knowing it, and of course they think about their +prettiness. Pearl isn't a single grain worse than other girls, only she +has more prettiness than other girls, so perhaps she thinks about it a +little more." + +"You do not call Pearl vain, I hope?" said Escott coldly. + +"I don't call her anything. Most girls are vain," said Beryl, with a +touch of cynicism. "And, after all, one may be as vain about ugliness +as prettiness—not vain 'of' it, but 'about' it. It is just a question +of thinking about one's self, I suppose. Pretty girls like Pearl think +about their prettiness, and ugly girls like me think about their +ugliness." + +The pathetic simplicity of the last words recalled the Beryl of earlier +days, and melted Escott's annoyance. He looked up, smiling, to say, +"You are at least as hard upon yourself as upon others." + +"One is driven to it," said Beryl. + +"My common experience has been that with less beauty there is often +more conceit," said Escott, anxious to generalise in favour of Pearl. +"One is glad to find an exception to such a rule." + +"I don't believe it is a rule," said Beryl; "and if it is, I don't +believe I am an exception." + +Escott could hardly help laughing, but the laugh changed into a sigh. + +"Had you not better walk home?" asked Beryl. "I do not suppose +they will come back. Ivor is bent on getting Pearl to the Roman +encampment,—only some stupid heaps of stones, after all." + +"You don't pretend to archæological tastes." + +"I don't care for that sort of thing. Escott, I do think Mrs. Cumming +would say you ought to go home if she saw you. I am sure you are in +very bad pain." + +"Only neuralgia. Five minutes are hardly over yet, and we must allow +them a margin." + +Beryl pulled out the old-fashioned silver watch which had been her +father's. "They can't expect us to wait more than another five minutes, +at any rate," she said. + +Then, with the watch in her hand, she sank back into her former train +of thought, and was suddenly aroused by the question, "What are you so +intent upon?" + +Beryl came back to present life with a start. The inquiry took her by +surprise, and somehow she responded to it involuntarily, the uppermost +idea in her mind finding vent: + +"What made you and Ivor wish to be confirmed?" + +Then she turned crimson, and would have given anything to recall her +own words. "It doesn't matter," she added hastily. "Had we not better +go home?" And she stood up. + +Escott stood up also, actually forgetting to refer to Pearl and Ivor. +He was at least as much taken by surprise as Beryl had been. When they +had gone a few paces side by side, his answer came; not at all the +answer that Beryl would have expected. + +"I was so sorry for you," he said, with real feeling. "It was too bad +of Aunt Di." + +That touched Beryl to the quick. She was so little used to sympathy +that it had the more power over her. He caught one glance from eyes +actually full of tears, and then she looked resolutely down. + +"It is her way, you know," he said apologetically. "But it must have +been very trying and disagreeable. Ivor and I would have made our +escape, only it was a little difficult—and nobody knew what was coming. +I don't think my aunt understands the feeling of reserve one has on +such matters. But I thought you very brave." + +The feeling of reserve was on Beryl strongly at this moment. She +managed to break through the cobweb sufficiently to say, "I could not +be confirmed only just to please her." + +"No, of course not. It would not be right. But don't you really wish it +yourself?" + +He did not think Beryl meant to answer this, and he felt half afraid +she was vexed. They left the woods behind them, and walked slowly along +the lower road, Beryl gazing steadily into the dust. When at length +she spoke, she was evidently quite unconscious of the time which had +elapsed since his question. + +"I do not know," she said. "If I were good enough, I should wish it, I +suppose." + +"Only it isn't exactly a question of goodness, after all," Escott said. +"Not of our own goodness, I mean." + +"I suppose that depends on what one means by goodness," said Beryl. +The effort of the conversation was greater to her than to him, though +Escott did not speak without constraint. Beryl's shyness rendered her +voice gruff. "One ought to want to be what one promises, at all events." + +"Are you sure you do not want it?" + +"I don't know," she answered. "I don't know what I wish or don't wish. +Only 'if' I take those promises, I must keep them. I would rather not +take them at all, than not keep them." + +"I can understand the feeling," said Escott thoughtfully. "I remember +saying almost the same to my mother. She made me see that things were +not as I thought—that it was not a question of taking or not taking the +promises, but simply of coming forward openly to confirm them. For the +promises have been made already, at our Baptism, for us, and nothing +can undo that. They are binding on us all the while, whether or no we +acknowledge it. Mother always said so. She tried to make us feel that +we were 'bound' to God's service, solemnly promised already to Him, +though of course we had the power to rebel. And then the very promises +would only add to our guilt." + +Beryl was looking up with wide-open startled eyes. "I never thought of +that," she said. "I thought—of course—I was free to choose—" + +"I suppose we are all free, if you mean merely having the power to +choose. But God has the 'right' over us," said Escott. "A soldier once +enrolled in the Queen's service may be a deserter, but he cannot undo +the Queen's right to his obedience." + +"Some people would say God has a right over everybody," said Beryl, in +a low voice. + +"No one could deny that, who believes in Him as Creator and Father. But +He has a double right over those who are bound and promised from very +infancy to Him." + +"I'll think about it," Beryl said, after a pause. "I did not mean to +get into all this. Please don't tell anybody." + +"Could you not talk to my mother?" + +"O no, I would rather not. Don't say a word to anybody, please." + +"Very well. I will not." + +And these were the last words uttered, until the house was reached. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +_UNEASINESS._ + +LUNCHEON-TIME came, and Pearl and Ivor were absent still. Mr. Crosbie +disliked unpunctuality, and grumbled heartily,—to little purpose, +except that of making others uncomfortable, since the absentees could +not hear him. Beryl was silent and absorbed. Escott, equally silent, +was unable to eat, from an attack of violent neuralgia in head and +face. He bore pain with the patience which sometimes, though not +always, springs from long habitude, but his suffering look distressed +his mother and fretted Mr. Crosbie. Diana had regained her composure, +and chattered unceasingly, albeit her manner towards Beryl showed +displeasure. Beryl did not appear to be conscious of the same. + +Luncheon over, Mr. Crosbie withdrew to his own sitting-room, and +Escott to the sofa, while Beryl betook herself to the counterpane, and +Millicent brought one or two remedies to Escott, which sometimes gave +relief. Diana found employment in looking out of the window, watching +for the wanderers, and bemoaning herself over the dulness of Weston. + +"I hate to be in a place where I know nobody," she said. "How you can +have endured to spend a whole month here, and to make not a single +acquaintance, passes my understanding. One might as well go to a desert +island." + +"I thought it better for Escott, not to have people incessantly in and +out," said Millicent. + +"I don't believe in anything of the sort. Dulness is good for nobody. +Besides, you had to think of Ivor too, poor fellow. But well people +always have to go to the wall, where invalids are concerned. Really, +I think it is quite a charity in me to have brought Pearl. He has +somebody to speak with now,—and somebody who can give him an answer. +Young men don't care for a society of only middle-aged people and +dummies." + +Her words stung right and left. Beryl felt the slight, and Escott was +pricked, and Millicent endured for both. + +"They make a pretty picture together,—he and Pearl. I always do think +so. One of the prettiest pictures I have seen for a long while. He is +really almost as good-looking for a man as she is lovely for a girl. Of +course they are very young still,—but that sort of thing often begins +early. All the better when it does. I shouldn't wonder at all if, some +day, before long—" + +"I think premature suggestions of this kind are a very great pity, even +when made in jest," said Millicent gravely. "Pearl is a mere child +still, and Ivor is really only a boy. My pleasure is in seeing them +both so perfectly simple and at their ease. I do not believe such an +idea has ever crossed Ivor's thoughts." + +"Don't you?" and Diana laughed. "My dear Millie, you count all the +world as innocent as yourself; but it won't quite do, you know." + +"If not, I am sorry for it. But you mistake me, Di. This is a matter of +principle, not of ignorance, with me. It would be sheer cruelty, from +any love of joking or love of talk, to suggest such a notion to those +poor children. They are both too young to know their own minds. I hope +I may trust Beryl never to repeat to Pearl what you have said." + +Beryl's look was a sufficient answer. + +Diana laughed again. "What a fuss about nothing," she declared. "Why, +everybody says that kind of thing, and everybody knows what it is +worth. Of course I don't pretend to be infallible. But my own private +belief is that Pearl's little heart is taken captive already, whether +she knows it or not. You would believe the same, if you had seen the +state of distress she was in, when I proposed to give up coming here." + +"I do not believe it," said Millicent, so earnestly as to be almost +sternly. "The very suggestion about her is positive cruelty, Di. How do +you know that Beryl and Escott may never make an unwise or unkind use +of your words? I believe they are safe, but how can you know it? You +are reckless, surely, to put Pearl so into the power of any one,—poor +little defenceless Pearl. Suppose any of us chose to repeat your words +to Ivor,—and suppose Ivor to be, as I believe him to be, without a +thought or wish of the kind. Think what a position Pearl would be in." + +Millicent was actually trembling with womanly indignation. Diana seemed +rather pleased than otherwise to have succeeded in exciting her. + +"My dear, I am getting a little too old for elder-sisterly lectures," +she said. "And I don't think they ever had much effect upon me. We must +each 'gang our ain gait,' and take the course we think proper. For my +part, I believe that desirable affairs are sometimes helped forward by +a timely suggestion behind the scenes. But I don't expect you to take +that view of the matter. You and I unfortunately never did agree,—and +as for Marian, she and I don't even discuss our differences of opinion +now; it is such a perfectly hopeless matter. Well, I really think I +shall take a drive this afternoon. We live in such an atmosphere of +virtuous argumentativeness and setting people to rights, that I am +getting out of sorts and positively ill-tempered. I shall keep a sharp +look-out for Pearl and Ivor, and break in upon their 'tête-à-tête' if +possible." + +She did not offer to take Beryl, but went out of the room with her +perpetual little rustle. + +"My sister has been talking utter nonsense," Millicent said then. +"Mind, children,—you are both to forget it." + +"Pearl is younger than I am,—only sixteen," said Beryl. + +"Yes,—it is absurd," said Millicent, not often so ruffled. "You must +try to forget what you have heard." + +Beryl simply answered, "Yes," and Escott said nothing, but disappeared +abruptly. + +Millicent followed him, to spend over two hours in vain efforts to +alleviate a worse attack of pain than he had had since coming to +Weston. Possibly she was not without a suspicion of the cause, but she +spoke no more of Pearl. She had indeed no time to think about Pearl or +Ivor, and even when the pain lessened, she could not leave him for a +while. + +When at length able to come downstairs, she found tea on the small +table, Diana returned, and the walkers still absent. + +"Strange," Millicent said thoughtfully. "I do not understand it at all." + +"My dear, depend upon it, they have simply strayed on, forgetting the +time," Diana said, with her light air of patronage. "Some people's +company is sufficiently enchanting to some others, to render them just +a little oblivious. For my part, I really think Beryl ought to have +gone too,—but it can't be helped now. Do pray give me a cup of tea, for +I am perfectly exhausted." + +"If I only knew what direction they had taken," Millicent said, +arousing herself from a dream to lift the teapot. + +"That you might go after them? A mere wild-goose chase. By the time you +had reached the further extremity of their ramble, they would be at +home again." + +"But if anything has happened!" + +"What in the world 'could' happen? Ivor may have been stung by a wasp, +or Pearl scratched by a bramble. Do be reasonable. Thanks—a piece of +cake. There are two of them together. Even if anything so unlikely came +about as that one should choose to tumble down and break a leg, the +other could call for help. Weston woods are not American forests." + +"They are pretty large woods, though," said Beryl. "I quite lost my way +in them the other day, when I went alone." + +"Some people lose their way in walking from one end to the other of +Regent Street. It is a sort of gift,—a happy faculty. Very likely +indeed Pearl and Ivor have lost their way now. It is extremely likely. +I shall not be in the least surprised to hear it." + +"Some bread-and-butter, Beryl?" asked Millicent, her fair brow wearing +the gentle dent of displeasure which was its nearest approach to a +frown. + +"But, of course, if you want to try the effects of a wild-goose chase, +you have but to send Beryl and Escott after them," pursued Diana. "'Set +a thief to catch a thief.'" She laughed at her own joke, the force of +which none but herself could perceive. + +"Escott has done enough for to-day, thank you." + +"Would you like me to go and look anywhere,—or ask?" inquired Beryl, +rather shyly. + +"Not the slightest use," said Diana, before Millicent could speak. "I +have driven along all likely roads within reach, and saw not a trace of +them. Of course you could go where you went this morning, and you might +find Pearl and Ivor seated in a shady nook, enjoying themselves,—but it +is a great deal more likely that you would find nothing of the sort. +Depend upon it, they have gone some tremendous round, which will knock +Pearl up for a week at least. It is exceedingly thoughtless of them +both. If you go scrambling after them, you are pretty sure to get lost +yourself. In which case, I hope 'I' shall not be asked to act searcher. +That is all I have to say." + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +_ILL TIDINGS._ + +ANOTHER hour of waiting passed. Millicent was really growing anxious, +and she found Diana's cool assurances that all was and must be +right somewhat difficult to bear. Escott had found his way to the +drawing-room, and was watching with them. + +Suddenly a little figure became visible, hurrying along the pavement in +a manner which told of failing power. The hat was falling off behind, +the steps though rapid were uncertain, and a general air of disorder +and distress was apparent. Millicent and Escott exchanged looks. Diana +stared, and Beryl gazed fixedly. All had a suspicion of the truth, yet +it was not till the little figure was almost below the window that a +general exclamation broke out—"It is Pearl." + +And then there was a simultaneous, "Where is Ivor?" + +"He has stayed behind for something, of course," said Diana. + +Millicent stood up, but did not move farther. Diana rushed to the door, +followed by Escott; but when Pearl came in, she pushed past them both, +and reached Millicent. + +That was all she could do. She was a pitiful sight, wan and +blue-lipped, with wide-open distressed eyes, and breath in such +laboured gasps that speech was utterly impossible. She grasped both +Millicent's hands with her poor little shaking fingers, and struggled, +but struggled in vain, for utterance. + +The others came pressing round her, unnoticed. Pearl seemed to see +no face except Millicent's. Diana was exclaiming and questioning in +voluble style. Millicent had grown white to the lips, but she was calm. + +"Hush, Di," she said. "Be quiet, all of you. Pearl will tell us +directly what is wrong. She has run too fast. We must have a moment's +patience." + +The gasps were lessening slowly, but with returning breath came thick +passionate sobs, fighting their way up, and preventing speech. Pearl +wrung her hands together in voiceless agony. And when Diane would +have touched her, she flung herself into Millicent's arms, with an +incoherent shriek, meant for words. + +Millicent held her firmly. "Hush, Pearl, hush," she commanded, with her +colourless lips. "There must be no screams. Diana, you 'must' be quiet, +or leave the room. Beryl, will you get a glass of water, please? Not a +word, any of you." + +Even Diana yielded, and for the moment said nothing. + +Millicent with difficulty made Pearl swallow a few sips of water. "A +little more," she said. "Now wait for a few seconds,—keep quite still, +and then you must tell me quietly what is wrong." + +Pearl buried her face in Millicent's shoulder, and for several seconds +the silence was unbroken, except by her sobs. + +[Illustration: She grasped both Millicent's hands + with her poor little shaking fingers.] + +"Now," Millicent said at length. + +The agony of distress came back. "Ivor—Ivor—Ivor," gasped Pearl. "Oh, +what shall I do? I don't know what to do!" + +"Pearl, is Ivor dead?" + +The mother's lips asked the question slowly and distinctly. + +Pearl thrilled all over, and said, "O no!—O no!" + +"Then he is hurt." + +"O yes—" + +"How was it?" + +Pearl could not speak. Her efforts only resulted in heart-broken sobs. +A stronger and more unselfish nature would, in pity to the poor mother, +have put thoughts of self aside for the moment, but this Pearl could +not do. She was utterly overpowered. + +"Where is Ivor?" asked Millicent, her own self-restraint so heavily +taxed as to be in danger of failing. "Pearl, I must know," she said +gently. "I must go to him." + +Pearl managed to gasp out something about, "near Kewstoke," "house," +and "doctor wanted." + +Beryl came forward for the first time. "Can't I help?" she asked. "I +could fetch a fly,—and if I knew who your doctor is—" + +A faint look of relief at the suggestion passed over Millicent's +features. + +"One moment," Escott said, with a detaining movement. "Pearl will have +to tell us where to go." + +"Pearl, do have pity on Mrs. Cumming, and speak," said Beryl, in a low +voice. + +Sobbing still, but not so violently, Pearl drew a folded scrap of paper +from her glove. "The men wrote—wrote down the address," she said. + +Escott glanced at it. "Then we need lose no more time," he said. "If +Beryl will kindly call a fly, I will find a doctor to go with us. Is +Ivor 'much' hurt, Pearl?" The words were very gently uttered. + +"Oh—yes," gasped Pearl. + +"Had he a fall?" + +"Not—not exactly!" Pearl was crying excessively again. "He—he—caught +his foot—" + +It was very unsatisfactory, but more could not yet be obtained. Pearl +seemed to be on the verge of hysterics. + +Beryl and Escott disappeared on their respective errands, and Millicent +too went away, speedily to return, ready for her drive. She found Pearl +in a renewed flood of tears, under a process of close questioning from +Diana. + +"I can't get much out of her," Diana said, "except that Ivor went after +something at her request, and she thinks herself guilty in consequence." + +"Poor little girl," Millicent said kindly, and she kissed Pearl's brow. +"No one will count that of you, my dear." + +"He must have been pretty bad. The men had to carry him," continued +Diana. + +Millicent's hand came on Pearl's. "Was he insensible?" she asked. + +"No," sobbed Pearl. "He couldn't—couldn't move." + +Then Escott came back, having happily found at home the first doctor at +whose house he had called; and immediately afterwards Beryl drove to +the door in a fly. + +"Mother, I am coming too," Escott said decidedly. "I told the doctor we +would call for him in ten minutes, or less." + +Then the two were gone, and the stir was over. + +"Well,—I shall decide to get home as soon as possible," Diana said, +in rather an injured tone. "This sort of thing really is too much for +one's nerves. I declare—nobody has thought of Uncle Josiah all this +time. Just like Millie! He will be dreadfully angry not to have been +told. Well, it cannot be helped now. Do stop crying, Pearl." + +The tone was not exactly unkind, but certainly it was not sympathising. + +Pearl crouched down in a corner of the sofa, burying her face in the +cushions, and sobbing still in a kind of exhausted way, as if she had +no strength to leave off. + +Beryl longed to go to her, but dared not. + +"Come,—the best place for you is bed," said Diana. + +Pearl silently declined to move, and Diana made no attempt to enforce +her own mandate. + +Mr. Crosbie presently came in, and heard the whole story from Diana's +lips, gaps in knowledge being lavishly filled up with suppositions. +The old gentleman waxed impatient, and questioned Pearl, but she +only crouched lower in her corner, and would not speak. When further +pressed, she started up and ran away. + +"The best thing you can do is to go and put her to bed," Diana observed +carelessly to Beryl,—"if you wish to make yourself useful." + +Beryl's heart bounded at the suggestion, though her manner showed no +particular pleasure. She obeyed immediately, only to find Pearl's door +locked. Pearl turned for some time a deaf ear to raps, but it was at +length opened. + +"May I come in?" asked Beryl. + +"No, I don't want anybody," Pearl said, holding the door against her. +"Please let me be alone." + +"But you will make yourself ill, if you cry so. Aunt Di told me to +come." + +"I don't care. If you would only leave me alone—" + +"I need not stay long. Just let me help you to undress." + +"I don't want help. I'm—I'm not going to bed—till—till I know how Ivor +is." + +She ceased resistance suddenly, and threw herself on the couch, sobbing +as much as ever. + +Beryl entered and stood over her, a good deal at a loss how to act. + +"Pearl, is Ivor very much hurt indeed?" she asked at length. "Don't you +think you would feel better if you could speak about it?" + +Pearl shook her head and moaned. + +Beryl suddenly bethought herself of a certain mode of school-treatment +for a certain hysterical child. She brought a basin of water to a chair +near, and began bathing Pearl's flushed face and disordered hair with a +wet sponge. + +Pearl did not resist, but seemed rather to like it, and the violent +crying lessened. + +"And now you will take your things off," said Beryl persuasively. "Do, +Pearl. You are so tired." + +Pearl did not respond to the suggestion. She was cramped up on the +couch, with her blistered face resting on one arm, sighing deeply every +few seconds. + +"I can't yet," she said. "Do let me be quiet. Beryl, he—he—didn't fall +exactly,—but it was in getting over a high gate,—he caught his foot—" + +The sentences were broken up by long sighs. + +"Yes, Pearl," said Beryl encouragingly. + +"I don't know how—I didn't see. He was going to get a flower for me—" +and her face drew up into distressed puckers. + +"Don't cry any more," said Beryl. "It's of no use." + +"I can't help crying. It was so dreadful," sobbed Pearl. "If only I had +not wanted that flower. And I didn't know what to do. I thought he was +going to die—he looked so awful—I can't tell you how." + +"Did he say he was very badly hurt?" + +"Yes—he—he—said so. He couldn't move, and he could hardly speak; but he +said it was bad—he thought it was a strain. And I got the men to come, +and one of them—one said—it was 'very' bad." + +"But I don't understand," said Beryl. "How could he hurt himself so +much, if it was a mere slip?" + +"O no, it wasn't. I didn't mean that. I think he tried to jump, and it +was too high, and his foot caught on the top bar, and he went over. It +was a longer way the other side to fall. I don't know how I climbed +over to him," sobbed Pearl, "I 'did' tremble so. I saw he couldn't +move, and I heard him moan; and when I saw him, I thought he would die +that minute. He said I must get help,—and we had seen two men just +before, quite near, and I ran for them." + +"And they took Ivor to Kewstoke?" + +"Yes, at least near Kewstoke,—the house where one of them was a +gardener, I think. He said he didn't dare move Ivor farther till a +doctor had seen him. He just wrote down the name of the house, and told +me I must come straight back for a doctor, and he sent the other man +for something to carry Ivor on. Oh, it is so very very dreadful," wept +Pearl. "If only Aunt Di and I had never come to Weston. And I made her +do it. Oh, I wish I hadn't." + +Crying came on again, and Beryl returned to cold water sponging, as +better than talk. Presently, to her great relief, Pearl dropped into a +sound sleep. + +Beryl drew a chair near, and settled herself to watch. She was quite +content to sit there, doing nothing. It was a sort of fulfilment of her +childish dream of caring for Pearl's wants. The old passionate love of +Pearl, long thrust down into deep recesses of her heart, came welling +up this hour. The poor little reddened and blistered face was sweeter +now to Beryl, than it had been in its loveliness that morning. + +"O Pearlie! If you could only care for me!" she murmured. + +Then Diana came in, opening the door without warning, and not too +quietly. + +Pearl stirred, but did not wake. + +Beryl looked up, and with difficulty checked a "Hush," which would have +given dire offence. + +"Asleep, is she?" said Diana. "Silly little goose." + +Beryl flushed hotly with a kind of anger. Diana came to the couch. + +"Well, the best thing she can do is to sleep on. I shall allow no more +long walks. They knock her quite up. I suppose she has not told you any +particulars." + +"Not much," Beryl said in a low voice. "Ivor tried to leap a high gate, +and caught his feet, and fell over. He told Pearl he thought it was a +strain." + +"Young men are always trying to do more than they are able. It is an +absurd habit," said Diana. "I don't suppose it will prove to be much. A +sprained ankle, probably." + +Beryl was glad to see her rustle out of the room. + +Pearl presently woke, but was so weary as to be glad to undress +and go to bed, where, after having some tea, she soon sank again +into unconsciousness. Beryl waited on her assiduously, restraining +expressions of affection, but curiously happy in her task. + +Late in the evening, she saw a fly stop in front of the house, and some +one descended from it,—Escott, Beryl thought, in the dusky light. She +went noiselessly out of the room, not waking Pearl, and entered the +drawing-room, just before Escott came in. He walked with bent head and +slow step. Beryl knew in a moment that he had brought no good news. + +"Well, Escott, what does it all mean?" asked Diana. "A false alarm, I +suspect." + +Escott looked at her vacantly, and then at Beryl. "Don't tell Pearl +to-night," he said. "Let her sleep quietly till the morning. Ivor is +dying." + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +_OVER THE WAY._ + +FIVE years earlier, Mrs. Fenwick's house had faced a meadow lying just +across the road, with a good open view beyond of fields and trees and +uplands. But Hurst was a growing place, and many changes had come about +in the course of five years. Among such changes was the erection of a +row of houses in the field opposite Mrs. Fenwick's, each more or less +pretty—small, indeed, but gable-roofed, and in variegated red-brick +style. Mrs. Fenwick was greatly annoyed. She did not much care about +pretty views, merely as views, but she did care extremely about what +she called "selectness," and to live in a row facing another row was in +her estimation many degrees less "select" than to live in a row facing +a meadow. She almost declared, in her first vexation, that she would +find another home as soon as possible, and she did quite declare that +nothing should ever induce her to call upon anybody who lived in those +houses. + +The latest finished of the villas was the one which stood exactly +"vis-à-vis" to Mrs. Fenwick's. It was detached and surrounded by a +neat garden, not painfully prim and bare like most new gardens, for +several medium-sized limes and poplars had been spared from the general +demolition in which the hearts of builders do commonly delight. Also +the borders had been well filled with young shrubs, early in the +spring, immediately the house came into possession of its present +owners, and the beds gave promise of being speedily bright with flowers. + +The said owners were two ladies, supposed at first to be aunt and +niece. Despite Diana Fenwick's chagrin at the loss of her drawing-room +view, she took a lively interest in these new neighbours, and speedily +set down Miss Carmichael, the elder lady, as a strong-minded individual +of eccentric habits, undesirable as an acquaintance. + +"Call upon her! Not she!" Diana held up her head, and swept loftily +past the house, quite unconscious of the amusement with which she was +herself regarded by that rather largely-built calm-faced woman, in +daintily neat though not very fashionable attire, who might often be +seen bonnetless in the little garden. Miss Carmichael perfectly well +understood the posture of affairs, and was perfectly well content to +wait. + +These views of Mrs. Fenwick lasted for a short time, while the two +ladies opposite were settling into their new home. The said views +then received a killing blow, in the discovery that Miss Carmichael +was only daughter of a Sir Stephen and Lady Carmichael, both dead, +and only sister to another Sir Stephen and Lady Carmichael, both +alive. Eccentricities, real or imaginary, went to the winds. Mrs. +Fenwick donned her best feathers, and called at once, all sweetness +and graciousness, bent on making a good impression; and the call was +returned in due time. Mrs. Fenwick did not like Miss Carmichael, but +she liked a baronet's daughter, and she was willing to put up with +the individual for the sake of the connection. Miss Carmichael might +or might not have liked Mrs. Fenwick, but at all events she "showed +herself friendly." + +The new acquaintanceship did not at first ripen quickly, for the two +ladies were busy about their settling in. Miss Carmichael could be seen +to take an active part in these arrangements, "working like a horse," +as Mrs. Fenwick expressed it. She did not herself see the slightest +need for hard work in life, and she disliked others to see it. Things +had to be done, of course, but somebody else would always do them—why +not? + +A second call introduced Mrs. Fenwick to Miss Carmichael's niece, +friend, dependent, or companion,—Diana's curiosity was greatly +exercised to discover which might be the true definition,—a Miss Wyatt, +who appeared to rejoice in a perplexing variety of names, and whose age +might have been anywhere between twenty and thirty. + +After that, came the summons to Weston-super-Mare, and a consequent +break. + + +One sunny June evening, the two ladies were together in the +drawing-room, which was divided from the dining-room by large +folding-doors, commonly thrown open in warm weather. They were open +now, and the bow-window at each end gave a peculiar lightness to the +appearance of the double room. The operation of "settling in" seemed +to be tolerably complete, and the most fastidious eye could scarcely +have detected anything lacking in arrangements. There was a subdued +harmony about carpets and curtains, and also a grace of finish in minor +details, which told of a refined taste in at least one of the ladies. + +The elder of the two sat in an easy-chair near the front bow-window, +enjoying, and enjoying with evident intensity, the sunlight, the +fluttering leaves, and the singing of birds not yet banished from +this part of Hurst. Not that she was anything of an invalid, though +her attitude told of some fatigue. She could hardly have reached +her fiftieth year, and the smooth light hair, brushed neatly under +her cap, was untouched by grey. The light-coloured eyes had in them +a steady shine of happiness,—not exactly a smile, but a kind of +sunbeam reflected from within, over the whole face. Yet it was not a +beautiful face, so far as form and colouring were concerned,—not even +good-looking. No single feature could be selected as serving by a touch +of natural beauty to redeem the rest from plainness. And yet again, +no one who really knew that face could ever call it plain. Strangers +counted it so perhaps, after cursory observation. + +The younger lady was slender and small and dark-haired, not nearly so +tall as Miss Carmichael, not strictly pretty, but with a nice colour, +and a pair of most expressive eyes, peculiar in tint, and timid as +those of a fawn. She was in the back room, making tea and cutting +bread-and-butter, moving about with a light step, in a manner pleasant +to look upon. The two did not dine late, but had "heavy tea" at +half-past seven, and it was now close upon that hour. + +"I am glad our drawing-room faces west," Miss Wyatt said, shutting the +tea-caddy and coming forward, with the air of one whose work is for the +moment accomplished. "And I am glad the sunset takes place just there, +where we can see it, and not behind Mrs. Fenwick's house, though of +course it will not be so all the year round." + +"I am glad of a great many things, Hettie, a great many. The lines are +fallen to me in 'very' pleasant places." + +"And to me too." + +"That is something else for me to be glad about,—if you can say the +same." + +Miss Wyatt drew near, and rested a hand on Miss Carmichael's shoulder. + +"It is delicious," she said, "perfectly delicious. We shall be able to +breathe here." + +"I am taking a good breathing spell before plunging into work." + +"Why, you have done nothing but work, Miss Carmichael, since we came. I +want you to begin resting now." + +"Carpets and curtains! Well, yes, it is all work of one kind and +another. But I shall have time now for the 'other.'" + +"Yes, only not yet. Think how terribly you were overdone before we came +away. I want you to have six months idle. I'll be your deputy, and work +for you." + +Miss Carmichael smiled quietly, leaning back, with clasped hands, and +her look of measureless content. "Six months is a long while," she +said. "My dear, you must not be too much bent upon making a lazy old +woman of me." + +Miss Wyatt repeated the word "Old!" indignantly. + +"Forty-eight next birthday!" + +"That is only middle-aged, and some people have the gift of perpetual +youth." + +"Mentally, yes. One's body must grow old, if one stays on earth long +enough. It will be perpetual youth up there." And they both looked at +a distant lake of liquid blue, surmounting some layers of torn and +crimson-edged clouds. + +"At all events your body hasn't begun to grow old yet," said Miss Wyatt +jealously. + +"You think not, Emmie?" + +The words were half playful, half grave, and Miss Carmichael's +attention went again out of the window. + +"What are you looking at so earnestly?" asked Miss Wyatt. "You see, I +was right,—our friends over the way are back. They must have arrived +late last night, poor things. And the elder girl is with them. She +seems to be very unlike the winsome little Pearl." + +"We must call upon them again soon," said Miss Carmichael. + +"Yes,—soon, I suppose. Is there any hurry? I don't want to be +uncharitable, but I don't at all like that little Mrs. Fenwick. I don't +like her at all," repeated Miss Wyatt emphatically. "Do you, Miss +Carmichael? She thinks herself immensely charming, and expects to be +worshipped; but 'I' don't think her charming." + +"She is pretty," said Miss Carmichael. + +"Pretty, yes—if that were all that signified. A doll may be pretty. But +she is affected. And I did so dislike the sort of slighting way she +spoke of the eldest of the two girls. She seemed fond of Pearl Fordyce, +I thought; but when she alluded to Pearl's sister, there was quite a +sneer on her lips, and a contemptuous tone. Oh, I felt really angry. +The girl may not be so taking as her sister, but that is not her fault. +I can't endure people to be punished for what they cannot help." + +"Why, Emerald, you are hot about the matter." + +"I feel hot," responded Miss Wyatt. "Didn't you notice what I mean?" + +"Yes," Miss Carmichael answered. + +"I knew you did. I saw it in your face. You may be quite sure that poor +girl is not happy in her home." + +"Patience, Em. We may as well not be too sure till we actually know it." + +"But I saw her this afternoon, when I was on my way back from the +post-office. They were all three walking together. Mrs. Fenwick +bowed to me, and so did the little Pearl,—by the bye, she is looking +wretchedly white and ill, anything but better for her change. The other +girl gave me a good look. She certainly is not pretty or lively—not in +the least,—but that is no reason why Mrs. Fenwick should snub her." + +"Some people are in the habit of snubbing everybody, as a relief to +their own feelings." + +"I never heard her speak to Pearl as she spoke to the elder girl, just +before she caught sight of me. Such a sharp contemptuous tone. The girl +made no answer at all, but she did not look happy. The moment Mrs. +Fenwick saw me, she put on her most gracious manner. I don't suppose +she thought I had heard; but I have keen ears." + +"Particularly so," assented Miss Carmichael. "Come, I see tea is ready, +and I think you want a composing draught." + +Miss Wyatt laughed, and followed her to the other room, where the +subject was dropped. It came up again after tea, however; for, on +returning to the bow-window, a closed fly was visible, standing at the +opposite door, and the little figure of Pearl became visible also, +dressed in white, with a flower in her hair, and a shawl round her +shoulders, waiting on the doorstep. + +"There's a concert to-night at the hall," said Miss Wyatt. "They are +going to it, no doubt." + +"But not the elder girl," said Miss Carmichael, as a second figure in +plain every-day dress, Cinderella-like in contrast, appeared beside the +first. + +"It's a shame," said Miss Wyatt. + +"It is a pity," said Miss Carmichael. + +"Just returned from school, and left alone the very first evening,—I +call it a shame," repeated Miss Wyatt. "There comes Mrs. Fenwick, all +rustle and bustle and small self-importance." + +"Emerald!" pronounced Miss Carmichael softly. + +"Yes, I know it is very naughty," said Miss Wyatt; "but if you knew how +I do dislike that little woman!" + +"Better not to allow active dislike. Disapproval is enough. The little +Pearl is certainly ill or unhappy. She looks wretched." + +"There they go," said Miss Wyatt. "And the other left behind. Poor +girl! I do pity her. She doesn't seem to know what to do with herself. +Just look at her, standing like a stock on the doorstep. They didn't +even give her a parting smile. She is going to have a stroll in the +garden, I believe." + +"Suppose you run across and ask her to come here," said Miss Carmichael. + +Miss Wyatt hesitated. "What would Mrs. Fenwick think? We have never +even spoken to her yet. Wouldn't it seem rather funny?" + +"Very funny," assented Miss Carmichael. "I won't venture to predict +Mrs. Fenwick's thoughts. You can't go,—you shy puss! Never mind, I will +do it myself." + +Before Miss Wyatt could make up her mind to action, Miss Carmichael had +gone quickly into the passage, and thence through the front garden, +moving in a swift decisive fashion of her own. + +Beryl, pacing rather drearily along the path in her dust-coloured +dress, heard the crunch of feet upon the gravel, and looked up. + +"Excuse my freedom," Miss Carmichael said, with her easy +unconsciousness, as she smiled at the astonished girl. "You do not +know me, but we have made Mrs. Fenwick's acquaintance lately, and I +have come to make your acquaintance. I must introduce myself as Miss +Carmichael from over the way." + +Beryl gave her hand. "O yes, I know," she said, recalling certain +animadversions of Diana's upon the speaker's style of dress—a style +neither "outré" nor in bad taste, but marked by extreme simplicity. + +Miss Carmichael had thrown a little shawl over her head and cap as she +passed out of her door, and the kind face looked out from the grey +folds, inviting confidence. + +"I know," repeated Beryl. + +"And you are the sister of little Pearl Fordyce," said Miss Carmichael. + +"I'm Beryl Fordyce," was the answer, in the girl's usual blunt fashion. + +"Another gem," said Miss Carmichael softly. "Gems for the King's crown, +I hope." + +Beryl said nothing, and only looked down, but a wistful expression +crossed her face, an expression not often seen there. It did not +mean assent or pleasure; neither did it mean the least shadow of +offence-taking. + +"Come, I think we shall be friends," said Miss Carmichael pleasantly. +"Will you let me introduce you to my jewel, across the road,—not a +Pearl or a Beryl, but an Emerald." + +Beryl looked at her doubtfully. + +"I am talking plain English," said Miss Carmichael. "Hester Wyatt and I +saw you alone, and we wondered if you would like to sit with us, in our +cosy nest, for half an hour." + +"To go with you? I should not think Aunt Di could mind," considered +Beryl aloud. + +"Hardly," said Miss Carmichael. + +"I don't know; I never can tell beforehand what she will like," said +Beryl. + +"Do as you think right," said Miss Carmichael. + +Beryl's answer was a move towards the gate. + +"Would you not care to get your hat? The wind will soon grow chilly." + +"It doesn't matter if you don't mind," said Beryl; "I never take cold." + +"Come—that is something to be thankful for." + +Hester Wyatt met them at the drawing-room door. + +"This is my Emerald," Miss Carmichael said, bringing them together, +with a hand on the arm of each. "We shall be friends soon, I expect, +beginning of course with—Miss Fordyce—Miss Wyatt. And now, Emmie, bring +a nice little low chair into the window for Miss Fordyce, and another +for yourself, and we will enjoy ourselves. Busy people know the luxury +of a lazy hour. I dare say Miss Fordyce has been very busy to-day after +her journey of yesterday, and you and I have certainly been so. I think +we have all fairly earned a right to a tired evening." + +"I don't think I have been busy," said Beryl. "I have only done +things—not hard work—and I am not tired." + +"You are stronger than your sister," said Miss Carmichael. + +"O yes, I am very strong; I never am ill," said Beryl. "But there isn't +much to do; I wish there were. I like being really busy." + +"I shall have to hand over some of my superfluous work to you some +day," said Miss Carmichael. "How about unpacking after your journey?" + +"I got up early and did that before breakfast," said Beryl, with her +sober unrelaxed face. "I like getting up early." + +"So do I, but it doesn't like me. What have you done since?" + +"Not much," said Beryl. "I unpacked for Pearl,—and we all had a little +walk,—and I have my knitting." + +"Are you great at knitting? Then Emmie and you will sympathise on one +point. What do you want to ask, my dear?" + +"She is direfully puzzled as to my names," said Hester Wyatt. + +"I generally have to explain," said Miss Carmichael. "The truth is, I +ought to use only the real names of Hester and Hettie before strangers; +but I sometimes forget. Hester is the real name. 'Emerald' is just a +pet title of my own coining, and 'Emmie' comes naturally from it." + +"But why do you call her 'Emerald'?" asked Beryl. + +"Lean forward, Hettie," said Miss Carmichael. "So,—a little more. That +is the right light. Now, Miss Fordyce, come here. It is 'almost' too +dark, but you may get a glimpse. What is the colour of Hettie's eyes?" + +And the pretty shy eyes, usually dark, showed suddenly to Beryl's gaze +as a clear green. + +"No need to explain further," said Miss Carmichael. "That is how she +comes to be my Emerald. Pretty, is it not?" + +Beryl did not think the colour at all pretty. "It is like a cat," she +said bluntly. + +And both her companions laughed. + +"I am afraid there is no cure for them," said Hester merrily. "Green +they are, and green they will be to the end of the chapter." + +Beryl found herself in pleasant quarters, and under the genial +influences around, her tongue was becoming rapidly unloosed. She liked +Hester Wyatt; but she was still more drawn to that calm face opposite, +with its strength and sweetness of expression, a face as sweet as +Millicent's though with none of her beauty, but the force of character +was greater here. Beryl could not have defined the force; she only felt +it. Somehow she knew she might trust Miss Carmichael completely, from +the first. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +_PLAIN, YET BEAUTIFUL._ + +"WHY did you not go to the concert this evening?" asked Hester, not +very prudently, when matters had advanced thus far, and Beryl had been +talking freely of her five years' schooling. + +"Aunt Diana said it was of no use, because I am not musical." + +"Don't you care for music?" + +"I like it sometimes. I mean I like some tunes,—'Bonny Dundee,' and +'Cherry Ripe,' and that sort of thing. And I 'do' think the 'Battle of +Prague' really beautiful, only they say that is bad taste." + +"Bravo!" said Miss Carmichael. "I do like honesty in any case." + +"Ninety-nine people in a hundred would have bad taste, if they did not +submissively like exactly what they are told to like," said Hester. + +"Then don't you care for music either?" asked Beryl hopefully of Miss +Carmichael. + +"Yes; I care for it. I have been trained to love music of a kind which +perhaps you would not admire at all, and I think the taste is inborn +too. And I am afraid I don't much like the 'Battle of Prague.' But, my +dear, I do like to hear you speak the honest truth, and not pretend +to have a taste which God has not given you,—or which perhaps is only +lying dormant, and wanting cultivation." + +"Then you would not have cared really for the concert this evening?" +said Hester. + +"I should have liked to go. I wanted it very much," said Beryl. "Some +of the tunes might have been nice, and I should have liked to see the +people." + +"Honest again," said Miss Carmichael. "I wonder how many who go would +care to go if they could 'not' see the people—if they had to sit in +curtained recesses, and 'only' enjoy the music." + +"I should like that. I could have a private little cry, so nicely, at +the touching bits," declared Hester, with a blush. + +"And yet it is natural for human beings to enjoy things in company," +said Miss Carmichael. "There is immense power in sympathy, in the sort +of electric sympathy which runs through even a crowd of strangers. We +can't unhumanise human nature. Best to take things and people as they +are. I should not like at all when I go to church to be shut up in a +box apart from everybody. I like to 'see' as well as to hear that we +are all worshipping together." + +"Pearl did not want to go to-night," said Beryl, after a pause, not +able to respond to all this. "She did not like the feeling of it, with +Ivor so ill; but Aunt Di said it would do her good, because she is so +low and depressed." + +"Your sister looks low," assented Hester. "Who is Ivor?" + +"Escott and Ivor are our cousins—at least they would be our cousins if +Aunt Di were really our aunt," said Beryl, not very lucidly. "Their +mother is Aunt Di's sister, Mrs. Cumming,—and she lives with her uncle, +Mr. Crosbie." + +"Any relation to Miss Crosbie opposite?" asked Hester. + +"Yes, she is Aunt Di's and Mrs. Cumming's sister," said Beryl. "Mrs. +Cumming is a widow, and she has these two sons, nearly twenty years old +now. I like Escott, but I don't think I care for Ivor. Other people do, +though." + +"And he is ill?" asked Hester. + +"He and Pearl went for a long walk at Weston, and he tried to leap a +high gate to get a flower for Pearl, and he caught his feet in the +top rung and fell over. He hurt himself dreadfully—a sort of internal +strain, I believe. They don't seem to expect he will get over it for +a long while. The doctor thought he could not live through the first +night, but he did, and there has been another doctor down from London. +He thinks Ivor may perhaps get better, but nobody can tell yet." + +"Bad," said Miss Carmichael, drawing her lips together. "Poor young +fellow. He is at Weston, of course." + +"Yes; at least very near Weston, not in it. He was carried to a +gentleman's house, not far from where the accident happened. The +gentleman and his family were away, but they have been very kind. He +wrote to Mrs. Cumming that she must not think of moving Ivor, until +the doctors should say it was quite safe; and I don't know when that +will be. The accounts of him haven't been so good to-day and yesterday. +At all events, he couldn't possibly be moved yet. Aunt Di would not +stay in Weston more than four nights after Ivor was hurt. Pearl cried +and fretted so that Aunt Di said she would make herself ill, and she +thought we had much better come home. And Mr. Crosbie and Escott wanted +very much to go to some lodgings in Kewstoke, so as to be near Ivor. I +wished they would ask me to stay, but I suppose I couldn't really have +been a help." + +"It is a sad thing for the poor mother," Miss Carmichael said feelingly. + +"Yes, and Ivor has always been the strong one. Escott is often ill, but +Ivor is always well. I mean, he has been until now. And he doesn't care +for books, so it will be worse for him than for Escott." + +"Is Mrs. Cumming like Mrs. Fenwick?" inquired Hester. + +"O no," Beryl answered, with unusual warmth. "Not the very least. She +is like nobody that I ever saw. She is so beautiful and good that one +feels quite afraid of her. It never seems as if I could say 'anything' +to her, as I could perhaps to some people." + +"Is that the usual effect of beauty and goodness upon you, my dear?" +asked Miss Carmichael, with just a touch of sadness in her tone. For +she knew—how could she help knowing?—that she had been a "plain" woman +all her life through, according to certain ordinary ideas of plainness, +and she had never attempted to disguise the fact from herself. It had +been something of a life-trial to her, bravely accepted. And she did +not know—how could she?—of the genuine positive beauty which was in her +face, shining through from below. + +"I don't know," Beryl said slowly, in her staid fashion. "I think I +feel that with Mrs. Cumming. If I were like Pearl, I suppose I should +not. But I am so different. If I were pretty, instead of ugly—" + +"I don't believe in ugliness," broke in Hester impetuously, with +flushing cheeks and kindling eyes. "In ugliness of that sort, I mean. +I never saw the face yet that couldn't look pretty under certain +conditions,—except a bad face. And the ugliest and wickedest face I +ever saw was that of a particularly handsome man. It isn't a mere +question of features. If there is a beautiful mind, the face must have +beauty. I don't believe in the sort of nonsense that people talk about +looks." + +Beryl gazed hard, astonished at Hester's extreme warmth, and then she +noticed Miss Carmichael's smile. + +"The child is doing her best to comfort her old friend for not being a +beautiful woman," Miss Carmichael said. "But don't distress yourself +for me, Emmie darling. I have never expected admiration, for I have +always known it could not be mine." + +"It 'is' yours," said Hester, with a sob, and she knelt down beside +Miss Carmichael, and looked up with eyes overflowing. "It is yours. +I don't care who doesn't agree with me. I admire you with my whole +heart, and you are beautiful—lovely—to me. I'm not flattering you, and +you know it. The look in your eyes, and your dear bright smile, are +lovely. Do you think I don't mean what I say?" And finishing off with a +passionate kiss, Hester sprang up, and ran out of the room. + +"My little Hettie is excited on the subject," Miss Carmichael said. +"But her loving heart cannot do away with the truth. Will it be any +comfort to you, my dear, to know that my lack of good looks has not +lost me friends and loving-kindness and happiness, all through life?" + +"Miss Wyatt is very fond of you," said Beryl. "But people don't care +for me." + +"Why not?" + +"I don't know." Beryl hesitated, but her reserve was not proof against +Miss Carmichael's thawing influence. "I thought it was 'that,'" she +said. "I thought that if I were like Pearl, people would take to me, of +course." + +"If you were like Pearl, people in general might run after you more. +But being run after for a pretty face does not mean being loved." + +"But people do love Pearl, and they don't care for me," said Beryl, +finding it a relief to unburden her mind to one who could, at least in +some measure, feel with her. "I heard an old servant say of me once, +when I was a child, that nobody ever could care for me, because I was +so ugly and disagreeable. And I suppose it is true. I never expect +anything else now." + +Miss Carmichael sat looking at her. + +"You may have been disagreeable as a child," she said. "I do not +find you so now,—only I should like to unbend you a little. It was a +wrong thing for a child ever to hear said. Has your life since been +embittered by those words?" + +"I don't know. I couldn't forget them, of course," said Beryl slowly. + +"Have you kept them in mind, and allowed them to sour your intercourse +with others?" + +"I don't know," she repeated, and then she suddenly found herself in +danger of following Hester's example. "I couldn't help it. I used to +be very miserable, for a long long while. And then I thought it was no +good to mind, and I settled that I would just keep to myself, and let +other people alone, and be brave and not care." + +"And shut up your heart against the many who would willingly enter it. +Poor child!" + +"There hasn't been—anybody," said Beryl. + +"No one who ever could have loved you? How can you tell?" + +"Except Mademoiselle at school. She said she would be my friend, and +she gave me a ring, and I wrote to her and she never answered me. +People are all alike." + +"I would trust Mademoiselle a little longer. There may be unknown +causes for the delay. People all alike! Nay, my dear, you don't know +much yet about human nature." + +"They are all alike to me," said Beryl. "And I don't care to have +friends who only just become friends because they are sorry for me. If +people don't really like me for myself, I would much rather be left +alone." + +"You are not like me there. If people are kind and loving, I don't +pretend to get to the bottom of their motives. It is a hopeless task. I +never yet succeeded in getting to the bottom of my own." + +Then she rose, crossed over, and placed a hand on each of Beryl's +shoulders. + +"Hester and I will try not to be sorry for you," she said. "Look up at +me, Beryl. We should be sorry for most people who feel as you feel, +but you are of too independent a spirit to want pity, so we will offer +none. Still, do you not think you would like to have a little love from +us?" + +Beryl looked up, as directed,—composedly at first, but a changed +expression came soon. Her mood melted, and her eyes filled. + +Miss Carmichael bent down and kissed her forehead. + +"It is no such hard task," she said. "There is plenty of lovable stuff +below, my dear, if you don't smother it up. Now mind, there is to be no +steeling of your little heart against us. You are to be at home here, +and to run in whenever you feel lonely. You understand? I hear Hettie +coming, and you may go into the conservatory and gather some cherry-pie +for yourself. People who don't like to be pitied, don't like to be +caught crying, I know. Run, my dear, and you will come back all right." + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +_THE WORST._ + +"I AM DREADFULLY tired this morning," said Mrs. Fenwick. "Really, the +heat last night was quite appalling. Pearl, you are not eating any +breakfast. I insist on your taking something." + +Pearl looked blue-lipped and spiritless, and she sat in a drooping +posture. + +"You are not likely to hear any news of Ivor to-day, so it is of no use +expecting," said Diana, with a yawn. "Dear me, sitting up so late does +make one sleepy. Millicent is sure not to write two days running, and +Marian will get out of it if she possibly can. She has a mortal horror +of putting pen to paper. Besides, I don't suppose there will be any +change for the present. He will be ill for months. I always do think it +was the silliest thing to attempt to leap that gate." + +This remark recurred on an average about six times a day. Diana Fenwick +was one of those people who invariably judge of a deed by its results. +Had the leap been successful, she would have praised Ivor's spirit and +agility. + +"But young men always do silly things, and never learn by experience. +No use to attempt to control them. By the by, what were you doing all +the evening, Beryl? Pearson says she saw nothing of you. She grew quite +nervous, and hunted over the house when it was nearly dark. You are not +old enough to be walking alone in the lanes so late. I can't think how +you can like to do so." + +Beryl had been debating with herself how and when to tell what had +occurred. "I did not walk," she said. "I was over the way at Miss +Carmichael's." + +"You don't know Miss Carmichael," said Pearl, surprised out of her +apathetic air. + +"No, but she saw me alone in the garden, and she came across to speak +to me. She asked me to go back with her." + +"Extraordinary," said Mrs. Fenwick. "I detest that sort of meddling. +What business was it of hers whether you were alone or not? But it +is just the sort of thing one would expect from a person like Miss +Carmichael. I call it impertinent." + +"She was very kind, and I like her very much," said Beryl. + +"How long were you there?" + +Beryl considered. "I don't know exactly. About an hour and a half, I +think." + +"Absurd!" said Mrs. Fenwick, evidently annoyed. "I hope you did not +gossip about my affairs." + +Beryl was silent. + +"What were you talking about?" Mrs. Fenwick spoke sharply. + +"A good many things," said Beryl reluctantly. "About—music,—and +different tunes. And I told them about school,—and about Ivor's +accident. And Miss Wyatt showed me some photographs the last part of +the time." + +"It sounds lively," said Diana, with a sneer. "Rather you than me. Did +they say anything about Sir Stephen?" + +Beryl did not remember at first. "O yes, she—Miss Carmichael, I +mean—showed me a photograph of her brother, and I think Miss Wyatt +called him 'Sir Stephen.'" + +"When is he likely to come to Hurst?" + +"I don't know. Miss Carmichael goes to visit him every year." + +"And I suppose you did not find out anything about Miss Wyatt,—whether +she is a relation or what?" + +"I don't think she is a relation. I think she is Miss Carmichael's +friend." + +"Her companion, do you mean?" + +"No," said Beryl. "Her friend,—or perhaps like her child." + +"Adopted?" + +"I don't know," repeated Beryl. "They did not say anything about that. +Miss Carmichael and Miss Wyatt seem very fond of one another." + +"It is queer. I don't understand the connection. What is Miss Wyatt's +real name?" + +"Hester Wyatt. 'Emerald' is only Miss Carmichael's pet name for her." + +"Absurd!" said Diana again. She was much given to using the word, when +not in a pleasant humour. + +"I did not think you would mind my going," Beryl forced herself to say, +after a pause. "Miss Carmichael saw you go off with Pearl, and she +thought I might be dull." + +"She had no business to think anything of the kind. It was no concern +of hers. I hate that sort of overlooking. I suppose you made yourself +out an injured individual, in being left behind." + +"I told her I was not musical," said Beryl stiffly. She found Diana's +manner difficult to bear patiently. + +The arrival of letters created a diversion, but there was not one from +Weston, and Pearl's face fell. She betook herself to the corner of a +sofa with a book, and made believe to read, seldom turning a leaf, and +now and then stealthily using her pocket-handkerchief. A bright drop +might have been seen to fall occasionally. + +Diana rang for the breakfast things to be removed, and disappeared for +a time. Coming back presently, she found Beryl in the window, over the +never-ending counterpane, now and then diversifying the monotony of her +occupation by a glance at the house over the way. The glances annoyed +Diana. She did not like Beryl to have advanced further than herself in +this new acquaintanceship. + +"There is one thing I have to say," she remarked sharply, opening her +writing-case. "About your Confirmation." + +Beryl's work came to a stand-still, and she made no answer. + +"The names have to be given in within the next fortnight. I shall send +yours to Mr. Bishop." + +"I can't decide in a hurry," Beryl said. + +"Hurry! Nonsense. I spoke to you about it days ago. You have had ample +time." + +"I can't be confirmed, feeling as I do now. It would not be right. I +should like to feel differently," said Beryl, finding it by no means +easy to say so much. + +"Feel differently!" Diana repeated the words with her scornful little +silver laugh. "What about, pray?" + +Beryl did not attempt to explain. "It would not be right," she +repeated. "I must wait." + +"Till when?" + +"I would rather wait another year, or ten years, than do it too soon." + +"You are nearly eighteen. Don't be ridiculous, Beryl. Your duty is to +do as you are told, without making a fuss, and I say this is the right +time." + +"It can't be only just a question of age," said Beryl. "No clergyman +would say so." + +"I shall tell Mr. Bishop that I consider it the proper thing for you; +and I expect you to obey, and not to make difficulties." + +Beryl was breathing hard. + +"I can't help it," she said; "I must do what is right. I 'cannot' +promise what I feel that I don't really want to do." + +"Stuff and nonsense. Why, everybody wants to do it—if you mean the +Confirmation vows," said Diana. "We all want to do right, I hope. That +is all that is meant!" + +"Is it?" + +The two syllables had a certain sting in them, apparently. Diana +flushed, and threw back her head. + +"Of course. What else do you suppose is meant?" + +"I don't know. Something more than that," said Beryl. "If it only means +being like everybody else, I don't see the use of being confirmed at +all." + +"I suppose you have been getting hold of some ultra notions. You seem +to me to be in a muddle about the whole concern. As for 'hurry,' there +are ten days to spare still, and you can think as much as you like. +But I expect you to do as I wish, and I shall certainly speak to Mr. +Bishop." + +"Is he the same Mr. Bishop who wrote to you about us five years ago?" +asked Beryl, after a pause. + +"No," said Diana shortly. "A cousin." + +A loud double knock sounded at the door. Pearl started as if she were +shot. "A telegram," she whispered hoarsely, and she whitened and +trembled. + +"Not at all likely," said Diana. "Numbers of tradespeople knock like +that. Just see what it is, Beryl. Now, Pearl, don't be a goose and make +yourself ill about nothing. It is of no use whatever to be perpetually +looking out for news of Ivor. We shall hear no more for a day or two. +He may go on like this for six weeks and more, before he really begins +to improve." + +Beryl came back with an envelope of thin texture. + +"Ah, then it 'is' one," said Diana, handling it carelessly, while Pearl +leant forward in an imploring fashion. "I wish people would be content +to write instead of startling one like this. I dare say Millicent +forgot to post a letter yesterday, and thought we should be anxious for +news this morning. She had much better have let the matter alone." + +Diana opened the sheet, and glanced at the few scrawled words. "From +Marian. Dear me—who could have thought it? I 'am' shocked. Poor dear +Millie! But, after all, it is no more than one might have expected—poor +fellow!" + +Pearl muttered hoarsely, "What?" + +"It is only what we might have expected," repeated Diana. "The doctors +never really thought he would recover. Well, if it 'was' to be, I +suppose it is a mercy that Millie is spared the pull of a long illness. +It would have worn her quite out. Poor dear Millie!" + +"Ivor dead!" broke from Beryl in utter incredulity. "Ivor!" She thought +of the strong young frame and elastic step, as she had last seen them, +only a few days earlier, and her whole being seemed to rise against the +thought. "Ivor!" she repeated. She had made up her mind that he would +certainly get well. + +"Yes, but I did not mean to tell Pearl so quickly," said Diana, glad to +have somebody to blame. "How you do blurt a thing out. But it is always +your way. Marian does not say much. It is only— + + "'All is over. Ivor passed away at six this morning. M. pretty well. +E. much knocked down.'" + +Diana laid down the sheet, sighed, and put her handkerchief to her eyes. + +"Poor boy; it is a dreadful thing. I am sure I wish with all my heart +that we had never gone to Weston. I did not want to go. But, after all, +it might have happened just the same, and of course one never can tell +beforehand what is coming. I must write to Millie by the first post, +though what to say I really don't know. It will half kill her, I think. +One can't help feeling that if only it had been Escott!—He is always +so delicate. Ivor seemed such a strong hearty young fellow. Don't cry +so, Pearl. It is only what the doctors expected; but of course it is +dreadfully sad. I must have all the blinds pulled down at once, and see +about mourning for myself. You two are not his real cousins, so it will +hardly be necessary for you,—expect perhaps very slightly. Millie might +expect that." + +Diana talked on, really distressed, but finding relief in words, and +Beryl sat feeling stunned. Poor little Pearl's sobs were heartrending. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +_WHETHER OR NO._ + +"ALMOST a fortnight since you have been near us. But there is reason, I +know," said Miss Carmichael. + +She had received Beryl with her frank cordiality of manner, giving a +kiss of welcome, and at once making her visitor feel at home. Hester, +who was present on Beryl's entrance, slipped away almost immediately, +seeming to know by intuition that a "tête-à-tête" with Miss Carmichael +was wished for. Beryl looked grave and absorbed, as if something were +weighing on her mind. + +"You have all been in sad trouble lately," said Miss Carmichael. + +Beryl sat opposite, gazing straight before her, not at Miss Carmichael, +but at the wall beyond. "Yes," she said. + +"How is Mrs. Fenwick?" asked Miss Carmichael. + +"I don't think anything is the matter with Aunt Di. Pearl is ill—at +least not well," said Beryl. "She cries so, we can't do anything with +her, and she won't eat." + +"Poor little girl. Only sixteen," mused Miss Carmichael. "And Mrs. +Cumming?" + +"She doesn't write," said Beryl. "Aunt Marian says she is pretty well. +I don't know what they are going to do yet. Escott is so depressed." + +"The twin brother?" + +"Yes. But I don't hear much," repeated Beryl. Then she sat silent +again, and Miss Carmichael sat watching her. + +"What is it that you want to say to me, Beryl?" broke the stillness +suddenly. + +"I don't know whether I can," said Beryl, turning crimson. + +"I think you can. It will go no farther without your leave." + +"Not even—" + +"No, not even Hester. I never repeat what is told me in confidence." + +Beryl moved her fingers uneasily, and said no more. + +"Come and sit here," said Miss Carmichael, drawing a chair close to +herself; and when Beryl obeyed, she laid a hand on the girl's arm. "Now +I think you will be able. Hettie will not come back yet. If she does, I +will send her away again." + +"Aunt Di wants me to be confirmed," said Beryl, "blurting" it out, as +Mrs. Fenwick would have said, without preface. + +"You have not been confirmed yet?" + +"No. Mrs. Brigstock asked me if I would, and I said 'No.'" + +"Why?" + +"I couldn't. I'm not fit." + +"And you do not wish it now?" + +"No—yes,—I wish it—no, not really," said Beryl confusedly. "I don't +know what I wish exactly. But I don't think I ought." + +"Ought to be confirmed? Why not? Because you are not fit?" + +"I know I am not," said Beryl. "I don't feel as I ought—and I never +shall." + +"I don't feel as if I had reached anywhere near the bottom of the +matter yet," said Miss Carmichael pleasantly. "What makes one 'fit' for +it, my dear?" + +The pause following was longer than she expected, but Beryl evidently +meant to give an answer, and at last it came:— + +"One ought to 'want' to be—to do—to be—good." + +"I should say more. One ought to be heartily bent upon serving Christ +thenceforward." + +"I meant that," said Beryl, in her shyly gruff tone. + +"I am going to ask you a plain question, my dear. Is it your wish to be +Christ's faithful soldier and servant unto your life's end?" + +Another pause, and Beryl's usually staid features were working +painfully. "I can't," she said. "I 'can't,' Miss Carmichael—" + +"You cannot become His servant? But you are promised to Him already." + +"Yes, so Escott said. I didn't think of it before. I have been thinking +a great deal since," said the girl earnestly. "But I can't see what is +right. If I am confirmed, I must go to—to—the Holy Communion." + +"Is that your difficulty?" + +"I couldn't go," said Beryl, her colour deepening. "I could not. It +would not be right. Nobody ought to go who can't forgive somebody else." + +Miss Carmichael suddenly found herself in possession of the clue she +wanted. "And that somebody else is—" + +"Mrs. Fenwick," Beryl said very low. + +"What injury has Mrs. Fenwick done you?" + +"She—stole Pearl from me." + +"I don't understand. Try to be clear, my dear child." + +"It is only that," said Beryl, breathing quickly, "Pearl and I did love +one another so much. And she came between and stole her from me. She +'meant' to do it. We had nobody else before except one another;—and I +have nobody now. Pearl does not love me." + +"And you—do you love Pearl?" + +Miss Carmichael had not expected the answer which came. She scarcely +realised how great the effort of this conversation was to Beryl's +reserved nature, or knew how much strength of will and passion lay +beneath the composed exterior. Beryl broke into tears, and sobbed aloud. + +"Poor child!" Miss Carmichael said in her tenderest tone. + +Beryl was direfully ashamed of herself. She gulped and choked, and +struggled back to calmness as speedily as might be. "I didn't mean—" +she gasped, "I never do cry,—and I didn't know—" + +"You will be better for it afterwards. Tears do one good sometimes." + +But when self-command was regained, she said, "Now tell me more." + +"I have told," said Beryl, in a voice which to anybody else might have +appeared both hard and curt. "There isn't anything more. Only I have +lost Pearl—and I can't forgive Mrs. Fenwick. I never have all these +years, and I never shall." + +"'But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your +Heavenly Father forgive you your trespasses,'" said Miss Carmichael. + +"Yes, I know. But I 'can't,'" repeated Beryl, somewhat sullenly. + +"And you are content to leave it so," said Miss Carmichael. "For how +long, Beryl?" + +Beryl was silent. + +"Till the end of life?" asked Miss Carmichael slowly and sadly. "That +would be very terrible." + +"I may feel differently some day," said Beryl. + +"But if not? Life is uncertain. Think of poor young Cumming." + +Beryl's face changed. "Yes, I know," she said huskily,—"I think it is +'that'—I think that frightened me,—and I do want to be different, but I +don't know how." + +"There is only one possible 'how.' Come straight to Christ, and tell +Him all." + +"I thought I must forgive her first." + +"Yes, we all want to make ourselves a little better before we ask for +His healing. No, my dear. There is no first except coming to the feet +of Jesus. To be at His feet, and not to forgive others, is out of +the question; and to attempt to come to Him, while determined not to +forgive, is useless. But you may be willing and yet powerless, and then +He will give you power." + +Tears dropped again. "I'll try," whispered Beryl. "But I don't think I +can ever like her." + +"Possibly not. Liking is a different matter. She may not suit your +personal tastes. But if you would be Christ's servant, you must forgive +her,—you must not harbour malice." + +"And about Confirmation?" + +"Think it over, and come to me again." + +"I can't. Aunt Di gave me ten days, and the ten days are just at an +end. She says I am old enough, and she doesn't like me to put off any +longer." + +"Well—then send in your name as a candidate. You can go to the classes, +and consider the matter prayerfully, and you and I will have some more +little chats. If I were you, I would call at the Vicarage and speak to +Mr. Bishop alone." + +Beryl looked alarmed. "I couldn't say to him what I have said to you." + +"There is no need. Simply tell him that Mrs. Fenwick wishes it, and +that your own mind is not fully made up, and ask his permission to +attend the classes. If you would rather write a note, that would do as +well,—or nearly as well. By and by Mr. Bishop will of course see you +alone; and unless he thinks it right, he will not admit you. If you +still feel doubtful when that time comes, tell him so frankly, and he +will help you to a decision." + +Beryl's sigh spoke of some relief. + +"But I am sure I could not explain in writing," she said. + +"Some people find writing easier than speaking. Then try to see him. +Why not go now?" + +Beryl looked at the clock. "There would be time," she said unwillingly. +"I needn't be home for half an hour. Only I do so dislike going." + +"We must do a good many things that we dislike, in this world." + +"And you think I ought?" said Beryl. + +"I think it is the wisest course you can take." + +"I should have time," repeated Beryl, standing up, with an air of +reluctance. "Only I must be home in half an hour. Aunt Di will be going +out, and she will want me to sit with Pearl." + +"You have to win back Pearl's love," said Miss Carmichael. + +Beryl shook her head hopelessly. "But I like being useful," she said. +"Sometimes reading aloud a story to Pearl keeps her from crying for a +little while, but she seems as if she could not care for anything. And +I think Aunt Di makes her worse. She doesn't seem to understand Pearl +at all." + +"Then Pearl has the more need of you, my dear." + +Another shake of the head. "Pearl does not think so," said Beryl. + +"We must have patience. And now you are going to Mr. Bishop?" + +Beryl said "Yes" soberly, and walked away. + +Miss Carmichael watched her through the garden, and earnestly hoped Mr. +Bishop might be at home. + + +Half an hour later, Beryl entered Mrs. Fenwick's drawing-room, to find +the little lady chafing at her continued absence. + +"I told you to be back sooner," she said. "That comes of letting you go +to waste your time at Miss Carmichael's. I have been ready to start for +a quarter of an hour past." + +"It is four o'clock exactly," said Beryl. "You told me to be back at +four." + +"Oh, don't argue, pray. There is nothing I detest like argument. Where +in the world have you been? I saw you leave Miss Carmichael's an +immense while ago." + +"At half-past three," Beryl said, with rather irritating composure, +wearing her most stolid look. + +"Where have you been since?" + +"Only to the Vicarage—to give in my name as a candidate." + +"You had no business to go to the Vicarage. That was not necessary. And +you told me you would not be confirmed." + +"I said I could not in a hurry. I wanted to think first," said Beryl, +in a suppressed voice. "You gave me ten days, and the ten days are +gone. I told Mr. Bishop I could not be quite sure yet, but he will let +me go to the classes, and I am to decide by and by." + +"I don't know how I am to spare you for the classes. With Pearl like +this, and Marian away, I can't have you perpetually absent. It makes a +perfect slave of me. I am sure it is a lesson not to burden one's self +with other people's children. I am sick of it, for my part." + +Beryl was silent. She really did not know what to say. + +"Mind—I am not going to have this sort of thing again," said Diana +sharply. "You are not to act without asking my leave." + +"You told me I must be confirmed," said Beryl resentfully. + +"I have not spoken of it since all this trouble. That alters +circumstances. And you know very well that I did not say a word about +your going to Mr. Bishop. I am not at all sure that I can let you +attend the classes the next few weeks. You will have to do as you are +told. My own belief is that we shall have Pearl downright ill in a few +days. I don't know what is the matter with her." + +Diana rustled to the door, and paused. + +"Did Miss Carmichael advise you to go to Mr. Bishop's?" + +Beryl was no adept in the art of fencing. She said only, "Yes." + +"Miss Carmichael had better take care what she is about," responded +Diana, in a quiver of passion. "I always did think her a meddling +person. Mind, Beryl,—I will not have interference. And I will not have +gossiping about my concerns. I never saw anything like it. You had +better take care." + +Beryl thought that the question of Confirmation was more her own +concern than Mrs. Fenwick's. She had no opportunity to say so, however. +The next moment she was alone. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +_VARIETIES._ + +IT seemed to Beryl that she had never known Diana Fenwick in so trying +a mood as during the next few weeks. Probably the very fact that she +was herself struggling to feel differently towards Diana made her the +more sensitive to unkindness in word or manner. She sometimes thought +the struggle a hopeless one. She "could not" forgive Mrs. Fenwick, +"could not" conquer the bitter and resentful sensations which sprang +into being, so soon as the two were together. + +There were of course two sides to the question. Mrs. Fenwick was to +be pitied as well as Beryl. If she was a trial to Beryl, Beryl was a +trial to her. She did not love Beryl, but she loved money or money's +worth, and she had spent money on Beryl, and for her spending, she had +no return. She could not but know herself to be heartily disliked by +Beryl, and this dislike she heartily returned, yet she felt herself +after a fashion compelled or impelled to admit her as a perpetual +inmate of her home. + +Diana's extra irritability these weeks had also another cause, +unsuspected by any around her. Had Beryl guessed it, had she known of +the shadow which hovered over Diana's path, had she seen the despairing +tears which the little widow often shed in private, her resentment +would all have melted into pity. + +Moreover, Pearl's state was annoying to Diana. She disliked the visible +presence of grief, and could not understand the expression of it +lasting in another more than a few days. Wounds of that description +were apt in Diana's heart to heal quickly. For a week or more she was +interested in Pearl's distress, and was rather disposed to encourage +it, both by tender caresses and by much talk concerning "poor dear +Ivor." Then she grew tired of tears and woeful looks, and took to +reprimanding in place of coaxing. Pearl only cried and drooped the more +for sharp words, would not eat, refused to go out, and slept away half +her days in a sort of exhaustion of chronic misery. If not ill yet, she +seemed likely to become so soon. + +Meantime, Beryl went to the Confirmation classes; and though Diana +complained often and much about the inconvenience of sparing her, she +was never actually kept away. To have missed any one of the number +would have been a real trouble to Beryl. She had never before been +in the way of a steady course of religious instruction, wisely and +thoughtfully administered, and she drank it all in with thirstiness. +Mr. Bishop was a grave and elderly man, not powerful in preaching, but +exceedingly earnest, and possessing an unusual gift for systematic +exposition. The effect of his teaching, upon Beryl at least, was to +cause eager reading of the Bible,—and not reading only, but also +searching and comparing. She took notes in her own simple fashion, +conned them over, copied and learnt many of the texts, and dwelt much +upon them in mind. Questions in the class were seldom answered by her, +but the intent face was noticed often by Mr. Bishop with pleasure. + +The classes were supplemented by scraps of conversation with Miss +Carmichael. Mrs. Fenwick threw many difficulties into the way of +intercourse in that direction, but she did not entirely prevent it. +Hester generally left the two alone together. Beryl had little to say, +beyond the asking of a few questions, but she listened unweariedly +to whatever Miss Carmichael might choose to utter. These weeks of +preparation were found by Beryl, as they have been found by so many, a +time of real good to her spiritual being—a time of awakening to clearer +views of things unseen, and a time of food for soul-thirstiness. + +Yet when the hour for decision drew near, she was doubting still what +to do. Had she forgiven Mrs. Fenwick yet? Beryl thought not. "Could" +she come forward to be confirmed? She was conscientiously afraid of +deceiving herself. "Ought" was a word which weighed strongly with +Beryl. She had not yet reached higher than a general sense of duty, but +hers was not a self-pleasing nature. + +The sisters did not draw closer together, as Miss Carmichael had +expected, in consequence of Pearl's trouble. Pearl seemed to shrink +into her shell, and to refuse sympathy; and Beryl did not offer it. +She waited on Pearl, kept her company, and read to her by the hour +together, but her stolid composure never relaxed at home as it relaxed +at Miss Carmichael's. + +Millicent Cumming was still at Weston, nursing Escott, who had been +laid aside by a sharp attack of illness since his brother's death; and +Mr. Crosbie and Marian were still with her. Beryl, though much absorbed +in her own interests, saw that certain plans were under discussion, +not altogether pleasing to Diana. The latter had taken to watching +nervously for the postman, and over her letters from Marian she +exhibited often a petulant annoyance. + + +Matters appeared one morning to have reached a culminating point. Pearl +had always taken breakfast in bed of late, and Beryl alone sat at table +with Mrs. Fenwick. The postman had brought two or three letters, one +of which was evidently from Marian. Beryl was astonished to see Mrs. +Fenwick suddenly tear the latter across, fling it to the ground, and +stamp her foot upon it. + +"I knew how it would be! Just what I expected!" Diana said +passionately. "It is always the way. People just make use of one as +long as it suits their convenience, and then throw one over like an +old shoe. Marian was glad enough to have a home with me, when she +had nowhere else to go. But I might have expected this. Everybody's +convenience is always to be consulted before mine. If Milly does but +hold up a finger, she gets it all her own way." + +"Is anything the matter?" asked Beryl. + +"A great deal is the matter. I never saw anything like it, for my part. +One would think I was a child of six years old, to have things settled +over my head in this fashion. 'Of course I shall agree that the plan +is wise and right!' Of course I shall do nothing of the sort! I intend +to give Marian my mind about it,—let her know for once what I really +think. I shall tell her she may please herself, and 'I' shall please +'my'self. Cool!" + +"Is not Miss Crosbie coming home next week?" asked Beryl. + +"No, she is not. She will not come next week or any week. If she wishes +for independence, she shall have it, and so will I." + +Beryl waited, really afraid to speak. Diana's face recalled to her the +day of the broken vase. + +"As if nothing in the world were to be considered but Millicent's +fancies! As if nobody in the world needed change except Escott! As if +Mr. Crosbie could not go with them, if he chose! But 'I' shall go all +the same. I will not be put upon like this." + +"Go where?" asked Beryl. + +"To the Engadine. They know well enough that I intend it, and this +is a trick to stop me. But I will not be stopped. I shall go, and I +shall take Pearl with me, as I told Marian I would. If Marian chooses +to break through her promise of coming home next week, it is her own +look-out. I shall tell her so plainly, and I shall take care that +friends understand." + +Beryl wondered what was to become of herself, and also felt generally +mystified concerning the cause of all this anger. + +"Are you going soon?" she asked. + +"Of course I am. Next week." + +"And Miss Crosbie was to have been here with me?" said Beryl. + +"Of course," repeated Diana sharply. "I don't know, I am sure, what to +do with you now. Marian is the most inconsiderate creature I ever knew, +and she takes a positive pleasure in crossing me." + +The door opened, and Pearson said, "If you please, ma'am, could Miss +Carmichael have a word with you?" + +Diana's face and bearing were suddenly transformed. She did not like +to be found in a passion by anybody out of her home circle, and she +certainly possessed a power of controlling herself when she would. +There was an impatient mutter, "What on earth does she want?" And then +a cordial—"Show her in at once,"—uttered distinctly enough for Miss +Carmichael to hear. A little flushed still, but gracious and smiling, +Diana rose to greet the early caller. + +"I must apologise for the hour," Miss Carmichael said, shaking hands +with Diana, and kissing Beryl. "You have not finished breakfast yet." + +"O yes, we have—quite," said Diana pleasantly. "We were merely talking +about a letter—rather a disagreeable one—which I have received." + +"I don't like disagreeable letters," said Miss Carmichael. + +"This is from my sister Marian. It is disagreeable because it overturns +my plans," said Diana, speaking with composure. "Mrs. Cumming is +thinking of going abroad with her son for some months, and Marian +has decided to live with Mr. Crosbie while they are away. It is +inconvenient to me—extremely. But my sister does not think about that. +It is extremely inconvenient." + +"You will have to make use of Beryl, in Miss Crosbie's absence," said +Miss Carmichael. + +"I do not know how to manage in the least. Marian knows that I intend +going abroad in a week or two myself with Pearl,—that in fact it is a +positive necessity. She was to have been here with Beryl. The change of +plans has quite thrown me out." + +Miss Carmichael looked at Diana in her attentive way, and said somewhat +gravely:—"Yes, I think change of air would be good for you, as well as +for Pearl." + +"I must have it," said Diana, with a quick nervous glance back, as if +to see what Miss Carmichael meant. "And Pearl will be ill, if I do not +get her away. But I cannot afford to take Beryl too." + +"Beryl is quite strong, so it is not necessary; and also there is the +Confirmation. She will do very well here." + +"I don't know. It makes a difference—in other ways—my sister not being +with me," said Diana, drawn on to be confidential, as almost everybody +was with Miss Carmichael. "I shall have to send the servants home for +a holiday, and shut up my house. My uncle and Marian are staying on at +Weston for some time—he has taken such a fancy to the place. Beryl will +have to go to them there. I don't suppose my uncle will like it, for he +is dreadfully fanciful; but I don't see what else is to be done." + +"But the Confirmation!" Beryl broke out involuntarily, though not yet +clear as to her own wishes about being confirmed. + +"Yes, the Confirmation!" echoed Miss Carmichael. "I can propose a +better plan, Mrs. Fenwick. Will you trust Beryl to me, while you are +away? Hester and I will take great care of her." + +Mrs. Fenwick certainly had not expected this, and certainly did not +like it; but what could she say? + +"I don't think you need hesitate," said Miss Carmichael. "We are new +acquaintances, but we shall not be so much longer. I love to have young +people about me; and Beryl will be no trouble. I shall not scruple to +make her a useful individual in the house. It really may be a positive +convenience to me, for I am thinking of sending Hester away for a short +time, and Hester would not like to leave me alone. Shall we consider +the matter settled?" + +"Thanks,—you are most kind," said Diana rather faintly. + +"Then it is to be so! Now I must not hinder you longer, for it is a +busy time of day. We will meet again to arrange details. I must not +forget the small matter which so happily brought me over. Could you +give me the name of a good dressmaker?" + +This business completed, Miss Carmichael left, Beryl accompanying her +out to the front door, in a state of wordless happiness. + +"Yes, we shall get on together, I think," Miss Carmichael said with a +smile, answering the girl's look. "Good-bye, my dear." + +And Diana received her with a sharp— + +"I suppose it has to be; but mind, Beryl, you are not to make my +household affairs the talk of Hurst." + +"No," said Beryl, trying instinctively not to look too pleased. "But +Miss Carmichael wouldn't repeat anything." + +"I don't care whether she would or not. 'You' are not to repeat things +to her," said Diana, with an uncomfortable consciousness of "things" +better not repeated. + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +_A HAPPY NEST._ + +THE idea of the Engadine roused Pearl more than anything else had done +since Ivor's death. She cried less, talked more, and waxed positively +eager over the choice of dresses and hats for the trip. Diana seemed +not to have the slightest idea how long she would stay away. She showed +impatience to be off, and was meanwhile in an uncomfortable state of +alternate excitement and depression. Beryl could not make her out. + +Marian's defection seemed to have caused even deeper annoyance than had +appeared at the first. Diana could not hear her sister's name without +an angry flush, and she repeatedly declared that Marian should never +again reside under her roof. Something in Marian's letter had probably +wounded her self-esteem. A hot and lengthy answer was despatched in the +first outburst of passion. Marian's reply was brief, and Diana read it +aloud to the girls, under one of her sudden impulses. + + "DEAR DI,—I do not think you can have meant all you said in your last. +When you have had time to cool, you will be sorry. It is absolutely +necessary for Escott to travel, the doctors say,—and how could I leave +poor Uncle Josiah alone for six months or more? You could not really +wish it, or ask it of me. I dare say a trip to the Engadine would be +pleasant; but I must say I cannot quite see how you are to meet the +expense of it just now,—after what you said in your last letter.—Your +affectionate sister,— + + "MARIAN CROSBIE." + +"Cool! I am as cool as a cucumber," Diana declared, with burning +cheeks and glowing eyes. "I don't pretend to be a lump of ice like +Marian. Couldn't ask it, indeed! Why not? Millicent doesn't scruple +to ask what crosses my wishes, and why am I to be tongue-tied? 'Poor +Uncle Josiah!'—yes, of course,—poor anybody and everybody except me. +Can't see how I am to meet the expense! No, I dare say she can't. What +business is it of hers? But they shall see that I will have my own way; +I am not going to be sat upon in this style." + +The girls had little to say. Pearl only hoped that nothing might stand +in the way of the trip, and Diana's anger did not disturb her, when +not directed towards herself. Beryl dared not answer. She was falling +more and more into the clutches of that uneasy dread of "saying the +wrong thing," which checks all freedom of intercourse with some people, +occasionally even with those people who stand nearest in order of +natural relationship. She did not fear Diana's displeasure, for hers +was a tough nature, capable of standing rough words; but she did fear +the feelings which the expression of Diana's displeasure aroused in +herself. + +"I shall write at once, and tell Marian that everything is settled. +Thanks to Miss Carmichael, I need not ask any favour of her. I am quite +independent." + +Beryl began to understand why she was so easily permitted to accept the +invitation from over the way. + +"I wanted to start next week, but I don't quite see that we can be +ready, Pearl. Better say next Tuesday week." + +Beryl was sorry, knowing that "next Tuesday week" would be the day of +the last Confirmation class. She would much have preferred to be then +at Miss Carmichael's. + +Diana went on, unheeding:— + +"Marian will be sorry by and by for behaving in this way,—when +Millicent comes back, and my uncle doesn't want her any more. But I +shall not have her here. I can't endure that sort of playing fast and +loose. She may look-out for herself in future. I have a great mind to +give notice to my landlord next quarter, and go to live somewhere else. +I am getting sick of Hurst, and of being overlooked and meddled with +at every step." + +The last few words filled Beryl with dismay. + +Diana noted her expression, and thenceforward made systematic use of +the notion, when she wished to annoy Beryl. + +Mrs. Fenwick proposed to spend a week with Pearl in London, +before starting for the Continent. The last few days before they +left, Beryl had enough to do, to satisfy the requirements of even +her occupation-loving nature. She was at their beck and call +incessantly—sewing, mending, packing, shopping, running up and down +stairs, acting the part of "white slave" uncomplainingly. It was +gradually becoming a habit with them to hand over to Beryl whatever +they did not care to do themselves. Beryl liked to be busy, and liked +to be useful. Yet, however willing to work, she had at times a wish for +a grateful word or smile in return for her labours. Diana and Pearl +could smile and thank gracefully enough, when it pleased them; but they +did not count it worth their while to waste smiles upon Beryl. "Just do +this," and "Just fetch that," with, "Oh, you have finished at last," or +possibly a careless "Thanks," were the order of the day. + + +Tuesday came at last, and early in the afternoon the travellers +started. Beryl was busy up to the moment of their departure. She had +found time by early rising to put together what she would need at Miss +Carmichael's; but after eight o'clock not a minute of her time had been +her own. Diana was excited and irritable; and Pearl, now that things +had come to a point, looked flat. Neither remembered to give Beryl a +parting kiss, and Beryl would not ask for one. She stood quietly on the +step, watching the fly rumble down the road, and feeling as if a sudden +calm had come over the face of nature. + +"Miss Pearl 'might' have taken the trouble to look round and say +'Good-bye,'" Pearson remarked unexpectedly by her side. + +"People don't remember everything when they are busy," said Beryl +slowly, turning round. + +"She don't forget her ribbons and gloves, though," said Pearson with +some point. "You're tired, Miss Beryl." + +"I suppose I am—a little," said Beryl, as if not quite sure of so +unwonted a sensation. "I don't quite know how I am to get my things to +Miss Carmichael's." + +"I'll see to that. You just tell me what has to go, and I'll see to +it," said Pearson, who had experienced a growing approval of Beryl +during the last few weeks, and a growing disapproval of the manner in +which she counted her to be "put upon." + +"If you don't mind, I should be glad," said Beryl. "I must be off to +the Confirmation class in a few minutes, and Miss Carmichael expects me +to tea." + +"Well, don't you trouble yourself, Miss Beryl. Your things 'll be +over all right, by the time you're there. And we shan't be off till +to-morrow, so if you want anything more you can just run over in the +morning, you know." + +Beryl's "Thank you," if sober, was grateful. She went upstairs for hat +and jacket, and started soon, with her Bible in her hand. + + +An hour and a half later, Miss Carmichael saw her coming up the garden +path, and Hester met her at the front door. + +"Welcome, Beryl,—I am glad you are here at last. We have been looking +out for you. Your 'baggage' has arrived first. Go and speak to Miss +Carmichael in the drawing-room. I am wanted downstairs for a minute." + +Beryl obeyed, and received a second affectionate greeting. Miss +Carmichael held her hands, scrutinised her face, and said "Well?" +inquiringly. + +"They are gone," said Beryl, with an unconscious accent of relief. + +"And you have been to your class since. A pleasant one?" + +"Yes,—I liked it very much," said Beryl, with emphasis. + +"Rather longer than usual, was it not?" + +"I don't know. Am I late? It did not seem long, but it is the last. Mr. +Bishop wants to see us all alone now, and he has fixed the day after +to-morrow for me." + +"Do you see your way yet, my child?" + +"Yes," said Beryl, lifting her eyes to her friend's face. "I want to be +confirmed." + +"And the difficulty about Mrs. Fenwick?" + +"I think it is gone," said Beryl. "You have helped me so much. I don't +feel the same now that I did. I don't 'like' her, Miss Carmichael, and +I don't see how I can. But I like to be useful to her,—and I should +not be glad to see her unhappy,—and it doesn't make me angry now to +see Pearl fond of her. I don't know whether Pearl really is so very +fond—but still she cares for Aunt Di much more than for me, and I can +bear it now. I 'think' I may be confirmed." + +"I think so too," said Miss Carmichael. "But be true, Beryl. Don't have +any sham about the matter,—and don't be half-hearted. Let your life be +one of real faithful service to Christ from this time forward." + +"I want that—" said Beryl huskily, with flushing face. "Miss +Carmichael, the class to-day was about—" + +Beryl hesitated. + +"Yes,—about—?" said Miss Carmichael. + +Beryl's tone took its shy gruffness. "Only about—the love of God," she +said. + +"And that has gone home to your heart?" + +"I don't think I ever saw it before," said Beryl. "I thought—of +course—I 'had' to try to do right—just because I ought. I didn't see +'that!'" + +"You did not see the outpouring of tender love, beyond a mother's, +asking your heart in return. But you see it now,—and you will not let +go what you have found. If you see His love, you 'must' love Him in +return. Only, the life must go with the love. You cannot separate the +two." + +Beryl's look was responsive. She had no more to say. + +"You will be glad of your tea now," said Miss Carmichael. "Come and see +your room." + +She led Beryl to a cosy chamber, looking out upon the back garden, +pretty with white muslin and pink linings. A glass of geraniums stood +on the toilet-table, and the very pincushion spoke "welcome" with its +pins. To Beryl all this possessed the charm of novelty. She had never +before been a petted and honoured guest. + +"Your home for the present—for many weeks, I hope," said Miss +Carmichael. "Hettie has filled the bookcases with a selection which she +thinks may suit your taste. We must try to turn you into something of a +reader while you are here. Do not wait to unpack now, or to change your +dress, for tea is ready. Just make yourself tidy, and come down." + +Beryl obeyed, positively speechless with happiness. She had never +known such a sense of peaceful enjoyment as seemed to pervade the +very atmosphere of this house—an atmosphere which she had never been +so fitted to breathe as on this particular evening. She did not dream +how her own usually stolid face was changed by this new sense of +peace, within and without. When she re-entered the drawing-room, Miss +Carmichael and Hester looked at her, exchanged glances, and smiled, +both well content. + +"This is to be your seat at the table," said Miss Carmichael kindly. "I +dare say you are tired, and hungry too, after your busy day. The last +few days have been far from idle, I think." + +"No, I have had a great deal to do," said Beryl. "But I am not tired +now. I was, before the class—a little. I like being busy." + +"That liking is a gift worth having. Hettie and I mean to keep you +employed while here. We don't approve of 'idle hands' any more than +Watts did. How is the little Pearl?" + +"I don't think she is happy," said Beryl. "She seems to have been +so very fond of poor Ivor. Aunt Di thinks they would soon have been +engaged." + +"Poor child! Too young," said Miss Carmichael pityingly. "Foreign +travel will be the best cure for her, probably. And Mrs. Fenwick?" + +"Aunt Di is quite well," said Beryl. Then she saw something in Miss +Carmichael's face which made her add, "Why? Don't you think so?" + +"No," said Miss Carmichael, and Hester shook her head. + +"I did not know anything was the matter with Aunt Di," said Beryl, +rather bewildered. + +"She is not well," said Miss Carmichael. + +"But what is the matter with her?" + +"I am not in her confidence, so I cannot undertake to say. It is easy +to see that something is wrong, and that she is aware of it. If you +were a little more experienced, you would have noticed the same. Don't +talk about it to anybody else." + +"She does seem unhappy sometimes," said Beryl. "But I fancied it was +only just her way. I did not know she had anything particular to make +her so." + +"I may be mistaken, but I should say that she has. I am glad you have +felt more kindly towards her lately, poor thing." + +"Oh, so am I," said Beryl. "But she isn't really ill, is she?" + +"'Ill' is an indefinite term. I do not count her well. Try some +home-made cake, Beryl." + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +_BRIGHT HOURS._ + +THE Confirmation was to be on Monday, and the evening before was to +Beryl a strangely happy time. She had seen Mr. Bishop in the course of +the week, and had received her ticket of admission. A sermon especially +intended for the candidates, and full of the subject of that great love +of God for men, which had already touched and stirred Beryl's heart +with a thrill never again to cease vibrating, had just been preached at +the evening service. It seems strange that few sermons comparatively +should be spoken upon this mighty theme. Is it because men know so +little of God's love? + +The three were together in the drawing-room, Miss Carmichael resting, +Hester and Beryl on either side of her. Lights were out, and blinds +were drawn up, and the moonbeams fell full upon the little group. + +"It has been a good time for you, child," Miss Carmichael said at +length. + +"It has been the very best day I ever had in all my life," said Beryl. +"Will to-morrow be better still?" + +"Such days are sometimes disappointing, hardly coming up to our +expectations. But there is generally a reason." + +"What reason?" Hester asked. "I remember a feeling of flatness and +disappointment when I was confirmed, as if the whole did not at all +come up to what I had pictured beforehand. Why was it?" + +"I don't know the 'why' in your particular case, Emmie. It might have +been that you gave thought to your own or your neighbour's dress +and appearance. Or it might have been that your mind was too easily +distracted by the little events of the day. Or it might have been that +you expected a sort of unnatural spiritual exaltation—such as comes +sometimes in a life, but certainly doesn't come just when it is looked +for. Or it might have been that you were more occupied with your own +feelings than with your Master." + +"I think it may have been a little of all four," said Hester in a low +voice, and Beryl inquired abruptly,— + +"How am I to keep myself from anything like that?" + +"You cannot keep yourself, child. Christ alone can keep you." + +"And I can't do anything?" + +"Yes; you can look to Him, moment by moment. And you can set it +before yourself as a definite aim, in His strength to be calm, to +let the little things of every-day life pass by you unnoticed, to be +indifferent to what your fellow-candidates may wear or do, and so to +escape being tossed to and fro needlessly." + +"There is something else I have been wanting very much to ask you," +Beryl said presently, finding it easier to talk by moonlight than by +daylight. + +"Yes. What?" asked Miss Carmichael. + +"I don't know about what I ought to do,—I mean, if I live with Mrs. +Fenwick. There doesn't seem any work for me." + +"Work for God?" + +"Yes." + +"There is always work for God, if you are where He intends you to be." + +"I don't know whether I am." + +"Did He place you there, or did you place yourself there?" + +"I don't think I had much choice about it," said Beryl slowly. "But I +should like something else much better. I should like to be a nurse in +a hospital very much indeed. I always think I could do that well." + +"I should like has a doubtful sound, in connection with work for God," +said Miss Carmichael. + +"Is it wrong to like what one has to do?" + +"Certainly not; but it would be wrong to put aside what He has given +you to do, and to take up something else, merely because you would like +it better." + +"But it might be the right thing for me," said Beryl. + +"It might. Have you any reason for supposing this to be the case, at +the present moment?" + +"I should like hospital work," Beryl began, and paused. "I mean, I +think I am fit for it. I am strong, and I like taking care of sick +people. And I am not wanted here. I don't like living with Aunt Di. She +does not care for me in the least, and she always speaks as if I were a +burden. And I don't see that I can be of any real use to her and Pearl. +I have worked for them a good deal lately, mending and so on, and of +course I don't mind; but it isn't 'that' work. I should not like to go +away from Hurst, because of you; but still I 'do' want to have real +work for God." + +"'Seeking for some great thing to do,'" murmured Miss Carmichael. +"There is a good deal as to your own liking in all this, my dear. Now +tell me your reasons for supposing such a step to be God's will for +you." + +Beryl was silent for some time. + +"But, Miss Carmichael," she said, "ought I to live on Mrs. Fenwick, and +not do anything for myself?" + +"You should ask Mrs. Fenwick herself as to that. She has been +practically in the place of a parent to you for years. It is not for +you, a mere girl, to break away from her, unless by her will as well as +your own." + +"But if she did not mind?" + +"I have a strong impression that she would mind. If not, your way would +become so much the clearer. At the same time, you should be cautious +how you bring matters to a crisis. Better that the responsibility of +the step should be hers, not yours." + +"Only, if it were right for me—" + +"If it is God's will for you, indications of your way will soon appear. +But there may be work for you to do in your present home first. How +if, by your own action, you were to cut yourself off from it? I am not +trying to discourage you, my dear, but I certainly recommend you to +wait. A few months hence—" + +"Months!" repeated Beryl. + +"No one is the worse for a little exercise of patience," said Miss +Carmichael. + +After a break, she added softly: + +"Those long years of waiting and preparation at Nazareth—I often think +of them. One fancies HE must have been so eager to come forward, to +make Himself known, and to do the great work for which He had come. +Yet, all through those quiet years, He was just as much 'about His +Father's business' as in the three years' busy ministry." + +"Miss Carmichael, I will be patient," spoke Beryl. "I won't be in a +hurry." + +"And be willing to follow the guidance when it comes, my dear, whether +or no it may point the same way as your own wishes. Remember, you are +perfectly free to '"ask" what you will;' but take care not to '"choose" +what you will,' or you will be sorry later. Always leave your Father to +choose for you." + +Beryl said again, "I will." + + +They went to bed early, and Beryl slept as usual soundly, to wake in +the morning with a placid sense of happiness. + +Breakfast passed quietly, little being said by any one. Beryl could see +that her companions were anxious not to distract her thoughts by light +conversation, though Miss Carmichael was the last person to endeavour +to force religious talk. + +Breakfast over, she said simply, pressing Beryl's hand, "You will like +a short time alone, my child." + +And Beryl went away obediently to her own room. + +[Illustration: She went away to bring back a soft white Indian shawl, +which she folded round the girl's square shoulders.] + +Thither Miss Carmichael followed her, when the hour for starting drew +near, to see that Beryl was duly equipped. No stir was made about the +matter, and Beryl certainly offered no "bridal" appearance. She wore a +plain light-grey dress, lately procured for her by Mrs. Fenwick. Miss +Carmichael's kindness had supplied a pair of white gloves and a little +white net cap; and with her own hands Miss Carmichael fastened the +latter on. + +"Shall I wear my black jacket?" asked Beryl doubtfully. + +"No, my dear; that will not quite do," said Miss Carmichael. + +And she went away, to bring back a soft white Indian shawl, which she +folded round the girl's square shoulders. + +"Now it is all right," she said, and she kissed Beryl. + +"You are so kind," was all Beryl could say. + +"Never mind me now. I want your little mind to be full of other +matters." + +"I am trying, Miss Carmichael." + +"Don't try after feelings of excitement; only quietly remember your +Master, and think how you are promising yourself anew to Him, and how +He has promised to keep you to the end. 'I will pay my vows unto the +Lord now, in the presence of all His people.' 'Unto Thee, O Lord, do I +lift up my soul. O my God, I trust in Thee.'" + +Then again she left the room, and only came back when the fly was at +the door. + + +Three hours later the service was over, and they were at home again. + +Beryl went upstairs, and Hester remarked, "I think she was thoroughly +happy all the while." + +"I could not see her face," said Miss Carmichael. "She looks happy now." + +"I saw her plainly," said Hester. "She seemed grave and reverent, just +as one would wish, and there was no gazing about at her neighbours. And +the whole service was so nicely arranged, no fuss or bustle about it. I +am glad Beryl went from here, not from Mrs. Fenwick's. She would have +heard nothing but talk about the candidates' veils, if she had been +there." + +"And now, Em, we want our dinner," said Miss Carmichael. + +Beryl came downstairs, feeling dreamy, and rather shrinking from +ordinary conversation. Dinner over, she seemed at a loss what to do +with herself, and was set down by Miss Carmichael to hem a seam. She +did as she was told, but remarked, "It feels like Sunday—as if one +ought not to work." + +"It is not Sunday, my dear, and I doubt if you would find yourself able +to attend to a book. Your mind has been on the strain yesterday and +to-day, and if you keep it up too long, you will have an uncomfortable +reaction. I want this shirt finished for a poor person." + +"Oh, if it is really useful, I shall like to do it," said Beryl, her +face lighting up. "May I help as much as possible while I am here?" + +"That is the first step," said Miss Carmichael, smiling. "I shall soon +see what the help is worth." + +Beryl was spurred on by the words to diligent exertion, and her next +hour's performance was creditable to herself both in quantity and +quality. She was disposed to fall into grave talk again about future +plans, but Miss Carmichael discouraged this, thinking that enough had +been said for the present. + +After a while, she sent out Hester and Beryl for a walk, herself going +upstairs to lie down. + + +By teatime, Beryl was natural again, entirely happy, but without her +look of strained gravity. + +"It has been such a nice walk," she said. "Hester and I have been +talking about all sorts of things. And we both think that nobody in the +world is like you, Miss Carmichael." + +"I suppose I am to take your words as a compliment, my dear; but +they have a doubtful sound. One may be pre-eminent for disagreeable +qualities, as well as for agreeable ones." + +"But you know what we mean," said Beryl, looking into Miss Carmichael's +face with an expression which transformed her own, and which would +indeed have astonished Mrs. Brigstock and Diana Fenwick. "Hettie says +she always thinks of you as a sort of mother, and I am sure 'I' do." + +"Then I have two children instead of one child," said Miss Carmichael. +"Ah, the post has come. A letter for Beryl. Sensible man to bring it +here, instead of dropping it into the box over the way." + +"From Mademoiselle Bise!" exclaimed Beryl. "How curious! It seems as if +everything nice came together at once." + +And presently, she put the letter into Miss Carmichael's hand. + +"I should like you to read it," she said. "It is 'very' nice—all +through. Poor Suzette! She was taken ill two days after I came away, +and she had to go to a sort of home for governesses, and lately she +could not find my letter, and didn't know my address. She says she +hopes I have trusted her: but I have not." + +"Don't doubt friends hastily in future," said Miss Carmichael. + +"I'll write to her directly," said Beryl. "She is just going to another +school in London. I am so glad I have heard. I had been looking for a +letter, and wondering why one did not come, so long. Isn't it strange +everything coming to-day?" + +"I hope a few more things may come in the next few days," said Hester. + +"And the next few weeks," said Beryl. "Oh, I hope Aunt Di will stay a +long time at the Engadine,—if I am not in the way here. I wish it could +be very long. I want to learn so many things." + +"'Homme propose, Dieu dispose,'" murmured Miss Carmichael. + +"But it will be so nice," said Beryl. + +"Yes, very nice," said Miss Carmichael kindly. "But take each day as it +comes, my child. Don't set your heart on what lies ahead." + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +_DISAPPOINTMENT._ + +"SLEPT well?" asked Miss Carmichael next morning, as Beryl came, +glowing and fresh, out of the garden. + +She did not look pretty; nothing could make Beryl's plain face +pretty; but her open and honest enjoyment was pleasant to behold. The +constraint of her school-days seemed to have vanished. + +"I always sleep well," Beryl answered. "I have been out of doors half +an hour and more. Only think; it is a week to-day since I came." + +"Does it seem longer or shorter?" asked Hester. + +"I don't know. Longer and shorter too, I think," said Beryl. "I am so +happy that the time goes fast, and yet I feel as much at home here as +if I had been months and months in the house. To think of weeks more +still,—it seems like a dream." + +"You will quite belong to us by the time they are over," said Hester. + +"It 'feels' like belonging to you now," said Beryl. + +Prayers at an end, they drew round the table, and Miss Carmichael's own +hands supplied Beryl's plate with toast-and-butter. "Eggs and ham will +come soon," she said. "But you are hungry with the fresh air, and you +need not wait. Post come?—And another letter for Beryl! From Pearl, +perhaps." + +"No, it is Aunt Di's handwriting," said Beryl. "I didn't expect her to +write to me." + +She opened the letter, and, as she read, her happy face clouded over +heavily. + +"Bad news, my dear?" asked Miss Carmichael. + +"They are not going abroad at all," said Beryl, in a thick and +half-choked voice. + +She crumpled the sheet together, and thrust it into her pocket, +beginning to eat dry toast as fast as possible, under an evident +impression that it was buttered. Hester handed her a cup of tea, and +Beryl gulped some down hastily. + +"Take care,—you will choke yourself," said Miss Carmichael. + +She sat watching solicitously the girl's perturbed face, crimson with +the struggle to keep down tears. It was plainly an almost hopeless +struggle. + +"Will she leave you with us a little longer, Beryl?" asked Miss +Carmichael. + +Beryl shook her head. + +"What is the reason of the change?" + +"I—don't know. I didn't—didn't read it all." She pulled out the +crumpled sheet, and thrust it into her friend's hands, tears still +gathering in hot rushes, and all but overflowing. + +The letter ran as follows: + + "DEAR BERYL,—Will you please to go back to our house early on +Wednesday,—some time in the morning. I have decided to give up the +Engadine entirely for this autumn, and Pearl and I will return from +London to early dinner on Wednesday. I have sent word to the servants +to go home the first thing on Tuesday, and they will get everything +ready. I am dreadfully tired, and can't write more; and Pearl has cried +herself ill about not going abroad, but it can't be helped. I dare say +Miss Carmichael will be glad enough not to have you on her hands for a +month or six weeks; anyhow, I must have you at home to help. It is time +you should learn to be useful. Yours affectionately,—DIANE FENWICK." + +"Mrs. Fenwick's surmise is wrong," said Miss Carmichael. "I am sorry, +not glad." And seeing that Beryl did not understand, she read the +letter aloud. "No reasons given, you see." + +"It is terribly disappointing," said Hester. + +Beryl was reaching a point beyond self-command. + +Miss Carmichael saw this, and said quietly, "Come here." + +Beryl obeyed, choking with sobs, and knelt down to hide her face on her +friend's shoulder. + +Miss Carmichael's arm, placed tenderly round her, spoke of comfort, +yet the very tenderness made composure the more difficult, and Beryl's +crying had about it something of the passionate emotion seen often in +her childish days, though of late years commonly suppressed. + +"My child, it isn't worth all this distress," said Miss Carmichael. +"You are only going across the road. Come, dry your eyes and be brave. +I didn't know there was such a reservoir of tears beneath. You and I +shall meet often." + +"It won't be the same," gasped Beryl. "She always tries to hinder me +from coming. And I 'did' so want to be here next Sunday, the first time +I go to—" + +"Yes, I understand," said Miss Carmichael. "But that will be the same, +child, wherever you are. The Master's Presence at the feast is its joy." + +"Ah, but she will very likely make me feel so that I shall not think it +right to go at all," murmured Beryl. + +"I hope not. Something must be wrong if you can only come to the +Master's Table when nothing has happened beforehand which could ruffle +you. The things may happen—only don't be ruffled. Make it your aim to +keep—or rather to be kept—in calmness." + +"I'll try," Beryl said, rather despondingly. "But one doesn't always +feel quiet when one looks quiet." + +"Beryl Fordyce does not, certainly. My dear, there lies the difference +between keeping calm and being kept calm by God. Our quietness is an +outside affair very often. The peace of Christ, poured into our hearts, +reaches to the very depths." + +And then, as Beryl remained kneeling beside her, flushed and troubled, +she added, "The tea is getting cold. Come, child, we are going to make +a good breakfast, all of us. Emmie, give Beryl some eggs and ham." + +Beryl had not seen them brought in, but there they were. She went back +to her seat, and cried no more, but the heavy look of disappointment +continued, a touch of sullenness being mingled with it. + +Miss Carmichael took no notice of this. Breakfast at an end, she +attended to household matters as usual, and was busy for an hour or +more. Then she came to the drawing-room, and found Beryl seated idly +in the window, gazing with a forlorn air into vacancy. Miss Carmichael +realised suddenly the cause of Beryl's general unpopularity. In her +present mood, she certainly did wear an exceedingly uninteresting +appearance. + +"What have you been doing since breakfast?" she asked cheerfully, +taking a seat and pulling some work out of a drawer. + +"Nothing," said Beryl. + +"Hardly possible that, my dear. Some part of you must have been +employed, whether hands or head." + +"I have been thinking," said Beryl, with an effort. + +"With what result?" + +"I don't know. I don't feel as if anything was of much use," replied +Beryl. "I feel as if I were just going back to the old way of things." + +"Ah!" said Miss Carmichael quietly. "Then the vows of yesterday were +hardly more than a form, after all. You are willing to be a soldier and +servant of Christ just so long as you may do what 'you' wish. But if +He gives an order which you don't quite like, away goes all thought of +faithful service." + +Beryl was silent, but her face grew softer, and Miss Carmichael left +the words to work. + +"I don't think I ought to have been confirmed," Beryl broke out +suddenly. "I thought I had forgiven Mrs. Fenwick, and I haven't." + +"Forgiven her for what?" + +"For—everything," said Beryl. "If I had forgiven her, I shouldn't be so +angry with her for this." + +"You were able to forgive her last week for anything of seeming +unkindness in the past. If you are tempted again to an unforgiving +spirit, you must fight the battle over again, and conquer in your +Master's strength. But as for 'this'—my dear, you are not so childish +as to blame her, without knowing her reasons." + +Beryl looked ashamed. "I will not," she said. "But I 'did' feel so +vexed—" + +"Then don't be vexed any more, for you have no cause. You cannot tell +what moves her. Better to take the disappointment straight from God's +hand, Beryl. That will save much needless worrying. It is His will for +you; what matters anything else?" + +"It did seem such happiness to be here, and I meant to learn so much," +murmured Beryl. "And nobody cares for me there." + +"Well," said Miss Carmichael slowly— + + "'If loving hearts were never lonely, + If all they wish might always be, + Accepting what they wish for only, + They might be glad, BUT NOT IN THEE.'" + +"I didn't think of that," said Beryl, understanding more quickly than +Miss Carmichael had expected, for she was not usually quick to grasp +another's thought. "Please say it again." + +Miss Carmichael obeyed, adding no remarks. + +"But I thought—'you' would teach me," whispered Beryl. + +"A child at school doesn't have the choosing of her own class and +teacher," said Miss Carmichael somewhat quaintly. + +"There is nobody to teach me anything at home." + +"There is your Master Himself, Beryl." + +"I suppose I would rather learn from you than in any other way," said +Beryl, tears threatening again. But the sullen look was gone. + +"I dare say you would, dear. Most of us would rather turn to the right, +when God tells us to turn to the left." + +Beryl sighed audibly. + +"Aunt Di means to make use of me now," she said. "It doesn't look much +like getting away to be a hospital nurse." + +"If you are wanted in Hurst, you are not wanted for hospital work," +said Miss Carmichael. "Patience, Beryl, and don't be too eager to +shape life for yourself. You do not know what God may have for you to +do first, over the way. Only remember it is work of His setting, not +merely of Mrs. Fenwick's." + +And Beryl said at length, meekly, "I am afraid I have been very wrong +this morning." + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +_A PERPLEXING CONDITION._ + +"I AM FEARFULLY tired,—don't bother, pray. Yes, you can pay the +cabman,—oh, don't ask me how much. Pearson knows. Here, take my +purse. Just get the parcels out of the fly, and take care nothing +is forgotten. There is a bandbox, with my new bonnet—don't have it +crushed. I hope tea is ready. We could not get off by the morning +train; I was not up in time." + +Diana spoke in a hurried and peevish voice, as she walked slowly into +the house. Beryl had returned home, according to directions, before +early dinner; but the absentees had not appeared when expected, and +it was not till past five o'clock that the railway cab stopped at the +door. Pearl lingered in the passage, while Beryl settled with the +cabman. + +"Do come with me, Beryl," she said then, in a low voice. "I don't want +to be alone with Aunt Di any longer." + +"Why?" asked Beryl. + +"I don't know what has come over her. She has been dreadfully cross +and miserable, crying and moaning half the way. We had the carriage to +ourselves, and I wished we had not, for she quite frightened me. She +won't say what is wrong, and she will hardly let me speak to her." + +"What made her give up going abroad?" + +"I don't know in the least. She says she is too nervous, but I don't +believe it is really that. She went away alone to see somebody in +London, and when she came back, she told me quite suddenly that she had +changed her mind. It was frightfully disappointing, and she was angry +with me for crying." + +Beryl was glad Pearl did not know that she too had cried. She felt +rather ashamed at the recollection. + +"Of course it doesn't matter to you, but it is 'frightfully' +disappointing to me," repeated Pearl, heaving a sigh, and looking both +very pretty and very doleful. + +"Yes; I don't wonder you are sorry," said Beryl. + +They made their way into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Fenwick was +seated in an arm-chair, haggard and troubled in appearance. + +"What are you both dawdling about?" she demanded, sharply. "I want my +tea at once, for I could not eat a morsel at dinner. What have you in +the house, Beryl? Cold mutton! I can't touch that. Pearson ought to +have known better. Eggs! No. If there were a little cold chicken, I +could manage it. I am so sick and exhausted, I must have something. +Mutton, indeed! It really is too bad. As if nobody in the house knew +anything of my tastes!" + +"Cook has made a little dish of mince, ma'am," said Pearson, standing +in the doorway. "She thought you might perhaps like it, if you came by +this train." + +"I hate mince," Diana asserted. "But you must bring it up, if there is +nothing else. And be quick, pray. One of you two can make tea." + +"Beryl," Pearl said indolently. + +Beryl moved to obey, feeling somewhat flattered, and Pearl accompanied +her into the dining-room. + +"I can't stay alone with Aunt Di," she said, by way of explanation, and +she dropped into an easy-chair. "O dear, I am so tired. Put a spoonful +for each, and two extra ones, Beryl. We always do. Aunt Di likes it +strong." + +"Won't she want you, Pearl?" + +"O no, I don't suppose she will care. I really can't stand the way she +goes on." + +"What way?" + +"You will see, fast enough." + +Beryl's perplexity increased, but she asked no more questions. Her +staid common-sense, and her habit of avoiding needless remarks, were of +good service to her. She made tea, and put the cosy over the teapot, +her thoughts flying to the dear friends over the way. Beryl had to +combat a strong desire to be there. + +Tea at Miss Carmichael's was a very cheery and chatty meal. Beryl +could not but note the difference here. She could herself join in +conversation started by others, and was able to enjoy it, but she had +small power to originate remarks, and seldom at any time spoke unless +addressed. Pearl sat listlessly silent, refusing to eat. Diana tried a +scrap of everything on the table in turn, only to grumble at each. She +found the butter to be salt, the bread to be underbaked, the mince to +be burnt, the cake to be heavy. Beryl dared not answer her complaints, +and Pearl paid no attention to them. + +"What a pair of dummies you are," Diana said at length, in a +dissatisfied voice. + +"There is nothing to talk about," said Pearl, yawning. "I wish I could +go to bed." + +"You may go as soon as you like, for all that I care," said Diana +tartly. And she led the way to the drawing-room, saying, when there, +"So you were confirmed, Beryl." + +"Yes," Beryl answered. + +"How did it go off?" + +Beryl wore her perplexed look. "It!" she repeated. + +"The Confirmation, of course. What else do you suppose I mean? Don't +pretend to be more stupid than you are." + +"It went off—" Beryl began, and came to a pause. + +"Well?" said Diana. + +"Nicely," said Beryl. + +"What did the candidates wear? Veils, chiefly?—Or caps?" + +"I had a cap," said Beryl. + +"Did most of them wear caps?" + +"I don't know. Some had veils; but I tried not to see," Beryl answered. + +"You may as well try the other way in future. I don't see the good of +having eyes, if one doesn't use them." + +"But at such a time—" said Beryl. + +Diana mimicked the words, with a sound of inquiry at the end. + +Beryl was silent. + +"At such a time! Well? Go on," said Diana. + +"I don't want to say any more." + +"Pray do. I've no doubt I should find it edifying," said Diana. +"Anything better than to be left to hear the clock ticking. You have +been in an atmosphere of preaching the last week, and I must expect +a few discourses to be handed on for my benefit. I dare say you will +manage to curtail them a little. Oh!" + +Beryl could not think what had startled Diana. She flushed up, then +turned pale, and trembled. Pearl, sitting on the sofa corner near +the fire-place, made an uneasy movement, and the fire-irons slightly +rattled. + +"Pearl! I can't stand that. Do stop fidgeting. You make me so fearfully +nervous." + +Nervous she evidently was, and even the inexperienced Beryl could +not but perceive it. Diana might have recovered herself, but at that +moment, the postman's rap sounded sharply at the front door. Diana not +only started again, but fairly shrieked. + +And Pearl, with an alarmed face, rushed out of the room. + +"It is only the post. Are you expecting anything very particular?" +asked Beryl, astonished. "Pearl has gone for the letters, and I will +see too." + +Diana was in an agony of sobs, nearly approaching hysterics. + +Beryl went into the passage, and found Pearl hovering near the door, +with a scared look. + +"Is there a letter for Aunt Di?" asked Beryl. + +"I don't know. I haven't looked. Beryl, I wish she wouldn't go on like +that. What is the matter?" + +"I suppose she is afraid of bad news from somebody," said Beryl, +opening the box. + +"It isn't that. You don't understand. She was just the same all +yesterday. If anybody just tapped at our door, it upset her; and at the +station, when the whistle sounded, she quite screamed. I was so ashamed +of her. And it does frighten me so. I feel as if I could run away +anywhere. Just listen how she is crying." + +"I must go back," said Beryl, with a curious pleasure in finding Pearl +thus suddenly dependent on herself. + +"You can't do any good. I wish you would come with me. It makes me +tremble so that I can hardly stand, when she shrieks out in that queer +way. We can send Pearson to her." + +"I don't think it would be kind to leave her. Hush! She is calling. I +must go, Pearl." + +Beryl returned hastily. "There is only one letter for you, Aunt Di," +she said. "Don't cry so, please." + +Diana did not seem to care about the letter. She said beseechingly, +"Don't go away; don't leave me!" then dropped the unopened envelope, +and buried her face in the sofa cushion. + +"May I call Pearson?" asked Beryl. + +"No,—no,—nobody. Don't call anybody. And mind, I won't have a word said +to Miss Carmichael." + +"No," said Beryl. + +"Don't go. I can't bear to be left alone," gasped Diana, hearing a +movement. + +"No; I will stay here," said Beryl, sitting down close to Diana. + +What to do next she did not know. Diana kept her face hidden, and +moaned repeatedly,—whether from pain or distress, Beryl had no means of +guessing. She ventured at length to ask— + +"Have you toothache?" + +"No," said Diana shortly. + +"I thought something must be hurting you," said Beryl. + +The only answer to this was a deep sigh. Diana presently sat upright, +and sighed again. + +"What has become of Pearl?" + +"She went away when you called out. I think she was frightened." + +"Pearl is a thorough little goose," said Diana scornfully. + +"She isn't used—" began Beryl. + +"Oh, it isn't being used, or not. I know better. She doesn't like +anything that disturbs her peace and comfort. It is all selfishness. +Pearl cares for nobody in the world except herself." + +Beryl was again much astonished. "Why, Aunt Di," she said, "I thought +you were so fond of Pearl." + +"There are different kinds of fondness," said Diana. "She is of no use +at all when one is ill,—thinks of nothing but her own feelings. If that +isn't selfishness, I don't know what is." + +The latter assertion was too obviously truth to be contradicted. And +Beryl could not venture to make excuse for Pearl, by remarking on the +fact, of which she was indeed but dimly conscious, that poor Pearl had +been systematically trained into a spirit and habit of self-indulgence. + +"Are you ill, Aunt Di?" she asked in her straightforward style, struck +with the expression. + +"It does not matter whether I am or not," said Diana. + +"Miss Carmichael thought you did not look well before you went away, +and she seemed sorry," said Beryl, wondering, as soon as the words +had escaped her, whether Mrs. Fenwick would be offended. But, on the +contrary, she looked rather gratified. + +"Yes, I was very much knocked up," she said. "I wanted the change +terribly; but really I am too nervous to attempt it just now. And Pearl +is no good at all in travelling. She just sits still and expects to +have everything managed for her. If I could have afforded to take you +too, I dare say I should have found you more useful." + +"I like being useful," said Beryl. "Then that is why you did not go +abroad?" + +The words were rather an assertion than a question, but Diana seemed to +take them as a question. A red spot rose in either cheek, and she said +sharply, "My reasons are no concern of yours." + +Somehow Beryl did not feel angry. "No," she said. "Of course they are +not. I didn't mean to ask." + +"There are generally more reasons than one for doing a thing," said +Diana, going back to her former manner. "How ridiculous of Pearl to +stay away all this time!" + +Then, after a pause,—"Do pray talk, Beryl. I feel as if I should scream +if nothing is said." + +Beryl found herself in difficulties. "I don't know what to talk about," +she said. + +"Anything. I don't care what. Only just talk. I am so fearfully +nervous, I really can't sit and listen to the clock. It sends me wild. +Tell me about Miss Carmichael, if you like." + +"But you don't care for Miss Carmichael," said Beryl. + +"That doesn't matter. I don't know that I dislike her. Anyhow, you can +tell me about her, can't you?" + +"No, I don't think so," said Beryl slowly, with her honest eyes bent on +Diana. + +"Nothing to tell, after a week there!" + +"It isn't that. Of course I could tell a great many things," said +Beryl. "But she has been so good to me,—so very very good,—and I love +her dearly. And if I told you things—" + +"Well! If you did?" said Diana. + +"I think you might laugh. I don't mean that there is anything really to +laugh at, for there is not," said Beryl. "But you might." + +"And if I did?" + +"I don't want that. It would make me feel about you as I ought not. I +would rather—a great deal—that you should laugh at me," said Beryl, +colouring. + +"You are a queer girl, if there ever was one," responded Diana. "I am +glad to see you can be grateful to some people in the world, at all +events." + +Beryl could not but understand. She did not meet the remark with +silence, as she would have done a few weeks earlier. + +"I am grateful to you too," she said, with an effort. + +Diana made a sound of incredulity. + +"Yes; I know you have done a great deal for me," said Beryl. "But that +is quite a different sort of thing. Miss Carmichael loves me." + +The dry simplicity of words and manner heightened their effect. If +Beryl had spoken with more of passion, Diana would have sneered; but +this bare and brief assertion did not lie open to sneers. + +"And you mean to say that I do not?" was her reply. + +"I don't think you love me, Aunt Di. I always thought you cared for +Pearl, until this evening." + +"Well, you are making talk now with a vengeance," said Diana. "A +particularly good subject for quieting my nerves, I must say." And +with a sudden change of voice she broke out, "Loves you! Does anybody +really love anybody? It is all a farce, Beryl. People like others for +what they can get out of them. That is 'my' experience. People care for +you as long as you are young and pretty, or as long as they find you +useful, and then they throw you overboard." + +"Miss Carmichael would never do that," said Beryl. "I think she would +love one more if one were ill." + +"Miss Carmichael is like the rest of the world. You don't know what +people are. Mind, Beryl, I won't have you tell her I am ill. I don't +say I 'am' ill, either." + +"No," said Beryl, in her matter-of-fact tone. "But I think you are, +Aunt Di." + +"Nonsense! Stuff! You don't know anything about it," said Diana, +agitated, yet trying to laugh. "I am nervous, and I want change; but I +can't have it this year. If Marian were here—" + +"Wouldn't Miss Crosbie come, if she knew you really wanted her?" asked +Beryl. + +"Certainly not," said Diana sharply. "I would not have her on any +account. After the way in which she behaved, I will never have her to +live with me again,—never. That is quite a settled point. I do not wish +to hear anything more about Marian." + +Beryl took refuge in silence. + +"Of course you don't understand," pursued Diana; "It is not to be +expected that you should,—and really I cannot get into an argument now. +I am going to try to have a little sleep on the sofa. Just put a shawl +over my feet. And tell that little goose to come back. I don't mean to +have any more hysterics to-night. I am more likely to sleep if you two +are talking. There is nothing I hate like dead silence." + +Beryl went immediately to summon Pearl, and gave her a hint as to what +was expected. Pearl shrugged her shoulders pettishly, and said, "I am +not going to talk just to suit Aunt Di's fancies. I am tired too, and I +want to rest." + +"But wouldn't you sleep better at night, Pearl, if you didn't sleep +now? And you have not told me anything about your week in London." + +"Why, you never care to hear about anything that I do," responded +Pearl, evidently meaning what she said. + +"I thought you never cared to tell me," said Beryl. "I do like to +hear—very much." + +That set Pearl off; for she dearly liked a sympathetic listener, and +she had a good deal pent up in her little mind as to London sights, +and more particularly as to shops, dresses, and ribbons. During the +first part of the week, Diana had taken her about much, and had largely +indulged her taste for buying. + +The murmur of voices proved successful, and Diana was soon sleeping +soundly. Pearl took a good look to make sure of the fact. + +"She won't hear now, Beryl. Yes, it was very nice, until the day when +she went away alone,—to pay a visit, she said. That quite changed +her. Before that she was always arranging to go somewhere with me, +and didn't mind how much she did. Afterwards, she seemed afraid of +everything. She said she had a shock to her nerves, but she would not +tell me what it was, or let me ask any questions. I think she ought +to see a doctor, but I daren't propose it. The least word makes her +hysterical." + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +_DIANA'S TROUBLE._ + +ON Friday morning, somewhat early, Miss Carmichael crossed the road, +and sought admittance at Mrs. Fenwick's. "That child has not run in +yet," she said to Hester. "I must go and see after her." + +She was shown into the drawing-room, and found Diana there with Beryl. +Somehow Miss Carmichael discovered, almost at the first glance, that +things were on a happier footing between the two than in past days. + +"I have come to thank you for the loan of Beryl for a week, and to wish +that the time had been longer," she said, kissing the one and shaking +hands with the other. + +"You were very good to have her at all," said Diana, assuming an air of +light indifference. + +"When you want to get rid of her again, you will know what to do with +her, Mrs. Fenwick." + +"Thanks. I don't think that will be at present. Beryl is old enough now +to be useful." + +"And she has the will and intention to be so, I am sure," said Miss +Carmichael. + +"She is more practical than Pearl," said Diana. "I do not find I can +depend upon Pearl." + +"I hope Pearl is better for her little change." + +"Thanks," repeated Diana. "I don't think much is wrong with her. Of +course the death of poor Ivor was rather a shock,—the two had been on +such intimate terms. But she will shake it off in time." + +"She is very young,—poor little woman." + +"Girls don't break their hearts now-a-days," said Diana carelessly. +"She was quite delighted with the West-End shops." + +Miss Carmichael's face wore a rather comical expression. "Then I think +you are right," she said. "It can hardly be a case of a broken heart +with little Pearl. Perhaps the few days' change of scene will have set +her up again." + +"Perhaps," responded Diana, as if she did not much care about the +matter. + +"Can you spare Beryl to go for a drive with me this morning? I am +expecting a pony-chaise at home in ten minutes." + +Diana's colour came and went, and there was a suppressed start. + +"Thanks; you are very kind. I—I really don't see how—I don't quite +think I can spare Beryl this morning." + +"Only for two hours. We would not keep her longer." + +"I don't quite see that I can spare her." + +Diana's manner was agitated, and her lips trembled visibly. + +"It does not matter. I'll come another time to see you, Miss +Carmichael," said Beryl, with an effort of self-denial far greater than +appeared on the surface. + +"I must not tempt you away from your duty;" and Miss Carmichael's smile +of approval almost repaid Beryl for the lost delight. + +She rose to say good-bye, and for a moment retained Diana's hand, +looking solicitously into her face. "You are not well, I am sorry to +see," she said. + +"I—I—it is nothing, I assure you," said Diana hurriedly. "I am a little +nervous and low just now,—nothing of consequence. One must expect that +sort of thing occasionally." + +"I think you should consult a doctor. It is not well to let oneself +down too low." + +"Perhaps—yes—if I find it necessary." + +"I have noticed a change in you lately. Forgive my frankness, but I do +not think you ought to neglect yourself, Mrs. Fenwick." + +"No, indeed; I assure you I do not. I am most careful," said Diana, +with a cheerful air. "I hope you will enjoy your drive, Miss +Carmichael." + +"How would the little Pearl like to come with me, since Beryl cannot?" +asked Miss Carmichael. + +"She would like it very much. You are extremely kind," said Diana. +"Pearl shall be with you in five minutes." + +"You would not like to put the question to her? No—never mind. If she +does not appear in ten minutes or so, I shall understand, and I shall +not wait." + +"She will be quite delighted," said Diana. "Beryl, you can open the +door for Miss Carmichael, and then tell Pearl. She must make haste; and +you can come back to me." + +Beryl obeyed, accompanying Miss Carmichael into the porch. + +They paused there for a moment, and Miss Carmichael said gently, "I am +sorry it cannot be you, my child." + +"I was afraid you would think I did not care," said Beryl gruffly. "But +I do." + +"I am not so blind. I confess I do not quite see why you cannot be +spared." + +"Aunt Di seems so nervous about being alone," said Beryl, in a low +voice. "She told you she was nervous, so I suppose I may say that; but +please don't tell anybody. She had Pearson to sleep in her room last +night, and all day long she can hardly bear me to be five minutes away +from her." + +"Cannot Pearl take turns with you?" + +"Pearl is frightened, and does not like it." + +"Well," said Miss Carmichael gravely, "you wanted work, child, and here +it is." + +"She is much kinder than she was, only she cries so. I like being +useful," said Beryl. "But I do long to see you oftener." + +"Would she spare you to spend Sunday with us?" + +Tears came to Beryl's eyes. "If I only 'could!'" she said. "I am afraid +she will not like it." + +"Wait till to-morrow, and we shall see. Patience meantime, my child, +and do the work your Master gives you. Now send me the little Pearl." + +Beryl was rather surprised to find Pearl quite as much pleased as Mrs. +Fenwick had foretold. "I don't care for Miss Carmichael," she took the +trouble to explain; "but the house is so dismal with Aunt Di like this. +Anything to get away." + +"You must be quick, Pearl, or Miss Carmichael will start before you get +there." + +This fear shortened Pearl's operations before the looking-glass. +Beryl remained with her, and was thus absent ten minutes from the +drawing-room. + +As the two girls passed the door, Pearl said, "She is crying again. I +shan't go in; there really isn't time." + +Beryl knew that remonstrance would be useless, and entered alone. + +Diana lay on the sofa, with her handkerchief pressed over her face, in +an agony of weeping. It was by far the worst fit of distress that Beryl +had yet seen. + +"Don't call Pearson,—don't go away," gasped Diana, when Beryl would +have rung the bell. + +She desisted, and stood beside the sofa, wondering what she ought to do. + +"I thought you would never come back," broke out at length in sobbing +complaint. "So unkind!" + +"I did not mean to be so long," said Beryl, speaking gently. "I just +stayed to help Pearl get ready." + +"Oh, I know—I understand. Nobody cares what 'I' feel. Nobody cares to +be with 'me.'" + +"Wouldn't you like me to get a little 'sal volatile,' Aunt Di?" asked +Beryl, taking refuge in her most passionless manner. + +"No, no,—no use," answered Diana. "Nothing is of any use. Oh, I do feel +so ill and miserable. I think I shall die." + +Beryl was young enough to be alarmed at the words, though less alarmed +than if she had not been accustomed to Diana's habitual use of strong +expressions. + +"I think you ought to see the doctor," she said. "I am sure Miss +Carmichael would tell you so." + +"Miss Carmichael knows nothing about it. Nobody knows, and nobody can +do anything." + +"I thought, perhaps, it was what she said that made you cry," observed +Beryl. "I mean, what she said about your looking ill." + +Diana's response to this was another paroxysm of sobs, so violent and +unrestrained as to break at times into positive screams. There was a +strange mixture of childishness and misery in the display. Beryl took +the matter with quietness. Happily she was able to do so. Excitement +of manner on her part would have made Diana worse. She said what she +could; but, finding her words unavailing, she took out her knitting, +and sat down by Diana's side, with a half-finished square. This step +proved efficacious. Diana's weeping came to an end. + +"You certainly are the oddest girl," she said, in a changed voice. +"Pearl would be frightened out of her wits." + +"I don't see anything to be frightened at," said Beryl calmly. "I wish +I knew what to do for you, when you are like that." + +"You can't do anything. People must cry when they are utterly wretched." + +"I think Miss Carmichael would do something." + +"I don't want Miss Carmichael. I am not going to be condoled over and +gossiped about," said Diana passionately. "If I am miserable, I can +bear it, I suppose. There is nothing I hate like being pitied." + +"Do you? I don't think I feel so now," said Beryl slowly. "But I did +once, I know." + +"You queer girl," Diana said again. + +Beryl was naturally silenced. She worked steadily at her square for +some time, making no remarks, and never lifting her eyes. She did not +notice the change of mood which was creeping over Diana, or see the +excitement passing into utter dejection. + +But when at length Diana spoke, the sunken and despairing voice could +not fail to make an impression. + +"Beryl, can you keep a secret?" + +"Yes," said Beryl, looking up. Then she laid her work aside, for the +haggard misery in Mrs. Fenwick's face called for undivided attention. + +"I believe you could, but I can't be sure. Somehow, I think you are a +good girl now, Beryl, not what you used to be." + +Beryl could not talk freely of herself to any one except to Miss +Carmichael, least of all to Mrs. Fenwick. "I want to be different," she +said soberly. "If it would be any comfort to you, Aunt Di, I am quite +sure I could keep a secret as long as you wish." + +"And not tell even Miss Carmichael?" + +"No," said Beryl firmly. "I would tell her my own secrets, but I would +not tell her yours. I promise to say nothing to anybody, if it is +right." + +"Right! Of course. Nonsense. Right, indeed! It is nobody's business +except my own. Miss Carmichael has nothing to do with the matter. I +don't know why I should think of telling you, but there is nobody else. +I won't be gossiped about by other people, and Marian has left me, and +Millicent has no thought except for Escott. And one can't write such +things. But I feel as if I must speak to somebody. I think I shall go +mad with it, if I don't." + +"Yes," said Beryl quietly. "I think you ought to tell some one." + +"Tell—what? You don't know what I mean." + +"No; but I can see that you are very unhappy about something," said +Beryl. "And I am sure you feel ill. And I think it must be dreadful to +have no friend to help you." + +"Feel ill,—yes, frightfully. I never felt so ill in my life," +said Diana hurriedly. "But that is nervousness,—I am only low and +nervous—not ill. You need not fancy me really ill, Beryl. I am not +going to die yet, to please you or anybody," and she laughed in a +hysterical fashion. "O no, it is not that. As for friends, I don't +believe in friends. If I did, you don't suppose 'you' could help me, +do you?" She spoke scornfully, and then burst into tears. "But I don't +want to be unkind to you, for I have nobody else to depend upon,—and +by and by—by and by—I shall have to depend on some one. O Beryl, I am +so fearfully unhappy, so fearfully miserable. I don't know how to bear +it. And he told me so suddenly, so cruelly. I shall never get over the +shock. Sometimes I think I shall die of it in the end. Oh, I am so +utterly wretched. And I ought not to cry, they say. Not cry! When I +feel like this." + +"If you could just say what it is that is wrong, I should understand +better," said Beryl gravely. + +"I don't want you to understand. I don't want anybody to understand. I +wish I didn't know it myself. Sometimes I don't believe it now, and I +think I won't believe it. I never thought anything so dreadful could +happen to 'me' in life. I can't tell you yet, Beryl. Perhaps to-morrow." + +"It must be just as you like, of course," said Beryl. "Only I do think +you would feel better, if you did not keep it all to yourself." + +"Talking does not make one's troubles less," said Diana. "But perhaps +I might feel better. I don't know. I don't think anything can make any +real difference. There seems no hope or comfort left in life. And one +thing I can't stand, and that is being preached at. You have grown more +religious lately, I know; and if you like to be so, you can, of course. +But you are not to throw it at me. I am not going to be lectured +about submission and patience, and all that sort of thing. I am not +submissive, and I am not patient; and I never was." + +"No," said Beryl. "But perhaps that is just why the trouble has had to +come." + +"You know nothing about it," said Diana sharply. "Who is that? A +caller? Pearson must say I am engaged." + +"If you please, ma'am, it is Miss Crosbie," said Pearson. + +Marion Crosbie entered quietly, without waiting for permission. Diana +flushed scarlet, rose from her reclining posture, and threw back her +head. Marian's greeting was coldly responded to, but she appeared +unconscious of any change of manner. + +"I thought you were at Weston-super-Mare still," said Diana stiffly. + +"I have only come back for a night. There are some books and papers +which Uncle Josiah wants, and which a servant could not find for him. +The truth is, we are talking of joining Millicent abroad." + +"Oh, indeed," said Diana. + +"We have poor accounts of Escott, and Uncle Josiah wishes to see for +himself how he is." + +"Some people are fortunate in having more money to throw away than +others," said Diana. + +"Some have more calls for their money. I do not suppose we shall start +for another two or three weeks, but the plan is under discussion." + +"Very absurd, at Uncle Josiah's age. But of course it is no business of +mine." + +"I suppose you can give me luncheon to-day," said Marian. "There is +nothing prepared for me at home. You are not looking well, Di." + +"Thanks, I am quite well," said Diana, with more curtness than truth. + +"You do not look so. I am sorry you had to give up your tour. How was +it?" + +"Why, 'you' advised it." + +"I gave no advice. I was a little perplexed how you meant to meet the +expense," said Marian patiently. "But that could hardly have been the +reason for your change of plan." + +"I chose to come home instead of going abroad. That is all," said +Diana, with a toss of her head. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +_EXPLANATION._ + +MARIAN had promised Mr. Crosbie to return on the following day, and +her visit was consequently a hurried one. She saw little of Diana, and +sought in vain for a few minutes' conversation alone with Beryl. That +the latter held a new position in the house, that Diana had begun to +depend on her, and that something was wrong with Diana, were facts +easily perceived. Beyond this, Marian made no advance. Diana seemed to +guess her wish, and carefully checkmated each effort in turn. + +"I wish people would leave me in peace," Diana said fractiously on +Saturday evening. "I thought I should have a little quiet, now Marian +is disposed of." + +Beryl simply asked, "What is it?" + +"Miss Carmichael wants you to spend to-morrow with her. So +unreasonable—just when I need you at home particularly." + +"I suppose you didn't tell Miss Carmichael you were not well, Aunt Di," +Beryl ventured to say. + +"That is no concern of hers. Besides, I am quite well. I have said so +before." + +Beryl was silent. + +"I told her you could please yourself; there was nothing to hinder +you that I knew of. She said she should expect you to breakfast at +half-past eight." + +"Can you spare me?" asked Beryl, with trembling hope. + +"Of course." + +Beryl was, as usual, at a loss to understand Diana's changes of mood. +Pearl looked dismayed when she heard of the plan, and used some +persuasions to make Beryl give it up; but Beryl's longing to go was +very great. + +"You know I shall be quite close at hand," she said. "You can send me +word at any moment, if I am wanted." + +"You are not going to stay late, I hope. I can't undertake Aunt Di," +was Pearl's pettish answer. + +Beryl went; but Diana's manner and Pearl's remonstrances cast a grey +shadow over her day. She was haunted all breakfast-time by an uneasy +wonder, "Ought she to have refused to come?" + +At Church, sitting in Miss Carmichael's pew, she could see Mrs. +Fenwick's pew to be empty, and her uneasiness deepened. All through +the sweet and solemn Communion Service, her attention was painfully +distracted. + +And when it was over, she walked home between her friends without a +word, gloomy and dissatisfied. + +"Well, Beryl?" Miss Carmichael said, as they reached the garden-gate. + +"I ought to go home now," said Beryl. + +"I saw that was in your mind. No; you must dine with us first. We are +late, remember, and your aunt's dinner will be over." + +Beryl followed her into the house, saying, "I don't think I ought to +stay afterwards." + +Miss Carmichael offered no objections. Dinner passed almost in silence. +Beryl was apt to become engrossed with one idea, and when so engrossed +she could not bend her attention to other matters. + +But when dinner was over, Miss Carmichael left the room, and came back +to say, "I sent to ask how Mrs. Fenwick is, and whether you are wanted. +The answer at the door was that she is well, and you may stay with us +as long as you feel inclined." + +Beryl looked extremely doubtful. + +"Do as you like," said Miss Carmichael kindly. "I will not keep you, if +you think you ought to go." + +Beryl sat considering, and her friends waited patiently. + +"No," she said; "not directly. Aunt Di might not be pleased. I think I +had better go back in an hour." + +"So be it," Miss Carmichael answered. + +Somewhat later, when Hester was absent for a few minutes, she said +quietly, "The morning has not been all joy." + +"No," said Beryl sadly. "I could not feel sure that I was right to +come, and it seemed to make everything dull. I didn't enjoy it at all +as I expected." + +"One's own arrangements are not always the best," said Miss Carmichael. +"I wanted you here, and you wanted to come, for this first time. But, +under the circumstances, perhaps if you had gone straight out of your +home duties, you would have found more happiness in it." + +"I was so afraid Aunt Di would say or do something beforehand to upset +me." + +"Something to bring a shadow. And the very means we took to prevent +that, brought the shadow." + +"Yes; it does seem odd," said Beryl. + +"But now that is over. We will not waste our hour in vain regrets, +Beryl. Here comes Hester, and we are going to read something nice, all +together. I should like to send you back feeling cheery again." + +The hour grew into an hour and a half; unnoticed by Beryl. She rose +then, and they would not press her to stay longer. + + +Pearl rushed out to meet her sister at the front door. "I am glad you +have come—oh, I am glad," she said breathlessly. "Aunt Di 'would' send +that message. And she went into hysterics directly after, and she has +cried so dreadfully. I have been up in my room ever so long. It is +horrid to have her like this. I do wish you would make her tell you +what is the matter. I was so afraid you would not come back till night. +She won't have Pearson with her, and I daren't stay, and she walks up +and down the drawing-room and sobs. O dear!" + +Pearl really looked white and frightened. + +"I would have come back earlier if I had known," Beryl said. "Shall I +go to her at once, Pearl?" + +"I suppose you must; but I wish you could stay with me. I am so tired +of being alone." + +Diana had thrown herself on the sofa, exhausted with weeping. + +When Beryl spoke, she turned from her coldly, and would not answer. +Beryl waited a minute, and then said, "If you don't want me, Aunt Di, I +had better go to Pearl." + +"No,—I can't be alone any longer,—it drives me wild," said Diana +sullenly. "Sit down, pray." + +Beryl obeyed silently. But silence was as bad as solitude in Diana's +estimation. She broke anew into passionate sobs. Beryl after some +hesitation moved nearer, and took one of her hands. + +"I am sorry I went away," she said. "I don't think I ought to have done +so, when you are so poorly. But now I have come back, I think you ought +to leave off crying, or you will be quite ill. If you don't, I shall +have to send for Miss Carmichael. I really mean it, Aunt Di. You and +Pearl will both be ill, if you go on so." + +Diana moaned something about "hard and unkind," but the steady manner +took effect. She buried her face in the cushion, gradually becoming +still. + +"And I think you ought to tell me what is the matter," continued Beryl, +in the same tone, after a few minutes—a tone of quiet firmness which +surprised herself. "I don't want to pry, but I am sure you ought to +speak to some one—either to me, or Miss Crosbie, or Miss Carmichael." + +Diana sat up, flushed and agitated. "Very well," she said. "Mind, you +have promised not to repeat it." + +"Not without your leave, Aunt Di." + +"I am going blind!" + +Dead silence followed. Beryl was absolutely struck dumb. She was some +seconds realising the full meaning of the words. + +Diana watched her, at first with a sort of combative self-assertion, +but this gradually grew into pitifulness. + +Beryl sat motionless. The thought was entirely new to her, and she was +turning it over in her mind. + +"Going blind!" + +Beryl broke out thus, at length, in deepening grief and horror. She had +not very quick sympathies, and usually her expression of feeling was +much restrained. But restraint broke down here. The threatened calamity +seemed to her so fearful,—so especially fearful for one of Mrs. +Fenwick's character and habits. Diana Fenwick blind! Why, she would +have nothing left to her. All interest in existence would be dashed +away at one fell swoop. Beryl remembered too her own long-cherished +resentment against Diana in the past. It added keenness to her pity. + +"Going blind!" she said. And then, "O poor Aunt Di!" and she burst into +tears. + +Diana's face changed and softened strangely. "Do you really care?" she +asked. "I thought no one would mind." + +Beryl could not speak at the moment. She squeezed Diana's hand in a +passionate way, and then pressed it to her lips. + +"But you don't really care,—not really!" said Diana. "It is nothing to +you, Beryl." + +Beryl did not attempt to convince her of the contrary, or to analyse +the component parts of her own strong emotion. When she spoke, it was +in her gruffest voice—a voice often supposed in childhood to mean +ill-temper. + +"Are you quite sure?" + +"Quite. I went to an oculist in London. Beryl, come and sit close +to me. I like to know that somebody is really sorry. I have felt so +frightfully alone lately." + +Beryl obeyed, and Diana held her fast. + +"Yes,—so. Put your arm round me, Beryl. Mother used to do that, and +nobody has since mother died. I have longed so for mother lately. +Nobody else ever understood me, Millie and Marian least of all. But you +mustn't say anything of this to anybody." + +"No," said Beryl huskily. + +"Don't let go. I want you to hold me tightly," said Diana. "It seems to +do me good. Beryl, will you take care of me by and by? There is nobody +else. Pearl is of no use. She just thinks of herself. You will stay +with me?" + +Beryl's "Yes" was a sob rather than a word. + +"I have felt so differently about you lately,—as if I could depend +upon you. I suppose it is because you are more religious." Then she +shuddered. "O Beryl, it is very dreadful. To be blind for life!" + +"What made you go to the oculist?" asked Beryl, in a low voice. + +"I knew something was wrong with one eye; have known it a long while. +It has made me miserable for months. I couldn't bear to speak of it +to anybody, but it has got worse and worse. I have hardly read at all +since you came home; and that is why I have made you do so many things +for me. I thought it was just weakness, and I fancied a trip abroad +might set me right. But when Pearl and I were in London, I thought one +day I would just go and see an oculist, and ask his opinion. I didn't +take Pearl, for I did not want her to know." + +Diana evidently found it a relief to speak, now she had begun. + +Beryl said, "Yes. And you went?" + +"Yes; I thought I might as well. Sometimes I felt quite sure it was +nothing of consequence, but sometimes I was frightened about myself. +I never shall forget that visit. He made me sit in the chair and lean +back. And I was quite alone—nobody there to help me. He just looked at +the bad eye, and I heard him say softly, 'Cataract!' And then he looked +at the other, and said 'Cataract!' again." + +"Poor Aunt Di," murmured Beryl. + +"I couldn't speak. I can't tell you what I felt. It was just as if all +my blood had turned to ice. I nearly fainted away, and he was very +kind, and did all he could to bring me round. But he had done the +business. I always shall think it was cruel to tell me so suddenly. +I have never felt well for a moment since, and I don't think I ever +shall." + +"Did he say any more?" asked Beryl presently. + +"He said I must come and see him again. And by and by, he expects +there will have to be—to be—an operation. And I have such a horror of +anything of the sort. I don't know how to bear the thought even. I +sometimes feel as if I should go mad with the very idea. He said it +might be some time first, he could not tell yet. The cataract is much +more advanced in one eye than the other. But you can't wonder now, +Beryl, that I have been so miserable. To have all this before me—and +perhaps to end with being blind for life. Oh, it is far far worse than +death. But you mustn't say a word to anybody. You have promised, and I +can't have it talked about yet. I mean to keep it secret as long as I +possibly can." + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +_IN THE MOUNTAINS._ + +MILLICENT CUMMING had taken refuge with her boy in a quiet little +mountain village, somewhat out of the beaten track of Swiss tourists. +The shadow of her recent loss lay heavily upon her still, and she +was in no mood for making fresh acquaintances, or exchanging polite +commonplaces with strangers. For herself, the calm of this little +valley, with great heights and peace around, and the ceaseless rush of +a cascade down its slope, meant peace of spirit, and absence of worldly +distractions, and nearness to the heavenly land where she confidently +believed her boy to be. + +With Escott, however, things were different. He was beginning to grow a +little weary of this absolute seclusion. + +He had been shattered by the shock and grief of so suddenly losing his +twin brother, and for a while he had shrunk morbidly from friends and +strangers alike, seeming to desire no face except his mother's. She had +tended him with unremitting devotion, finding her comfort in so doing, +for he was now her all in life. + +Escott loved his mother dearly in return, but she was not his all. And +while Ivor's death had unstrung him, and caused bodily suffering, that +loss was not actually to him what it was to her,—nay, his depression +was by no means exclusively owing to that event. + +"Mother," he said wearily one day, "how long shall we stay here?" + +"Tired of the place, Escott?" + +"I don't know. Yes, I am tired of everything." + +"Ah, that is so natural," she said tenderly, and her thoughts went +straight to Ivor's memory. + +And he knew that his thoughts were supposed to take the same course. +But it was Pearl's face, not Ivor's, which rose vividly before him, and +he was vexed with himself, yet he would not have driven the vision away +even had he been able. + +"So natural," she repeated. "But one must not give way to the feeling. +And this is a sweet little nest, Escott. I think I could be content to +live and die here." + +"I could not," said Escott involuntarily. "At least—unless others were +with us." + +A faint shadow crept over Millicent's fair brow. "I have always felt +that you and I were sufficient for one another," she said. "But you are +young still. I cannot expect it to be the same with you. Then you do +not think it would hurt you to see other people now?" + +"It would do me good. I think I am getting rusty," said Escott, with +ill-concealed eagerness. "I have been wondering so much whether, when +Aunt Di and Pearl are abroad, you could not persuade them to meet us +somewhere. I know she said she would not come here, but we might move. +I think a change would do me good." + +"I have just heard about them from Marian," said Millicent. "Diana has +given up all idea of a foreign trip this year. I do not understand why." + +Escott's face fell heavily. + +"I did not know you had looked forward to anything of the kind as even +possible," said Millicent. "You know Diana thought it would be better +for poor little Pearl to be among strangers. She thought that seeing us +would recall—" + +Escott made an impatient movement. He and his mother had received +exaggerated accounts from Diana of Pearl's low spirits, and somehow +Millicent had never realised how much of Escott's own depressed +condition was owing to these same accounts. + +"Aunt Di knows nothing about it," he said. "'You' could comfort Pearl, +if any one could." + +Millicent sighed quietly. "I have not told you all my news," she said. +"Uncle Josiah and Marian are talking of coming abroad to spend a few +weeks near us. You will like that, dear?" + +Escott's assent was languid. "That" was not what he wanted. She put the +letter into his hands, and after a minute, he remarked, "Mother, she +says Pearl is very much disappointed." + +"She has never been abroad, so it is quite natural I am glad she is +well enough to care for the excitement of a trip." + +"Yes; it shows—" Escott began, and stopped. "Mother," he said abruptly, +"why not ask Pearl to stay with us? Aunt Marian could bring her out." + +Millicent did not seize on the idea. "Do you think you are fit for +visitors?" she asked reluctantly. + +"Fit! I should be delighted. It would do me more good than anything in +the world." + +"I thought you said last week you did not feel up to seeing people." + +"People! No. But Pearl!" + +His eyes shone, and his pale face flushed, with an expression not to be +mistaken. + +"But, Escott—" she said gravely. "But, Escott—" + +Doubt and remonstrance were in the voice. Escott sat upright, with a +sudden look of resolution. + +"Mother, it is of no use to hide the truth from myself or you. I love +Pearl with all my heart. And if I don't win her for my own—mother, I +almost think I shall die of it." + +"And I am nothing to you!" + +Beryl might look upon Millicent as perfect; yet with all her gentleness +and sweetness she was human, and she was capable of that poor failing, +human jealousy. Dearly as she had loved Ivor, she could have borne +calmly the fact of "his" loving Pearl. But Escott was the very core +of her being; and it wrung her very heart-strings that another should +be to him what she now saw Pearl was. She had been dimly aware for +some time of an inclination in that direction, but he had never before +spoken openly to her of his love, and she had tried to shut her eyes. + +"Mother, how 'can' you?" + +He looked hurt, almost displeased, and she was displeased with herself +immediately. + +"Yes, I know," she said sadly. "I understand. You love me, of course, +darling. The new does not touch the old—of course. But, Escott, don't +you know what Diana said about Pearl, and her distress at our dear +Ivor—" + +Millicent's voice failed, but Escott was composed. "I have nothing to +do with that," he said. "Nothing was ever said. I do not believe Ivor +had any such thought, and it would be very wrong of us to speculate +about Pearl's thoughts. It is enough that she cared for him like a +sister. If there were anything more—she is very young,—and in time—I +should hope—mother, I don't see that we need consider that part of the +matter. Aunt Di is no judge. Pearl is poorly, and wants change, and I +want her. It would put fresh life into me to see her again. Sometimes +I have felt lately as if I could not wait much longer,—as if I 'must' +somehow have a glimpse of that sweet face." + +"Then it has not been for Ivor!" she said in choked tones. + +And Escott said, this time pettishly, "You can't understand, mother. +It's of no use to talk." + +A few hot tears fell quietly on Millicent's work, and Escott quitted +his couch to kiss them away. + +"Forgive me," he said penitently. "I am very cross, mother darling. And +I know you understand,—or you will when you think it over. There never +was a mother like you in the world, and I can't tell you how dear you +are to me. But that does not make the other impossible. And you know +Pearl, and you know what she is." + +"Yes; she is a dear little girl. I don't think there is much strength +of character, Escott,—if I may venture to say so." + +"Say just what you like, mother. She is soft and tender and +yielding,—that is what you mean." + +Millicent had not meant it. She knew Pearl to be far from yielding, +where her own will was concerned. + +"But you shall train her, when she is mine,—make her as like yourself +as possible," said Escott. + +Millicent smiled, and answered, "A mother-in-law's training is not +generally acceptable." + +"You will not be the conventional mother-in-law." + +"'My son is my son till—'" she half quoted. + +"Mother mine, I thought you were above such vulgar delusions. Well, we +shall see." Escott suddenly grew desponding, and sighed. "Who can tell? +She may disdain the very idea." + +"In which case, I should feel that I had been wrong to bring her here." + +Escott brightened. "That means that you really will ask her," he said. + +And she answered, "Yes." + + +The letter was enclosed in one to Marian, and in due time reached its +destination. Marian wrote with it, from Weston-super-Mare, to say that +she would have no objection to escort Pearl, if Diana would allow her +to go. + +"I can't afford it," Diana said at first. She was more than usually +unstrung that day, poorly and hysterical, satisfied with nothing that +anybody could do, and unwilling to have Beryl five minutes absent. +Pearl flushed with eager delight as the letters were read. + +"I really can't afford it," Diana repeated. "I have so many expenses +just now—extra expenses. I don't see how I can possibly afford it. And +you would not like to go away for an indefinite time, Pearl. It isn't +as if I were going too. One can't tell in the least how long Marian and +my uncle may remain abroad, when once they are there. He is so odd in +his ways. I really can't afford it, Pearl." + +Pearl pouted, and her eyes filled. "I wanted so very much to go," +she said complainingly. "I do think it is too bad. You promised to +take me this autumn, Aunt Di, and you disappointed me. And now that I +might have the pleasure, you won't let me. It is so very very unkind." +Pearl's handkerchief went to her eyes. + +Manner is certainly infectious. Though the two were not connected by +birth, Pearl's spoilt child air was an exact copy of Diana's own. + +"And you don't care how long you are away from me, now I am ill," said +Diana, not so much with anger as unhappiness. + +Pearl used her handkerchief, and looked prettily doleful. + +"Well, it is just like you," said Diana, her tone becoming indignant. +"It is the sort of gratitude one may expect. All that I have done goes +for nothing, if you can't have your own way. If there ever was a time +when you could be useful to me, it is now, and all you care for is just +to keep out of my reach." + +Pearl attempted no self-defence, but she was not stirred from her +purpose. She murmured in the following pause, "I want so 'very' much to +go." + +"Then go," said Diana harshly. "That's enough. You may go,—and the +longer you stay the better. There, that is enough. I don't want to hear +any more about the matter." + +"Pearl would not really wish to go, if you can't afford it," Beryl +ventured to say. + +"Yes, she would. I'll afford it somehow. You may write and say it is +settled, Pearl." + +The manner was cuttingly cold, and the voice was displeased, but Pearl +did not seem troubled. She withdrew her handkerchief from her eyes, +said cheerfully, "Thank you, dear Aunt Di," and tripped out of the room. + +Diana would speak to no one for the next hour, and was exceedingly +curt to Pearl during the remainder of the day. Her pride and also her +affection were wounded by Pearl's eagerness to leave her. Whether or no +Pearl loved Mrs. Fenwick deeply, there could be no doubt that for years +Mrs. Fenwick had lavished the chief of her love and her thought upon +Pearl. She was exceedingly hurt, and took no pains to conceal the fact +from the two girls. + +Mr. Crosbie and his niece were leaving soon, and Pearl had barely a +week in which to prepare for her journey. She passed the intervening +days in a state of high excitement, looking her prettiest, but so +absorbed in her own affairs as not even to notice Diana's deepening +depression. Beryl was hard-worked between the two. + +"Pearl, do say something kind to Aunt Di before you go," she pleaded, +when the last morning came. + +And Pearl said, with an amazed look, "Why, what in the world do you +mean?" + +She understood no better, half an hour later, when it came to the +parting. + +Diana looked wretched, but this was too frequent an event to make much +impression on Pearl. She counted Mrs. Fenwick nervous, and was eager to +be off. + +"I'm only going for a few weeks, Aunt Di. You needn't be dismal," she +said, kissing Mrs. Fenwick, and speaking lightly. "One would think you +expected never to see me again." + +The random shaft struck home, and Diana broke into a passion of tears. +She knew weeping to be a thing forbidden, as injurious to her eyes, but +she had never learnt self-restraint. + +"I wish you wouldn't," said Pearl, in an injured tone. "It is so +uncomfortable. Good-bye, Aunt Di. Beryl will look after you." + +"How long shall you be gone, Pearl?" + +"Why, Aunt Di, you ought to know best how long Miss Crosbie is likely +to stay. Just a few weeks, I suppose. I shall miss my train if I don't +make haste. Good-bye, auntie." + +Pearl tripped lightly through the garden, and sprang into the fly. +Hester Wyatt had kindly undertaken to see her off at the station, as +Beryl could not be spared. Pearl was to meet Mr. and Miss Crosbie in +London. + +"So selfish—to be so glad to go," sobbed Diana. "And I have done so +much for Pearl. I am sure her own mother couldn't have done more. And +this in return is all the gratitude I have. I shall never see her +again,—I know, I know I shall not. My eyes have been so much worse the +last few days." + +"I am afraid you will make them worse if you cry so often," said Beryl. +"Pearl does not know about 'that,' Aunt Di. If she did, I think she +would feel differently. She cannot guess what is wrong, and of course +it is a great treat for her to go abroad." + +"I shall never never see her again," moaned Diana despairingly. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +_LIFE-TRAINING._ + +THREE months had passed, and Pearl was still absent. + +Winter drew on apace, and days grew short and nights grew long. The +little mountain village no more sheltered Millicent and Escott. They +had travelled to the south of France, accompanied not only by Pearl, +but also by Mr. Crosbie and Marian. Mr. Crosbie, in delight at escaping +his enemy, the damp cold of an English winter, talked of remaining +there until the spring, and it seemed to be taken for granted that +Pearl was to do the same. + +"She hasn't even the grace to ask leave," Diana said bitterly. "But it +doesn't matter. If she does not wish to come back, I am sure I don't +want her. So much for gratitude!" + +Diana was sinking into a state of thorough invalidism. Her pretty and +youthful looks were rapidly forsaking her, and she grew, week by week, +more feeble, haggard, and fretful. She had not been again to London to +see the oculist. The necessity for so doing was frequently discussed +between herself and Beryl; but she seemed never to be or never to count +herself equal to the fatigue of the journey. + +Morbid dislike to the truth becoming known continued unabated. Mrs. +Fenwick preferred that friends should ascribe her ill-health to nerves, +fancies, or anything they pleased, sooner than that they should hear +the real explanation. Miss Carmichael was often in and out, but Miss +Carmichael asked no questions. She seemed to know by instinct that +Beryl was not free to answer; and neither she nor Hester ever put Beryl +into a corner, or forced her to take refuge in uncomfortable evasions. + +Beryl's life was no easy one, those weeks. She was in attendance on +Diana day and night, and rarely had five minutes to herself. Soon after +Pearl's departure, Diana had begged Beryl to sleep in her room, "just +for a week or so;" and the plan once begun was continued. Diana was an +exacting invalid, and her nervous depression, yielded to unresistingly +from the first, steadily increased. It became gradually a settled +matter that, if Diana could not walk out, Beryl might not walk out +either; if Diana could not go to Church, Beryl must sit at home to bear +her company. + +Beryl chafed somewhat under the restraint. The incessant companionship +of a querulous invalid, whom she pitied but scarcely loved, could +not but be trying, even to one of Beryl's steady nerves and strong +constitution. She had longed for work, and here it was. Now she found +herself longing for freedom. + +"I don't want to grumble," she said one day, when snatching a five +minutes' chat with Miss Carmichael at the garden-gate. "But it is a +little tiresome sometimes. Aunt Di doesn't seem to think I can ever +want any time at all away from her. And I 'should' like a good sharp +walk now and then. Aunt Di only creeps, and I never go out except with +her. I think I am getting restless." + +"You are young and healthy, and exercise is a necessity for you," said +Miss Carmichael. "Cannot you take your own way in this matter, Beryl?" + +Beryl shook her head. "Aunt Di can't bear to be crossed," she said. + +"My dear, invalids must be crossed sometimes, for their own good as +well as for the good of others." + +"Yes, only she would not like it from me. I don't want to make her +dislike me again. And it is so bad for her to cry." + +"Why?" + +Beryl began forgetfully to say,—"The occu—" and stopped short. + +A light seemed to flash on Miss Carmichael. + +"Ah, I see," she said. + +"I hope I have not told you anything," said Beryl, distressed. "I ought +not." + +"No; but I understand. I have fancied once or twice that all was not +right there. We will not discuss it now, however, or I may get you into +trouble. Good-bye." + + +On the afternoon of the next day, Miss Carmichael appeared again. +And when shown into the drawing-room, she said in a matter-of-fact +manner—"I have come to ask leave to sit with you for an hour, Mrs. +Fenwick, while Beryl takes a walk. It is a lovely afternoon, and I +don't suppose you can walk so far yourself as you would wish her to go." + +To Beryl's utter astonishment, Diana offered no objections. + +Miss Carmichael's manner of taking consent for granted possibly made +them difficult; also this was one of Diana's better days. + +Beryl dressed with all speed, and was soon hurrying along the road, +into the nearest country lane. "If you go in the direction of +Barrowfield, you may possibly meet Hester," Miss Carmichael said to her +at the last moment. + +And Beryl obeyed, but soon forgot to expect Hester's appearance. + +She had perhaps never in her life more enjoyed herself than during +this brief and well-earned respite. The sun shone brightly; and a keen +wind, which would have troubled some people, only gave zest to Beryl's +pleasure. Her quick walk broke at length into almost a run, nobody +being within range of sight; but presently, to her surprise, she found +herself growing quite tired with the exercise, of late so rare, and she +was glad to take a seat on a fallen log. + +There she sank into a muse on her little world of interests,—not nearly +so wide a world as many gals of her age can boast. She only had Pearl, +whom she dearly loved, but in whose return-love she felt no confidence; +and Diana Fenwick, whom she pitied greatly, but for whom she scarcely +could be said to feel affection; and Miss Carmichael, who was to her +the embodiment of all that is good and tender and beautiful; and Hester +Wyatt, whom she regarded as a fainter shadow of Miss Carmichael. In +a quiet corner of her mind—perhaps of her heart—lay also an image of +Escott Cumming, as of one true and trustworthy and kind; and a more dim +image of Millicent, statuesque and fair. These comprised the whole of +Beryl's heart-belongings, except that into the outer circle crept also +a gentle remembrance of Suzette Bise, and of good Mr. Bishop. There +was nobody else. Mr. Crosbie disliked Beryl, and made no secret of the +fact. Her life touched—consciously to herself—no other human beings. +Unconsciously to ourselves, the ripples resulting from our motions +spread often farther than we imagine. + +These were her human interests, her heart-possessions of this world. +And had they been all that she had to turn to, Beryl would have been +poor indeed. + +But heavenly light had broken of late into the twilight of her being. +The little circumscribing wall which closed her in had of late been +shattered, and a rush of deeper and wider interests had come to her. +She had sprung from a lower to a higher life. For God, not for self; +for eternity, not for time; this was the change. It was as if she had +stepped out from a small underground cellar, and had suddenly found +herself free beneath the wide blue sky. + +People are not all alike, and Beryl did not go through precisely the +same order of experiences that some others pass through. There is one +pathway to heaven, but there is no one stereotyped mode of treading +that pathway. And there are many who stumble into and along it, and +reach their goal in safety, who are all the while very vague indeed in +their ideas and definitions as to the nature of the pathway. + +Beryl had little to say as to her own feelings, even to Miss +Carmichael, and nothing at all to anybody else; and she would have +come off badly in a set examination on forms of doctrine. Yet on some +points she was clear. She had come first to the sense of need, and the +knowledge of evil in self to be put down; and then she had reached +suddenly the great reality of God's love for her, had seen the dying of +Christ upon the Cross, had learnt something of His wondrous power to +save. Accepting all in easy trustfulness, like a child, she knew Him as +her living Lord, and knew herself as His servant. Afterwards, sprang +up the longing to do something for Him, followed by disappointment at +finding herself ready to murmur at the work when it was given her to +do, just because she found it a little burdensome. + +"I suppose I don't like it because it isn't exactly the kind I had +fancied to myself," Beryl murmured, as she sat on the log. She +had little power of definite thought except in spoken words, and +consequently she often uttered her thoughts aloud, when alone. "I am +sure, though, that one oughtn't to want to choose for one's self. It +would not be a good thing if one could. This sort of life isn't really +a bit harder than the hospital work, which I wanted,—only that sounded +grander. But this is best for me, or I shouldn't have it, of course. I +wonder if I am to go on so for years—waiting on Aunt Di. When she is +quite blind, she will need me more than ever. And she is so young,—she +might live thirty, or forty, or fifty years. It would be rather hard +to keep on all that time, never changing. I am afraid I should get +impatient. It isn't as if I really loved her from my heart. It seems +as if I never could or should do that. But of course, in a hospital I +shouldn't love all the patients either, only there would be more bustle +and change. Now it is always the same, hour after hour,—never the least +change. Well, I must be brave, and try not to mind, that's all." + +The last few words were spoken more clearly than any before, and, as if +in response, a soft voice said,— + + "'Why should I hold my ease so dear? + The work of training "must" be done!'" + +Beryl started, and sprang to her feet. She looked behind and around, +but could see no human being. The lane in which she sat was straight +and narrow, with a thick hedge on one side and a grassy bank on the +other. + +"Who is it?" she asked, almost trembling, though not at all given to +nervousness. + +Silence answered. Beryl stood still, waiting. The words came home to +her strangely. But by whom had they been uttered? A feeling of awe +crept over Beryl. + +"Who is it?" she repeated gravely. "Please answer me. Please speak +again." + +And the voice recommenced, in soft distinct accents,— + + "'Why should I hold my ease so dear? + The work of training must be done. + I must be taught what I would know; + I must be led where I would go,— + And all the rest ordained for me, + Till that which is not seen I see + Is to be found in trusting Thee.'" + +"Hettie!" exclaimed Beryl, in astonishment.—"Where are you?" + +She recognised the voice this time, yet still the feeling of awe was +upon her, as if she had received a message from another world. The +intonation of the last few words was unmistakable, and it was half in +relief, half in disappointment, that Beryl called—"Hettie! Where are +you?" + +"I am here," Hettie replied. + +"Where? I can't see you!" + +"The other side of the hedge. I can just see you, through a little +peep-hole. The field is nicer than the lane. There is a stile farther +on, and we can meet there. No, not that way,—the other." + +Beryl sped along at a pace which brought her first to the stile, and +she was quickly across. Hester came up more slowly. + +"What made you say all that?" Beryl asked, with an odd flushed look. + +"I don't know; it came into my mind. I didn't know you were near till +I heard you muttering something, and then I found my peep-hole and saw +you. I caught a few words that you said, and I answered them. Miss +Carmichael is very fond of those lines, and she repeated them to me a +few days ago, and said they made her think of you. So I learnt them by +heart, meaning to say them to you some time or other, but I did not +know it would be so soon. Were you startled?" + +"I don't know," said Beryl gruffly. "I thought—almost—just for a +moment—it was an angel. At least,—I think I thought of mother." + +Beryl choked, and was very nearly crying. + +Hester threw an arm round her, and drew her down on the grassy slope. + +"Poor Beryl! You don't remember your mother, do you?" + +"Just a little; not much." + +"I shouldn't have thought mine was at all an angelic voice," said +Hester, softly smiling. + +"I wish you would write out that piece of poetry for me," said Beryl +shyly. "I liked it very much. And I think it would be a help." + +"I'll get you a copy of Miss Waring's 'Hymns and Meditations,' and you +will find it there, Beryl." + +Beryl's "Oh, thank you," spoke of unmitigated pleasure. She had had so +few presents in her lifetime that the coming of one unexpectedly was a +real delight. + +"I suppose the teaching and the leading are a little hard just now," +said Hester suddenly. "I mean you must find it a little hard to be +patient." + +"Yes," said Beryl, "I think I do. I should not mind it for a time—a +good long while—but I have been wondering whether it will go on always +just the same." + +"Nothing ever does go on always just the same," said Hester +confidently. "Fresh things are always happening." + +"I don't see anything likely to happen now," remarked Beryl. + +"No; you can't see round the corner," said Hester, smiling. "But God +can. And it is so nice to think that He is arranging all for us. You +needn't be afraid, Beryl. It will all come right somehow, if you just +leave it to Him." + +"But suppose it were the right thing for me to go on for years—forty or +fifty years—doing nothing but wait on Aunt Di?" said Beryl soberly. + +"Well—if it were," said Hester,—"if it were—God could make it easy +to you. He could make her quite different, so sweet and loving that +it would be a real delight to wait on her. Or He could give you such +great joy in Himself, Beryl, that nothing else would seem of any great +importance. I don't know how it will be, of course; only I am 'quite' +sure that you may be happy and restful, and may leave it all with Him." + +"I'll try," said Beryl. "I suppose it is best not to look forward." + +"Why, you can't," said Hester. "You can't possibly look forward. It is +all grey mist ahead. God can see through it, but we can't. And what we +call looking forward is only fancying all sorts of things, which most +likely will never happen at all. I wouldn't, dear. It is of no use." + +"I suppose you and Miss Carmichael never get into a worry," said Beryl. + +"I dare say Miss Carmichael would say she did sometimes, but she +doesn't let it appear. I am trying to trust more, and not to be so +easily fretted. It isn't always easy—when one is tempted to try the +'looking forward' plan." + +"But you have nothing to look forward to that isn't delightful," +exclaimed Beryl. + +Hester's smile was sad this time. "Do you think so?" she asked. "It is +all utter perplexity, Beryl." + +Beryl was amazed, and her face said so. + +Bright tears were shining in Hester's eyes. + +"I can't see my way in the least. But I know it will all come clear by +and by. I can't tell how yet. There must be great pain either way." + +"Either way!" repeated Beryl, bewildered. + +"There are two paths, and I shall have to go down one. And both look +wrong, and yet right; and both mean sorrow, and yet joy. Beryl, you +must not say a word of this to anybody,—not to Miss Carmichael, mind. +I only say it to you, because I want you to see that other people have +their troubles too. But I am trying to leave it all alone for the +present, and by and by I shall see my way plainly. You will see yours +too, if you wait quietly. 'It is good that a man should both hope and +quietly wait,' you know." + +"I don't think I am puzzled," said Beryl: "I only feel rather inclined +to grumble at what I have to do." + +"Don't," said Hester briefly. "One loses so much by grumbling." + +"No, I don't mean to," responded Beryl sincerely, though not quite +grammatically; and she added,— + +"I suppose I can't do anything at all to help you, Hettie." + +Hester shook her head, and the two sat on, till Beryl suddenly +recollected the time, and sprang up. Her hour of absence was already +over. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +_PEARL'S LETTER._ + +NO reproaches awaited Beryl on reaching home. Miss Carmichael, seated +still in the drawing-room, welcomed her affectionately. Mrs. Fenwick +looked unusually bright, and when again alone with Beryl, she said,—"I +like Miss Carmichael extremely—much better than I expected ever to do. +I have told her about my eyes." + +"Oh, I am glad!" Beryl exclaimed. + +"She said she had noticed something wrong, and asked if I had found +them weak. I told her everything—I am sure I don't know why, for I +had not the least idea beforehand of doing so, but it seemed to come +naturally. She looked at my eyes, and asked a good many questions. +And when I told her the name of my oculist, she did not seem to think +much of him. She said it was a case in which I ought to have the very +best advice, and she has advised me to go to another for a second +opinion. I have written down his name and address—quite one of the +first London oculists—and I really think I shall go. It is always worth +while to have a second opinion. He might even say that an operation +will not be necessary. What a relief that would be! I have such an +utter horror of any sort of operation. I really am very glad I spoke to +Miss Carmichael. She is wonderfully kind and feeling, and I seem quite +cheered up by her visit. I hope she will come again soon. What day do +you think we had better go, Beryl?" + +Diana was positively excited, talked incessantly for the next hour, and +was like a different person. A reactionary low fit set in later, and +after indulging in a good many dismal forebodings, and deciding that +Miss Carmichael's opinion was worth little, she fell asleep on the sofa. + +Beryl experienced a sense of relief. She was just settling herself with +a book, when the postman came through the garden. Beryl rose softly, +and went out to the front door, thereby stopping the loud rap which +would inevitably have aroused Diana. + +A letter from Pearl, addressed to herself. Beryl received it with a +flutter of pleasure, which was enhanced as she tore open the envelope +by perceiving that it was no mere hasty business scrap. Pearl must +have been in a sisterly or home-sick mood, indeed, to write so much. +Beryl dared not remain alone to enjoy it, as her inclinations would +have prompted, and she crept noiselessly back to the window of the +drawing-room, stilling every movement which might arouse the sleeper. +She wanted to have her letter to herself, just at first. It ran as +follows:— + + "CANNES, _Thursday._ + + "DEAR BERYL,—We have been having some nice drives and walks lately. +I like Cannes very much, for some reasons, but I think I am growing +tired of being abroad. Of course my French is much better for it. I +could teach French quite well now, only I should hate to teach anybody. +I shall never be able to do 'that.' If it came to the worst, I would +rather make bonnets and caps than teach. + + "Mr. Crosbie does not mean to leave Cannes until the spring winds are +over—at least he says so now. He may change to-morrow, perhaps. But +there is a sort of change of plans going on. He is to live with Mrs. +Cumming again, and he says he will stay abroad just as long as she +likes. And Miss Crosbie means to go home. She doesn't like France, and +French cooking makes her ill. I suppose she has written to Aunt Di, or, +if not, of course she will write. She is going to start very soon, and +I am going with her. I don't know exactly what day yet, but I am sure +dear Aunt Di will be glad to have me back; and this is my first chance, +you know. I'll write to Aunt Di to-morrow or next day. + + "Don't tell Aunt Di what I am going to say. I am so dreadfully puzzled. +Beryl, Escott has asked me to marry him, and Mrs. Cumming seems to want +it too,—and she seems almost sure that I shall say 'Yes.' I like Escott +very much, of course,—very much indeed. He is as good and nice as can +be. But I don't seem to feel like 'that,'—you know what I mean. Ivor +was so different. If only he were more like Ivor. And yet he is very +nice,—and he seems so fond of me, poor fellow. + + "I said at first that I couldn't, and then Mrs. Cumming asked me to +think about it. And I am not sure after all that I shall not. But I +want to come home first. You don't know much about such things, but you +have a sort of sensible way, and I think I should like to talk it over +with you. + + "Only mind, Beryl, you MUST NOT say one word of this to Aunt Di or +anybody. It is only just for yourself. + + "Escott is a great deal stronger than he was in the summer, though he +looks very white and thin still, I wish he were stronger and browner. I +don't like invalidish men. But I fancy he will get over that by and by. + + "Aunt Di doesn't seem well yet, from her own account. Give her my love, +and tell her that I expect seeing me will do her good.—Believe me, your +affectionate sister, PEARL FORDYCE." + + +"Who is that letter from?" asked Diana's voice suddenly, as Beryl +reached the end. + +"From Pearl." Beryl was utterly perplexed, knowing what would come next. + +"Any news in it? She doesn't often trouble herself to write." + +"Pearl and Miss Crosbie are coming home," said Beryl slowly. + +Diana sat upright, a red flush coming into either cheek. "Marian is not +coming 'here,'" she said. + +Beryl was silent. + +"What does Pearl say? Read me the letter." + +Beryl obeyed, so far as was in her power. She managed cleverly to skip +the private piece, without too obvious a break. Diana was unconscious +of the hiatus, being, perhaps, too irate for delicate observation. + +"Cool. As if my house were a public hotel! I wonder what next! I don't +care where Marian goes, but she will not come here. Pearl seems very +well satisfied about 'her' welcome!" And Diana laughed. + +Beryl folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket, hoping that the +danger was over. "Aunt Di, wouldn't it be so much happier for us all, +if you could just forgive, and let Miss Crosbie be the same that she +used to be?" she asked. + +The fact that Beryl might venture to put such a question at all showed +the altered relations between them. + +"No," said Diana shortly. "I never change my mind. I have said that +Marian shall not live here again, and she shall not." + +"You won't write and say that to her?" expostulated Beryl, with real +courage. "Will you, Aunt Di?" + +"I shall write and say what I choose. It is no business of yours. What +does Pearl say about the time of their coming? Let me see the letter." + +"She says they do not know yet exactly when they start, Aunt Di, but +she will write in a day or two." + +Something in Beryl's manner roused Diana's suspicions. "Let me see the +letter," she repeated. + +Beryl made no movement in response. "Have you read the whole of it to +me?" + +Beryl was always truthful. "No," she answered. + +"Pearl can say nothing to you which she would not say to me. I choose +to see the letter." + +Beryl was in dire perplexity. It was not her way to be frightened, but +she could not decide as to which was the right course to pursue. How +far was she bound by Pearl's confidence? How far did she owe submission +in such a matter to Mrs. Fenwick? + +"I choose to see the letter at once, Beryl!" + +Diana grew white with passion at the delay. She was alike of a jealous +and an inquisitive temperament, and was quick to take offence at what +she considered a slight to herself. + +But before Beryl's eyes rose a recollection of Pearl's face—a sweet +little face, pearl-complexioned, with pink tinting and pretty wistful +eyes,—as it had been in childhood, rather than as it had been of +late, certainly somewhat marred by habits of self-consciousness and +self-indulgent wilfulness, though still it was a face which nobody +could help admiring. Could she refuse Pearl's wish, and decline to act +the sisterly part for which Pearl appealed? + +"I am sorry, Aunt Di, but I don't think I should be right to show it," +she said. + +"You dare to refuse?" + +"It is nothing about you or Miss Crosbie. It is only something about +Pearl herself, which she says I am not to tell anybody." + +"If you and Pearl are going to band together against me, there's an +end of the matter, and I shall wash my hands of you both. A couple of +penniless children, who would have been in the workhouse but for me. +And this is all the gratitude I get in return." + +Diana was working herself up to fever-heat. + +Beryl, though greatly troubled, remained quiet outwardly. + +"You know you don't really mean that, Aunt Di," she said. "I have tried +hard lately to show that I am grateful. And you know I am Pearl's own +sister. It is natural she should have something to say to me sometimes." + +"I don't care whether it is natural or not. I intend to see that letter +before I go to bed to-night." + +Silence followed for some seconds, and then Beryl rose suddenly. + +"Where are you going?" Diana asked in her sharpest tone. + +"Upstairs. I will be back directly." + +She passed swiftly out of the room, and went straight to her own. There +she drew out the letter, looked at it, and sighed. + +"I should have liked to keep it—the first real letter like a sister's +that I ever had from her. But I mustn't. I must not mind. I must guard +Pearlie's secret. I am so glad that she can trust me." + +Beryl walked to the fender, struck a match, and set the sheet alight. +Then she knelt watching, till it was reduced to a little heap of light +ash. + +A movement behind made her look round, and she met Diana's eyes. + +"A nice fashion of taking your own way," sneered Diana. + +Beryl stood up slowly. "I am very sorry," she said with a strange +meekness, for by nature she would have flown out in self-defence, +knowing herself to be in the right. "But I could not do anything else." + +Diana turned away, and conversation was at an end for that evening. If +Beryl spoke to Mrs. Fenwick, she received no answer. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +_A LONELY DAY._ + +DIANA'S displeasure continued unabated during the next day, and the +hours passed in uncomfortable silence. Beryl wondered how long this +was to last. She had sudden liberty granted her to come and go as she +pleased, and Diana seemed oddly to lay aside, for one day, her invalid +habits. Was it the cheering effect of Miss Carmichael's visit, or was +it the excitement of her own anger upholding her? Beryl could not tell. + +This condition of affairs went on during the best part of a week. A +letter then arrived for Diana from Marian, and another from Pearl +by the same post. Beryl recognised the handwritings, and waited for +news, but received none. Diana gave her a look, and put both letters +straightway into the fire. + +"When are they coming, Aunt Di?" Beryl asked, and no answer was +vouchsafed. She had difficulty in restraining her vexation at this +petty revenge. + + +On the following morning, Diana's mood seemed to have changed. She +came downstairs unwontedly early, dressed unwontedly well, and looking +unwontedly lively. In the middle of breakfast, she said—"I am going to +London to-day." + +"Shall I come with you, Aunt Di?" + +"No." The monosyllable was sufficiently ungracious. + +"I thought you might want me to help you," said Beryl soberly. + +Diana passed over the suggestion. "You may as well spend the day at +Miss Carmichael's," she said. "Of course you will be welcome there. +Pearson is going with me to London, and I have told Maria that she will +have no cooking to do." + +"I should not like to invite myself for a whole day to Miss +Carmichael's," said Beryl. + +"Nonsense. Of course she will be glad to have you. I thought you were +on such terms that you could go in whenever you chose." + +"Yes,—go in to see her. I could not invite myself there for a day," +repeated Beryl. + +Diana took no further notice of her, and presently disappeared. When, +after the lapse of half an hour, she came back, she was dressed for a +journey. + +"Pearson is just ready," she said. "We are going to walk to the +station. Have you arranged about going to Miss Carmichael's?" + +"I have not done anything," said Beryl, in surprise. "I did not know +you were going yet, and I don't like the thought of asking for meals +there." + +"Well, I have no time to stay and discuss the question," said Diana +coldly. "You will take your own way of course, as usual. Come, +Pearson,—I do not wish to miss my train." + +Pearson gave Beryl a look, full of meaning, and followed her mistress +out of the house. Beryl stood still, in utter perplexity. What should +she do? + +Go to Miss Carmichael, and tell her the truth! That suggestion came to +her mind as a real relief. She could depend upon her friend's truth and +kindness. + +Somewhat slowly Beryl went for her hat, and crossed the road. She had +hopes of seeing Miss Carmichael's face in the bow-window, but it was +not there. The servant, answering the bell, said,—"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss +Fordyce, but Miss Carmichael isn't at home." + +"Not at home," repeated Beryl. + +"No, Miss; she and Miss Wyatt went away yesterday evening to see some +friends, and they don't come back till to-morrow." + +That settled the matter. Beryl said only, "I am sorry," and turned +away, conscious of keen disappointment. She had not liked to invite +herself, but a long day with her friends would have been full of +delight. + +A day alone did not offer to Beryl the enjoyment that it offers to some +people. Her mind was by no means to her a kingdom, and she cared little +for reading. + +Moreover, the sense of being left out in the cold, which had often +assailed her as a child, came over her sharply now. She was hurt at +Diana's continued anger, after all her careful attentions through weeks +past. + +"But I haven't been doing it all for Aunt Di's own sake," Beryl +murmured, after standing forlornly in the hall for a few minutes. "I +have been trying because I wanted to please God, and that ought to be +enough. As for Aunt Di, I suppose I do owe her a great deal, and I +think she counts all that I can do for her only a paying back. I am not +going to be dull and unhappy to-day, just because she has not chosen +to take me to London. I am quite sure I should not have been right to +betray Pearl's secret; and if Aunt Di is angry with me for doing right, +it can't be helped. I just have to be patient." + +Mrs. Fenwick's cook, a stout and middle-aged personage, appeared on +the scene. "If you please, Miss Beryl, your aunt said you was to spend +the day with Miss Carmichael," she said. "And if I knowed when you was +agoing—" + +"I am not going at all, Maria. Miss Carmichael is away: so I must stay +here. I suppose there is a little cold meat that I can have for dinner." + +Private plans of Maria's own were plainly disconcerted. Her face +clouded over, and she clumped heavily down the kitchen stairs, giving +vent to discontented mutterings. + +Beryl vigorously determined to have a pleasant time. After all, she +found herself in possession of an unexpected holiday, and it was +well to make the best of the same. The day was cloudy and dull, with +threatenings of rain, but she dressed herself in weather-defying +costume, and started on a ramble, which lasted two hours. It would have +lasted yet longer, had not a sharp downpour driven her in. She came +back, fresh and glowing, having lost sight of all dismal feelings, and +the remainder of the morning was taken up with a thorough turn-out of +her clothes and orderly arrangements of her drawers. + +At half-past one Beryl descended, in a hungry condition, to the rather +bare bone of cold mutton which lay on the dining-room table, and which +she left the barer. Maria had not seen fit to provide vegetables or +pudding, but Beryl found enough to satisfy her hunger, and she was +happily of a contented temperament. Luncheon over, she worked for an +hour, and then, the rain having ceased, she went off on another ramble. + +At half-past four she returned, and saw a railway cab drive away from +the door, three minutes before she reached it. Diana back already! +Beryl could hardly believe her eyes. She entered with a latchkey, went +to the drawing-room, and was face to face with Marian Crosbie. + +"How do you do?" And kisses were exchanged quietly, the two being alike +habitually sober in manner. + +Beryl, in her astonishment, actually forgot at first to miss Pearl. + +"I didn't know you were coming to-day," were her words. + +"Diana knew," said Marian composedly. + +"She did not tell me." + +"Di has her own way of doing things. The cook says she has gone to +London;—to avoid me, I presume." + +"She has only gone just for a day, to see an oculist," said Beryl. + +"Only for that! You are sure?" + +Beryl considered. "She did not say so this morning, Miss Crosbie,—I +remember now. But she has talked lately of going soon, and I thought it +was that." + +"It may be. She would choose the day—" Marian began and paused. "Diana +mentioned a weakness in her eyes some months ago, and I notice that she +writes seldom. Is anything seriously wrong with the eyes, Beryl,—or +with her health?" + +Beryl was embarrassed. "Aunt Di has not been well," she said. "But she +would not like me to repeat anything. I think she would be angry at my +even mentioning the oculist." + +"That is nonsense," said Marian. "I have a right to know, if any one +has. Pearl described to us the state Di was in before she left, and +called it 'nervous;' but no doubt there was a cause." + +"I don't think I must say anything," replied Beryl. "She would be so +vexed. Can't you ask Aunt Di herself?" + +Marian moved her head assentingly. "You and she get on better now than +in old days?" + +"Yes, it has been much better, only she is angry with me now, because I +could not show her Pearl's letter." + +"Could not!" + +"Pearl told me I mustn't,—and I thought it would be wrong; but Aunt Di +has been vexed ever since." + +"Di never knew what it was to have her will crossed in childhood—a +miserable training for any human being," said Marian. + +Beryl broke out suddenly—"But, Pearl,—Miss Crosbie, why isn't Pearl +here?" + +"I was surprised that you did not ask sooner. I have a letter for you +from her. She will come by and by—not now." + +"I thought she was to come with you," said Beryl, looking much +disappointed. + +"Yes, so matters were arranged,—but there have been changes. Pearl and +Escott are engaged." + +Beryl stirred suddenly. + +"Escott had asked her, and she half refused him, seeming unsettled and +uncertain about her own mind. She promised to write him a decisive +answer from England. I don't suppose it ever occurred to Pearl as a +possibility that Di might not give her a welcome. But Diana has plainly +taken offence at something, perhaps at Pearl's remaining so long away. +It doesn't much matter what. When people get into a habit of being +offended about trifles, anything will do. She wrote a most cold cutting +letter to Pearl, and another to me in the same style,—good clear +handwriting, both of them, as is generally the case when Di is at white +heat. I should not have thought there was much the matter with her eyes +judging from those letters. I suppose you know nothing of this." + +"No," said Beryl. "Was it after Pearl wrote to me?" + +"It was immediately after you and Di knew of our intended return. Di +must have written that same night or the next morning, and her letters +came a few hours before we meant to start." + +"And Pearl changed her mind then?" + +"Di's ways are no novelty to me, and I was only more determined than +ever to come home; but Pearl nearly broke her heart, cried and clung to +Millie, and said she had no home. Millie and Escott did their best to +comfort her, and Pearl gave in then and there. I don't know exactly how +it came about: only within an hour after the letters arrived, she and +Escott were engaged. I wanted her still to return with me, but Pearl +said she could never be happy again with Di, and the others would not +hear of it. Escott was overjoyed, and Millie is delighted with anything +that makes him happy. I hope it is all for the best. He is a dear +fellow, wonderfully good and sweet-tempered; but I always think Ivor +was her real hero." + +Beryl was silent. Her first distinct feeling was of relief that she had +burnt Pearl's letter. Every word seemed stamped on her own memory, but +nobody else needed ever to know what Pearl had said. + +"This is for you," said Marian, taking out an envelope. "When you have +read it, I shall be glad of some tea." + +Beryl hardly heard the words. She perused the sheet eagerly. + + "DEAR BERYL,—I am not coming home with Miss Crosbie after all. I +'can't.' Aunt Di has written such a horrid unkind letter. I don't feel +as if I wanted ever to see her again. I shall never believe any more +that she loves me. I can't think how she 'could.' But I believe she is +tired of me. + + "She seems very angry about what she calls you and I 'plotting +together.' Such nonsense! I suppose it is because I told you not to +show her that letter of mine. Please burn it, Beryl, and never tell +anybody what I said. + + "I have settled not to come home. I am going to be married to Escott; +and I don't think we shall wait long, either. Escott is so very eager +that we should not. It will be so nice to call dear Mrs. Cumming +'mother.' There never was anybody like her for kindness and sweetness. + + "I don't mind if you show this letter to Aunt Di. + + "Miss Crosbie wants me to go home now, and not be married till the +spring. But how can I, after that letter? I don't mean to be beholden +any more to Aunt Di, if I can help it. And Escott and Mrs. Cumming are +both set against the plan. So I think we shall be married here quite +quietly. I wish you could come and be my bridesmaid, but I suppose Aunt +Di couldn't spare you, and the expense would be too great. She seems to +have taken 'you' up at last, instead of me. + + "But I have a home now, and I am quite happy.—Believe me, your +affectionate sister,— + + "PEARL." + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +_WRONG ON BOTH SIDES._ + +IT is easy to predict what people will say or do under particular +forthcoming circumstances; but it is astonishing how seldom such +predictions come exactly true. And perhaps it is more astonishing still +how slow we are to take a lesson from such failures, and to cease +predicting. + +Of all uncertain individuals, Diana Fenwick was one of the most +uncertain, from the simple reason that she acted entirely upon impulse, +and that the faintest breeze sometimes swayed her unexpectedly to right +or left. + +Marian and Beryl sat long together, talking part of the time, and part +of the time watching in anxious silence for Diana's return. + +Would she return at all that evening? Had she resolved to embarrass +Marian by staying all night in London? Hardly an unkind supposition +this, for Diana was given to such actions when out of temper. If she +came back, what would be her mood? How if she absolutely declined to +give her sister shelter? + +"In which case there is nothing left for me but absolutely to decline +to go," Marian said, laughing, as she discussed the question with +Beryl. "I am determined on one point, and that is, to avoid a sisterly +'split.' Di will thank me by and by for preventing it. If she orders +me away, I shall not go; and she will scarcely call a policeman to her +aid." + +But laugh as they might, they grew nervous with expectant waiting. A +woman's ill-humours may be puny, yet have they power to cause distress +and uneasiness. Marian was tired, and shrank from an encounter of +wills; and Beryl dreaded having to tell about Pearl. + +A railway cab stopped again before the door, and Marian exchanged +glances with Beryl. Neither of the two stirred. + +"I declare I am a positive coward to-night," Marian said. "Hush—here +she comes." + +Diana tripped into the room, smiling and gay, with her youngest and +prettiest look, of late entirely wanting. + +"So you have arrived, Marian," she said. "How do you do? Where is +Pearl? Gone to bed, I suppose. And Beryl has come back from Miss +Carmichael's. Pearson, give me that bonnet-box—carefully. Don't bump it +down on the table. Tell Maria I must have something to eat directly. I +am as hungry as a hunter, and I forgot to give any orders this morning +about supper. If she has nothing else, she can poach me some eggs. +I dare say Miss Crosbie will want something too. Well, I have had a +delightful day in London. How did you leave them all, Marian?" + +Marian was too much bewildered by the changed aspect of affairs to say +more than, "Pretty well." + +"Escott never is well, of course: so one can't expect it. Has Beryl +seen to your bedrooms and everything? But of course she has,—I always +find Beryl practical. It was unfortunate my having to be away, but I +could not put off going any longer. I have been to see an oculist." + +Marian nearly said, "So Beryl told me," but checked herself. "What does +he think, Di?" she asked. "You mentioned a weakness in your eyes some +months ago." + +"Yes; and it has been worse. One can't talk about that sort of thing +to everybody; but I went to see an oculist in the summer—not the +same as to-day—and he frightened me horribly, talked about cataract, +and blindness, and operations, till I almost thought I should die of +nervousness. To have a dread like that hanging over one night and day +is frightful. I don't know how I have borne it." + +"And the oculist you have seen to-day?" + +"Oh, he takes quite a different view of my case. He says it is not +cataract at all. In fact, he quite pooh-poohs the other's opinion. It +is 'such' a relief. I feel like a different person." + +Marian and Beryl both began to realise, and to realise pityingly, +something of what poor Diana had gone through of late. After all, there +is often all unseen cause for the harsh and unpleasant moods of another. + +Beryl said nothing. She found it more difficult to express sympathy +with Diana in joy than in sorrow; yet she felt sympathy. A positive +glow of unselfish gladness was on her, unhindered by recollections +of Diana's late coldness. Diana, however, did not seem to be on the +look-out for congratulations, neither did she appear to retain her +displeasure. She was in high spirits, and evidently in high good-humour +with everybody. + +"I went there the first thing, so as to have my mind set at rest," she +said. "I felt sure Miss Carmichael thought the other man mistaken; and +somehow Miss Carmichael is a person whose opinion one trusts. It is +odd how one can stand suspense up to a certain point, and then one can +bear it no longer. I have felt lately as if I did not 'want' to have +the matter settled,—I was so afraid of having to give up all hope. +And yesterday it came over me suddenly that I couldn't wait another +twenty-four hours, and must positively be off the first thing this +morning. I am sure I am glad enough now that I went. It is an immense +relief." + +"Does he say that nothing at all is wrong with your eyes?" asked Marian. + +"Why, no—not that, of course; I couldn't expect it. He doesn't say +exactly what is wrong, only he says it is not cataract. He talks of +weakness of the nerve, and says it depends a good deal on my general +health. I am to feed up well, and to avoid worries, and to have change +of air, and I must not read much, or do fine work, or try them in any +way. But it isn't cataract—that is my comfort—and I have not to look +forward to anything so awful as blindness. I feel as if I had come back +to life again. It has been horrible lately." + +"You have much to be thankful for," Marian said—a little too much as if +she were quoting from a sermon. + +"Of course. Will you have poached eggs for supper, or have you had all +you want? Has Pearl had plenty?" + +"Beryl has seen to my needs, thank you. Pearl has not come back with +me, Di." + +Diana had risen, and was unfastening the bonnet-box which stood on the +table. She paused suddenly, and looked up. + +"Not come!" + +"No; she changed her mind just at last." + +"What for?" asked Diana. + +Marian was reluctant to enter on perilous discussions, but an answer +had to be given. "You wrote to Pearl," she said. + +"Well! What then?" demanded Diana. + +"Pearl did not seem to think she would have a warm welcome." + +"Nonsense," Diana said tartly. "The little goose!" + +"Pearl is engaged to Escott," said Marian. + +"Next best to Ivor, I suppose," said Diana. "I always expected that, +sooner or later. Pearl might have had the grace to refer to me, I +think,—considering the past." + +An ominous red spot had risen to either cheek, and she opened the +bandbox with a jerk. + +"I might have spared myself some trouble to-day, choosing a new hat for +Pearl. Thank goodness, I shall have no responsibility in the matter. A +sickly fellow like Escott—she will be in for a life of nursing. But of +course Millicent only sees his side of the matter. Has Pearl written to +me?" + +"No," Beryl said sorrowfully. "Only a few lines to me, Aunt Di." + +"Confidential, of course," said Diana with a sneer. + +"No," repeated Beryl. "Pearl gives me leave to show you the letter. But +it would be better not, if you don't mind. Pearl wrote when she was +vexed." + +Diana held out her hand with a decisive gesture, and Beryl had no +choice. + +Diana read the letter quickly, her colour deepening, and at the end she +tossed it back. + +"That's a nice composition. Nice sort of gratitude too. It is a lesson +against taking up other people's children. Talk of tempers! Escott will +have his hands full, if he doesn't look-out." + +"I was anxious that Pearl should come home with me still," Marian +said, desirous to soften matters. "But she seemed afraid, after your +unfortunate letter, that you did not really want her." + +"Unfortunate letter! Nonsense! There was nothing in it," said Diana, +who, like many hasty people, had but vague recollections when a fit of +anger was over, of her own words spoken or written during its duration. +"There was nothing at all in that letter which could make Pearl think +anything of the sort. My letter is a mere excuse. But at all events, +the matter is settled now. I do 'not' want Pearl, and I don't care who +tells her so. She may stay away and welcome—so much the less expense +and bother for me. What do I care? The sooner she marries, the better." + +Did Diana not care? Her companions wondered, looking at her. The tossed +head and flushed cheek scarcely bespoke indifference. If she had loved +anybody, she had seemingly loved Pearl. + +"The wedding ought to take place from here," said Marian. + +"Thanks! The affair is Millicent's, not mine. There has been precious +little consideration of my wishes. Pearl has taken her choice, and she +may abide by it. I wash my hands of Pearl and the whole affair." + +Diana was rather given to "washing her hands" of friends and relatives. +She went out of the room, shutting the door sharply behind her, in the +manner of a spoilt child. + +"If I had guessed the kind of letter Pearl had written, I would not +have brought it," Marian said. + +"Miss Carmichael often says people ought to wait twenty-four hours +before sending off a letter, if it is the least bit doubtful," remarked +Beryl. + + +The breeze about Marian seemed to have died away, or perhaps it was +lost sight of in the stronger breeze about Pearl. Marian settled +quietly down into her old quarters, and Diana offered no objection. +Either she had not meant all she had said, or her mind was preoccupied +with other matters. + +She showed, however, no signs of a readiness to forgive Pearl. In +other respects, she was in high spirits, and in a state of unwonted +good-humour; but the most distant allusion to Pearl brought an angry +flush to her cheeks. Wounded pride had much to do with the matter. +Diana's self-esteem was hurt by Pearl's independent action. But there +was the bitterness of wounded affection also. Diana's affection, never +of a self-forgetting nature, could not easily recover the blow. + +She was laying aside invalid habits, and taking again to walking, +driving, and paying calls, apparently with much enjoyment. Her usual +version of affairs to friends was in brief,—"Pearl has gone and engaged +herself to Escott Cumming, poor little thing. Very foolish, of course, +with his health,—and she a mere child still. But my consent was not +asked, happily. My sister has undertaken all the responsibility. Escott +is a very good fellow, but not equal to poor dear Ivor. The wedding +will probably take place in France, and very soon. No particular object +in putting it off. I have not any present intention of going, but +matters are scarcely settled yet. In fact, I really do not care to give +the sanction of my presence. Poor little Pearl! I only hope she will +not have cause to regret the step." + +Some sympathised with Mrs. Fenwick, counting her slighted in return +for years of kindness. Some said, "Mrs. Fenwick seems rather vexed +about this affair of Pearl and Mr. Cumming." A few, among whom was Miss +Carmichael, said, "Mrs. Fenwick is unhappy about Pearl." + +"But I don't see why she should be," said Beryl, to whom the words were +spoken by Miss Carmichael. + +"Try to see both sides of the matter, Beryl. Mrs. Fenwick has lavished +love and care upon Pearl for years. Is this quite the return she has a +right to expect?" + +"Only, Aunt Di wrote her such a letter!—and with no real reason." + +"That is no excuse for Pearl. She owes patience and forbearance, to say +the least, in return for all she has received. Remember, Beryl, but for +Mrs. Fenwick you two might have been struggling year after year for +your very bread, instead of living in ease and comfort." + +Beryl's eyes filled with tears, "Ah! But I should have kept my Pearlie +then." + +Miss Carmichael looked steadily at Beryl. "Yes," she said, after a +pause, "that has been your trial. But I am not quite sure that the same +might not have come in other circumstances. I am afraid Pearl's is +scarcely a constant nature." + +Beryl's "Oh!" was as nearly indignant as any word she had ever +addressed to Miss Carmichael. + +"I think not," repeated Miss Carmichael. "Look at her action about Mrs. +Fenwick." + +"I can't bear to think any harm of Pearl," said Beryl. + +"Then don't," responded Miss Carmichael, smiling. "I like you the +better for the feeling. But do not heap a double supply of blame on +Mrs. Fenwick, merely because you cannot endure to blame Pearl. That +would not be fair. Pearl is in the wrong now." + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +_WHICH WAY TO TURN?_ + +WINTER and early spring were over, and fairly warm weather had set in. +The absentees were expected home at last—old Mr. Crosbie, and Millicent +Cumming, and Escott with his young wife. + +The wedding had taken place soon after Christmas, in the south of +France—a very quiet and simple wedding. Diana would not go to Cannes, +as invited. She said the journey was too long, and the fatigue too +great, and she had "nothing to do with the matter—nothing whatever. All +responsibility rested with Millicent." + +Neither would she permit Beryl to go. The expense was not to be thought +of, she averred. + +Millicent then offered to pay Beryl's journey, if an escort could be +found; but Diana sharply forbad the plan. + +"Pearl has not treated me rightly, and I do not approve of the +marriage," she said. "If you go, Beryl, you go against my wish, and you +will not come back to live with me." + +There could be no doubt that Diana's temper, yielded to unresistingly +year after year, was growing steadily worse. Beryl submitted as usual, +saying little about the soreness of her disappointment. But her very +patience in this and other matters gave the fuller rein to Diana's +ill-humours. Pearl had resisted often, had shown wilfulness, had +fretted and striven for her own way; but nothing of the kind was seen +in Beryl. + +Marian marvelled often at the girl's self-command, knowing that the +gift of natural serenity was not hers. + +It had been a trying winter for Beryl, not alone during the first +part. Marian's presence in the house was a help, but Marian had +been much away since Christmas, paying a round of visits. Diana had +been suffering again from her eyes, and still more from nervous +irritability. Pearl's conduct seemed to have had a souring effect upon +her. The softness she had at one time showed towards Beryl had entirely +ceased, and she indulged often in bitter and cynical remarks about the +fickleness and ingratitude of people in general—Pearl in particular +being of course implied. She kept Beryl hard at work in attendance +upon herself, allowing her scant liberty for intercourse with Miss +Carmichael. Beryl had many a struggle against discontent; and as spring +drew on, she looked forward with eager pleasure to Pearl's return. That +prospect showed as a bright spot ahead in her grey life—grey, so far as +outward matters were concerned. But for Miss Carmichael and Hester, it +would have been outwardly a cheerless life indeed. + +One week more, and the absentees would be in Hurst again. Pearl's home +was no longer to be one with Beryl's home. But the delight of meeting +would be to Beryl great, and somehow she fancied that Pearl would be +more her own now than during many a year past. + +A week more only! Beryl was seated in the window one evening, sewing +a long seam, and smiling over it unconsciously. Diana, lounging in +an easy-chair, watched the square plain face with an uncomfortable +contraction of her own brows, almost as if she disliked to see Beryl +look so happy. + +"What are you thinking about?" she asked sharply and suddenly. + +Beryl was surprised into an unhesitating answer,—"Pearl." + +"What about Pearl?" + +Beryl's manner became unconsciously a little deprecating. "It is only a +week before she comes, Aunt Di." + +There was a pause of full three minutes. Was Diana making up her mind +whether or no to utter just then her next words; or was she actually in +that brief space resolving on the course of action which she proceeded +to announce?— + +"Her coming will make little difference to us. We shall not be in +Hurst." + +Beryl's work slid from her hands, and dropped to the ground. She gazed +fixedly at Diana, in bewilderment. + +"Well, you need not stare at me like that! Can't you understand plain +English?" + +"Not be in Hurst!" faltered Beryl. + +"No; we shall not be in Hurst. You don't want me to say it a third +time, I suppose." + +"But where are we going?" asked Beryl, positively pale. + +"London first. I wish to be some weeks near my oculist. After that, to +Scotland—and I am not at all sure that I shall not spend the autumn +and winter abroad. I am sick of Hurst. I shall consider, while we are +in London, whether to let this house furnished for two or three years, +or whether to give it up as quickly as I can, and house the furniture. +I don't believe I shall ever care to settle down in this stupid place +again." + +Beryl's next utterance was not her uppermost thought. "And Miss +Crosbie?" + +"I am not bound to keep a house here merely for Marian's convenience, I +suppose." + +"And—Pearl?" + +"I have nothing to do with Pearl's movements. Next Tuesday I intend to +leave." + +Tuesday! And the Cummings were expected to arrive on Wednesday. + +"Aunt Di, I must see Pearl," spoke Beryl tremblingly. "I must see +Pearl. It is so long since we have been together." + +"You may take your choice—Pearl or me." + +Beryl felt stunned. "Take my choice!" she repeated. + +"You have a rude habit of repeating people's words," said Diana tartly. +"Yes,—you may take your choice. I mean what I say. If you stay behind +to see Pearl, you stay behind altogether. No doubt Mrs. Escott Cumming +will offer you a home—if she has the power." + +Beryl sat with her hands before her, trying to think. "I cannot give +up Pearl," she said, in a pained voice. "She has done nothing really +wrong,—nothing deserving of that, I mean,—nothing that ought to make +you seem as if you hated her. And you used to love Pearl so much." + +Diana's expression changed slightly, just for a moment. + +"Aunt Di, do wait. If once you saw Pearl's sweet face, I know you would +feel the same that you used to feel about her." + +"I do not feel anything particular about Pearl. She is a fickle little +creature, not worth troubling oneself about. I have done my duty, and +I wash my hands of her for the future. Certainly I do not intend to +change my plans, on Pearl's account. I shall start next Tuesday; and if +you travel with me at all, you go with me then." + +"And if not—where shall I live?" + +"That will be your concern, not mine. If I undertake your support, +I expect that you will do as I choose. You will manage for yourself +otherwise." + +"When shall I see Pearl—how soon, I mean—if I do go with you?" + +"I have no definite plans for the present. I do not intend to return +to Hurst in a hurry. You may think the matter over, and tell me your +decision to-morrow." + +Beryl was thankful for the respite. Her thoughts were in a whirl, and +she could see nothing clearly. The first impulse which came to her was +to seek Miss Carmichael's advice, but she dared not attempt to go just +then. The second impulse was a wiser one. She stole away upstairs to +her own room, locked the door, and knelt down beside the bed. If ever +Beryl had prayed earnestly to have her way shown, she prayed then. + +The guidance would be sent. Beryl's trust was simple, and she felt no +doubt there. By one means or another, her path would become plain. + +It was not plain yet. She was in a very tangle of perplexity throughout +the remainder of the day. How ought she to decide? Where lay her +duty? Was she bound by ties of gratitude to remain, at any cost, +with Diana? Ought she and could she give up Pearl? How far would it +be a giving up, and not merely a somewhat longer separation? Diana's +fickleness of mood and will might incline her to return much earlier +than she now intended. But suppose it were not so, would Beryl ever +be free to return without her? Should she be right now to follow her +own inclinations? And, after all, where did her inclinations really +point? She longed to see Pearl, and she dreaded to be away from Miss +Carmichael; but also she shrank from finding herself homeless, and +foreign travel had a tempting sound. + +Beryl had never in her life before spent an entirely wakeful night. +This night she gained no sleep, and counted the strokes of the clock +each hour in succession. She rose in the morning, unrefreshed, and +still troubled and bewildered. + + +Diana seemed to be bent on preventing an interview with Miss +Carmichael. She was captious and irritable, and kept Beryl incessantly +busy. + +The second post brought a letter from Pearl, addressed to her sister. +Beryl happened to be alone at the moment it arrived, but this mattered +less, since Diana had of late ceased to show any desire for a sight of +Pearl's letters. She had never written to Pearl, or Pearl to her, since +Marian's return from abroad. + + "MY DEAR BERYL,—" the letter ran: + + "We are coming home on the day we intended, and everything is pretty +well settled. I have been wondering whether I ought to send a few lines +to Aunt Di. I don't want to have things unpleasant between us, and +perhaps she would like to hear from me. But I feel lazy, and I don't +know what to say to her. Never mind,—things are sure to come right when +we meet. + + "I am looking forward so much to seeing you. There will be all sorts +of matters to talk about. I know you used to think I did not care for +you, dear, but I do. I was a stupid little thing in those days, and +now I feel different—so 'much' older. Being married makes one older, I +suppose. Not that I have any of the cares of married life, for mother +and Escott manage everything, and we are to live all together at home, +just the same. Mother asked me what I would like, and I said I did not +mind in the least. I don't think I should be a good hand at managing a +house. I should have to make you come and do it for me. Aunt Di is sure +to get tired of you some day, and then, perhaps, by and by, Escott and +I might have our own home, and you could live with us; but that is only +a private little dream of my own. There is not room in Uncle Josiah's +house—at least, I know he would say so. And I do think it would be +cruel to take Escott away from mother. She is just wrapt up in him. + + "He is so good and kind,—I am sure nobody ever had a better husband. +And the mother is only 'too' good. She quite frightens me, she is so +unearthly. I am afraid they are both too good for me, and they must +think me silly and flippant sometimes. + + "But I am really not so flippant as I seem, perhaps—and I want you +to show me how to be better. I think I want something to make me +different. And I can't speak about it to anybody else. But I know you +have always felt just the same for me all along, even when I was most +cold to you, and I do so look forward to having you again. I think you +will understand me, more than anybody. I can say things to you that I +could not say to anybody else—hardly. I know all this is safe with you. +Ever since you refused to show that letter to Aunt Di, I have felt that +I might say anything I liked to you—and I am glad it happened, though +of course I am sorry she was so angry. + + "Mother and Escott send love, and I am ever your own sister,— + + "PEARL." + +"I am so glad, oh, so glad, I never changed to Pearl," murmured Beryl, +clasping the letter tightly. "If I had, she might never have turned to +me, or trusted me again. But I 'have' felt the same all along. Pearlie, +my own darling, I think you are going to be my own again. I don't see +how I can leave you just now, Pearlie." + +Diana appeared in the doorway, and Beryl was suddenly cool and stolid. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +_A DECISION._ + +TOWARDS evening, Diana Fenwick said abruptly,— + +"You have heard from Pearl to-day." + +"Yes," Beryl answered. + +"I don't wish to hear what she says. It is no concern of mine now. But +I expect an answer soon as to your plans. My own arrangements depend in +some measure upon it." + +"You can't travel alone, Aunt Di," Beryl broke out. She had had the +thought in her mind. + +"Thanks. I am happily not dependent upon you for protection." + +"I 'must' see Pearl," Beryl murmured half-unconsciously. + +Diana rose to leave the room, as if not choosing at that moment to hear +more. But she changed her mind before reaching the door, and turned +back. + +"It just comes to this, Beryl—do you love Pearl best, or me?" + +Love! Beryl had no difficulty in answering that question to herself. +And yet her heart sank at the thought of letting the little widow go +away alone. If she did not greatly love Mrs. Fenwick, she had for her +something of the kind of tender interest which a nurse feels for a +sick person under her charge, fractious and trying as that sick person +may be. To Beryl, the look-out seemed really more forlorn for Diana +than for herself. She almost forgot at that moment her own position of +threatened homelessness. + +"The question hinges there," said Diana coldly, with a certain glitter +in her eyes. "I do not see why I am to go on, year after year, +lavishing money and thought upon girls who do not care a rap for me in +return." + +"I do care for you, Aunt Di," Beryl could truthfully say. + +"As much as you care for Pearl?" + +This answer came, truthfully too. "No one in the world can be to me +what Pearl is. But, Aunt Di, the one doesn't hinder the other." + +"And if the choice lies between Pearl and me?" + +Beryl lifted a pale and troubled face. "I don't want to be a burden to +you," she said. "I would gladly earn my own living, so far as money is +concerned. But indeed I don't want to forsake you." + +"If the choice lies between Pearl and me!" repeated Diana, with a +strange expression, anger and pain struggling for the mastery. + +"I should have to choose Pearl. I couldn't give her up," Beryl said +sorrowfully. + +"Very well. Then the matter is settled. You may find another home for +yourself by next Tuesday,—or sooner if you like." + +"I have nowhere to go. How 'can' I?" said Beryl, in distress. + +Diana swept from the room without making a reply, her head thrown back +in disdainful fashion. + +Beryl had risen, and she stood now with her hands clenched together, +and a feeling of despairing loneliness at her heart. Was she to lose +all at one blow? + +Yet probably the bitterness of suffering was keener with Diana than +with Beryl. For Beryl was acting, as she believed, rightly, and was +keeping the love of those for whom she most cared; whereas Diana was +yielding to the sway of ungoverned passions, and was with her own hand +severing the ties which united her past to her future life. + +"What shall I do?" murmured Beryl. "Oh, it is cruel. I have nowhere to +go—no one to take me in. Am I wrong? Ought I to have given way to her +at once? Would that have been right? I wish I knew." + +Then, under a sudden impulse, fearing to be hindered or forbidden, she +hastened out of the room and into the garden. + +It was a cold evening, but she would not delay to seek wraps. + +A window opened in her rear, and a voice called, "Come back this +minute, Beryl." + +She heard almost without hearing, and the idea of turning back in +obedience did not even occur to her mind. + +"I want to see Miss Carmichael," she said eagerly to the servant who +answered her ring, and scarcely waiting for a reply, she rushed into +the drawing-room. + +Hester had just made tea, and was beside the table, chatting to Miss +Carmichael. Both looked up in surprise at Beryl's abrupt entrance. + +"Not even a shawl!" said Miss Carmichael quietly. "Hettie, will you +shut the door? Sit down, Beryl, and tell us what is wrong." + +Beryl was too much excited to take the proffered seat. She grasped the +back of it with her hands, and stood still, panting. + +"I have come to see—to ask—" she said hurriedly, in her gruffest voice +of stirred feeling—"I thought—I thought you would help me—would tell me +what is right. I don't know what to do. Aunt Di is going abroad, and I +shall have no home." + +"Going abroad to-night," Hester exclaimed. + +"No,—but she has only just told me. She is going away from Hurst next +Tuesday. And Pearl comes home on Wednesday. And Aunt Di would take me +with her, if I were willing to give up Pearl. But I can't—how can I? +Pearl wants me, I know. How 'can' I give her up? Aunt Di says I must +take my choice." A sob broke into the words. "It seems so cruel, when +I have tried so hard to do my very best for her. And she thinks me +ungrateful because I care for Pearl most. Of course I love Pearl best. +I don't see how I can help it." + +"Why should Mrs. Fenwick wish you to give up Pearl?" asked Miss +Carmichael. + +"I don't know—I mean, she was vexed with Pearl, first about the letter +which I could not show her, and then about Pearl being engaged without +asking her leave, and not coming home, and writing about Aunt Di as she +did. I suppose Pearl was wrong—of course. But Aunt Di has never spoken +kindly of Pearl since, and now she seems as if she were determined not +to see her. I don't know whether it is only a sudden fancy, and whether +she will keep to it: but she talks as if she meant to stay away an +immense time, and meant never to live in Hurst again. I shouldn't like +that. But indeed I do want to do what is right, and it can't be right +to give up Pearl. It couldn't be,—and just now she wants me so much. +And Aunt Di doesn't seem to want me at all,—at least, she talks of the +expense." + +Miss Carmichael asked questions gently, trying to obtain a clear +understanding of the case; while Hester listened intently, with +sympathising looks, and Beryl became calmer. + +"You will feel better now you have told me all," Miss Carmichael said +at length. "Cheer up, Beryl, and don't be downhearted. If you are to +lose your home with Mrs. Fenwick, some other home will be provided for +you." + +"Do you think so?" asked Beryl. "Pearl can't take me in, I know. She +would like it, I think; but Mr. Crosbie can't bear a full house, and +he doesn't care for me either—he never did. Besides, Miss Crosbie will +most likely have to go there now. I could work for my living. I have +often thought of that. I am not clever enough to be a governess, but I +might be a companion to some old lady,—or I might be a nurse. I should +like nursing. But it can't be settled all in a moment, and I have +nowhere to go." + +"Can you stay to tea, and let us consider the matter quietly?" + +Beryl hesitated. "Aunt Di would be angry," she said. "Do you think I +ought?" + +Miss Carmichael sat in grave thought. "No," she said at length. "Better +to avoid giving unnecessary offence. I think I will go back with you, +and see what Mrs. Fenwick really means." + +"O Miss Carmichael!" + +Beryl's face told of unspeakable gratitude. Tea was left to grow cold, +as it might. Hettie offered no objections, but only wrapped up Miss +Carmichael warmly, lent a shawl to Beryl, and watched the two across +the road with eyes of eager interest. + +"'My heart shall not fear,'" Miss Carmichael quoted softly, as they +walked the little distance. "'When my father and my mother forsake me, +then the Lord will take me up.'" + +"It is easier to trust, now I have spoken to you," said Beryl. + +"Don't, wait for that another time. Trust Him always—'at all times.'" + +Diana received them coldly, biting her lip and reining up her head, +with an air half-vexed, half-embarrassed. "Beryl seems to have fetched +you without any warrant on my part," she said, extending two fingers. +"I do not know what for. She is a great deal too much given to +gossiping about home affairs out of the house." + +"Beryl did not fetch me. It was entirely my own idea to come," said +Miss Carmichael, quietly taking a seat unasked, since Diana showed no +signs of offering one. + +Diana bit her lip again, and sat down also. + +"Beryl had scarcely a choice, under the circumstances, about mentioning +the matter to some one, if she understood you rightly. I have come, in +the hope of finding that there is some mistake." + +"There is no mistake about the fact that I intend to leave Hurst next +Tuesday. Whether Beryl accompanies me or not, is a matter of free +choice on her part. If I am not mistaken, she has decided against doing +so." + +"I hardly think Beryl meant you to understand her words as decisive." + +"I think she did. This is a matter which concerns her and me alone, +Miss Carmichael." + +"Pardon me! It concerns others also," said Miss Carmichael, in her +gentlest tone. "Am I to understand that you do not wish to give Beryl a +home any longer?" + +"You may take it in what way you please," said Diana shortly. "The fact +is, I am tired and sick of the state of things. Nobody knows the amount +of worry connected with the care of other people's children. I am worn +to death with fusses and discussions. Pearl has set herself up against +me, and now Beryl is following in her steps. I am not going to have any +more of it. If Beryl comes, she does so on my conditions. I don't want +a 'managing partner.' If she is to form her own plans, and choose her +own time for travelling, and act as an independent lady, and I am to +have only the pleasure of paying for her expenses, the sooner we part +the better." + +"Beryl would be the last to wish for such a state of things. Still, +after all these months of separation, is it not natural that the +sisters should want to meet?" + +"O yes, of course it is natural—highly natural," said Diana, in an +irritated voice. "I suppose it is natural, too, that I should want to +have my own way in the matter. And perhaps it is natural that I should +not care to see Pearl Cumming next week, after the manner in which she +has treated me. Everything is natural." + +Miss Carmichael did not answer immediately. She seemed waiting either +to consider the matter, or to give Diana time to cool. + +"You are content to leave Beryl absolutely without a shelter for her +head, after all these years of treating her as your own, Mrs. Fenwick?" + +"The choice is Beryl's, not mine," Diana replied. + +Yet Miss Carmichael's words were not without effect. Diana cared a good +deal for the "look of things." + +And after a moment's hesitation, she added, "Of course I have no +intention of leaving her 'absolutely without a shelter.' If she does +not choose to accompany me next Tuesday, I do not choose that she shall +accompany me at all. But I am willing to pay for her board somewhere, +during a few weeks, while she looks out for employment." + +"I am glad to hear so much," Miss Carmichael said. "But it will be +unnecessary. Beryl shall remain with me for the present, till we can +decide upon her future course." + +Diana muttered something which sounded like "preconcerted plan;" while +Beryl's troubled face was lighted with a sudden gleam of happiness. + +"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Fenwick. This is the first word that Beryl +has heard of such a plan. I had not made up my own mind to the step +when I came into your house. It is now a settled matter, however. Beryl +shall pay me a visit of a few weeks, and I will take upon myself the +responsibility of finding an opening for her—in or out of Hurst, as the +case may be. She shall be a trouble to you no longer." + +There was a slight pause. + +"Would you prefer to keep her till next Tuesday, or shall she come to +my house to-morrow?" + +"I have nothing to do with the matter," said Mrs. Fenwick, her face +changing strangely for an instant and then becoming hard. "Beryl has +taken to independent action, and she may please herself." + +"I think you wrong her. I believe Beryl to be acting conscientiously, +and not in mere self-pleasing. But I should be sorry to help on a hasty +decision. Will you tell me frankly—would you like two or three days' +delay that you may consider the matter afresh?" + +"No, thanks. I am sick of delays." + +"Do you wish to have Beryl still to live with you, Mrs. Fenwick?" + +Diana looked at her and then at Beryl, drew her brows together, and +said, "No." + +"The decision then is plainly yours, not hers," said Miss Carmichael, +speaking gravely, and rising. "Mrs. Fenwick, you will some day regret +this." + +"I never wish to have people with me who do not wish it themselves," +said Mrs. Fenwick. + +"I do wish it—if only I need not give up Pearl," said Beryl. + +Diana turned away her head. + +"Then it is settled," said Miss Carmichael. "Whether Beryl shall come +to me to-morrow, or wait until next Tuesday, you must please decide for +her." + +"To-morrow, if you like. I do not care," said Diana, looking haughty +and white. + +Her good-bye was of the slightest possible kind. + +Beryl went into the hall, and clasped Miss Carmichael's hand with +unspeakable gratitude. + +"It is too much,—I can't thank you," she said. + +Then she returned to a sombre and silent companion who vouchsafed +scarcely a remark through the remainder of the evening. + +But when they were retiring for the night, Diana said icily, "You may +as well go to-morrow. I intend to leave on Saturday. And if ever I come +to this place again—" + +"I would rather stay and help you to pack up," said Beryl. + +"No, thanks. I prefer to manage for myself." + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +_TOGETHER AGAIN._ + +MRS. ESCOTT CUMMING was much the same that Pearl Fordyce had +been—sweetly pretty and winning, but indolent, easy, unpunctual, +seemingly content to live an aimless life, pleased to be petted and +made much of, and by no means anxious to take up work or responsibility. + +Beryl had a sense of disappointment, having somehow expected a change. +She could see that Millicent was not satisfied, and she noted that +Escott indulged in an expostulatory "My dear!" not seldom, in place of +counting his little Pearl a human angel. He loved her intensely, but +he had a high ideal of what the womanly life should be, formed on the +model of his mother's life, and Pearl's did not by any means correspond +with his ideal. Her little vanities, her petty tempers, her wilful +moods, did not cause him to love her less, but they did cause him to +love her differently. The quality of his affection changed, not the +quantity. He was watchfully tender and thoughtful as ever, but in his +heart, Escott crept quietly back to the boyish feeling which he had had +of old, and which Ivor had never lost, that "there was nobody in the +world like mother." + +Yet he did not regret his choice. Millicent might and did regret it +secretly for him, but he did not for himself. He knew he would not have +been happy without Pearl. She disappointed him often, yet she was so +winning and fair as to be a great delight in his life. How long that +delight would last, with nothing more stable to sustain it, was another +question. Not four months had as yet elapsed since the wedding-day. + +Foreign travel, and the happiness of winning Pearl, had done much for +Escott's health. He was a delicate man still, liable to attacks of +illness, and compelled to be careful in his habits of life, after a +fashion which rather teased his little wife, for Pearl liked men to be +dashing. But he was an invalid no longer. His invalidish ways had been +totally dropped in the south of France, and love of study was resuming +its old sway over him. + +The confidential talks with her sister, to which Beryl had looked +forward, did not come about quickly. Pearl was pleased to be with Beryl +again, but she seemed rather to shrink from "tête-à-tête" interviews. +Diana's conduct was evidently a distress to her, yet she said little +in reference to it. Her talk was chiefly about her new dresses and +trinkets. + +This did not last. Three weeks passed, during which Pearl settled into +her new home, and Beryl remained at Miss Carmichael's. No news had been +received from Mrs. Fenwick, beyond one brief note to Millicent, in +which she carelessly or wilfully omitted to give her address. Marion +Crosbie, on hearing what had passed, travelled post-haste to Hurst, +only to find herself powerless to take any further steps. She, like +Beryl, was rendered homeless by Diana's action. She took up her abode +under Mr. Crosbie's roof, and there waited, with the best patience she +could muster. Millicent was mistress of the house still, and Pearl +lived in it as a petted child. Beryl sometimes wondered how Pearl liked +the position. + +Pearl's reserve broke down suddenly one day. Beryl had found her for +once alone, and Pearl took Beryl to her own room, walking listlessly, +as if she had not much spirit or interest in life. She wanted to show +her sister a new brooch, she said, which Escott had given her—"such a +dear little brooch, just suited to her complexion." + +Beryl took the brooch into her hand, looked at it absently, then lifted +her eyes to Pearl's pretty face, and said quietly, without having had +the least previous intention of so doing:— + +"Pearl, are you happy?" + +Pearl gave a startled glance, and the pink tinting of her cheeks grew +crimson. She hesitated a moment, and then, in a quick low voice said, +"No." + +Beryl's arm stole round her waist affectionately. "Why not, Pearlie?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I suppose—I suppose it isn't in me," said Pearl, +with slight sobs catching her breath. "I haven't been happy a long +long while. I've always been wanting—something—and it never comes—and +it never will now. O Beryl, I wish I were you. Yes, I do," repeated +Pearl, as Beryl drew her in front of the looking-glass, where two faces +were reflected side by side: one a lovely little picture as to outline +and soft hues; the other solidly sensible and plain. "Yes, I do. Being +pretty doesn't make one happy,—and you are happy and I am not." + +"But, Pearl, darling, what is it that you want and can never have?" +asked Beryl, as the sweet face dropped tearfully on her shoulder; and +her heart beat fast with the joy of having her own Pearl clinging to +her once more. + +"I don't know,—oh, I don't know," said Pearl sorrowfully. "Everybody +is so kind,—but it doesn't seem enough, somehow. I sometimes think I +shouldn't be much missed if I were to die. You would be sorry, I know; +but Escott has mother, and she does so much for him. Of course she +would let me do things, if I asked her; but they seem to come naturally +to her, and I haven't got into the way of being useful. I never was +useful, like you. Aunt Marian thinks I waste my time, and Escott wants +me to be different—I can see he does. He said once lately that he used +to think I cared more about—about religion. I don't seem to have cared +much about that or anything, for a long while—ever since Ivor died." + +Pearl sobbed again. "I told Escott, when he wanted me to marry him, +that he and Ivor had always been such good dear brothers to me, and +that I had liked Ivor best,—and he said he knew it, and he only wanted +me to love him for Ivor's sake. It was only a silly girlish feeling, +Beryl, and poor Ivor didn't know it; but somehow nobody ever satisfied +me like him. But of course that is all over now, and Escott is the +best and dearest of husbands. Only I am not fit to be his wife. He and +mother are so very very good, and I am not good at all. I do feel as if +I wanted—something!" concluded Pearl. + +"I think you do," said Beryl. "I think you have a longing in your heart +for JESUS, Pearlie." She spoke the holy word in a low and reverent +tone. "Nobody else can make one satisfied." + +"I suppose it is that, perhaps," said Pearl more quietly. "That was +what made poor Ivor happy at the last." + +"I never heard much about Ivor's death. Was he happy?" + +"O yes. Mother can't speak about him often, even now. He didn't say +much, for he couldn't. But he did not seem the least afraid, and he was +so quiet and patient. And just at last, when they thought him almost +gone, he opened his eyes and whispered—'The blood of Jesus cleanseth!' +Mother and Escott are always so glad of that." + +Pearl was crying, and Beryl caressed her anew. + +"I think it is ever since then that I have not been happy," said Pearl. +"Partly, Ivor being gone—and partly thinking about its being so sudden. +I should have been so frightened, if it had been me." + +"Only you know there is the Blood that cleanses," said Beryl softly. + +Pearl looked perplexed and pitiful. "Yes, of course I know the text," +she said. "But it doesn't seem to comfort me like other people. I +suppose I don't believe properly. It all seems like a great blank." + +Beryl was not quick at speech, and she had to consider. + +"One may know the text, and yet not know the 'thing,'" she said at +length. "It wouldn't be enough to have learnt the text, Pearlie, and +yet not to have had the real Blood-washing. Don't you think it is that +you want?" + +"I don't know; it all seems a blank," repeated Pearl. + +"I suppose, when the blind man was standing and begging, it all seemed +a blank to him," said Beryl. "And yet Christ was there—quite close to +him; and when he heard Christ's voice, and when he did as he was told, +he was cured." + +Pearl's eyes grew wistful. "I should like Him to be near to me," she +said. + +"Then I am sure He is," said Beryl. "Near—and just waiting till you +speak to Him." + +"I can't—'speak,'" said Pearl almost tremblingly. "What do you mean, +Beryl? I do say my prayers, of course—every morning and evening." + +"Yes, but just saying prayers isn't enough," said Beryl. "It must be +real asking, Pearlie—telling Him what you want." + +Pearl made no answer, but moved away, and began putting her new brooch +into its little box. Then she said, "Shall we go downstairs now?" + +"If you like," Beryl answered. + +Pearl lingered still. "I can't think what makes you so different," she +said. + +Beryl could not suppress a smile of pleasure, but she only said, "Can't +you?" + +"No; you used to be so 'gruff,'" said Pearl. "I was half frightened of +you, I think. I like you to talk to me now. You don't mean to leave +Hurst, do you?" + +"I can't tell yet," said Beryl quietly. "I must find something to do. I +asked Miss Carmichael to look-out for me, and she promised to consider +what would be best. I am very very happy with her, but of course I must +earn my own living." + +"I think it is quite 'horrid' of Aunt Di to turn you off like this," +said Pearl indignantly. + +"I think Aunt Di is very unhappy, Pearl. You see, she is so used to +having her own way that she can't stand contradiction. I pity her, and +so must you. She hasn't many real friends, and I am sure she must feel +lonely. She has disliked so much being alone, the last few months, and +now she has nobody except Pearson." + +"I am very glad you did not go with her," responded Pearl. "I want you +to talk to me again, as you have done to-day. And, Beryl, I do really +mean to try." + +With which shy and vague utterance, Pearl turned quickly to go +downstairs. + +But Beryl did talk to her again, after the same simple and earnest +fashion, not once or twice only, and not without avail. After years of +heart-separation from her sister, she had now the great joy of being +allowed to help in the guidance of Pearl's faltering steps towards and +along the pathway of life. + +Nobody else knew much about the matter. Only after awhile, both +Millicent and Escott saw something of a change in Pearl, saw her to be +fighting against inertia, listlessness, and temper, and found her no +longer coldly irresponsive on matters which touched them most deeply. + +Pearl was able at length to say one day to her husband, "Escott, I +think I am learning to live to God now, and I want to have more to do +for Him. Beryl has been helping me, and I should like you to help me +too." + +But other events happened meantime. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +_PAST AND FUTURE._ + +"MISS CARMICHAEL, I think something ought to be settled about me soon," +said Beryl suddenly. + +She had been working for some time at one of her favourite +counterpanes. Not the same which she had had in hand when she left +school: that had been long ago finished, and sent as a present to +Suzette Bise. This was destined for Pearl. Diana Fenwick had presented +her, the previous summer, under a sudden impulse of generosity, with a +supply of cotton large enough to keep her busy for a year to come. + +"I have seen that thought in your face for half an hour past," said +Miss Carmichael. + +"Have you? I didn't know," said Beryl. "I have been thinking for some +days. It isn't that I am in a hurry to go. The last seven weeks have +been the very happiest I ever spent in all my life. But I must not go +on so. It wouldn't be right." + +"Would it not?" + +"I ought to earn my own living," said Beryl, too intent on her own +ideas to notice a certain exchange of glances between Miss Carmichael +and Hester. "And after all, the longer I stay here, the worse it will +be to go. I can't bear to think about saying good-bye. But it 'has' to +be. I have stayed seven whole weeks here now. If only I could hear of +something in Hurst!" + +"We have no hospital in Hurst," said Miss Carmichael. + +"No,—and I am not so sure now that I am fit for nursing," said Beryl +humbly. "I think one is much more sure about one's self when one is +younger. Besides, I don't quite see how I 'can' be a nurse yet, because +I should not be paid anything if I were in a hospital, and I have to +make enough to get my own clothes. I think it would be best for me to +begin by being a companion to some old lady; and I shall try to lay by +a little every year. But you did not like me to ask more about Miss +Brown." + +"No, I did not. You were a good child to obey in the dark." + +"I did think that might have done," said Beryl regretfully. "But of +course you know best. Only there seems nothing else in Hurst." + +"How old must your old lady be?" asked Miss Carmichael. + +Beryl looked rather reproachful. "I really mean it," she said. "I am +not joking, Miss Carmichael. I think I feel much more like crying than +laughing." + +"Don't cry just yet," said Miss Carmichael. "I believe I can tell you +of exactly what you want, and in Hurst too. I will explain further +presently, and you shall decide for yourself. Hettie has something to +say to you first, however, and I fancy her 'say' will not leave me much +to explain." + +To Beryl's surprise, Miss Carmichael left the room. + +"Is it a secret?" she asked. + +"No; but I made her promise to leave us alone. I can speak more freely +when she is not here," replied Hester. "It is odd that you should have +brought up the subject, for we had resolved on a talk about plans this +very day." + +"Does Miss Carmichael think I have stayed too long?" + +"No," Hester said, smiling. "Don't be afraid. Beryl, do you remember a +little talk we had one day in a field, when you took a ramble alone, +and I spoke to you from behind a hedge?" + +"O yes," answered Beryl. "You told me you were so puzzled about +something—two paths, you said, and one was as bad as the other." + +"Well, no; not precisely that," said Hester, looking amused. "Neither +path is 'bad.' But I could not see which was the right path for me to +take. And now, I begin to think my difficulties are clearing away." + +"Are they? I am glad," said Beryl. + +"I want to tell you what the difficulty has been. It will have to be +quite a little story. I am thirty years old now, and it is just twelve +years since Miss Carmichael first gave me a home. She has been a mother +to me ever since, and I owe her—oh, more than I could tell. I owe her +the devotion of a dozen lives, if I had them." + +"I shouldn't think anything would ever make you leave her," said Beryl +innocently. + +Hester sighed, and blushed faintly. "One cannot judge for another," she +said. "There may always be an equal pull in a second direction. I think +I have never mentioned Frank Jamieson to you." + +"No," Beryl said wonderingly. + +"He and I were playmates from almost babyhood, and we were engaged when +we were very young—only sixteen and nineteen. After that, he fell among +bad companions at college, went wrong, and was rusticated. My dear +father was then dying, and one of the last things he did was to insist +on the engagement being broken off." + +"Did you care very much for him?" + +Hester's eyes filled. "Yes," she said,—"more than I can tell you. Life +seemed at an end when I had to give Frank up. And yet I knew my father +was right." + +"And Mr. Jamieson?" + +"He seemed distracted, and said I was driving him altogether to the +bad. He sailed for Australia, and never wrote a word home to anybody +for years. We heard that he was going on in a wild way, and that he +had married a woman quite beneath him in position, and not at all a +nice person. You can fancy how unhappy I was. To make matters worse, I +had lost everything at my father's death, and for more than two years, +I had to live with an uncle who looked upon me as a mere burden. It +was when things were in that state, and I was feeling so hopeless and +wretched, that I met with Miss Carmichael, and she gave me shelter and +comfort and everything. Oh, the peace that it was to be with her!" + +Hester paused, and Beryl said "Yes?" expectantly. + +"Mr. Jamieson's wife died six years ago," said Hester, in a low voice. +"For 'his' sake, one could not regret it—he was so miserable in his +home life. And since then, there has been a great change in him. We +heard first from others about his becoming so steady, and refusing to +have anything to do with bad companions. Then he began writing home +regularly himself. And three years ago he came to England for a few +months. I saw him several times, and it did seem to me that he was +growing into all one could wish. He wanted me very much to promise +to marry him then, but I could not. I said I must wait; and Miss +Carmichael told him he must be content, after the past, to be tested. +He was very humble, and said she was right. But he has stood the test +well. There cannot be any doubt now that the change in him is genuine." + +"And you want to leave Miss Carmichael, and to go to Australia, and to +be his wife," said Beryl slowly, with an odd expression. + +"Yes," Hester answered simply. "You cannot of course understand that." + +Beryl considered the question. "Yes, I think I can," she said. "If I +had ever loved him, I could not leave off loving him. And you really +mean to go?" + +"He is very lonely," said Hester gently. "And I was promised to him so +long ago. I have never cared for anybody else, and I never could. It +seems as if now I might help him to keep out of danger, by being with +him. He and I would serve God together now. Things are quite different +from what they were. But my difficulty has been about Miss Carmichael. +I cannot bear the thought of leaving her alone. She says I must not +think of her. But I do think; and if it were not for that, I would have +gone out to Australia months ago. I am sure I would." + +"And you have not told Mr. Jamieson yet that you mean to marry him," +said Beryl. + +"Yes; we are engaged. I am promised to him, only I wrote that it could +not be yet. But Miss Carmichael wants me not to delay. She says it is +not right." + +"I don't know him, of course, and I do know Miss Carmichael, so I +suppose I am not a good judge," said Beryl. "It seems to me as if I +could never leave Miss Carmichael for anybody else, in your place. I +don't wonder you have been puzzled what to do." + +"I have been; but I think I see a way out of the difficulty," said +Hester. "Beryl, will you live with Miss Carmichael in my place? We both +wish it." + +Beryl sat staring at Hester. The proposal seemed to her too radiant +with happiness to be true. She thought other words must follow, +explaining away the apparent sense of the question. + +"Don't you understand?" asked Hester. "When I go to Australia, will +you take my place with Miss Carmichael, and be her comfort, and do +everything you can for her?" + +"Live with Miss Carmichael!" Beryl's manner was short, and her voice +was husky. She broke into a laugh. + +"Would you like it? Or have you a fancy for being independent?" + +"Live with Miss Carmichael! I—I—you don't mean only just to stay with +her? 'Live' here! O Hettie!" + +The undemonstrative Beryl sprang up, and threw her arms round Hester. + +"O Hettie, you don't mean it really! I can't believe it yet. Live with +Miss Carmichael! Not always!" + +"Yes, always," Hester said, gently releasing her neat little figure +from Beryl's clutch, and kissing either cheek. "I am glad you feel so +about it. I felt sure you would be pleased." + +"Pleased! It's—it's—only too good to be true," Beryl gasped. + +"But, Beryl, listen to me quietly. I want to say something more. If +this is to take place, I want it to be a lasting plan. I don't want +to hear by and by, when I am settled in Australia, that you have left +Miss Carmichael, and have taken up hospital-nursing or anything else of +the kind. I want you to count this your life-work, so long as the need +exists—to count yourself bound to it, if once you take it on yourself. +It seems to me that the daily ministering to one like Miss Carmichael +is as truly work for God as any other work could be. But you may see +the matter differently." + +"I don't. I see it just the same," said Beryl. "I should like to spend +my whole life in waiting upon her. I can promise, with all my heart, +never, never to leave her, of my own free choice." + +"Unless, of course, Mr. Right makes his appearance, in your case as in +mine." + +"Oh, no fear of that. I'm too ugly ever to marry, and I care for so few +people," said Beryl joyously. + +"And how about Mrs. Fenwick? Suppose she should change her mind by and +by, and wish you to live with her again." + +"I could not do that," said Beryl. "I talked about it the other day +with Miss Crosbie, and I think she agreed with me. I would be glad to +do anything to help Aunt Di, but I could not be dependent on her again. +I should always feel that she might any day want to turn me off." + +"Then you can promise that nothing over which you have control shall +break through the engagement, except Mr.—" + +"O Hettie, I promise with all my heart, and you need have no fear of +any Mr. Right or Mr. Wrong either. I shall have Miss Carmichael, and +Pearl will be near. I want nothing else." + +Hester went to the door, and called,—"Miss Carmichael!" + +"Is the matter settled?" asked Miss Carmichael, coming in. "Will you be +my child, Beryl?" + +Beryl's answer was a wordless clasp of exceeding happiness. + +"I don't quite know what the long talk has been about," said Miss +Carmichael. "My own fashion of settling the question would have been +much simpler, I suspect. But Hettie wished to have the management in +her own hands." + +"I am quite satisfied with the result," said Hester. + +"I can't believe it yet," Beryl said, looking dazed, and she repeated +again: "It seems much too good to be true." + +"I do not understand that expression," said Miss Carmichael. "I never +found yet that any joy in life was 'too good' to be my Father's will +for me. 'He giveth us richly all things to enjoy.' And when He gives +you of the best, children, 'take, and be thankful.'" + +Then turning to Hester,— + +"Now your heart is at rest about Beryl and me, what of your own plans, +my Emerald? When is it to be?" + +"I don't know how to leave you," Hester said, with full eyes. "And yet—" + +"How soon?" repeated Miss Carmichael softly. "Will he come home?" + +"I don't think I ought to ask it." + +"And you are willing to undertake the voyage alone—for his sake?" + +"If it is right, I can," said Hester meekly. "He could not come home +for many months, and he seems so sad and depressed." + +"I must settle the matter for you," said Miss Carmichael, touching +Hester's brow lovingly. "A few more weeks only! But the separation is +not for long, after all. We shall be together—by and by." + + +Some minutes later, she said, "I have had a visitor in the other room, +while you two were chatting so busily." + +"Who was it?" asked Hester. + +"Miss Crosbie. She gave me a piece of news. Mrs. Fenwick's house is let +for three years." + +"Aunt Di's house!" exclaimed Beryl. + +"The matter has been suddenly arranged. Miss Crosbie seems uneasy about +her sister. Mrs. Fenwick writes to her, as if relieved to be quit of +Hurst for the present. But Miss Crosbie thinks she will wish to return +long before the three years are over." + +"And Miss Crosbie is not going to travel with Mrs. Fenwick?" asked +Hester. + +"I imagine not. She speaks of remaining at Mr. Crosbie's." + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +_DIANA'S RETURN._ + +THREE years slipped by, showing the average amount of development in +people and in people's lives. + +They were happy years to Beryl. She found ceaseless delight in devoting +herself to Miss Carmichael, and a full return of love and care was +bestowed upon her. Beryl had not the unhappy temperament which must +needs make worries where none exist, and she enjoyed to the full her +placid life, which yet was thoroughly busy, laid out for others. +Miss Carmichael never could rest long without working for those who +needed; and though her strength did not permit so much exertion as +her will prompted, she found the healthy and vigor Beryl a valuable +adjunct. The two were soon in a round of occupations, which yet Miss +Carmichael never permitted, either for herself or for Beryl, to become +a disorderly rush after more than could be duly accomplished. And Beryl +never forgot that her first duty was to Miss Carmichael. + +They heard from Hester often. She too was happy in her distant home, +with a husband who seemed to satisfy her utmost desires. They had one +little child, and Miss Carmichael sometimes said, with glistening eyes, +that she felt quite "grandmotherly" towards the tiny stranger. + +Pearl had two children. They were twins, just two years old, and an +unspeakable delight to herself and Escott, not to speak of Millicent +and old Mr. Crosbie. The latter was never weary of petting them, +crowing at them, and winning peals of infant laughter. Pearl had wished +to name them "Millicent and Marian," or "Beryl and Pearl;" but somebody +suggested "Jacinth and Amethyst," and Pearl seized on the idea. + +"I want them to be His jewels," she had whispered to Beryl. "O yes, let +it be Jacinth and Amethyst." + +Amethyst was a dainty little fairy, her mother in miniature; while +Jacinth was a square stolid child, with a sturdy and resolute will. If +Pearl clung more to one than to the other, that one was Jacinth. + +"Everybody will take to Amethyst," she said; "but this little darling +isn't pretty, and she will want a double portion of mother's love." + +So strong was this feeling that Beryl sometimes feared little Amethyst +would be a loser in consequence. + + +Diana Fenwick had never yet returned to Hurst. The letting of her house +for three years seemed to have decided the matter. After a few months +of uncertain wandering from place to place, she had settled into some +Brighton lodgings, "to be within easy distance of London," she said. +She wrote less and less often as time went on, shorter and shorter +letters, in more and more illegible handwriting. Marian went at length +to see her, uninvited, and brought back a melancholy report of failing +health and eyesight. But Diana had refused to allow her sister to share +her temporary home, and Marian lived still at Mr. Crosbie's. + +That went on for a while. At length, somewhat more than a year after +Diana's departure from Hurst, there came a telegram—no letter having +been received during many previous weeks—begging Marian to go "at once." + +Marian obeyed without hesitation, self-forgetting as usual, and a day +or two later, she sent home a sad tale. Pearson, unable any longer to +put up with her mistress's irritable temper, had given warning and +left suddenly, forfeiting nearly a month's wages. Diana had found +no confidential servant to take Pearson's place. She was alone in +lodgings, with only an untidy young lodging-house girl to attend to +her, suffering from much nervous excitement, and with eyesight rapidly +failing. + + "Diana did not know me when I came into the room," Marian wrote, "and +she is unable to feed herself properly. I am afraid, from what the +doctor says, that it is an affection of the optic nerve, more hopeless +than cataract would have been. She is fearfully depressed, and has +violent fits of crying; but now that I am here, I am sure she finds my +presence a relief. She said to me this morning, 'You won't leave me, +Marian!' + + "And when I said, 'Not till you drive me away,'—she said pitifully, +'Oh, I am past all that now—a poor helpless creature, fit for nothing.' + + "I wish I could get her back to Hurst, but she seems to turn from the +idea with positive horror. I suppose it is a dread of being seen and +pitied by old friends. She does not yet mention Pearl or Beryl, and my +one wish is to keep her calm. Poor Di! You and I must pray for her, +Millie. It is a sorrowful story. Sometimes I think this may be the way +in which God is leading her to Himself. But I dare not yet say a word +to her on religious topics. She goes into hysterics immediately, if I +attempt it. Well, my work is cut out for the present. Better so, for +you really have not room for me under your roof." + +For nearly two years thereafter Marian never came to Hurst. Diana +refused to return, and Marian could not leave her. + +Then the three years were at an end, and Marian electrified the home +circle by quietly writing,— + + "Di's house will be free in a week, and we are coming to live there +again. I thought she would never be willing, but she seems suddenly to +have taken to the idea. Poor dear! She has been so much more patient +and easy-tempered lately. I hope it will last." + +The tenants went out, and painters and paperers came in. And a month +later, the day being fixed, Marian and Diana arrived. + +No one was permitted to meet them at the station, or allowed to welcome +them home. The very hour of their arrival remained unknown, by Diana's +wish. Miss Carmichael and Beryl happened, however, to be writing +letters at that hour, in the pleasant bow-window opposite. They saw the +fly drive up, and Marian Crosbie descend, and then they saw her help +a slight stooping figure to descend likewise, and to pass slowly up +the pathway into the house. The faltering uncertain movements of one +sister, and the carefully-guiding hand of the other, told their own +tale. + +Beryl uttered a startled "Oh!" + +"Poor thing!" said Miss Carmichael. + +"She can't see to go alone," gasped Beryl. "Oh, poor Aunt Di!" + +"I did not imagine it was quite so bad." + +"O no—Pearl doesn't know it, or she would have told me. O how dreadful!" + +Beryl could write no more. She tore sheet after sheet across, then gave +up the attempt in despair, went upstairs to her own room, and stood +looking across at the other house, with strangely mingled feelings. +It had been her home, and, after all, she owed Mrs. Fenwick much. +Beryl had never loved Mrs. Fenwick greatly, never one twentieth part +as much as she loved Miss Carmichael. And life in her present abode +was sunshine indeed, compared with her past life over the way. Yet her +heart ached keenly for the poor little widow. + +"Beryl, would you like to ask after Mrs. Fenwick this evening?" asked +Miss Carmichael, when she reappeared. + +Beryl looked uncertain. "Do you think I might? Would Aunt Di mind?" + +"I cannot be sure; but I should advise you not to let any attention on +your part be lacking. You need not even propose to go in. Stay,—you +shall take a few flowers from the greenhouse, and send them in, with +your love and my kind regards." + +Beryl looked her gratitude. Miss Carmichael walked into the greenhouse, +and culled a bouquet of sweet-scented blossoms, putting them gracefully +together. Beryl waited a while longer, till the first stir of arrival +should subside. And then she went, almost trembling with a species of +nervousness to which she was not commonly subject. + +Not the servant but Marian opened the door. "I saw you from the +window," she said. "How do you do, Beryl? Come in and see Diana." + +"Will she like it?" asked Beryl. + +"Yes; I told her it was you, and she asked me to bring you. This way." + +Beryl followed Marian into the drawing-room, where, at the further end, +a silent figure sat dejectedly in an arm-chair. Diana scarcely stirred. +There was a slight turn of her head in the direction of the door, but +she neither lifted her downcast eyes nor spoke a word. + +"Go to her," Marian said softly. + +And Beryl went forward. + +"Aunt Di, won't you give me a kiss?" + +Diana shook from head to foot. She put both arms round Beryl, and held +her in a passionate clasp. + +Beryl tried to say something, and found herself sobbing instead. + +"Don't cry, Beryl. There must be no tears," said Marian quietly. "I +dare say you can stay for a few minutes' chat, while I go upstairs to +unpack." + +She passed away, leaving the two alone, still clinging tightly the one +to the other. + +"Poor Aunt Di! Poor, poor Aunt Di!" Beryl whispered once or twice. + +"Oh, if only I had not done it! I have wanted you so terribly!" + +The words were broken, but Beryl understood. Diana presently loosened +her clasp, and leant back. + +"I can't see you, Beryl. I am almost blind," she said mournfully. +"There is only the faintest glimmer of light sometimes, and that is +going." + +Beryl pressed her hands silently, not venturing to speak. + +"I shall never see you again. And I shall never see Pearl again—my +Pearl's sweet little face!" said Diana, with a tearless wail in her +voice. "I wouldn't while I could, and now I can't—never, never more." + +"Perhaps by and by it will get better, Aunt Di." + +"No, never; there is no hope at all. I shall never be able to see +again. And I drove you both away. I might have had you still, and been +so happy." + +"But Pearl is so happy now," said Beryl, "and so fond of Escott; and +she has such darling children. And Pearl is sweeter as a mother than +she ever was before. I suppose it is because she forgets herself in the +twins and in Escott. When you see—I mean, when you are with them all, +you will not wish any of that to be different." + +"Will Pearl come to me? Isn't she vexed still?" + +"O no, indeed. Why, she has written to you, Aunt Di." + +"There never is anything in Pearl's letters. Will she really care to +see me?" + +"Indeed she will—very very often, and so shall I. We shall take care, +between us all, never to let you feel lonely. Miss Carmichael and I are +so close, that we can run in at any time." + +"I shall like that," Diana said. "Marian is very good, and does +everything for me, but still we never did suit, and we never shall. She +tries me, and I try her. But she is very patient, and I am struggling +to be patient too. I think I am beginning to see things differently, +and I don't want to go on as I have done. If only all were not so +terribly dark, inside and out too." + +"The light will come to you by and by, I am quite sure," said Beryl +thoughtfully. "The better kind of light, I mean." + +Diana shook her head hopelessly. "And you are living with Miss +Carmichael," she said, as if to turn the subject. "You have a nice home +there—too nice for you to wish ever to leave it?" + +"O yes, indeed. Miss Carmichael is just like a mother to me," said +Beryl hurriedly. "And I promised Hester faithfully, before she went +away, that I would never leave Miss Carmichael of my own free will. But +indeed I don't forget all that I owe you. I want to see a great deal of +you now, if you will let me." + +"You will all grow tired of it soon," Diana answered wearily. + + +The depressed mood continued on the morrow, and Marian told Beryl that +she rarely rose above it even for an hour. She was evidently eager for +an interview with Pearl, and Beryl went to beg Pearl to call quickly. + +"I shall go at once, and take the twins with me," Pearl said. + +She soon presented herself in Diana's drawing-room—a lovely picture of +young motherhood, slight and girlish still, with her pearl-white skin +and brilliant colour, but thinking nothing about her own appearance in +the delight of showing off her tiny pets. + +Diana could not see the picture in its prettiness. She stood up, shaken +and tremulous, gazing into the darkness with her poor eyes, vainly +seeking to catch a glimpse of what she knew to lie before her. + +Pearl did not intend to have any agitating scene. She came quickly +forward, kissed Diana with much affection, and then placed the little +hands of Amethyst and Jacinth between Diana's. + +"Kiss Aunt Di, darlings," she said brightly. "Auntie Di is a very dear +kind auntie of mamma's, and Amethyst and Jacinth have to love her a +great deal. Why, Aunt Di, they ought almost to call you 'grannie,' only +it would be rather too absurd. This is Amethyst, and this is Jacinth. +Amethyst is like me, and Jacinth is thought rather like Beryl." + +"I can't see them," Diana's trembling lips said. "I can't see 'you,' +Pearl." + +Pearl put her arms round Diana, and placed her sitting in the chair. + +"There,—that is better than standing," she said. "You won't feel it all +so much another day, Aunt Di. Just at first of course it seems so very +trying. But Beryl and I mean to be always in and out, auntie. And these +little pets are to be yours too. When I want to get them out of my way, +I shall just send them to you for an hour. They have plenty to say for +themselves, I assure you, only they are shy just at first. Let me put +Amethyst on your lap for a moment,—there—is she too heavy?" + +Diana hugged the little one, and really seemed comforted. + +Pearl stayed long, chatting, kissing Diana from time to time, and +showing off her children's pretty ways. No explanations or apologies +took place. + +When at length they parted, Pearl's eyes were full, and she went home +to break down into a hearty fit of crying over "Poor Aunt Di! So +dreadfully changed!" + +But the interview had a precisely opposite effect upon Diana, leaving +her in brighter spirits than during many past months. + +"They are sweet little children," she said to her next visitor, Miss +Carmichael. "And Pearl seems so happy. I don't think one can regret +things being as they are. Except 'some' things—if they had but been +different!" + +"I suppose there are many steps in life which we would all retrace if +we could," said Miss Carmichael; "but a step once taken can never be +untaken. It is better to leave past mistakes alone, and to press on, +clinging more closely to the Master's Hand." + +"Beryl must be such a comfort to you," said Diana sadly. "I threw that +comfort away." + +"Yes,—and I wondered at you," said Miss Carmichael gently. "But the +child is happy now. She sings over her work like a bird, morning, noon, +and night." + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78471 *** diff --git a/78471-h/78471-h.htm b/78471-h/78471-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..723cc85 --- /dev/null +++ b/78471-h/78471-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10893 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Beryl and Pearl │ Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/image001.jpg" type="image/cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size:12.0pt; + font-family:"Verdana"; +} + +p {text-indent: 2em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +h2 {font-size: 1.17em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.w100 { + width: auto + } + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 125%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t2 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3b { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center + } + +p.t4 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center + } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.poem { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + padding: 20px 0; + text-align: left; + width: 435px; + } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78471 ***</div> + +<p>Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image001" style="max-width: 33.8125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image001.jpg" alt="image001"> +</figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image002" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image002.jpg" alt="image002"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>Mr. Crosbie dropped into his arm-chair</b><br> +<b>with a grunt of discomfort. <em>Frontispiece.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h1>BERYL AND PEARL.</h1> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t1"> +AGNES GIBERNE<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +AUTHOR OF "MISS CON," "ENID'S SILVER BOND," "KATHLEEN,"<br> +"DECIMA'S PROMISE."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> + + "Mine be the reverent listening love<br> + + That waits all day on Thee,<br> + + With the service of a watchful heart<br> + + Which no one else can see—<br> + + The faith that, in a hidden way<br> + + No other eye may know,<br> + + Finds all its daily work prepared,<br> + + And loves to have it so."<br> +<span style="margin-left: 18.5em;">A. L. WARING.</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +FOURTH EDITION<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +London<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +JAMES NISBET & CO., LIMITED<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +21 BERNERS STREET<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.<br> +At the Ballantyne Press<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS.<br> +</p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image003" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image003.jpg" alt="image003"></figure> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CHAP.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_1">I. THREE SISTERS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_2">II. THE FORDYCES</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_3">III. PLANS FOR THE FUTURE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_4">IV. DIANA'S NEW PET</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_5">V. MR. CROSBIE'S GRIEVANCES</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_6">VI. ABOUT THE VASE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_7">VII. SCHOOL LIFE OVER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_8">VIII. MILLICENT'S "BOYS"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_9">IX. WHAT BERYL HAD TURNED OUT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_10">X. MEETING AGAIN</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_11">XI. CONFIRMATION</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_12">XII. IN THE WOODS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_13">XIII. UNEASINESS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_14">XIV. ILL TIDINGS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_15">XV. OVER THE WAY</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_16">XVI. PLAIN, YET BEAUTIFUL</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_17">XVII. THE WORST</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_18">XVIII. WHETHER OR NO</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_19">XIX. VARIETIES</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_20">XX. A HAPPY NEST</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_21">XXI. BRIGHT HOURS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_22">XXII. DISAPPOINTMENT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_23">XXIII. A PERPLEXING CONDITION</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_24">XXIV. DIANA'S TROUBLE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_25">XXV. EXPLANATION</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_26">XXVI. IN THE MOUNTAINS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_27">XXVII. LIFE-TRAINING</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_28">XXVIII. PEARL'S LETTER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_29">XXIX. A LONELY DAY</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_30">XXX. WRONG ON BOTH SIDES</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_31">XXXI. WHICH WAY TO TURN?</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_32">XXXII. A DECISION</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_33">XXXIII. TOGETHER AGAIN</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_34">XXXIV. PAST AND FUTURE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_35">XXXV. DIANA'S RETURN</a></p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> +<b>BERYL AND PEARL.</b><br> +</p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image004" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image004.jpg" alt="image004"></figure> + +<p><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_1">CHAPTER I.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>THREE SISTERS.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"MILLICENT! My dear! Hey—I say! Millicent! Milli-'cent!'"</p> + +<p>The last syllable rose to a shout. Mr. Josiah Crosbie, a +ruddy-complexioned old gentleman, benevolent as to his head, gouty +as to his feet, and impatient as to his manners, paused thereafter, +and listened. No response came. Evidently unaccustomed to wait other +people's convenience, he made his way with some difficulty to the study +door, brought down his stick with a sounding rap, and sent forth a +stentorian summons,—</p> + +<p>"Millicent! I say Milli-'cent!'"</p> + +<p>"I am coming, uncle."</p> + +<p>The silver voice was not raised or hurried.</p> + +<p>A lady entered by the back garden door, and crossed the hall to his +side, with the question, "Did you want anything?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I did. I shouldn't have called you otherwise," said the old +gentleman testily, as he hobbled back.</p> + +<p>Millicent followed him, and stood awaiting his pleasure. She was +young-looking still, with a pale complexion, features of faultless +regularity, and almond-shaped brown eyes, below pencilled brows. It was +a Madonna-like face, in calmness and purity, albeit certain lines and +shadows told of tempests past. Her slight figure was clothed in some +soft black material, closely fitting, plainly made, and graceful in its +fall; and her hair was brushed smoothly back under a widow's cap. No +one could induce Millicent Cumming to discard this cap; yet, though in +age only thirty-two, she was a ten years' widow.</p> + +<p>Mr. Crosbie dropped into his arm-chair, with, a grunt of discomfort, +possibly also of annoyance. The sunshine of a lovely spring day showed +through the window, but he had been shivering all the morning over a +blazing fire.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you have been guilty of the folly of going into +the garden without your bonnet," said Mr. Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to say anything about it," she answered, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Keen east wind,—and your chest,—enough to lay you by for a month! +Folly!" repeated Mr. Crosbie, who was rather given to the use of strong +expressions. "But of course my opinion is worth nothing in the matter. +I thought you were a sensible woman. What were you doing out there?"</p> + +<p>"Only seeing Ivor and Escott off to school."</p> + +<p>"As if they were not big enough to see themselves off! You just spoil +those boys out and out, Millicent! It will be the ruination of them. I +believe you think of nothing else from morning till night."</p> + +<p>"Of my boys and you,—yes. Is it not natural?"</p> + +<p>Millicent's gentle face was irresistible, and Mr. Crosbie looked +mollified. "Well, well!—There, there!—You are a good girl, Millie." He +often called his nieces "girls," though two were widows, and the other +had reached the questionable age for spinsterhood of eight-and-twenty.</p> + +<p>Millicent smiled at the term, but let it pass.</p> + +<p>"You are a good girl," he repeated, "but you should be at hand when I +call, my dear,—you should take care to be at hand. And mind, it won't +pay to spoil those boys of yours. They are fine fellows, but mothers +shouldn't be slaves to their children."</p> + +<p>"I don't think they are spoilt yet," she said, with a gleam of motherly +pride.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, don't do it, that's all. They are nice lads, so +far,—promising on the whole,—but thirteen is an awkward age. +Fourteen,—dear me, I forgot. It's an awkward age, Millie, just the age +when boys begin to think too much of themselves. But now, what I wanted +you for, was this letter from Di. Can't make head or tail of it, and +that's a fact. Di has no business to write letters, if she can't say +her say in plain English. Read it, Millie, read it, and tell me, if you +can, what she means. Why on earth doesn't she come and see me, and ask +what she wants to know? I shouldn't think ten minutes' walk so much +more trouble than four sheets of writing. And what's all this fuss and +rubbish about not saying anything to Marian? Why isn't Marian to know? +'I' can't make it out at all, my dear: so I hope you'll be able."</p> + +<p>Millicent was patiently endeavouring to decipher the illegible scrawl, +while listening to her uncle's remarks.</p> + +<p>"Hey!" he said, after a brief pause. "Found any sense in it, Millie?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cumming put down the sheet. "I saw Di this morning for a minute, +and she told me she was anxious to consult you."</p> + +<p>"To consult me! Eh, indeed! What about? What about?"</p> + +<p>"About those poor children, the little Fordyces. She has heard again +from Mr. Bishop—"</p> + +<p>"Bishop! Bishop! Who's he?"</p> + +<p>"The clergyman of the place where they have been living. Di has +heard from him again, and he speaks of them as quite friendless and +destitute."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't their own parents provide for them, I should like to know. +Tell me that, Millie."</p> + +<p>"I believe the father was a man of very small means, and they have been +some years orphans, living with their aunt. Most of her income seems to +have consisted of a life annuity, and whatever else she possessed goes +to a distant relative. Mr. Bishop is in great perplexity to know what +can be done with the little girls."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to have them here," said Mr. Crosbie resolutely. "Two +boys are enough. I won't have my house turned into an orphanage. I +hate children swarming about everywhere, like bees in a hive. You +understand, Millicent! I wouldn't consent under any consideration. +That's flat."</p> + +<p>"No one thought of such a thing," Millicent answered serenely, as +the old gentleman bit the head of his stick with an indignant air. +"The Fordyces are no connections of yours, uncle. Of course they can +scarcely be said to have a positive claim upon even Diana; still she +seems to be the nearest relative that they possess."</p> + +<p>"No relative at all. It's a mere pretence. Let them go to the +workhouse," said Mr. Crosbie, showing a severity greatly at variance +with his real tenderness of heart.</p> + +<p>Millicent knew what all this was worth, for he would have been the +first to cry out against such an arrangement; but she only said—</p> + +<p>"Poor children! I should not like the workhouse for my boys."</p> + +<p>"'Your' boys!! But I tell you, the little brats are not related to +Diana."</p> + +<p>"No; only she seems to feel that if her husband were living, he would +feel bound to do something."</p> + +<p>"Frank Fenwick would have felt bound to do nothing that his spoilt pet +of a wife didn't wish. Besides, he 'isn't' living. And Di will marry +again."</p> + +<p>"She says not."</p> + +<p>"Absurd."</p> + +<p>Millicent was silent.</p> + +<p>"Absurd," repeated Mr. Crosbie. "Married for nine months to a man old +enough to be her father, and left a widow at twenty-one! Why, she has +life before her. She's but a chicken still."</p> + +<p>Silence still on Millicent's part. Mr. Crosbie reflected for the space +of twenty seconds.</p> + +<p>"Well," he burst out, "and what does Di want to do? Adopt the children?"</p> + +<p>"That is her idea."</p> + +<p>"She'll sicken of the sight of them in a week."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cumming had nothing to say to this. Probably she would have +controverted the idea had she been able.</p> + +<p>"Di's conscientiousness isn't always in so active a state. There's +something else at the bottom. Is she afraid of what might be said of +her? Or does she want to enact a pretty tableau? Mrs. Fenwick going +about with two elegant protégés under her wing! Pshaw!"</p> + +<p>Millicent Cumming could not control a smile.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's it, eh? Absurd, Millie. Why doesn't she get them into an +orphanage, and be content to pay so much towards their keep?"</p> + +<p>"Di does not think she could afford that. She has not always command of +ready money."</p> + +<p>"And this plan is to cost less than the other, hey?"</p> + +<p>"Di is not very good at money calculations, uncle."</p> + +<p>"And why, pray, is Marian to know nothing of the scheme? Why is Marian +to be kept in the dark? The bother of the whole will rest on Marian's +shoulders. Di will just make a plaything of the children till she is +tired, and then toss them into Marian's keeping."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think the interest and occupation would be good for Di?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," Mr. Crosbie answered brusquely. Then he relented. "That +is to say—anything would be good for Di, if she would keep to it. But +she won't."</p> + +<p>Millicent was silent again.</p> + +<p>"And why isn't Marian to know, pray? I hate mysteries. Why can't the +thing be open and above-board?"</p> + +<p>"She will know, of course, but Di seems anxious to have your opinion +first. She said Marian was certain to throw cold water on the scheme."</p> + +<p>"I shall throw it—and much good that will do. Di likes the importance +of a secret, that's what it is. But look here, Millie, if Di's income +isn't enough for her own wants, how is she to support two children in +addition?"</p> + +<p>"She does not think it will cost much. A little bread-and-butter, and a +print frock or so—"</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Mr. Crosbie. "I won't have her coming to me to supply +deficiencies."</p> + +<p>"I think you had better talk the matter over with Di, dear uncle. If +you would place the matter before her in a common-sense light—"</p> + +<p>"How can I, if she doesn't come and see me? Am I to go to her, pray?"</p> + +<p>"She is coming presently. She told me she would write first, that you +might have time to consider the matter."</p> + +<p>"And save her the trouble. I shall let it alone till I see her." And +Mr. Crosbie chucked the pink note-sheets into the fire.</p> + +<p>Finding her presence no longer required, Millicent went to the +drawing-room, and sat down with her work near one of the open French +windows. This was the side of the house, and a pretty lawn swept away +outside, bordered by a fringe of lilacs and laburnums bursting into +flower. A high wall, lined with young trees, shut off in great measure +the house and garden which lay beyond.</p> + +<p>While her fingers were busied in stitching a linen collar for one of +her boys, Millicent's thoughts were busied about the two little orphans +left in so forlorn a position. Would Diana take them in? Would they +find a happy home with Diana if she did? Millicent had doubts on this +point, knowing her sister's impulsive and inconsequent ways; yet a home +with Diana was better than no home, and the unmarried sister, Marian, +would supply ballast to the scheme.</p> + +<p>A shadow darkening her work made Millicent look up, to meet the gaze of +this same sister, Marian Crosbie, resident in the same place, under the +roof of Mrs. Fenwick, the other widowed sister.</p> + +<p>Strangers would have noticed a resemblance between Millicent Cumming +and Marian Crosbie, yet it was a resemblance with a difference. Marian +was as tall as Millicent, and had much the same general contour; but +the slightness of the one was angular thinness in the other. The +outline of features, in both regular, was in the one delicate, in the +other sharp; and the sweet gravity of the one was in the other almost +austerity. Marian had been one of a lovely trio in early girlhood; but +at twenty-eight, though a woman to be noticed, she was no longer lovely.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with Di to-day?" she asked, after first greetings.</p> + +<p>"Can't you guess, Marian?"</p> + +<p>"Guessing is not of much use unless you have some one to say 'No' and +'Yes.' Don't tell me particulars if you think you ought not. Di is +confidential with all the world except me. Yes, of course I guess. Some +plan about the little Fordyces is evidently on the 'tapis.'"</p> + +<p>"I wish she would talk it over with you."</p> + +<p>"Better not. Whichever side I took, she would take the opposite."</p> + +<p>"Then she has said nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Di never can resist saying something, but I am not supposed to be in +her counsels. I only wish she may decide to take the children to live +with her. O yes—" at a glance of surprise—"of course Di gave you to +understand that she was the victim of opposition from me."</p> + +<p>"Why not tell her that you would like it?"</p> + +<p>"Because I should not like it. I think it would be the right thing to +do, and that is not the same as liking it. Besides, Millie, I don't +think you ever will really understand Di. If I took up the idea, she +would drop it immediately. I am not to manage anything in the house. +She must arrange, and I may acquiesce meekly. I suppose that if only +I were five years her junior, instead of her senior, she would not be +quite so sensitive."</p> + +<p>"Poor Di!"</p> + +<p>"Poor Marian, I think. However, it is good discipline. Di's only +objection to the plan seems to be that there are two children. She +would rather have had only one, and thinks two will be cumbersome. +If I were more independent as to means, I would consider whether to +adopt one and leave the other to Di. But even if I could afford it, I +don't think I should be right to leave Di, and to set up a separate +establishment. She wants looking after—little as I can do. And for each +of us to have a child, in the same house, would result in the sort of +rivalry which takes place when two children have each a tame kitten,—a +perpetual domestic contest of 'I' and 'mine.' If the children do come, +I shall take the opportunity to get away for some visits."</p> + +<p>"Di would need you then."</p> + +<p>"Not at first. Better to let her have full swing with them for a time, +till she really wants my help. To be present during the first spoiling +process, would be to sacrifice all future authority over the poor +little waifs."</p> + +<p>"Uncle Josiah says she will tire of them in a week."</p> + +<p>"No, I think we may give her a month or two,—possibly a quarter of a +year."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_2">CHAPTER II.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>THE FORDYCES.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"AND whatever in the world is to become of them children, 'I' don't +know, nor nobody else neither."</p> + +<p>These words smote ruthlessly upon the ears of Beryl Fordyce. Six +seconds before she had been sleeping the placid and dreamless slumber +of healthy childhood, and six seconds later she would have been again +unconscious. But sleep now suddenly fled. She lay listening, with +quickened breathing, her eyes fixed upon the partially closed door, +through the opening of which streamed yellow candle-rays, in contrast +with the white moonbeams entering at the window.</p> + +<p>"Poor little dearies!" chimed in somebody else. The tones of the second +speaker were smooth and slow, not rasping and rough like those of the +first. "Poor little dearies! It is very melancholy, Mrs. Dixon, very +melancholy indeed, and there's no denying of it. Now you'll wake 'em,—" +as a small object fell with a click against the fender. Probably some +such sound had roused Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Never you fear. Miss Beryl sleeps like a top, and Miss Pearl too when +she's tired. It's a mercy they do sleep, for there's no peace in life +when Miss Beryl's awake."</p> + +<p>"And their aunt hasn't left them nothing at all?"</p> + +<p>"Not one single penny nor farthing. 'I' don't know why. Seems +unnatural, seeing they was her own flesh and blood. But Mr. Bishop he +seems to know: for he says to me the very day she died, says he to +me,—'There won't be not one penny for them poor children,' says he. +'And whatever is to become of them?' says he, and he shakes his head +like this, Mrs. Medhurst."</p> + +<p>Beryl was seized with a strong inclination to laugh at the uncouth +version of Mr. Bishop's utterances, and also at the very unclerical +appearance of Dixon's cap-shadow, as it bobbed forward upon the door +for an instant.</p> + +<p>"And there isn't nobody else—aunt nor uncle nor nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Not as I knows. Mr. Bishop he is a making of inquiries, I believe. +But Miss Fordyce said to me, when first they come, says she, 'There's +nobody else but me to take 'em in, Dixon,' says she. And she sighs, +like as if it wasn't agreeable to her no more than it was to me. And +if I'd ha' known what was before me, I'd have given warning then and +there, and took my departure,—I would, Mrs. Medhurst, and I means +it, for all the time I've lived with Miss Fordyce, since I was but a +slip of a girl. For it's been 'a' three years, and no mistake; and +I wouldn't live through them again, no, not if you was to give me a +hundred pounds. And I wouldn't have the bringing up of Miss Beryl, not +for nothing you could mention, Mrs. Medhurst. She's that headstrong and +'mischeevious,' as there's no doing anything with her."</p> + +<p>"She's isn't so pretty as Miss Pearl, nor so nice in her manners."</p> + +<p>"Pretty! She's as ugly as her temper. I never knowed a downright +uglier child than Miss Beryl, nor nastier to deal with. Miss Pearl's +different. She's easy led into naughtiness, and her frocks do take a +deal of mending, but if it wasn't for Miss Beryl, she'd be as good as +she is pretty. I've got no fault to find particular with Miss Pearl. +But Miss Beryl!—nobody can't manage her, and that's a fact."</p> + +<p>"She hasn't the look of a bad sort of child, neither," the other said +musingly. "Not downright altogether bad."</p> + +<p>"I don't know as you'd call her bad, but she's ugly, and she's worrying +in her ways. She'd worry the life out of anybody. She's an odd sort of +child: don't seem to care for nobody, and nobody don't seem to care +for her. Oh, she don't mind, not she. Miss Pearl is the one to mind. +Miss Pearl would cry her eyes out, if she thought anybody was angry; +but Miss Beryl is that hard, nothing touches her. Nobody likes her, and +she's none the wiser. She never cares a straw what's said. That's her +sort. It's aggravating, Mrs. Medhurst, and 'she's' aggravating. I just +wish you had to do with her one week, and you'd know. Oh, you'd know +fast enough. You wouldn't like Miss Beryl. Nobody does."</p> + +<p>Indignation rose high in the heart of the listening child. For Beryl +was sure that Pearl loved her.</p> + +<p>Raising herself cautiously to a sitting posture, Beryl obtained a +glimpse of two figures, seated on either side of a table in the next +room, a tallow candle being on the table. One of the two women was +spare and angular, and wore a cap. The other was plump and round, and +wore a bonnet.</p> + +<p>Beryl and Pearl were in two little iron beds, placed side by side. A +ray of moonlight fell upon the small fair face of the younger sister, +with its framework of glossy hair, and across the slender hands, +tossed gracefully out upon the coverlet. Pearl had always lain in +unconsciously graceful attitudes from very babyhood. She was at this +time just eleven, but of small and slight make. Beryl, eighteen months +her senior, was somewhat large-boned, and awkward in movement.</p> + +<p>Dixon had been the servant of Miss Fordyce during forty years, and she +had unwillingly tended Miss Fordyce's nieces during the last three +of the forty. She was, after her fashion, conscientious, and never +neglected that which she undertook. But she hated children, and did not +scruple to express in plain terms her dislike to their presence in the +house.</p> + +<p>Beryl and Pearl Fordyce had been six years motherless and three years +fatherless. Now they were yet farther orphaned by the sudden death of +their aunt. She had been an invalid for many years, but the attack +which carried her off at last was sharp in nature, lasting only a few +hours.</p> + +<p>The children's loss was to them less of a heart-trouble than might have +been expected. Miss Fordyce was a person of cold manners, and the two +little girls had been seldom with her. She was not indeed one to endear +herself greatly to other people. They had cried a little when first +told that they would never see their aunt again. And Pearl had shed a +few more tears, as the two watched the nodding hearse-plumes move from +the front door, making Beryl feel rather naughty to be unable to do the +same. But probably the only real mourner was Dixon, and whatever she +felt, she concealed from observers.</p> + +<p>The three years of Beryl and Pearl's life in their aunt's house had +been tolerably happy. Children possess a remarkable aptitude for +fitting in with their surroundings. Dixon and Beryl were at chronic +war, yet Dixon saw well to the children's bodily needs. A worn-out +old governess gave them two hours of nominal lessons every morning, +followed by a walk. Beryl liked reading, but hated learning. Miss Catt +avoided unnecessary struggles, and took things quietly, with increase +of composure to herself, though scarcely with increase of knowledge to +Beryl.</p> + +<p>In play-hours, the two children were, as a rule, exceedingly content +together. Pearl was alike Beryl's pet and slave; and Beryl was alike +Pearl's protector and tyrant. Beryl's temper was never tried in that +direction, since Pearl never opposed her will. If Beryl were in +disgrace, Pearl was for the time forlorn; but of disagreements between +them, there were none.</p> + +<p>Thus things had gone on, and thus things seemed likely to go on, when +suddenly the change came.</p> + +<p>But Beryl had not at all realised the position in which she and her +sister stood, until she heard the matter discussed between Dixon and +her friend Mrs. Medhurst, wife of the greengrocer round the corner. +No one had spoken to her about it, and she was an odd child, full of +thought on some subjects, strangely ignorant on others. Dixon had +always seemed to her a much more necessary individual in the house than +Miss Fordyce.</p> + +<p>Perhaps even now, sitting up in bed, and looking at the opening through +the doorway, Beryl did not realise it. Certainly, the leading thought +in her mind was not concerning the uncertainties of her future, but the +question, "Was she really so very ugly?"</p> + +<p>Dixon had often called her ugly before. The word, however, had made +less impression, when spoken to her in the heat of passion, than when +spoken of her quietly to another. To be ugly at all was bad enough. To +be so hopelessly ugly that no one except Pearl could ever like her, was +serious.</p> + +<p>People in general little know the lasting effect which a few careless +words may have upon a child's mind, or how far their influence may +extend in the after-shaping of character.</p> + +<p>These words of Dixon sank deeply, making an impression not soon to +be effaced. As Beryl sat thinking them over, a vision of future life +rose before her—a cold and comfortless vision of a life, Esau-like in +kind, wherein her hand was to be against every man, and every man's +hand against her. For Beryl was, as Dixon had truly implied, of a +hasty and headstrong nature; and she said to herself, in the childish +wrath and pain of that hour, that if nobody liked her, she would like +nobody—always excepting Pearl, dear little Pearl, who should ever be +her one darling. Dixon had said that she did not care what other people +thought of her ways. Beryl felt that this was not true; for she knew +she had cared in the past, after her own fashion. But she determined +now to care no longer. Why should she? She would do as she chose, and +please herself.</p> + +<p>Then she came back to the question, "Am I really so very ugly?"</p> + +<p>Beryl slipped out of bed, and stole to the window, bare-footed. The +moon dipped behind a cloud, leaving the room in darkness, save for the +candle-gleams which stole through the door. Beryl stood waiting, and +presently it shone out again with increased brightness. A face in the +glass met hers, white with the ghastly hue lent by moonlight, having +rough hair in a tangled mass on either side, and eyes widely opened in +anxious scrutiny.</p> + +<p>"I know I have freckles and a big mouth, and I'm not so pink and white +as Pearl, and my waist is thick too," murmured Beryl pathetically. +"But I can't help all that. And after all, my hair is the same colour +as hers, and my eyes are the biggest. I'm ugly, of course, but I don't +think I am so ugly as Dixon—not nearly. Her eyes are almost no colour +at all, and her nose is so queer and flat, it is like nobody else's. I +wouldn't change to Dixon, I'm sure, even if I could."</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Beryl, if that isn't 'just' like you—listening at the crack +o' the door!" exclaimed Dixon.</p> + +<p>Beryl was back in her bed with a bound, turning then to face Dixon +defiantly.</p> + +<p>"I'm not," she said. "I wasn't near the door."</p> + +<p>"Always spying out something that don't concern her! Oh, 'I' know!" +Dixon said scornfully. "'I' know your ways. 'I' saw you, Miss Beryl, +a-stealing away when you heard me a-coming."</p> + +<p>"I didn't, I tell you," repeated Beryl, shaking with cold and anger. "I +never spy. And it does concern me, too—ever so much."</p> + +<p>"And to be sure, so it does," acquiesced Mrs. Medhurst, who, candle +in hand, had followed Dixon into the bedroom. "It does concern her, +there's no doubt whatsomever, Mrs. Dixon. But I shouldn't wonder if +Miss Beryl was only just a-looking at the moon."</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl shortly, "I was looking at myself in the glass."</p> + +<p>"Now did you 'ever?'" inquired Dixon expressively.</p> + +<p>"What was it for, my dear?" asked Mrs. Medhurst.</p> + +<p>"Because I chose. And I don't see why you are to call me 'my dear,'" +pursued Beryl, reining up her tangled head. "I am a young lady, and you +are only a greengrocer."</p> + +<p>"'Did' you ever?" reiterated Dixon. "But that's Miss Beryl all over! +Never you mind, Mrs. Medhurst; her pride 'll be took down some day, and +that it will."</p> + +<p>"I am not proud," protested Beryl. "I only like to be spoken to +properly. But it was not the moon that I went to look at. I only wanted +to find out if I really was as ugly as Dixon said."</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you she'd been listening?" interjected Dixon.</p> + +<p>"And I don't think I am. At least I am ugly, of course, but not nearly +so ugly as Dixon," concluded Beryl.</p> + +<p>Dixon was speechless.</p> + +<p>"It don't so much matter about looks, after all," Mrs. Medhurst +remarked, fearing an explosion, and taking refuge in conventionalities. +"It don't really matter about looks, Miss Beryl, so as you behave +proper and do your duty. 'Beauty is only skin deep,' you know, and +'Handsome is as handsome does,' and that's a true saying. And if you're +good, nobody 'll think you ugly; and if you're naughty, nobody 'll +think you pretty."</p> + +<p>Beryl did not appreciate the truth underlying these homely words. She +knew nothing as yet of the transforming effects of a loving spirit, or +of an indulged temper, on the features.</p> + +<p>"And if you gives way to pride, and takes to underhand ways, why, of +course—" began Mrs. Medhurst anew.</p> + +<p>"I am not underhanded," Beryl said fiercely, in her helpless +self-defence. "I was lying here, and you were sitting there, and you +chose to talk and I chose to listen. If you had any secrets to tell, +you ought to have shut the door. But I don't care, and I don't believe +it all either."</p> + +<p>With which Beryl lay down, hid her face in the pillow, and refused +to say another word. Nobody saw the tears with which the pillow was +bedewed. Pearl slept peacefully through all.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_3">CHAPTER III.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>PLANS FOR THE FUTURE.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I AM desirous of a little conversation with you, my dear, on the +subject of your future."</p> + +<p>"Don't you want Pearl too?" asked Beryl, looking straight up into the +clergyman's gentle and venerable face.</p> + +<p>"I—I—think not," hesitated Mr. Bishop, an elderly and shy man, who, +having had no children of his own, was somewhat at a loss in dealing +with them. "Pearl is very young. You are old enough to comprehend me, I +hope. Sit down, my dear—Miss Fordyce."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not that," said Beryl, with a gasp of dismay. "I'm only Miss +Beryl—and I don't see that you need call me 'Miss,' because you aren't +a greengrocer."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bishop looked at her dubiously for two or three seconds, and then +recommenced, with his soft and deliberate utterance,—</p> + +<p>"Beryl, then—since you wish it, by all means so let it be. I desired +Mrs. Dixon to send you to me, that I might have a little conversation +with you on the subject of your future life. You are, of course, aware +that this can no longer be your home."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that," said Beryl promptly. "I heard Dixon talking about +it last night to Mrs. Medhurst, and they said Aunt Anne hadn't left me +and Pearl any money, and we have no friends, and nobody to take care +of us. And I've been thinking a great deal this morning—a great deal," +repeated the child earnestly. "I woke up ever so early, and I thought +and thought. I don't want to live with Dixon, please, because she isn't +kind. She always says she can't bear me. I would so much rather have +a little room alone with Pearl, all to ourselves. We'll keep it quite +clean and nice. And I suppose I should have to sell something, like the +children in story-books—only I'd rather it should be match-boxes, and +not oranges, because I don't like the smell of oranges.</p> + +<p>"And the only thing that puzzles me is about Pearl, because I think she +would be afraid to be left quite alone—she is so little—and yet she +couldn't go out if it rained. She always gets a cold if she does; and +'I' should have to go out every day, of course. But I dare say there's +sure to be a nice woman in the house who will take care of her for me. +And I shouldn't mind selling matches one bit. I do like running about +out of doors."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bishop listened to this outpouring in absolute silence, his face +growing longer each moment, as he more fully realised the fact of +Beryl's utter childishness. Her eyes flashed, and her cheeks grew hot +with eagerness while she talked.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he said at length deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>"I should 'like' it," pursued Beryl, intent on her own line of thought. +"And I don't see what else we can do; because you see I'm not old +enough to be a governess. And I don't like lessons either."</p> + +<p>"But young ladies do not sell matches," said Mr. Bishop, with an +indulgent attempt to come down to her level.</p> + +<p>"No, I know that," said Beryl. "But father used to tell me I was never +to be afraid of honest work. He said Pearl and I would be left alone, +and I was the strong one, and I must always take care of Pearl, and I +mustn't mind what I had to do. And I don't mean to mind, because I have +to take care of Pearl."</p> + +<p>"You are a good child to remember what your father said," Mr. Bishop +observed, half in admiration, half in amusement, for he found Beryl +quite a curious study. "But I am thankful to be able to tell you +that you are not entirely friendless. A very kind lady, connected by +marriage with your parents, offers you a home."</p> + +<p>Beryl did not look delighted. The picture, conjured up by her +imagination, evidently had its charms.</p> + +<p>"Dixon said there was nobody," she remarked, in a somewhat combative +tone. "And I don't see who there can be. Because mamma had only one +sister, and she died; and papa had only one sister, and she is dead +now; and I'm quite sure there isn't any one else. Pearl and I often do +wish there was just one cousin, and then we could have letters from +her."</p> + +<p>"Your mother's sister married a Mr. Fenwick," explained Mr. Bishop. +"Try to understand me, my child. Mr. Fenwick was your uncle by +marriage. Your aunt died, and he lived a lonely life for a great many +years. But at last, he married again—a young lady—"</p> + +<p>"I wonder what her name was?" put in Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Her name was Diana Crosbie, and she became Mrs. Fenwick. After a few +months, he died—about two years ago, I believe—and she was left a +widow."</p> + +<p>"Why, they all seem to die," was Beryl's comment. "How funny! And is +that Mrs. Fenwick another aunt? I never heard of her."</p> + +<p>"She is not your aunt, strictly speaking, but you will of course +designate her by that title."</p> + +<p>"I shan't call her so, if she isn't my aunt really," said Beryl. "It +would not be true."</p> + +<p>"She will be in the position of aunt to you, and you will pay her due +respect," said Mr. Bishop, slightly dismayed at the independent tone. +"Mrs. Fenwick most kindly writes to propose doing what she can for you +both."</p> + +<p>"Shall we live with her?" asked Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I cannot yet speak definitely as to arrangements. She will, I hope, in +some manner provide for you. But much must depend upon yourself—upon +yourselves. If you are good and tractable children, I imagine it to +be most probable that you will find a home in her house. My child, I +do not hear a very cheerful report of you from Mrs. Dixon. She speaks +well of your little sister, but your ways have evidently given her much +trouble at times. I sadly fear that if you yield to the same spirit in +the future, it may seriously affect your happiness, and alienate your +friends."</p> + +<p>Beryl twisted her fingers together, and gazed fixedly on the ground. +She did not like to be found fault with, and she was angry with Dixon +for speaking against her. Moreover, Mr. Bishop, good and kind as he +was, had not learnt the secret of reaching a child's heart. He talked +on for some time rather monotonously, using many words which scarcely +lay within Beryl's understanding. And presently her thoughts wandered +away, so that she did not take in even the general sense of what he was +saying.</p> + +<p>A few more remarks about Mrs. Fenwick closed the interview. Mr. Bishop +went away, somewhat saddened; and Beryl rushed, like a small tornado, +to the nursery.</p> + +<p>"Pearl! Pearl!" she cried breathlessly. "Dixon said all wrong. There +is somebody, and you and I won't have to live in a top garret or to +sell oranges. There's a lady who isn't really our aunt, only we are to +make believe that she is, and she married the man that married mother's +sister, and she lives in a nice place that is called Hurst, and she +means to take care of us somehow, and perhaps we'll live with her. And +Dixon won't be there!"</p> + +<p>With which culminating fact, Beryl glowed.</p> + +<p>"A time 'll come to you yet, Miss Beryl, and maybe not so far distant, +when you won't be so ready for to throw over old friends and to take up +with new ones," Dixon said resentfully.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I have any friends," responded Beryl, assuming a +meditative air. "Because friends are people that love one another, and +you don't love me. I know you don't, for you always say so. But Pearl +loves me—don't you, darling?"</p> + +<p>A change came over the low-browed square face of the elder girl as she +dropped down on the ground beside Pearl, who had coiled herself in the +deep window-seat. Beryl's cheeks flushed, and her eyes shone with a +kind of devouring affection. She lifted Pearl's pretty little hand, and +squeezed it passionately to her own pouting red lips.</p> + +<p>"'You' love me, don't you?" she repeated. "I don't mind if nobody in +all the world cares for me, so long as 'you' love me, darling Pearl."</p> + +<p>Pearl's ivory complexion, with its delicate tinting, remained +unchanged. A sharp word would at any moment bring flushes and tears, +but Beryl's utterances did not seem to stir her deeply. There was even +a touch of perplexity in her blue eyes, as if she could not quite make +out why Beryl was so moved, and she answered placidly,—</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course I do, Beryl."</p> + +<p>"More than all the world, Pearl; more than everybody? I couldn't bear +to have you like any one more than me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course I do," repeated Pearl, with a gentle little yawn. "I +love you, and Dixon, and everybody."</p> + +<p>"I hate people to love everybody," said Beryl passionately. Then +changing again to a caressing manner, "But you do care for me most, +Pearl?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I do," said Pearl. "I haven't anybody else."</p> + +<p>And Beryl was, for the moment, satisfied.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenwick was an impulsive little person, who greatly disliked +uncertainties in her plans. She had already committed herself to the +care of the children, further than her friends thought prudent. And +it was the wish of both Millicent and Marian that she should take no +further steps until she had well considered the matter. Mr. Bishop had +written word that the children could remain in their present quarters +for two or three weeks if necessary, himself undertaking to arrange for +them. Diana seemed convinced of the wisdom of brief delay.</p> + +<p>But on the morning of the day following that on which Mr. Bishop +had conversed with Beryl, Diana's mood changed. She could stand the +uncertainty no longer. It was absolutely necessary that she should +see the children and judge for herself. What if they should be vulgar +little frights, whom she could not endure to have in her drawing-room? +Four hours there by rail and four back were a mere nothing, compared +with the importance of a personal interview. She would start at once +and return before night, leaving Marian to explain her proceedings. +Diana only wondered that everybody had not counselled this step at the +first. Marian held her peace, and abstained from reminding Diana that +she really had suggested it.</p> + +<p>So it came to pass that, in the afternoon, when the children's early +dinner had been some time finished, a railway cab stopped at the door, +and Dixon was summoned downstairs. A long waiting-time followed. Voices +could be heard faintly issuing through the cracks of the fast-shut +dining-room door. Beryl fidgeted restlessly about the nursery, unable +to settle to any employment, while Pearl serenely hemmed a doll's +skirt, for she was a tidy little needlewoman.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what they are talking about," Beryl said. "I'm quite sure it +is Mrs. Fenwick, and she is asking Dixon all about us, Pearl. And Dixon +will say everything nice about you, and everything nasty about me, and +then Mrs. Fenwick will never like me. I know quite well beforehand."</p> + +<p>"Oh, perhaps she won't. Dixon isn't always cross with you," was the +best comfort Pearl could offer to the troubled Beryl.</p> + +<p>Steps presently drew near. Dixon opened the door and stood with her +hand upon it, smiling in face and respectful in manner, after her wont +with strangers. Beside her was a very handsomely-dressed young lady in +moderate mourning, petite in figure and light in movement, with a pair +of sparkling blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"So these are the children," she said. "They do you credit, Mrs. Dixon. +That is Beryl, of course; and this is little Pearl."</p> + +<p>She passed Beryl over with a glance, and laid her hand caressingly +against the cheek of Pearl, as the elder child hung back, and the +younger came prettily forward.</p> + +<p>"Only a year and a half between them! Hardly credible. I should have +guessed that there were three years. I can't bear great awkward +overgrown children, but this little creature is deliciously small. +Pearl!—The very name for her. Quite a pearly complexion, and just the +least rose-tint in her cheeks. And such abundant hair! You must have +taken great pains with it, Mrs. Dixon. Let me see,—oh, yes, there is +quite a little gold tint in the brown, when it is held up against the +light; just as should be with these blue eyes. Beryl has the brown +without the gold. I never saw a stronger contrast in two sisters. Sweet +little Pearl, do you think you can love me?"</p> + +<p>The lady's own undoubtedly charming face was brought down to a level +with Pearl's. Pearl immediately put out her lips for a kiss, and was +thereupon enveloped, in demonstrative fashion, with black silk and +gleaming jet bugles.</p> + +<p>"We shall just suit, you tiny delightful fairy. People would positively +take us for mother and daughter, if I could manage to look a little +older. I really do think there is a likeness between us. What do you +say, Mrs. Dixon?"</p> + +<p>"Uncommon, ma'am," Dixon responded complacently.</p> + +<p>"I had no idea I should find such a little gem. You sweet child, I +cannot tell you how delighted I am. The only thing I wanted in my +life." Then she looked at Beryl, her countenance falling. "But—the +contrast!"</p> + +<p>Beryl certainly was not prepossessing at that moment. She gazed fixedly +at her own shoes, with a thunder-clouded brow.</p> + +<p>"Wonderfully different," Mrs. Fenwick said, moving a step nearer and +carelessly tapping the elder child's cheek with one finger.</p> + +<p>Beryl drew back, and rubbed the spot indignantly.</p> + +<p>The movement made Mrs. Fenwick laugh. "Sensitive, I see! Well, I must +consider what can be done!"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>DIANA'S NEW PET.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"THE sweetest little creature imaginable,—charming in every respect," +Diana Fenwick declared next morning, as she sat sipping her coffee, +Marian somewhat grimly knitting a sock at the further end of the oval +table. Marian was the very soul of punctuality, while Diana was rarely +in time for anything, least of all for breakfast. The two sisters +seldom had the meal actually together; but Marian was always expected +to remain in her seat until Diana had finished. The younger sister +liked a listener.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely charming," she repeated. "A perfect little lady in her +manners, with lovely hair and hands,—the very child I would pick out +from among ten thousand to adopt as my own. Mrs. Dixon thinks her +remarkably like me,—" and Diana broke into a silvery laugh. "Droll that +she should be so, where there is no relationship. But really I could +not help being aware of a sort of likeness. One does find it sometimes +unexpectedly, even between strangers. People might take us for mother +and daughter, if I could only contrive to look a little older. As +it is, I suppose we are more likely to pass for sisters. I have the +greatest mind in the world to make the pet call me 'Di.'"</p> + +<p>Marian opened her lips, and shut them again.</p> + +<p>"In which case, would you be willing that she should call you 'Marian?'"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," Marian said decisively.</p> + +<p>"Ah—so I expected. You like to stand upon your dignities. Well, perhaps +I may submit to be 'Auntie Di.' I'll think it over. Aunts and nieces +are often near in age."</p> + +<p>"You are more than twice as old as Pearl Fordyce."</p> + +<p>"Twelve years older;—yes, she is eleven, though she does not look it. +There is often more difference between the oldest and youngest members +of a large family."</p> + +<p>Marian could not gainsay the assertion. "I think you will be wise to +keep your position of authority with the children," she said. "And it +is not a question of Pearl only."</p> + +<p>"Ah," and Diana sighed profoundly. "If only there were not that +unfortunate Beryl as an appendage. A great awkward ill-mannered child. +I declare I don't in the least know what to do with her."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that Beryl is the most to be pitied."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that 'I' am the most to be pitied." Marian thought +of her own very similar words to Millicent a day or two earlier, and +was amused. "There is nothing to laugh at," Diana said rather tartly, +misunderstanding her expression. "You are taking good care to shirk +trouble for yourself in the matter, fixing to go away the very day +after they come, the very time when I shall need you most of all."</p> + +<p>"I have my reasons, Di."</p> + +<p>"Of course. Everybody has reasons for everything," said Mrs. Fenwick +petulantly. "I don't see what that has to do with the matter. If you +had the very least consideration for me, you would not dream of such +an arrangement. If you were to be at home, I could just put Beryl into +your hands for training. You could undertake her, if any one could. I +don't know what else to do with the child—tiresome little thing."</p> + +<p>"I could not train one child without training both," said Marian +gravely. "It will never answer to make differences between the two."</p> + +<p>"You are not so unreasonable as to expect me to like them equally, I +hope? Pearl is the most winning little pet that ever lived, and I shall +perfectly adore her. Beryl has to be put up with, I suppose. But as for +'liking' such a child—why, I assure you, Mrs. Dixon told me plainly +that no one ever could care for her. I was positively startled at her +description of Beryl's ways. A most unbearable temper, and never a sign +of sorrow for naughtiness."</p> + +<p>"Is the old woman's account entirely reliable? There may have been some +little temper on her part as well as on Beryl's."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't believe it! A most pleasant superior old servant, quite +one of the old-fashioned type. The children are beautifully kept, and +she has evidently devoted herself to them. She spoke in quite a grieved +way about Beryl—showed very nice feeling, I thought. But the child +carries her faults in her face. A regularly sulky look."</p> + +<p>"Better that, perhaps, than to have all the good outside, and all the +evil below."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you—you like ugly faces, and abhor pretty ways. You won't half +appreciate my sweet little Pearl, I know beforehand. But you and I +never think alike about anything. I can't endure clumsy plain people; +they always repel me. And Beryl is more than plain, she is downright +ugly. She has not a single redeeming point in the way of either feature +or expression."</p> + +<p>"Plain people are as God made them," Marian said calmly.</p> + +<p>"Everybody knows that," Diana answered, with some curtness. "You might +say just the same, I suppose, about slugs and toads."</p> + +<p>"You cannot speak of the two together, Di," Marian answered, with a +stir in her quiet face. "Slugs and toads have their hidden beauties, no +doubt,—but 'they' were not made in the likeness of God."</p> + +<p>"You always have the queerest way of putting things!" said Diana. "What +horrid coffee it is this morning."</p> + +<p>"Waiting too long."</p> + +<p>"I shall have some fresh made. It is simply undrinkable. Just ring the +bell, please. Thanks—you are nearest, and really I am so tired with +yesterday's journey—but as for Beryl, I must consider. I have not at +all made up my mind to keep her at home. If she is troublesome, she +must go to school."</p> + +<p>"You would not separate the two?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I would, if it seems advisable. Why not? Hundreds of sisters +are separated every day. I was separated from you and Millie, when I +went to school. Pearl is too delicate for school life, and I have set +my heart on having her always with me. But for Beryl, I really begin to +think that it would be the right and reasonable plan. The idea is quite +a relief to my mind. In fact, I don't see what else is to be done, +now you will be so long absent. I cannot undertake to subdue such a +temper. She would simply wear me out. But happily, I am free to please +myself in the matter. I am accountable to no one. It is a matter of +pure kindness, my taking up the children at all. No one can say it is +incumbent on me."</p> + +<p>"How would you afford the expense?" asked Marian, checking one remark +after another which rose to her lips. "That would cost more than having +the two children here together."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. I don't see why it should. Of course I should not +choose an expensive school, but I heard of one lately that might do +nicely."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"In Bath."</p> + +<p>"Not the one Mrs. Ellis mentioned!"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Brigstock,—yes. That is not the first time I have heard of her. +She is just the person to manage a headstrong child like Beryl, and the +terms are low. Of course I cannot afford to put her to a first-rate +finishing school, and it would be absurd too. I don't think I will have +fresh coffee, after all," Diana said, rising, with a manifest wish to +close the discussion. "Pearson has not answered the bell, and really I +have no time to lose. She can clear away the things when she comes. I +am going out almost immediately to choose some chintz for the curtains +in Pearl's room."</p> + +<p>Marian attempted no response.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Preparations for the reception of the children,—perhaps it would be +more correct to say "of the child,"—went on vigorously. Diana threw +herself into the work with quite a fatiguing amount of energy. Pearl +was to sleep in a small room opening into her own, and Beryl in another +small room exactly over Pearl's, equal as to size but inferior as to +everything else. Marian protested in vain against this arrangement.</p> + +<p>"It would never do to banish that little frail creature to the attics," +Mrs. Fenwick replied decisively. "It would have been positively cruel. +A great rough child like Beryl would do well enough anywhere; and a +room large enough for the two could not possibly be spared on the first +floor: so no other plan was possible. Marian 'must' see that it was so."</p> + +<p>Marian did not see, but she ceased to oppose, knowing that opposition, +as a rule, only strengthened Diana in her resolution.</p> + +<p>At six o'clock on Tuesday, the pretty little widow, in a black evening +dress of semi-transparent texture and fashionable make, with a faint +suggestion of a lace cap on her head, and fair hair rippling below in +uncontrollable waves—possibly Diana did not try to control them—stood +in the bay-window of the drawing-room, awaiting the children's arrival.</p> + +<p>"Here they are!" she cried ecstatically to her sober sister, and she +rushed into the narrow strip of front garden, to receive Pearl in her +arms.</p> + +<p>Marian kept her seat until they entered, Diana tripping in an excited +style, leading a pretty child in mourning; while another child, older, +darker, and in look moody, followed after. And in the background, an +old woman of eminently respectable appearance stood curtsying.</p> + +<p>"Here they are, Marian. Here is my precious little Pearl. Isn't she a +picture, the darling? Eleven years old, but nobody would dream that she +was more than nine. Now do look at her. Don't you see just a grain of +likeness to me? Odd, under the circumstances, but really it exists."</p> + +<p>"You both have bluish eyes. So have a great many people," said Marian +indifferently.</p> + +<p>"You pre-Raffaelite creature! Bluish, indeed! But kiss her,—you 'must' +kiss her, Marian."</p> + +<p>"Pearl is not the eldest," said Marian. She touched Beryl's cheek first +with her lips, and then Pearl's.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Dixon, you will like a cup of tea," called Diana gaily. "Pray +have it. I think you said your train did not go for an hour. Pearson +will take you into the kitchen. Give Mrs. Dixon a good-bye kiss, my +little Pearl. Why, what is the matter now?"</p> + +<p>For Beryl, with a sudden sensation of utter friendlessness, had seized +Dixon's arm, and was holding it in a vice-like clasp.</p> + +<p>"What now?" repeated Diana, caressing Pearl, who had obediently given +the kiss and returned to her side. "What do you want?"—And she looked +at Beryl with displeasure.</p> + +<p>"Don't go!" was all that Beryl seemed able to utter.</p> + +<p>Dixon was highly flattered. She had never liked Beryl till that moment, +but in her sudden gratification, she became quite affectionate. She +was well aware that Beryl's involuntary movement would speak well for +herself in the ladies' eyes.</p> + +<p>"There now, Miss Beryl, don't you worry, my dear, don't you! It's the +nicest house you've come to, and the kindest lady as ever was, and no +mistake, and you'll be as happy as the day is long. Don't you go for +to fret now, for there's no need. Children can't abear losing them as +has been good to 'em," Dixon said apologetically to Mrs. Fenwick and +Miss Crosbie—"but she'll be all right. Don't you worry, Miss Beryl, my +dear. She's got a warm heart you see, ma'am, and I always do say it. +And she's going to be a good girl, too, ain't you, Miss Beryl? Now, my +dear, you mustn't fret, and hinder, and you've got to let me go, you +know."</p> + +<p>Beryl was not fretting audibly. She shed no tears; but a forlorn and +scared look had come into her eyes, and her clutch did not loosen. +Diana looked appealingly at her sister, and Marian advanced.</p> + +<p>"Come, Beryl," she said, "you want something to eat after your journey, +and so does Pearl. You must not keep Mrs. Dixon, or she will have no +time for a cup of tea. We are going now into the dining-room. Come."</p> + +<p>She laid her quiet firm hands on Beryl's fingers, and loosened their +grasp. Beryl did not resist; she only made a catch at Dixon's other +arm, which Dixon was quick enough to evade. Marian took both Beryl's +hands into her own keeping, and led Beryl out of the room, Diana and +Pearl following.</p> + +<p>"I don't want Dixon to go," broke from Beryl's lips.</p> + +<p>"I dare say you are very fond of her. She is a faithful old servant."</p> + +<p>"O no, I'm not fond of her," said Beryl. "Only there is nobody else."</p> + +<p>Marian was rather perplexed. She made Beryl remove hat and jacket, and +sit down at the table, and then supplied her plate liberally, while +Diana hovered and fluttered around Pearl. Beryl's distress did not +prevent her from making a hearty meal. Pearl's appetite always failed +her under excitement, and Diana coaxed in vain.</p> + +<p>"Do let the child alone, Di," Marian said at length. "She only wants a +night's rest."</p> + +<p>"She shall go to bed directly, but she must eat something first. Could +my pet manage a bantam-egg so delicately boiled? Or a little bit of +cheesecake pudding?"</p> + +<p>Children, as a rule, respond readily to the spoiling process. Dixon had +never encouraged fancies over food, but Pearl had a natural tendency +towards fastidiousness in eating, and she saw at once that something +was to be gained by making a little fuss. So, with a sweet plaintive +smile, she did not think she could manage this, and she thought perhaps +she might try that. And Mrs. Fenwick hurried the servant to and fro; +and finally the egg and the helping of pudding were both disposed of. +Beryl looked up wonderingly from time to time.</p> + +<p>"And now my pet must go to bed, and wake up quite rested in the +morning," Diana said at length. "I am going to put you to bed myself, +Pearlie, and you are to have a wee room of your own, quite close to +mine. You will like that, I know."</p> + +<p>"Shall Beryl and I sleep there together?" asked Pearl.</p> + +<p>"No. The room is not large enough for two. Beryl will have another room +over yours, just the same size."</p> + +<p>Beryl dropped a slice of cake, and looked dismayed. "But Pearl and I +always sleep in one room," she said. "I couldn't do without Pearl."</p> + +<p>"You will do as I choose," said Mrs. Fenwick, not unkindly, but quite +decisively; "and Pearl does not mind."</p> + +<p>"Pearl—don't you?" asked Beryl, in an indescribable passion of hope and +fear, as if staking her life's happiness on the answer. "'Don't' you, +Pearl?"</p> + +<p>"You will like to have a little room all to yourself, and close to +mine, will you not, my darling?" asked Diana.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very much," Pearl said, without hesitation.</p> + +<p>"You will be quite happy sleeping so, with Beryl overhead?"</p> + +<p>"O yes, quite," said Pearl serenely; "because you are so kind. And I +like a little room of my own—I can keep it so tidy. And I shall have +Beryl all day, and of course we couldn't play at night."</p> + +<p>"Quite true and sensible, you dear little thing. Come along, my +darling. I want to have these pale cheeks on the pillow. Say good-night +to Beryl."</p> + +<p>Beryl's face was dark with some overmastering emotion. When Pearl came +smilingly near, she straightway turned her back, and declined the +offered kiss.</p> + +<p>"Shocking! What a fearful temper!" Mrs. Fenwick exclaimed, with a +shudder. "Really, Beryl, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Never +mind, Pearl darling—don't distress yourself. Come with me, and leave +that naughty child alone. You see how it is, Marian—just what Mrs. +Dixon led me to expect. I am sure I wish with all my heart that you +were not going to-morrow. But this evening, at all events, I suppose +you can undertake Beryl."</p> + +<p>The two disappeared, embracing as they went. Beryl sat perfectly +still, her hands knotted together till the pink flesh grew white with +pressure, and her eyes fixed on the table.</p> + +<p>"Don't you want to finish your cake?" asked Marian.</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl gruffly.</p> + +<p>Marian had had little to do with children, and hardly knew how to meet +Beryl's mood. She said, after a pause—"I am sorry to see you vexed with +Pearl. The matter is not worth so much feeling. Pearl is a little girl, +and she naturally likes change."</p> + +<p>Beryl did not speak.</p> + +<p>"I think you must be tired, as well as Pearl," said Marian. "It would +be better for you to go to bed early, and you will wake up quite fresh +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Silence still.</p> + +<p>"Suppose I show you the way to your room. I dare say you have some +things to unpack."</p> + +<p>"They're with—Pearl's." A gulp came between the words. Beryl had +ardently pre-pictured her own usefulness in unpacking and in attending +to Pearl's needs.</p> + +<p>"Then my sister will see to them, no doubt. Would you rather go to bed +at once, Beryl, or will you come to my room and help me to pack? I am +leaving to-morrow for a time. You must be a good child while I am gone, +and try to fit into your new home."</p> + +<p>Beryl gave a startled glance. "Won't there be anybody here +except—except—her?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>"Except Mrs. Fenwick. By the bye, you have to call her 'Aunt Di.'"</p> + +<p>"She isn't my aunt."</p> + +<p>"Not in reality; but her husband was your uncle by marriage, and she +is doing as much for you as any aunt could do. You must be grateful, +Beryl."</p> + +<p>Beryl looked anything but grateful.</p> + +<p>"My other sister lives near—Mrs. Cumming," pursued Marian. "She has two +nice boys, rather older than yourself, and you will often see them."</p> + +<p>"They won't like me," said Beryl shortly.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody does."</p> + +<p>Marian secretly feared there might be some truth in the assertion. She +was sorry for Beryl, but certainly she did not find her attractive.</p> + +<p>"Which shall it be?" she asked again. "To bed or to my room?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care."</p> + +<p>"Then I think bed will be best for you."</p> + +<p>Beryl submitted with an uninterested air. She made no remark whatever +about the little room. It had a somewhat bare appearance, especially +when compared with Pearl's, which Beryl had not yet seen. Marian +brought all that she needed for the night, and remarked, "Your little +sister is quite comfortable. I hope she will soon be asleep."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't Pearl—want—me?" asked Beryl, with a singular expression.</p> + +<p>"My sister wishes her to be quiet this evening," said Marian evasively. +"Do you need anything else, Beryl? Dixon says you are accustomed to +manage for yourself. By the bye, I see you have only one Bible between +you, and that is downstairs. I have brought a Testament of my own, +which you can use. I hope you read a few verses every morning and +evening."</p> + +<p>Beryl kept silence.</p> + +<p>"Make haste into bed," Marian said kindly. "Good-night, Beryl. You +shall be called in time for breakfast." But she had to leave without a +response.</p> + +<p>Beryl's whole look changed then. She threw herself down on the ground, +and hid her face in the bed. "O Pearl—Pearl—Pearl!" she moaned, in a +passion of distress. "O Pearl, dear little Pearl, papa told me to take +care of you—and I would, indeed I would—and now I can't. O Pearl, I've +nobody else, nobody but you—and she's going to take you from me."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_5">CHAPTER V.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>MR. CROSBIE'S GRIEVANCES.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"IT'S always the way—always—invariably," grumbled Mr. Crosbie. "I never +yet knew the woman who had a single grain of consideration for anybody +in the world except herself."</p> + +<p>Mr. Crosbie was not commonly visible before eleven o'clock in the day, +but on this particular morning he had actually come down to eight +o'clock breakfast. Certain ideas were alive in his brain, which he +particularly desired to discuss with his niece; and behold, of all +perverse and unreasonable things to do, Millicent Cumming had wilfully +selected that particular morning for remaining in bed with a severe +cold. No wonder Mr. Crosbie was irate with the whole sex.</p> + +<p>"Just exactly like Millicent. She does everything by contraries. If +I had advised her not to get up, nothing on earth would have induced +her to stay in her room. Well, well, well—I am an old man now, and I +can't expect to get my own way any longer. I must look to be shelved, I +suppose,—make way for the rising generation. It's the way of the world. +Just a degree short of heathen customs—smother the old folks in mud or +bury them alive, as soon as they are past being useful. Hey? 'That's' +it," quoth Mr. Crosbie fiercely.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think so, grandpapa. Mother didn't know you would be down."</p> + +<p>"Might have guessed it, if she wasn't a woman. But women never do +put two and two together. Why, there are all sorts of things I want +to settle with her this morning. All sorts of things," repeated Mr. +Crosbie indignantly, "and nobody but you two within reach. Absurd! +Marian taking herself off, too, nobody knows where, just when she +is most wanted. The world is coming to a stand-still. I don't know +how anything is to get done. Well, I told your mother she would make +herself ill, and she has nobody but herself to thank. There's nothing +on earth like the wilfulness of a woman. Tell her she'll catch a cold +in a draught, and she'll go and stand in it for half an hour, just to +prove her independence. Well, I suppose we're to have no breakfast this +morning."</p> + +<p>"Escott always makes it when mother is not down," the other lad said +cheerfully. "You'll find it all right, grandpa."</p> + +<p>"More likely to find it all wrong. Get on, then."</p> + +<p>The two boys looked highly amused in a quiet way. They were remarkably +alike, to a stranger's observation; and remarkably unlike, to their +mother's. Of good height for their fourteen years, they were formed +much on the same model as to slimness and uprightness, and much on the +same plan as to refined straight features blue eyes, and neatly-clipped +fair hair.</p> + +<p>"Pretty boys," people sometimes called them, and the term was not +inappropriate. They had the look of thorough "home boys," thorough +"mother's boys," with none of the loutishness of the ordinary +schoolboy, yet without any suspicion of girlishness. Millicent Cumming +was turning out two thorough little gentlemen, but she had the greatest +horror of seeing them develop into "mollies" or "milksops." They were +as good as daughters to her in tenderness and in thoughtful care +for her comfort, and they by no means disliked to hear her say so; +nevertheless, they excelled in boyish exercises, and she was proud +of the fact. Ivor was the stronger in build and the healthier in +colouring. He had the rights of the elder brother. Escott, the younger +twin, was slightly smaller in make, thinner and paler. If either of +the two "had" a faint touch of girlishness about him, despite all his +mother's efforts to the contrary, it was Escott.</p> + +<p>He seemed quite at home with the teapot; measured out the tea with a +quick and ready hand, poured in the due amount of hot water, placed the +sheltering cosy in position, and finally remarked,—</p> + +<p>"Mother has prayers next."</p> + +<p>"Teach your grandfather to suck eggs," muttered Mr. Crosbie. "Well, +ring me the bell, and get me the Bible. Where is your mother reading?"</p> + +<p>"In the Old Testament, grandpapa, because you read the New in the +evening."</p> + +<p>The boys found the place for him, and took their seats, frank and +contented in manner both of them, not the least ashamed of the part +they were acting.</p> + +<p>Prayers over, breakfast followed, and a gay meal it proved. Mr. Crosbie +grumbled on for a while, and then was drawn into a conversation which +soon induced peals of merriment. Mr. Crosbie was a very boy himself in +laughter, and took his full share in the manufacture of jokes. Escott +presently rushed upstairs three steps at a time, to ask after his +mother, and returned more slowly.</p> + +<p>"Her chest was very bad, and he and Ivor were to start in good time, +and ask the doctor to call. Mother didn't think she must come down."</p> + +<p>"Always so," muttered Mr. Crosbie, and he made his way back to the +study, to sit there in high dudgeon, nursing his wrongs.</p> + +<p>About three hours later, Diana Fenwick came tripping in.</p> + +<p>"So Millie is ill," she said, as Mr. Crosbie saluted her with an +injured air. "What has she been doing to herself?"</p> + +<p>"Some folly or other; a more imprudent woman never breathed," growled +Mr. Crosbie. "Always told her she would do for herself some day. +Shouldn't wonder if she has now."</p> + +<p>"Poor Millie!" Diana said, with a touch of younger-sisterly patronage. +"Those gentle soft creatures are just the ones who always 'will' have +their own way."</p> + +<p>"Gentle soft creatures! She!" Mr. Crosbie fairly stamped. "She's one of +ten thousand, Diana. There isn't another woman living her equal. 'You' +don't know what she is."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course she is very good and all that,—a sort of semi-angelic +being," said Diana lightly. "Millie and I never did really suit +one another. But, dear uncle, don't be vexed. I am not saying +anything unkind of her. How could I? She is a dear good creature, of +course—nobody doubts it. Smith tells me that the doctor orders quiet, +so she won't admit me. Talking makes Millie cough, she says."</p> + +<p>"Smith is a very good judge,—an excellent woman," said Mr. Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"Only I particularly wanted to consult Millicent about something."</p> + +<p>"So do I. Everybody wants to consult Millie," said Mr. Crosbie, finding +satisfaction in the thought.</p> + +<p>"However, I need not complain, having 'you' at hand," pursued Diana, +suddenly assuming her sweetest air. "Now, dear uncle, pray tell me what +you would advise me to do; tell me how you would act in my position."</p> + +<p>"Why, I would obey the doctor, my dear, and keep out of the room," said +Mr. Crosbie, mollified, as he always was, by his niece's engaging ways, +though he did not really believe in them.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean that. I was just going to explain, dear uncle. I was +not thinking of poor dear Millie. Of course, there is nothing to be +done but to leave her quiet. Marian might have been of use in her +room, but Marian has chosen to flit, and really my hands are more than +full—'more' than full. I feel quite overwhelmed with the responsibility +of the charge I have assumed."</p> + +<p>"Look so!" muttered Mr. Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is unkind." And her blue eyes really did fill with tears. "It +is my way to keep up and be cheerful, and people never will believe +what I feel." Diana spoke droopingly. "That is not like you, dear +uncle."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, go on," said Mr. Crosbie, in a gentle tone.</p> + +<p>"The children arrived last night." Diana sighed heavily.</p> + +<p>"The little orphans! Just what I wanted to hear about," said Mr. +Crosbie, with a sudden air of briskness. "You have acted very well, +very well indeed, I must say, Diana, in giving them a home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad you say so. Then at least I have 'your' +approval—whatever the results may be. But, indeed, I knew you could +not look on the matter from any other point of view,—with you feeling +heart. Poor little things! Nothing remained but Parish help, if I had +not been willing to take them in, so how 'could' I hesitate? At the +worst, I can but divide my last crust with them."</p> + +<p>This was going a little too far. Mr. Crosbie gave vent to a "Humph!"</p> + +<p>"Of course I speak metaphorically," she said, aware of her mistake. "I +don't quite expect to come to my last crust yet. Still I shall have to +be very careful and economical. I must come to dear Millie for hints. +But at the present moment I have another perplexity. I am terribly at a +loss how to manage."</p> + +<p>"Hey? What? Measles? Whooping-cough?" exclaimed the old gentleman, +with an alarmed gesture; for he had a morbid horror of infection, not +unusual at the age of seventy.</p> + +<p>"No, nothing of that sort. O no, indeed. But the two are such a +contrast—it is quite distressing. The youngest is all I could wish—a +sweet little creature, one to be loved at first sight. I shall find +the greatest happiness in her companionship. It will be the solace of +my loneliness. But the other,—really she is a most unfortunate little +being. I don't know what to do with her."</p> + +<p>"Physical deformity?" asked Mr. Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"No, no."</p> + +<p>"Mental incapacity? You don't mean to say she is an idiot?"</p> + +<p>"O no; but such a fearful temper and headstrong will. Nobody can +control her. Poor little Pearl seems positively to shrink from being +left alone with Beryl. And the old servant showed nothing but relief at +being quit of the charge."</p> + +<p>"Dear me; that's bad."</p> + +<p>"I really don't know what to do. If Marian were to be at home, things +might be different, though even then—But you see, dear uncle, after all +I have gone through—" and Diana looked pathetic,—"I have not spirit to +cope with such a nature. The child would wear me out completely. Her +will must be broken by proper discipline."</p> + +<p>"Broken? Nay, nay! Bent, if you will."</p> + +<p>"True, uncle; I spoke hastily. But the bending is beyond my power."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; training children is not precisely your 'forte,' I should +imagine."</p> + +<p>"It is not, indeed. I am only too conscious of my own deficiencies. +Beryl ought to have a good education, to prepare her for making her +way by and by. She has not even the elements of a good education now, +for she has evidently resisted all attempts of her last governess to +teach her. She can read, to be sure, but her writing and spelling are +atrocious. And as for the catechism, Mrs. Dixon has been struggling for +three years to make her learn it, without success. What am I to do?"</p> + +<p>"Get a good governess," said Mr. Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"I thought of that. But the two sisters would be together still; and +Beryl's influence must be so bad for little Pearl. Besides, the child +seems under a sort of incubus in Beryl's presence—afraid to move or +speak naturally. She is quite a different being when I have her alone. +And I should come in for all the battles. I really have not health or +spirit to act umpire."</p> + +<p>"Why, then, I don't see that you have any alternative but to send Beryl +to school," said Mr. Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"Do you really think so?" asked Diana.</p> + +<p>Little dreamt Mr. Crosbie that she had meant him to say this all along, +and had step by step led him to the utterance.</p> + +<p>"You do not think it would appear unkind to separate the two? Of course +it is for their good, and children don't distress themselves long about +partings. In fact, I imagine that the relief would be greater than the +pain, so far as poor little Pearl is concerned. If you advise a school—"</p> + +<p>"I don't see what else you are to do," repeated Mr. Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much. It is the greatest relief to my mind. Of course +there is the question of the additional expense,—no light matter with +my limited income. Still, if it is plainly my duty—"</p> + +<p>Mr. Crosbie was silent.</p> + +<p>"I know of a school in Bath. It is a long way off, but the terms are +very reasonable, and it would not be necessary to have her home more +than once a year, perhaps. Mrs. Brigstock shows quite a gift for +managing troublesome pupils, I am told. And she has some children whose +parents are abroad, and who remain with her all the year round; so I +might at any time arrange for Beryl to stay there through the holidays, +if it seemed advisable. That might be an advantage. Of course the pull +upon my purse will be exceedingly heavy."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I don't mind promising a mite of aid, just for a short +time,—till Beryl is seventeen, we'll say. Twenty pounds a year towards +her schooling,—a five-pound note quarterly, Di, and mind you don't ask +me for a penny more."</p> + +<p>"Dear uncle, 'how' generous!" sighed Diana. "'Ask' you! As if I could! +That will indeed be help."</p> + +<p>After which, she went home, pausing at a linen-draper's on her way, to +order materials for two new frocks for Pearl.</p> + +<p>On arrival, she found Pearl crying in the dining-room, and Beryl +wearing what Diana called "her sullen look." Reasons for the tears were +difficult to get at, beyond a general assertion that "Beryl was so +unkind."</p> + +<p>Beryl attempted no self-defence, beyond one unhappy "I'm 'not,' Pearl."</p> + +<p>Diana flung some indignant reproaches at Beryl, kissed and comforted +Pearl, and sat down to write two letters. One was to Mrs. Brigstock, +asking whether she could receive a pupil, and how soon. The other was +to Marian, and contained the information that "Uncle Josiah advised +Beryl being sent to school, entirely of his own accord; so of course +that settled the matter."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I am going to take Pearl for a drive with me," Mrs. Fenwick said, +after early dinner. "Crying has made her look quite pale, poor child. +There is not room in the chaise for you both, so you must amuse +yourself at home, Beryl. Pray, do not get into any mischief."</p> + +<p>Beryl said nothing. She had not spoken many words all day, beyond a few +burning reproaches to Pearl for her fickleness, when the two were alone +together. Pearl had immediately taken refuge in tears, thereby driving +Beryl to the refuge of silence.</p> + +<p>The little hired chaise drove off, with Pearl seated, affectionate +and happy, beside her new friend. The driver was a boy on a very +small coach-box, and there was ample room for two grown people in the +chaise. A second child might no doubt have been squeezed in; but Mrs. +Fenwick objected to crowding. So Beryl remained behind, alone and very +forlorn. She did not in the least know what to do with herself. The two +servants were in the kitchen regions, shut off by a door, and the rest +of the house was empty and silent. Beryl had always had Pearl for her +companion, and solitude was quite a new experience in her life. She +felt it keenly.</p> + +<p>For a while she stood listlessly at the dining-room window, gazing +out at the little garden, bounded by the back wall of a second garden +which lay beyond. It was not an enlivening look-out, and Beryl did not +find herself enlivened. She had in her heart a kind of dull emptiness, +like that of the house, mingled with a more active feeling of dislike +towards everything and everybody around her—everybody except Pearl. She +would never dislike Pearl. Beryl did not love very readily, but once +to love was always to love with her, and this was a fine point in her +character. Pearl might cease to love Beryl, but Beryl would never cease +to love Pearl. That only made her present pain the more severe.</p> + +<p>Growing tired of inaction, Beryl presently wandered into the +drawing-room, a pretty room, overcrowded with easy-chairs, tiny tables, +and ornamental knick-knacks. Beryl paced aimlessly about, peering at +brackets, admiring a Swiss châlet under a glass shade, gazing at an +Indian elephant of carved ivory, and finding certainly some relief to +her own mind in the slight occupation.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she became conscious of a restraining twitch, and on looking +down she found that her feet were entangled in a length of grey +worsted, wound also about her dress. She had evidently dragged it with +her unconsciously in some of her peregrinations, for the grey threads +were twisted in complex fashion among chairs and tables. Beryl was +rather amused, and she speedily tracked the wandering worsted to its +source in a large work-basket belonging to Miss Crosbie. Seizing the +ball, she began eagerly to wind it up, with divers tugs at the loose +lines, not so careful in kind as they should have been.</p> + +<p>Alas! The worsted in its travels had taken a turn round a small carved +table, on which stood a valuable vase of Sèvres china. Mrs. Fenwick was +unused to children in the house, or such a vase had never stood on such +a table. One more turn of the ball, and crash came table and vase to +the ground together; the table broken, the vase smashed.</p> + +<p>Beryl's enjoyment died out instantly. She looked round in dismay, her +heart beating wildly. The china lay scattered over the carpet. What +"would" Mrs. Fenwick say? Beryl shuddered, and walked from the room, +not daring to touch the worsted again.</p> + +<p>In the passage, she found herself face to face with two pleasant boys, +just in the act of familiarly entering by the front door, with the air +of people at home. They shook hands with her, as a matter of course, +and she submitted, bewildered still.</p> + +<p>"You are Beryl Fordyce, are you not?" one of the two said frankly. +"We've just seen Aunt Di and your little sister, and they told us you +were alone—at least Escott asked. You have heard of us, of course. I'm +Ivor, and this is Escott."</p> + +<p>"Mother is ill, but we knew she would like us to come and see after +you," added Escott, "Ivor and I mean to get her some primroses—it's our +half-holiday, you know, and there's a splendid lot of flowers in the +wood. And Aunt Di says she does not care if you like to come with us. +Would you?"</p> + +<p>Like to go primrosing! Beryl's whole face glowed. The broken vase +disappeared utterly from her memory. She dashed upstairs for hat and +jacket, the boys shouting injunctions from below to "mind and put on +good thick boots, for the woods were awfully swampy in parts."</p> + +<p>A ramble followed, the like of which Beryl had never known in her +life. Through lanes and fields, over hedges and ditches, in dust and +in mud, did the two boys escort their companion. Beryl was wild with +delight. She fell down in mud, and tore her dress, and scratched +herself with thorns, and cared not a whit for it all. Cheeks flushed, +hair disordered, hat awry, dress soiled,—herself eager, excited, noisy, +almost ready to shriek with joy,—Beryl had a rare afternoon!</p> + +<p>The boys were very good to the little stranger. They did not admire +her, as they had admired the sweet and graceful little Pearl, seated +in the chaise beside their aunt. Beryl was not exactly according to +their notions of what a girl ought to be. But it was pleasant to see +her abounding enjoyment; and they exchanged a good many glances, alike +satisfied and amused.</p> + +<p>Beryl did not in the least know which of the two she liked best; +indeed, she could hardly distinguish the one from the other for a +while. But when they were not far from home, on their return, Ivor bade +her good-bye and disappeared down a lane, while Escott undertook to see +her back to her own door.</p> + +<p>"Ivor has some work to do, and that's a shorter cut," he said.</p> + +<p>"It has been such a 'lovely' afternoon," sighed Beryl. "I wish Pearl +was with us."</p> + +<p>"She wouldn't be up to such a scramble, perhaps. I say, Beryl, what a +little beauty she is!"</p> + +<p>Escott did not intend it, but those words were the first shadow on +Beryl's sunshiny walk. He was astonished at the sudden change in her +face.</p> + +<p>"Why, you are not jealous, are you?" he said. "You don't mind Pearl +being pretty?"</p> + +<p>"No—I don't think so," Beryl said slowly. "I'm not the very least +pretty, am I?"</p> + +<p>Escott gave her an involuntary glance, and truth forbade such an answer +as he would fain have given.</p> + +<p>"No; I know I'm not," Beryl said, shaking her untidy head. "And I never +shall be."</p> + +<p>"Everybody can't be pretty. That doesn't matter, so long as people are +nice and pleasant," Escott replied.</p> + +<p>"But I'm 'not' nice or pleasant," said Beryl hopelessly. "And Dixon +said I was so ugly that nobody could ever like me."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that at all," said Escott slowly, somewhat perplexed. For +down in his heart, he knew that he was not very much taken with Beryl +Fordyce—he could not have told why, though he would have indignantly +repudiated such a cause as mere outside plainness. "We don't like one +another for looks."</p> + +<p>If Beryl had not the gift of fascinating other people, she had to some +extent the gift of reading other people's thoughts. She stood still in +the dusty road, with her arms full of delicate primroses, and her eyes +fixed upon him.</p> + +<p>"But you and Ivor don't like me," she said.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Beryl," Escott said, with an uneasy little laugh. "Rubbish. +Here, let me carry some of your flowers."</p> + +<p>"I know you don't," she replied. "I am sure you don't."</p> + +<p>"I don't really know you yet," said Escott, with adroit courtesy. "You +have been as merry and good-tempered as possible all the afternoon."</p> + +<p>"But you liked Pearl the very moment you saw her?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I thought her awfully pretty," the boy said, with some +adroitness again.</p> + +<p>"That wasn't all. You 'liked' her," said Beryl resolutely, her face +crimsoning. "And you've only been kind to me because you think you +ought."</p> + +<p>Escott was fairly at a loss for an answer.</p> + +<p>Beryl turned away from him and hurried homewards, dropping some of +her flowers by the way, and dropping one or two tears with them, not +unknown to Escott.</p> + +<p>He was puzzled how to deal with her. And after leaving her on the +doorstep of Mrs. Fenwick's house, he went home to detail to his mother +what had passed.</p> + +<p>"She's the oddest child, mother," he said. "But really, she isn't very +taking, and what is a fellow to say?"</p> + +<p>"Poor little girl!" Millicent said compassionately. "It is not natural +to have such thoughts at her age. There must have been something +unhappy in her bringing up."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>ABOUT THE VASE.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE door was opened, not by Pearson, but by Diana Fenwick,—Diana in +a white heat of rage. Beryl had been angry herself many a time, and +many a time had seen Dixon angry; but she had known nothing before +quite like this. For Diana's very face was changed, and her slender +figure shook with passion, and her lips were colourless. She grasped +Beryl's arm, and dragged the child by main force into the drawing-room, +pointing with her free hand to the overturned table and the shattered +vase.</p> + +<p>"You dared!" she gasped. "You dared—you naughty naughty child—you +'dared' to come in here and meddle with my things—"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean," Beryl tried to interpose.</p> + +<p>"Take that!" Diana Fenwick, a spoilt child and a spoilt wife, utterly +untrained in self-control, was for the moment beside herself, and her +hand bestowed a ringing box upon Beryl's ear.</p> + +<p>Pearl in Beryl's place would have cried bitterly; but though Beryl +staggered beneath the blow, she did not shed a tear. Her face +crimsoned, and her brow grew sullen, as she wrenched herself free from +Mrs. Fenwick's grasp.</p> + +<p>"Stand still," commanded Mrs. Fenwick. "Do you know what you have done, +you wicked shameless child? Do you know that the vase was worth twenty +pounds if it was worth a penny? There is nothing in all my house that I +would not sooner have lost. And much you care!"</p> + +<p>Beryl retreated another step in silence. Her expression certainly was +not penitent.</p> + +<p>Diana Fenwick, quivering and white still with anger, was by far the +most agitated of the two.</p> + +<p>"Twenty pounds!" she repeated. "Twenty pounds, if it was worth a penny. +And to think of all that I am doing for you—as if it were not enough +without this! Talk of gratitude! I don't believe you know the meaning +of the word. No wonder Mrs. Dixon warned me! The vase that my dear +husband bought to please me,—one of his last gifts. O it is too too +bad!" And Diana's excitement culminated in a fit of sobbing.</p> + +<p>Beryl stood motionless, her brow drawn into puckers, her hands knotted +together, her ear burning and tingling, while the proud spirit within +burnt and tingled yet more sharply under the indignity.</p> + +<p>"A loss that can never be replaced—never!" sobbed Diana. "Fifty pounds +would not pay me back for the loss. To choose out that—the very +thing of all others which I care most about. Nothing else would have +mattered. And to wait till I was gone—so underhand, so deceitful! You +have not told me how it happened," Diana said sharply, drawing her +handkerchief away from her face with a sudden whisk. "Ah, I thought +so, you have nothing to say for yourself. Not even to tell me you are +sorry."</p> + +<p>"No," Beryl said huskily.</p> + +<p>"You are not sorry! You tell me so to my face, Beryl!"</p> + +<p>Beryl would not unsay the word. She was not sorry at that moment, and +her face showed too plainly what she felt.</p> + +<p>"Well, it is no more than I might expect, after all that I was told. +But this quite decides me—quite," said Diana, ignoring the fact that +she had been "decided" before. "I cannot possibly keep you at home. +You will go to school, where this sort of thing will be put down with +a strong hand. That is what you need,—a strong hand over you. Pearl is +a good little gentle girl, and I shall keep her with me, but you will +go to school the very first day I can arrange for it. And if you do not +choose to tell me you are sorry for behaving like this, and to beg my +pardon, I certainly shall not trouble myself to have you home for the +holidays. I am not going to have everything in my house broken. You +may go upstairs now, for you are not fit to be seen, and I have had +enough of your tempers for one day. Racketing about in the fields, and +enjoying yourself, after such behaviour! It just shows that you have no +principle. Don't make a mess with your wretched flowers here,—" as some +primroses fell from Beryl's hand. The greater number had been already +dropped in the brief scuffle. Diana was in a mood to be vexed with +everything. She caught up a handful of pale-yellow blossoms and flung +them into the fire-place.</p> + +<p>"You may go," she repeated to Beryl, "and your tea will be sent to +you. I don't choose to have you downstairs again this evening. That +beautiful vase! There isn't another like it for ten miles round. I +shall never forget what you have done."</p> + +<p>Nor would Beryl. She went slowly out of the room, and upstairs, step +by step in measured style, while her whole frame was pulsating with +suppressed emotion. Passing the open door of her sister's little room, +Beryl walked straight in, and found Pearl brushing her hair before +the glass. Beryl stood beside Pearl, and the two faces were reflected +together; one ivory-white and tinted with rose, fair and serene; the +other burning, gloomy, and troubled.</p> + +<p>"Pearl," Beryl said abruptly, "I meant my primroses for you. But you +won't care for them now."</p> + +<p>Pearl turned with a half-alarmed look.</p> + +<p>"O Beryl, how could you break that beautiful vase?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean—" began Beryl, in a thick breathless voice. "It wasn't +on purpose. But it's no good for me to say so. She won't believe me. +Pearl, do you love her?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Di? Yes, of course I do, very much indeed."</p> + +<p>"I don't. I shall never love her—never, if I live to be a hundred years +old—never," repeated Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I think you ought, though," Pearl said.</p> + +<p>"But you love me most, Pearl—Pearl," said Beryl passionately, and Pearl +made an involuntary step backwards. "You do love me best, Pearl?"</p> + +<p>"I love you both," Pearl said with caution. "She isn't cross to me, as +you are."</p> + +<p>"I am not cross," said Beryl. "It isn't crossness. Oh, I wish,—I do +wish,—if only there was somebody who could understand!" Then, with a +change of tone, "Look, Pearl—she struck me."</p> + +<p>"But it was very naughty of you to break the vase," said Pearl.</p> + +<p>"She had no business to strike me," Beryl answered, her face flaming at +the recollection. "Dixon never did. She says I am to go to school, and +I think I am glad. I think I'd rather. I don't want to live with her, +and I can't bear to see you and she always kissing and hugging."</p> + +<p>"She would kiss you too, if you would be good," said Pearl.</p> + +<p>"Beryl! Go to your own room immediately. Mere naughtiness," Mrs. +Fenwick said, in a displeased voice from the doorway.</p> + +<p>Beryl brushed past her and disappeared. The door of the room over +Pearl's was heard to slam heavily.</p> + +<p>"My poor little girl, you are quite frightened," said Diana, sinking +into a chair. "And no wonder. We cannot go on like this, Pearl. It +makes me positively ill. Beryl must go to school for a time till she +has learnt to command her temper."</p> + +<p>Pearl took the matter philosophically. After all, there is no denying +that her affection for Beryl was mixed with a touch of fear. Having +tasted something of freedom during the last day or two, she was perhaps +the less disposed to wish for a continuation of the former state of +things.</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Fenwick, while condemning Beryl's temper, was not in the least +troubled with recollections that her own temper had been by no means +under control. She counted hers to have been only righteous anger.</p> + +<p>But the breach between her and Beryl seemed to be irreparable. Beryl +appeared no more that evening; and when, next morning, she came +downstairs, she wore a fixed expression of sullen unhappiness. Mrs. +Fenwick addressed her seldom, but when she did she spoke to the child +sharply, and Beryl answered only in the curtest monosyllables. Pride +and temper were thoroughly aroused in Beryl. Towards Pearl, her manner +was constrained and cold, though with an occasional quiver of painful +distress and longing. It was sad that, Millicent being laid by and +Marian away, softening influences were utterly wanting.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Two days passed thus, and on the third Diana said stiffly:—"I have +heard from Mrs. Brigstock, and she can receive you at once. There is no +object in delay. You will go on Monday."</p> + +<p>Beryl heard silently, offering no response.</p> + +<p>"Remember, you have not told me yet that you are sorry about the broken +vase, or asked my pardon," said Mrs. Fenwick.</p> + +<p>A cloud came over Beryl's face. "When shall I see Pearl again?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"That depends upon yourself,—upon your making a proper apology for your +conduct, and also upon the reports that I shall receive from school. I +will not have you here, to behave as you have done the last week."</p> + +<p>"If Pearl 'might' go to school too!" broke from Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I could not be so unjust as to punish Pearl for your +misconduct. Besides, Pearl will be far happier without you. Mrs. Dixon +told me how you tyrannised over the poor little thing, and I find it to +be quite true. You have no idea of consulting Pearl's will in anything."</p> + +<p>Beryl looked bewildered, for, like many children, she was not at all +aware of her own faultful tendencies. "Pearl always liked what I +liked," she said, speaking involuntarily in the past tense, though the +new order of things had lasted but a few days.</p> + +<p>"Pearl is sweetly yielding, and she submitted to your dictation sooner +than have a quarrel. That is different from 'liking' to be domineered +over. If you go on as you have done, all your schoolfellows will +dislike you, Beryl. All depends upon yourself. And if you leave home in +this sulky mood, refusing to apologise for the way in which you have +treated me, you are sure to go wrong."</p> + +<p>Beryl's brows drew together uneasily. "I can't say I am more sorry than +I am," she muttered.</p> + +<p>"Then you admit that you deliberately broke the vase."</p> + +<p>"No," Beryl said in a stolid voice. "The worsted got twined round the +furniture, and I didn't see. And I was winding up the worsted, and it +pulled the table over."</p> + +<p>Diana felt that the words were entirely truthful.</p> + +<p>"And you are not sorry?"</p> + +<p>Beryl's eyes glowed. "I should be—if—if—you had not struck me."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Diana shortly. "Children must be punished, and if +you behave like a little child, you must be corrected like one. +You deserved ten times as much. Then you do not intend to ask my +pardon? . . . Very well, I have made an easy opportunity for you, but +I certainly shall not trouble myself to do it again. You will go to +school next Monday, and you may write to Pearl once a week, but I shall +expect to see neat letters. If you behave well, you will see Pearl now +and then, when I can arrange to have you in the holidays. If not, you +must take the consequences."</p> + +<p>Beryl murmured, "I'll try."</p> + +<p>Somehow the reports from school were not satisfactory. Whether or +no Beryl "tried," she certainly did not for a long while succeed in +pleasing her schoolmistress. Diana had passed on to Mrs. Brigstock +the "character" that she had received of Beryl from Dixon, adding +thereto sundry observations on her own account. Beryl, thus docketed +as an undesirable pupil, was placed necessarily at a disadvantage. +Preconceived opinions adverse to a child usually result in jaundiced +views, and Beryl probably suffered to the full from such views.</p> + +<p>The journey from Bath to Hurst was no light expense, and Diana cared +less and less to undertake it as time went on. Beryl and Pearl met but +seldom during the next five years. Once a year, in the summer, Mrs. +Fenwick took Pearl to the seaside for a month's change, and she usually +arranged to have Beryl there. Through the last three of the five, Beryl +never once set foot in Hurst. And the last summer before her school +life came to an end, an epidemic of measles in the school prevented +any meeting between the two sisters. When Beryl reached the age of +seventeen-and-a-half, she had not seen Pearl for eighteen or twenty +months.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>SCHOOL LIFE OVER.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>MRS. BRIGSTOCK'S establishment was by no means a "first-rate finishing +school." It lagged very many degrees behind any such attainment of +excellence.</p> + +<p>The house was tall and narrow, and it stood at the corner of a +particularly dull side-street, with shops for near neighbours. Bath is +a beautiful town, but even Bath has its unattractive side-streets, and +Mrs. Brigstock had certainly succeeded in finding one for her school.</p> + +<p>Fifteen young ladies could, by dint of close packing, be stowed under +the roof, but "packing" had never yet proved necessary. The number +present at once rarely rose above nine or ten, and at the close of +Beryl Fordyce's school life, it had sunk to seven. Beryl was the oldest +of the pupils by a matter of two years, but Annie Jones, the smart +befringed little maiden of fifteen, who came nearest in age, could +surpass Beryl in a class, and plumed herself considerably thereupon.</p> + +<p>Annie's father was a wealthy but parsimonious watch-maker, who could +be quite content with a cheap and second-rate education for his clever +daughter. After Annie Jones, came three sisters, varying in age from +fourteen to eleven, daughters of an East Indian coffee-planter. The +eldest of the three was the devoted friend of Annie Jones. The other +two fraternised with two other little girls, about the same age as +themselves, who had lately joined the school. This completed the number.</p> + +<p>But Beryl Fordyce stood solitary, and had no friend. She gave out no +love, and she received none. These younger girls never turned to Beryl +for sympathy. She held herself quietly aloof, and went her own way: +always busy—for it was Beryl's nature to find occupation—but doing +everything alone.</p> + +<p>The last evening of her school life had come, and no regrets were +expressed at her departure. Beryl had not expected any. She sat in the +window of the big barely-furnished schoolroom, looking through her +small desk, apart from the other six, who did things always by twos. +They were gathered together at the further end of the room, chatting +and working. It was a sunny evening in June; for Mrs. Brigstock kept to +the old-fashioned division of terms.</p> + +<p>Beryl joined in none of the conversation. It was "not her way" to +talk much, people said. She was greatly changed by her five years of +schooling. The passionate and impulsive child had developed into a +staid and self-contained girl; square in build still, though not stout, +with a uniform complexion of somewhat muddy paleness. Strangers counted +her "ordinary" as to features, with a "sensible" expression, but on the +whole, decisively and irremediably "uninteresting." She was not even +interestingly ugly, but simply plain, with no redeeming points in the +way of intellect, sparkle, or piquancy; the kind of girl, seemingly, +to go through life in a straightforward downright fashion, making no +attempt to attract others, and quite content to "be" uninteresting.</p> + +<p>Beryl was rather an enigma to her teachers. Mrs. Brigstock had fought +some battles with the sullen and headstrong child of earlier years, not +always coming off conqueror. Miss Walker, the "English teacher," had +been at perpetual war with that same child, for her reckless and untidy +ways.</p> + +<p>But somehow a change had come about, creeping on in gradual inevitable +fashion, as change creeps over the first young shoot of a tree in its +growth to a sapling. No distinct break between two periods could be +pointed out; yet, during many months past, fault-finding had become +altogether needless with this sensible and self-controlled maiden. No +one counted Beryl clever, and nobody was at all surprised that she did +not excel in her studies; but what she undertook was done commendably +well, minutes were no longer wasted, and disorder was at an end.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brigstock, a woman of clever but shallow mind, and one who never +saw below the surface, counted Beryl a fine result of excellent +training, and was well satisfied. Miss Walker took to holding her up, +as a model of order and good behaviour, to the younger girls, not +greatly to their delectation. None of them exactly disliked Beryl, but +none of them loved her.</p> + +<p>The only person who was not content, the only person who really +troubled her brain about Beryl, was the young Swiss teacher, advertised +in the school circulars as imparter of the best Parisian accent,—poor +little thing, she had never been nearer Paris than Geneva in her +life, and did not know the Parisian accent when she heard it. She was +scarcely over twenty, very simple and transparent, but exceedingly +warm-hearted, and her warm heart was utterly nonplussed by the +cold-mannered English girl. She had resided only three months in the +house, though her life in England had extended to nearer three years. +Those three months had contained daily additions of perplexity, with +regard to the eldest pupil.</p> + +<p>"For Beryl," the Swiss girl pronounced it "Bé-ril," "cares for +none, loves not anybody. It is a life apart and alone. For me, I +cannot comprehend it. She is well-behaved 'à merveille'—she forgets +nothing, neglects nothing. The giddy Annie leaves half of her duties +unaccomplished, but not so Beryl. O no, she is blameless, only she +shows no warmth, no heart."</p> + +<p>"It is the change from childhood to girlhood. People often develop +quite differently from what one would expect," Miss Walker said in her +staid fashion. "Beryl was an odd child from the first. I never felt +that I really understood her."</p> + +<p>"'Je m'étonne'—does she understand herself, the poor girl?"</p> + +<p>Miss Walker did not take up the line of thought suggested. "Beryl's +relatives never show any particular affection for her," she said. "In +fact, I don't think she is one to win love easily. Some people do not +seem to have the power. Though she has been here so many years, she +will be less missed by us all than any one of the other children would +be. I don't know why it is, except that she is proud, and will not take +pains to make herself liked; and also she is very much absorbed in her +own pursuits. She is a singular girl."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle sighed to herself that it was "triste." She went presently +to the schoolroom, and found the pupils as already described, six +grouped together, with minor divisions into couples, and Beryl seated +apart in the farthest window. Was that to be her fashion of going +through life?</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle was so young and kindhearted that her presence was not +counted a check, as that of Mrs. Brigstock or Miss Walker would have +been. The children threw her affectionate smiles across the room,—all +except Beryl, who seemed quite wrapped up in her employment. The two +elder of the six sprang up and began to play a lively duet on the +piano, and the other four were chattering merrily.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Bise stood looking at them. Rather common children they +were in appearance, not very lady-like, with dresses somewhat too +smart, and voices very much too high. Beryl Fordyce, however square and +plain and downright, had a certain something about her which belonged +to a different section of society. Nobody in the house detected the +difference, except Mademoiselle.</p> + +<p>Under cover of the rattling tune, she went straight to Beryl's side, +and said softly, "Your last day here. Are you glad or sorry?"</p> + +<p>Beryl, though of late a steady worker at lessons, had never succeeded +in mastering French so far as to converse easily in the foreign tongue, +and this evening English was permitted.</p> + +<p>"I am not sure," replied Beryl, with a touch of surprise at the +question. "It depends—"</p> + +<p>"Depends?" repeated Mademoiselle.</p> + +<p>"On how things go on. I suppose I am to live at my aunt's."</p> + +<p>"'Chez Madame?'—"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Fenwick. Pearl's—my sister, I mean,—Pearl's home is with her."</p> + +<p>"And yours also, without doubt."</p> + +<p>"I never think of Aunt Di's house as my home. I believe I am to live +there for the present."</p> + +<p>"You have not any other home?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"'Pauvre enfant,'" murmured Mademoiselle. "And yet you only +suppose—suppose."</p> + +<p>"I shall know soon. Mrs. Fenwick's sister is in Weston-super-Mare, and +I am to go to her first." Beryl paused, and gave a hard little laugh. +"To be inspected, I dare say."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle looked compassionate. "And this sister—Pearl, do you call +her,—does she resemble you?"</p> + +<p>Beryl searched in her desk, and presently produced a carte-de-visite. +"That was taken two years ago," she said; "just before I saw Pearl +last. No, she is not like me."</p> + +<p>"'Mais qu'elle est gentille!'" Mademoiselle said admiringly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, everybody calls Pearl pretty. I don't suppose I shall find her +much changed."</p> + +<p>"And she and you are 'only' sisters," said Mademoiselle. "No more +sisters, no brothers, no father and mother; how much then, to draw you +together! If I were you, Beryl, I could keep nothing, nothing, from +that dear only sister, who is all that God has left to you. My very +thoughts would I tell out to her."</p> + +<p>"I never tell my thoughts to any one," responded Beryl. "And Pearl is +not particularly fond of me."</p> + +<p>"Not!" Mademoiselle was at a loss for words. She spread out her hands +expressively.</p> + +<p>"Not particularly. Pearl is very fond of Mrs. Fenwick, and I do not +like Mrs. Fenwick at all."</p> + +<p>The expression of Beryl's face at that moment was inscrutable to the +young Swiss girl. Something unwonted stirred beneath those composed +eyes. Mademoiselle could not divine its nature.</p> + +<p>"But you—you love your sister dearly—love her of all your heart? +'N'est-ce pas?'"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Just the monosyllable and no more.</p> + +<p>"And you will win her love? You will give yourself no rest, short of +gaining that love?"</p> + +<p>"Pearl does not need me," said Beryl, the stir of feeling having +apparently vanished. "She is quite happy with my aunt, and has +everything she cares for. I never thrust myself where I am not wanted."</p> + +<p>"But Pearl has need for you,—it must be so. Others cannot make up to +her for you, Beryl. If you could but see it so."</p> + +<p>"I should see if it were so. You don't know Pearl or Mrs. Fenwick +either, so how can you be a judge, Mademoiselle?" Beryl asked, with a +touch of impatience. "I used to be unhappy about it, but I have made up +my mind now that it is foolish to worry myself when things cannot be +helped. One must take life as one finds it, I suppose. What is the good +of minding? It is Pearl's fate to be made much of, and it is my fate +to be made nothing of. I dare say I shall get through life as well as +Pearl, in the end. I never talk like this to anybody, as a rule, only +you are making me do it—" and again there was a tinge of vexation, as +if Beryl felt herself to be failing in the programme which she had laid +down, and was annoyed at the failure.</p> + +<p>"And I 'will' make you, if I can. I wish from my heart I had made you +speak out thus oftener," Mademoiselle Bise said earnestly. "Anything +rather than to shut up your own self into your own heart, and open +to nobody. It is starvation, Beryl; it is petrifaction. And 'getting +through life' is the least part of what we have to do. And there is no +'fate' for the child of God,—no, nor for any man. Fate is a heathen +word, not Christian. There is God's will, and there is Satan's will, +and there is man's will,—but there is not 'fate.'"</p> + +<p>"I used the word in a general sense. Some people seem born to be happy, +and some not."</p> + +<p>"And you are not happy?"</p> + +<p>It was an assertion rather than a question. Beryl made no answer.</p> + +<p>"You have held apart from me, 'mon amie,' and these three long months +have not sufficed for that I should know you. But this evening,—will +you promise me, on the brink of parting, to love me and to let me love +thee?"</p> + +<p>Beryl's heart sprang in response, but her face did not light up, +neither did her fingers return the pressure of Mademoiselle's hand laid +upon them.</p> + +<p>"I like you better than any one in the house," she said. "But you +do not really care for me, Mademoiselle. If you did, it would be +different."</p> + +<p>She saw one of the younger children eyeing their movements, and drew +away her hand. "I should not like any one to call herself my friend, +just out of pity,—I mean, just because she thought I wanted one."</p> + +<p>Suzette Bise looked steadily at Beryl, with a sudden sense of +revelation. Pride's presence was not shown in the latter by +aristocratic features or short upper-lip, but there, none the less, he +plainly held his habitation.</p> + +<p>"You fear to be patronised," she said. "But think—consider—how might +'I' patronise—I, a poor young governess in a strange land! You shall +pity 'me,' Beryl; and I claim your pity, for I am far from my people, +and I am sad and lonely often. I have no friend in England, and truly +I need one. Will you pity me, and be my friend? Will you write to me, +and let me write to you? I will tell you all about my pleasures and my +troubles, and you shall tell me yours, tell me of your sister and your +aunt and your home. 'N'est'ce pas, mon amie'?' Shall it be a compact?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish," Beryl answered. "Yes, I should like that."</p> + +<p>"And you will call me Suzette,—not Mademoiselle, after to-morrow. I +have none in England to call me by that name."</p> + +<p>The music stopped, and no more could be said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brigstock presently sent for Beryl to her own sitting-room, and +had some conversation with her, and gave some good advice, couched in +stiff terms, to which Beryl listened superficially. Five years under +the same roof had not linked these two hearts together. Mrs. Brigstock +regretted the loss of another pupil, but for Beryl personally, she +cared little.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Beryl slept in a tiny room alone, and she lay awake that night +unwontedly long, thinking over the past conversation. A stagnant pool +in her heart had been stirred, and the stirring brought some pleasure +and some pain with it.</p> + +<p>All that existed of the impassive in Beryl's nature was not indigenous +to the soil, but rather was fruit of cultivation or outer influences. +There were certain depths below which "could" be lashed into a +tempest,—and not a tempest of the mere storm-in-a-teacup description. +Childish storms were over now, however, lying in the far background; +and with the growth of her girlish common-sense and philosophical +resolution to make the best of things, Beryl counted herself to have +passed quite beyond any danger of unnecessary heart-tempests. What good +would they do to her or to anybody? Only it vexed her a little, this +particular night, that, between Suzette's words and her own uncertainty +as to her future, she could not settle quietly off to sleep as usual, +but found herself compelled to toss restlessly to and fro, with wakeful +heart-communings.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the door opened, and a little figure glided in.</p> + +<p>"'Dormes-tu?'" whispered a voice.</p> + +<p>"No," Beryl said.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle struck a match, lighted a candle, and bent over the bed.</p> + +<p>"One word with you. See—I have brought something—"</p> + +<p>"What?" Beryl found lying in her hand a plain gold ring, with a few +neat pearls set in a row on one side.</p> + +<p>"It shall be thine own, 'mon amie,' as a link between us."</p> + +<p>Beryl was startled. She had had no present for a very long while. +Nobody had cared to give her presents. She had schooled herself often +against feelings of envy for others upon whom loving gifts were +showered. Now she looked wonderingly in Mademoiselle's face, where +tears were running freely from the black eyes. Not in the least pretty +was Suzette's little brown face, with its most irregular of features, +but it had the light of a loving spirit shilling through from within.</p> + +<p>"It shall be your own, Beryl. Listen,—my father gave me this before he +died, and for his sake, I love it well. But I have other gifts of his, +and this shall be yours, to bind us together when far parted. See, it +will slip on your finger, and it is for mine too large. I have not worn +it since I was a young girl, fatter and plumper than now. But take it +off once more, and look,—nay, you cannot see by candle-light. There are +tiny words printed within the ring. Let me tell you them:—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Or ils seront les Miens, a dit le Seigneur des armées, lorsque je +mettrai à part mes plus précieux joyaux.'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"I know not the words in your English Bible, but you shall find them +in the third 'chapitre' of Malachi. Stay,—here is your Bible. Will you +that I look? 'Ah, les voici.'</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'And they shall be Mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I +make up My jewels."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Suzette Bise returned the Bible to its place, and clasped her hands +over one of Beryl's.</p> + +<p>"'Mon amie,' it is in my heart this night to desire and to pray that +this shall be truth of 'you,'—that you shall be a jewel in the crown +of the Lord of Hosts,—thou a pure Beryl in His crown, and thy sister a +fair white Pearl. And the ring shall bring to mind this wish of mine."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle came to a pause in her earnest speech, and sat on the side +of the bed, waiting.</p> + +<p>"I never pretend to be what I am not," Beryl said at length. "I do not +suppose I am so religious as you."</p> + +<p>"For the religiousness, I ask not. But are you His? That is the +question for us. In that day when He shall make up His jewels,—oh, +Beryl, shall Christ the King be able to say to thee lovingly, 'THOU ART +MINE,'—or shall He have to cast thee aside, as worthless? 'Pardon',—but +it must be the one thing or the other. There are jewels in the earth +never made meet for the King's use. And even the fairest must still be +cleansed and shaped."</p> + +<p>"But what must I do?" asked Beryl.</p> + +<p>Perplexity and uneasiness were struggling with displeasure. Suzette saw +all three.</p> + +<p>"The King's own blood can cleanse thee, and the King's own hand can +shape thee," she said. "Only go to Him in time. He can make thee pure +and beautiful,—fit for His diadem. And keep this ring, to bring to mind +what we have said."</p> + +<p>"You are very kind," Beryl answered, with something of shyness. "I +don't know whether you ought to part with the ring. But if you really +wish me to have it, I'll—I'll promise not to forget, and not to give it +away. And I will write to you."</p> + +<p>Then they kissed and parted.</p> + +<p>Beryl lay long awake, thinking. "Does Mademoiselle 'really' care for +me, or is it only because she fancies that I am lonely?" The proud +spirit wanted to know.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>MILLICENT'S "BOYS."</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>BERYL'S guess that her visit to Mrs. Cumming was for purposes of +"inspection" lay near the mark.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "You are within such easy distance of Bath," Diana had written to +Millicent,—"could you not just manage, out of pity for me, to invite +Beryl to your lodgings for a few days, and see what sort of being she +has turned out? An opinion beforehand would be an immense help. Two +years ago, she was one of the most unpromising of school girls. If she +has learnt to behave herself,—and at seventeen she ought,—I suppose +I can't well get out of giving her a home for the present. Everybody +seems to expect it of me. But I do not want to commit myself in a +hurry—one learns wisdom as one grows older. Do pray try, my dear, to +bring it about, and send me a report of her. I don't believe Uncle +Josiah would mind, and you know you can always get your own way with +him if you choose. It only wants a little management. Tell him it +would be a kindness to Beryl, and so forth. He is sure to give in, if +he thinks it will be a benevolent action. The last year's reports of +Beryl have been good, but one does not really know what they are worth, +and Mrs. Brigstock is a common sort of person. I am dreadfully afraid +sometimes that I made quite a mistake in sending Beryl there, and that +she may have turned out a vulgar girl, whom we shall all be ashamed +of. If she has, I simply 'cannot' have her in my house. It would fret +me to death. But after all, how could I have afforded anything better? +It is quite dreadful, the way money runs through one's fingers. Now +do, Millie dear, help me in this. I am sure it is little enough of +assistance that I get from anybody."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Millicent Cumming did not exactly follow the course suggested. She went +indeed to her uncle with the required petition, but she told him quite +frankly about Diana's anxieties, and explained the proposed kindness as +being primarily towards Diana herself, though no doubt the visit would +be a pleasure to Beryl. Mr. Crosbie disliked strangers, and he grumbled +a good deal, but he yielded.</p> + +<p>They had lodgings in one of the large houses on the cliff, facing the +Prince Consort Gardens, with the sea beyond. Millicent sat in the +window, sewing, on the afternoon of the day when Beryl was expected. +She would have gone to the station to meet her visitor, but Mr. Crosbie +placed a veto on the plan.</p> + +<p>"He was not going to let Millie knock herself up for anybody. What +was the good of girls if they could not be independent? Elderly folks +always had to be dancing attendance on young folks in these days,—spoil +them out and out,—" and so forth. For Mr. Crosbie was much the same +that he had been five years earlier, just as kindhearted and just as +discontented. Some men grumble their way through life as unceasingly +as an ill-set wheel creaks throughout a journey,—good men too, many +of them, little realising how dark a blot on the Christian character +is the habit of complaining. Mr. Crosbie was by no means aware of the +defect in himself. It was always somebody else that had done wrong, or +somebody else's fault that things were not right.</p> + +<p>Millicent did not like Beryl to arrive unwelcomed, but she gave in, as +she always did give in on minor points, to Mr. Crosbie's wishes, for +the sake of peace. And she sat quietly sewing in the window, now and +then lifting her eyes to the broad waters beyond and below the cliff +gardens,—brown and green and streaky waters, any kind of colour except +the orthodox ocean-blue. Millicent at thirty-six had silver hairs +showing on either side of her fair brow, and certain shady hollows in +her face, though still Madonna-like in serene beauty. Her boys counted +that no woman in the world ever came near "mother" in looks, though +perhaps one of the two made a small mental reservation in favour of +Pearl Fordyce, looking upon himself almost as disloyal for the same.</p> + +<p>The twin brothers, now nineteen in age, were changed. Ivor was tall +and broad, sunburnt and vigorous. The likeness between the two, so +marked in boyish days, had lessened much in the developments of the +past five years. The strength and energy due to the twain seemed all to +have flowed into the frame of Ivor, while mental growth seemed rather +to have favoured Escott. Not that the young officer, now on leave of +absence from his regiment, was wanting in intellect of fair ordinary +calibre, but certainly his tastes were not bookish. He could wade +through a novel occasionally, and he had had one in his hand during the +five minutes since his return to the drawing-room. Also a newspaper +possessed interests for him, and he studied with tolerable diligence +so much of military lore as appeared necessary for advance in his +profession. Further than this, he cared little to go. He was a fine +young fellow, handsome and popular, and extremely fond of his mother, +and she was unlimitedly proud of him.</p> + +<p>But strange to say, Millicent did not lean upon Ivor. All the leaning +in which she indulged was upon her other boy, the puny wraith-like +faced being, lying on a sofa, with hollow cheeks, and large eyes, and +long thin fingers. Millicent loved both her sons intensely, and lived +for them both, but around Escott her very heart-strings were twined.</p> + +<p>It was said that he had no strength of constitution, that he read too +much and thought too much. Reading may be stopped, but not thinking, +so it was a difficult case to deal with. He was not in a consumption, +but from the age of sixteen, he had dwindled and shrunk out of +comparatively healthy boyhood into sickly young-manhood; and two terms +at college, away from his mother's care, had broken him down utterly. +To Escott, the trial was great of being thus cut off from all the work +in life, which he had planned and for which he longed. To his mother, +the trial was not less, for she knew his to be no common order of +mind, and she had looked to see him distinguish himself. But both were +patient,—outwardly at least.</p> + +<p>Ivor perused his novel steadily for full ten minutes, and then threw it +down. "Mother, I'm going out. Anything I can do for you?"</p> + +<p>"There would have been," she said, looking up: "if I had expected you +in so early. I should have liked you to meet Beryl Fordyce at the +station. But I thought you were engaged, so I would not suggest it."</p> + +<p>"So I thought this morning. I forgot Miss Fordyce. Can't I go now?"</p> + +<p>"Too late. She is a quarter of an hour over-due already."</p> + +<p>"What a lazy set she will count us, sitting here at our ease, and +leaving her to fend for herself. I wonder if she is like the excitable +little being whom we took out primrosing."</p> + +<p>"She is older," said Escott.</p> + +<p>"That stands to reason, five years having elapsed. Pearl and she must +be almost strangers by this time. They will live together now, I +suppose, mother?"</p> + +<p>Millicent moved her head in doubtful style. "The decision rests with +your aunt," she said. "I hope it may be so. We must try to make the +poor child happy while she is with us."</p> + +<p>"It has been rather a forlorn look-out for her certainly," Ivor said, +sauntering to the window. "Here she is, mother,—cab, box, and all."</p> + +<p>He was off like a shot to the front door.</p> + +<p>Millicent looked at Escott, smiling. "Good boy,—he never fails in +politeness," she said. "I shall make him take her for some long walks."</p> + +<p>Beryl came in composedly, much more at her ease in a silent way than +Millicent had expected. She was evidently prepared to be received as +an entire stranger, and her formal manner rendered impossible the kind +kiss which Millicent would have given. For Millicent had often thought +pityingly of the banished girl.</p> + +<p>But somehow Beryl was one of those people whom one does not kiss +easily. She sat down as requested, and returned a succession of +brief answers to Millicent's questions. Her journey had been quite +comfortable, and she was not at all tired; and she agreed that the day +was fine, and she had never seen Weston before. And she liked the sea +pretty well; and she would not have known Mrs. Cumming's sons again. +Millicent, always easily checked, found her powers of small talk +failing fast. She took Beryl upstairs without further delay, told her +how soon afternoon tea would be ready, asked if she had lunched, sent a +maid to unstrap the box, and returned to the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Hopelessly dull," Ivor said, with a shrug. "Not the least +objectionable, but, commonplace to the last degree."</p> + +<p>"Not quite so pretty as Pearl," said Millicent.</p> + +<p>"Mother!" both cried indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Don't let us condemn her in a hurry as too—too—utterly uninteresting," +laughed Millicent. "At all events, she is not unladylike."</p> + +<p>"It's a case of negative excellence," said Ivor. "Not unladylike, and +not downright ugly, and not positively disagreeable,—but a sort of +colourless stage bordering on all three."</p> + +<p>"Ivor, you have to take her out for long walks, and act showman to +Weston," said Escott, his eyes sparkling with amusement.</p> + +<p>"I shall decamp. Mother, 'do' probe her and find out what she can talk +about. I'm up to anything—except philosophy, crewels, or silence. +Good-bye; I'll be back to dinner," and Ivor disappeared.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>WHAT BERYL HAD TURNED OUT.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"WHAT Beryl could talk about," seemed to Mrs. Cumming a hopeless enigma.</p> + +<p>The girl came presently downstairs, and took a seat opposite the mother +and son, with her back towards the window, her attention becoming +speedily concentrated on a flat square of knitting, dingy white as to +hue. She wore a dress of dust-colour, about the most unbecoming tint +that could possibly have been chosen for her complexion, "trimmed with +itself," as the dressmakers say, and therefore unrelieved by any other +colour.</p> + +<p>Tea was brought in, and Beryl seemed glad to make a heartier meal than +usually belongs to the hour. Having disposed of so much as she wanted, +she returned to her knitting and was silent.</p> + +<p>The sparkle of the Channel waters possessed apparently less attractions +for her eyes than the ins and outs of white cotton, growing into a +close web beneath her fingers.</p> + +<p>"You seem to be more of a workwoman than Pearl," remarked Millicent.</p> + +<p>"Pearl used to like work in old days," said Beryl, in her cut-and-dried +manner, with occupied eyes.</p> + +<p>"I don't think she does now. What are you making, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"A counterpane. This is the fourth square."</p> + +<p>"How long will it take you to complete the whole?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." Beryl's manner seemed to add,—"and I don't care."</p> + +<p>"Do you take to crewels?"</p> + +<p>"No; I like straightforward work. I have no knack for fanciful things."</p> + +<p>"You must be very sorry to say good-bye to all your schoolfellows," +Millicent said after a pause.</p> + +<p>Beryl did look up now, to ask,—"Why?"</p> + +<p>"People don't generally live together for years, without the growth of +a little mutual liking," observed Escott.</p> + +<p>"I do not like any of them particularly. They are all younger than I +am, and some have not been there long."</p> + +<p>"And you have no especial friends among them, Beryl?" asked Millicent, +determined to avoid the stiff "Miss Fordyce" to which she felt disposed.</p> + +<p>"I don't dislike them."</p> + +<p>"Negative," muttered Escott.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, you must have cared for somebody in the house," said +Millicent.</p> + +<p>"There was Mademoiselle Bise," said Beryl, with seeming reluctance.</p> + +<p>"The French governess? Is she your friend?"</p> + +<p>Beryl actually paused in her knitting to consider. "I don't know," she +said at length. "We never thought about it till yesterday evening. Of +course I cannot be sure yet."</p> + +<p>"She certainly is an original!" thought the entertained Escott. "Ivor +is wrong. The specimen is not precisely commonplace, except as to the +outside."</p> + +<p>"How long will it take you to be sure?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Beryl answered again shortly. "People sometimes profess +a great deal, and change afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Schoolgirls do, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"I do not mean schoolgirls."</p> + +<p>"Your experience seems to have been more unhappy than mine," said +Escott. "It is well to trust a friend, when one gains him—or her."</p> + +<p>"I would rather not trust than be disappointed?"</p> + +<p>Escott's look expressed dissent, but he did not carry on the +conversation, and Beryl seemed quite content to work at her square in +silence.</p> + +<p>Escott went back to his book, supporting himself on one elbow, while +the thin fingers strayed thoughtfully through the fair hair. Once +absorbed in reading, he heeded nothing else.</p> + +<p>His mother, presently laying down her work to watch him, thought he +looked painfully frail; and he had not turned many pages before a +wearied look stole over the white brow. She dreaded to tease him with +over-solicitude, yet longed to see the book laid aside. In her anxiety, +Beryl's presence was almost forgotten, and mother and son were alike +startled to hear the blunt remark,—</p> + +<p>"I don't think you ought to try to read."</p> + +<p>Escott glanced up, to meet Beryl's gaze. "I beg your pardon?" he said.</p> + +<p>"You don't look fit to read," repeated Beryl, varying her words +slightly. "Are you ill?"</p> + +<p>Millicent wondered how he would take the question. He had at all times +a dislike to observations upon his health, and this dislike had of late +increased to an almost morbid extent. "No," he said curtly, and he went +on with his occupation.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you ought," repeated Beryl.</p> + +<p>Millicent would have given a silencing sign, but she could not catch +Beryl's eye.</p> + +<p>Escott evidently had a moment's struggle with himself. Then he +said,—"Thanks for good advice,"—threw the book on the table, and went +out of the room.</p> + +<p>"He looks ill, whether he is or not," said Beryl. "What is the matter +with him?"</p> + +<p>No answer coming, she glanced up to find a cause,—and saw the mother's +tears. Beryl drew her own conclusion immediately. "Then he is ill—very +ill," she said. "I thought he must be."</p> + +<p>Millicent regained her voice with difficulty. "No," she said; "it is +weakness only. There is no positive disease, I am thankful to say."</p> + +<p>"But why can't something be done?"</p> + +<p>"A great deal has been done; and we hope he will be stronger by and by. +My dear, you must not, if you please, remark on his health or seem to +watch him."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"It troubles Escott,—annoys him. You must not do it, my dear. He does +not like to have his delicacy remarked upon."</p> + +<p>"I don't see the good of making believe that a thing isn't when it is," +said the downright Beryl. "But of course, if you wish it, I will try +not to seem to be noticing."</p> + +<p>Escott soon returned, going to an ordinary chair instead of the sofa, +and—perversely, Beryl thought—taking up his book anew. She fully +meant to follow Mrs. Cumming's directions, but somehow her attention +persisted in wandering from her knitting; and so surely as her eyes +were turned, though but for a moment, in his direction, those large +blue eyes with their heavy lids were raised to meet them. Escott was +evidently on the "qui-vive," and evidently also he was bearing up with +difficulty; but no more was said.</p> + +<p>Millicent was presently summoned into the next room, where Mr. Crosbie +slept away a considerable part of the afternoon, and she came back to +summon Beryl also.</p> + +<p>"You have not been introduced to my uncle yet," she said.</p> + +<p>A brief and not lively interview followed. The old gentleman speedily +gave his niece a hint that he had had enough, and when she had taken +away Beryl, she was herself immediately recalled.</p> + +<p>"So that's the girl," said Mr. Crosbie. "That's Beryl Fordyce,—Pearl's +sister, hey?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, uncle."</p> + +<p>"It's easy to say, yes, uncle,'" growled Mr. Crosbie. "But what is to +be done with her?"</p> + +<p>"I think we must keep her here for a few days at all events. I do not +fancy we shall dislike her."</p> + +<p>"Dislike her! There's nothing to dislike. I don't dislike a post or a +stock or a stone, I hope. But what on earth is to be done with her?"</p> + +<p>"Beryl's home will probably be with Di," suggested Millicent.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, well," said Mr. Crosbie, moving his hands up and down. +"Well—well,—keep her out of my way, my dear—keep her out of my way. +That's all I have to say. I wish Di joy of her, that's all."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"She is an odd girl. I can't quite make her out yet," Escott said a few +days later.</p> + +<p>"The greater riddle to me is how you manage to feel enough interest in +her, to trouble your head at all about the matter," Ivor said lightly.</p> + +<p>"I am interested in anything that I don't understand," said Escott, +half smiling.</p> + +<p>"If that is all, I can supply you with a clue to your riddle. You say +you can't make her out—but in my humble opinion, there is nothing to be +made out. When you have seen the outside, you have seen all. It is a +homogeneous substance—solid and respectable, not superior in quality, +but the same throughout."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Is it? I have my doubts there."</p> + +<p>"A good substantial piece of deal boarding," laughed Ivor. "Not the +least ornamental, but quite capable of being useful. It isn't mahogany +or walnut, and it is more fit for kitchen or bedroom use than for +the drawing-room. Nothing of veneer or polish about it,—still, quite +unexceptionable of its kind. Not brilliant, of course; but who expects +brilliancy in a deal board?"</p> + +<p>"You are hard upon her, Ivor."</p> + +<p>"Hard to call a thing by its proper name! I don't see that. But you +would rather have it veneered perhaps?"</p> + +<p>There was some excuse for Ivor. He had really tried his best with +Beryl, and had failed. A handsome and gentlemanly young fellow, +already accustomed, though he had not passed his twentieth birthday, +to be admired and courted on all sides, he found in Beryl's staid +indifference a new and not a fascinating experience. He was steady +and well-principled, popular in his regiment no less than in general +society, and not at all more self-satisfied than any average young +man would be in a like position. His submissive devotion for his +mother and his strong affection for his twin brother, would have been +redeeming points in a much more faulty character. However, a touch +of masculine vanity undoubtedly ranked among his faults, and being +used to appreciation from ladies, he did not quite approve the lack +of it from Beryl. For Beryl certainly did not trouble herself to show +any particular appreciation of him. She showed a growing interest in +Escott; but for Ivor, she did not care.</p> + +<p>It was no fault of his. He had tried walking, and he had tried +talking, without success. Beryl's old love of wild-flowers seemed to +have forsaken her, and her old love of scrambling had died a natural +death. She liked a walk along a well-beaten track, but showed entire +carelessness as to whether Ivor, Mrs. Cumming, anybody or nobody, were +her companion, and to sit indoors over her slowly-growing counterpane +appeared to be the more favourite occupation. In conversation, Ivor +found himself nonplussed. He could make talk to any amount for all the +other young ladies of his acquaintance, whether singly or collectively +encountered; but he could not make talk for Beryl. She never started +a subject herself; and though she answered when he spoke, her answers +caused no rebound of ideas. At the best, the two played a game of +shuttle-cock, wherein the counting rarely advanced beyond two or three +turns. To pick up the shuttle-cock and begin anew so frequently was +fatiguing, more especially as the exertions devolved chiefly on Ivor.</p> + +<p>"It was a herculean task," he said despairingly, after one of these +walks.</p> + +<p>And though his mother laughingly patted his broad shoulders, and told +him he had herculean strength to match, she fully sympathised.</p> + +<p>For Millicent too had failed. She had been from the first anxious +to delve beneath the outer shell of Beryl's mind, but she had been +hitherto unsuccessful. Millicent, in her sweet attractiveness, was as +little used as was Ivor to find her attractions unavailing. Diana was, +perhaps, the only living person hitherto, within reach of Millicent's +influence, who had not bent to it. Millicent had had in her lifetime +about as much spoiling of admiration as falls to the lot of any woman +in an ordinary way. She had had her counterpoising trials also, and was +not spoilt. But Beryl puzzled her.</p> + +<p>"There must be a soft spot somewhere in the nature," she said, not +accepting Ivor's "homogeneous" theory. "If one could find it!"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>A week had elapsed, and as yet she had not found the "soft spot." Beryl +seemed disposed to pass through life in a jog-trot and uninteresting +fashion, caring little for others, cared for little by others, and not +unwilling to have things thus. Was she really willing?</p> + +<p>Millicent had no definite fault to find with her visitor. Beryl was +tidy, well-behaved, and punctual. She appeared good-tempered; at least, +nothing had caused her to appear the contrary. She did not step out of +her way, commonly, to exercise courtesy and self-denial. But if Mr. +Crosbie lost his spectacles or required a book, Beryl was quite willing +to put down her knitting, and to hunt for the one or fetch the other. +If only there had been a touch of warmth, of spring, of gracefulness, +about what she did! If only she had not been so hopelessly staid and +matter-of-fact!</p> + +<p>Millicent was direfully at a loss what to say in writing to Diana. +A word too much might injure Beryl's standing for years; while a +word too little might be counted untrue. She wrote and tore up three +letters, having waited several days for clearer light as to Beryl's +real character. Then, in despair she went to her uncle, and begged his +advice,—a step which the old gentleman always approved.</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut!" he said. "Tell the truth, my dear. No good to mince +matters. Di will see with her own eyes, if not with yours. A +well-meaning commonplace sort of girl. You can't describe her as +anything else."</p> + +<p>"Poor Beryl! She is very good-humoured and easy to get on with."</p> + +<p>"Tell Di so—if you think it."</p> + +<p>"But Di wants a full and particular account."</p> + +<p>"Sort of diagnosis of the case! Humph! Women always want what they +can't get. Why not have Di and Pearl here for a few days, and let Di +judge for herself?"</p> + +<p>"Here!" repeated Millicent. "She would not come, uncle."</p> + +<p>"Try,—you just try," chuckled Mr. Crosbie. "I've a notion that she +would. Di seems to be under a horror of committing herself. If she +comes here, she can see for herself what Beryl is. The whole thing is +rubbish, to my mind. She could just as well have Beryl home at once, +and leave plans uncertain for a few weeks as to the future. But Di +never can walk straight forward."</p> + +<p>"There are two or three rooms in the house empty," mused Millicent; +"and Di said in her last letter that Pearl looked pale, and wanted +change. Yes; I think the idea is good. I will write directly."</p> + +<p>Which she did, saying nothing to Beryl.</p> + +<p>Diana's answer arrived late on the evening of Saturday.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>MEETING AGAIN.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>AT breakfast, on Sunday morning, Millicent said to Beryl, without +preface—</p> + +<p>"How will you like a sight of Pearl the day after to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>Ivor had the satisfaction of finding that Beryl could be disconcerted. +She coloured, hesitated, and asked—"Am I to go so soon?"</p> + +<p>"My sister and Pearl are coming here on Tuesday for a week."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Fenwick!"</p> + +<p>"Your aunt Diana!" Millicent answered a little pointedly, noticing, as +she had noticed before, that Beryl rarely used the title. "You will be +pleased to see them both."</p> + +<p>"I shall like to see Pearl, of course." The tone was not one of delight.</p> + +<p>"But not Mrs. Fenwick," mischievously suggested Ivor.</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl, with decided shortness of manner. Then, after a +pause: "I do not know Mrs. Fenwick well enough to care for her,—and—"</p> + +<p>"And—what?" asked Ivor.</p> + +<p>Beryl looked towards Millicent. "I was going to say—'and I never +could;' but I thought you might not like it."</p> + +<p>"I think you would be wise not to make up your mind until you know her +better," Millicent said kindly. "People who might be friends are often +kept apart for years by preconceived notions."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Fenwick and I could not be friends," said Beryl slowly, cutting +her toast into strips.</p> + +<p>"She has been a good friend to you."</p> + +<p>"Yes,—I don't mean that. I mean that we do not care for one another, +and that we could not—"</p> + +<p>"Until you are better acquainted."</p> + +<p>"No; I know her enough for 'that.' I have been with her three times for +a month, and she writes to me sometimes."</p> + +<p>Painful recollections of one kind or another seemed to come up. Beryl +suddenly turned crimson, ceased speaking, and began to eat her toast +with unnecessary speed.</p> + +<p>Ivor exchanged glances with his mother, discovered that he had to speak +to Escott, apologised and disappeared.</p> + +<p>Millicent remarked quietly—</p> + +<p>"Your acquaintance with my sister was unfortunate in its beginning, +Beryl. I always think the report of your aunt's old servant did harm, +and gave a false impression at the first."</p> + +<p>"Did it? I don't know. I suppose I was a troublesome child," said +Beryl, in the manner of one whose childhood lay far in the rear. "But +that is no reason—"</p> + +<p>Beryl paused, and Millicent made a sound of questioning.</p> + +<p>"I was only going to say—that is no reason why she should be always +unkind to me."</p> + +<p>"She has not been intentionally unkind, I am sure," said Millicent.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Perhaps not," Beryl said with an air of incredulity.</p> + +<p>"One must read people by their actions, at least as much as by their +words," suggested Millicent.</p> + +<p>Beryl evidently understood. "It is not words only," she said. "Cannot +you see by a person's face when she dislikes you? Of course I am not +a child now, and I do not forget that she has given Pearl a home, and +has paid for my schooling. And I—I suppose I am grateful. Of course I +am. Only, I would rather have had things different. I would rather have +kept Pearl."</p> + +<p>"You will probably be much more with Pearl in the future," said +Millicent kindly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know at all. Mrs. Fenwick—Aunt Di, I mean—does not tell me +where I am to live. And she said I might have to go out as a governess. +I should not mind working for my livelihood, but I don't think I am +clever enough to teach. I would much rather be trained as a nurse. I +think I could do 'that.' But Mrs. Fenwick said I must leave it to her +to decide, and she has told me nothing lately. Sometimes she writes as +if I were to live with her and Pearl. But I don't know—it would not be +the same. Pearl is not mine now."</p> + +<p>The last two sentences broke out abruptly, with no dearth of feeling in +them. Beryl gathered some crumbs into a little heap on the table-cloth, +and crushed them in her hand.</p> + +<p>"The uncertainty is trying for you," Millicent said slowly, in some +doubt how to answer. "I do not think my sister has quite made up her +mind yet. A good deal, I suppose, depends on how you meet, and how you +get on together. After all, we must have our times of uncertainty and +waiting. They do not really harm us."</p> + +<p>"It is not the uncertainty that I mind. It is the feeling—"</p> + +<p>Beryl broke off again, and Millicent said—"I am a little afraid that +this feeling of yours about my sister may prevent things from being as +they should be."</p> + +<p>"It is not my fault. Could 'you' like a person who could not bear you?" +asked Beryl. "If she cared for me, I would try to care for her."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear child, the caring must begin on one side," said Millicent +persuasively. "Why should it not begin on yours? My sister has at least +shown you much kindness. Can you not repay it with loving gratitude?"</p> + +<p>"One can't love because one ought," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Not precisely; but one can look at the best instead of the worst +in another, because one ought. One can cultivate the kindliness of +feeling which often grows into love. And one can pray to have the wrong +feelings conquered."</p> + +<p>"I don't think the feelings are wrong. I think I have reason," said +Beryl coldly. "I cannot say much to you, of course, because you are her +sister—but—I 'have' reason."</p> + +<p>"I can believe that you have in some measure. My sister is impulsive, +and she may have misunderstood you. Still I do not think you are quite +right to suspect her of unkind motives, or of actual dislike."</p> + +<p>"It is not suspecting. I 'know,'" broke in Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Know her motives?"</p> + +<p>"No; I know she dislikes me."</p> + +<p>"If it were so, there is such a thing as returning good for evil, and +loving those who hate us,—even hate us. That goes far beyond the utmost +feeling which you can accuse her of."</p> + +<p>Beryl thought not. Her face wore a slightly defiant expression.</p> + +<p>"And if she does not love you yet, why should you not sooner or later +win her love?"</p> + +<p>Beryl looked down. "I do not care to try," she said sullenly, her usual +fence of good-humoured indifference broken down for the moment. "It is +Pearl that I want,—not Mrs. Fenwick. She has stolen Pearl from me. I do +not want 'her' love."</p> + +<p>Millicent knew too well what Beryl meant. She had often grieved over +Diana's management of affairs, and over the growing estrangement of the +sisters. Yet she could not in so many words admit the fact to Beryl.</p> + +<p>"There have been mistakes, no doubt," she said. "But the fact that +Pearl is fond of my sister ought not to touch her affection for you. If +Diana has caused you pain, you can at least forgive her. We all make +mistakes, and need to be forgiven."</p> + +<p>Beryl looked up straight in Millicent's face, the old childish glow +shining in her eyes. "I never forgive Mrs. Fenwick for stealing Pearl +from me," she said.</p> + +<p>"'Forgive us—'as' we forgive," uttered Millicent.</p> + +<p>"I cannot help it. One may talk easily enough," said Beryl. "But you +don't know what it is. You don't know what it is to have no home, and +nobody."</p> + +<p>Millicent would have given much to have escaped an interruption at that +moment. It came, however, as such interruptions often do come, when +apparently least to be desired, in the person of Ivor. He evidently +thought he had allowed ample time for exchange of confidences.</p> + +<p>Beryl rose and went to the window, and when, two minutes later, she +turned round, she had entirely regained her usual staid and collected +air, and looked as if she had never in her life been farther from any +display of feeling. But Millicent had obtained a glimpse of what lay +beneath the smooth surface.</p> + +<p>She had no opportunity of obtaining a second. Beryl studiously +avoided another "tête-à-tête" during the remainder of the day. And in +conversation, she glided persistently away from the subject of Mrs. +Fenwick and Pearl.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Monday was the same. Beryl worked at her counterpane with an air of +profound attention, and had another long walk with Ivor. But she +gave vent to no remarks beyond the merest commonplaces, and Pearl's +name scarcely passed her lips. Ivor was indignant at the seeming +indifference, for Pearl's sake; and Escott would have been indignant +also, but that he knew something from his mother of the Sunday morning +conversation.</p> + +<p>"It is Aunt Di's fault—not Pearl's," was his view of the matter. +"Perhaps you will be able to give Aunt Di a hint some day, mother, how +to manage differently. And after all—when once Beryl is thrown with +Pearl—"</p> + +<p>He flushed up, and left the sentence unfinished, evidently resting his +hopes there for an improvement in the state of affairs.</p> + +<p>Millicent was not so sanguine as regarded Pearl, and she had no +confidence at all in the good effects of a hint to Diana. Advice in +that direction commonly acted in a reverse fashion from what was +intended.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Tuesday afternoon came, and the same train which had brought Beryl +brought Mrs. Fenwick and Pearl. Ivor met them at the station, and +ushered them into the drawing-room, exchanging arch nothings with +Pearl, and showing himself to be on terms of brotherly intimacy.</p> + +<p>Diana looked not a day older than five years before, and her costume +was, as usual, elaborately fashionable. Bugles had gone out of use, +but there was always a sheeny sparkle about Diana's dress, suiting the +sparkle of her face and manner. She wore mourning no longer, though her +prevalent tone of colour was subdued.</p> + +<p>Beryl paid small heed to Diana Fenwick, though the two shook hands, and +exchanged a conventional kiss. Her attention was concentrated on her +sister.</p> + +<p>Pearl Fordyce had grown into a lovely girl. Thu promise of her +childhood was already richly fulfilled. She was not tall, but her +slight figure was perfectly graceful; and the delicate little +face, with its pensive blue eyes, was set off by ivory whiteness +of complexion, and geranium tinting in cheeks and lips. The smile, +too, with which she answered some gay banter of Ivor's, though not +brilliant, was sweetly winning.</p> + +<p>"The sisters are as great a contrast as ever," Diana remarked.</p> + +<p>It was an unnecessary observation, and it jarred on more than one +present. Pearl laughed faintly in a deprecatory way. Diana sat looking +from one to the other, carrying on her comparison.</p> + +<p>"I suppose one could not expect anything different; and after all, +sisters are not always alike. How is Uncle Josiah? I should think he +had had enough of Weston by this time. For my part, I cannot endure the +place. In fact, I almost wrote yesterday morning to say we would not +come, but that silly child nearly broke her heart at the idea, so I had +to give it up."</p> + +<p>"Dear auntie, you promised not to tell," murmured Pearl, with just +enough heightening of colour to add to her loveliness.</p> + +<p>Ivor stood watching her with an air of easy and undisguised admiration. +Escott's hand was shading his eyes, but Millicent knew that those eyes +were bent in the same direction. She could not wonder. Very few people +were able to sit in the room with Pearl and not look at her. Very few +would have been able to knit calmly, with downcast eyes, at a dingy +white counterpane square, as Beryl was now doing. Of a certainty, no +one could have supposed that these two sisters had not met for twenty +months, they had so little to say to one another.</p> + +<p>"Did I? Ah, I forgot!" Diana responded, laughing. "Little goose, was +she not, Millicent! Weston seems to have more charms for her than for +me. I have no predilection for mud. However, a change is a change, and +we must make the best of it, though really journeys are a terrible +expense in these days."</p> + +<p>Millicent wanted to bring the sisters nearer together, but she found it +not easy. A proposal that the travellers should go to their room was +negatived by Diana. She was "dreadfully tired," and so she supposed was +Pearl; and they would rather have tea first. Millicent did not think +Diana carried her fatigue in her face, and she had rarely seen Pearl +less pale, but she could not combat the assertion. She rang for tea, +and dispensed it with as little delay as possible, Ivor making himself +generally useful, and Escott starting up to wait upon Pearl with an air +of subdued pleasure.</p> + +<p>Pearl received the attentions of both brothers as a matter of course, +paying for them with sweet smiles and little soft-toned utterances.</p> + +<p>Beryl worked on in steady silence. Then Millicent proposed that Beryl +should show Pearl her room, and Ivor met this with a counter-proposal +that Pearl should take a turn in the gardens across the road, and have +a nearer view of the sea. Escott protested that she would be tired, but +Pearl said—</p> + +<p>"O no, it would be delicious."</p> + +<p>"Then Beryl must go too," Millicent said decisively.</p> + +<p>And Beryl rose with a reluctant expression.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me, that is all I entreat," Diana said languidly.</p> + +<p>But Escott volunteered to be of the party. He was not well enough for +the exertion, and Millicent knew he would suffer for it afterwards; yet +she would not tease him by objections. She watched the four from the +window, crossing the road, Ivor and Escott on either side of Pearl, in +eager conversation, and Beryl beyond Escott, walking a little apart and +silently, in contemplation of the dust.</p> + +<p>"She is not improved," Diana observed.</p> + +<p>"Beryl, do you mean? I think she is, Di, in some respects."</p> + +<p>"They must be hidden 'respects,'" said Diana, gaping.</p> + +<p>"She is quiet and obliging, and gives no trouble; and I never saw a +girl more uniformly busy."</p> + +<p>"I hate people to be busy about nothing. Worse than idleness."</p> + +<p>"Hardly, Di. Misdirected energy may be turned in a right direction, but +one can make no possible use of idle tendencies."</p> + +<p>Diana gaped again. "There's a sort of mania for making use of +everything and everybody in the present day. It is quite fatiguing. +Nobody shall make use of me, if I can help it."</p> + +<p>"But, Di, you could not expect Beryl to turn out pretty."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I expected. All I hope is that she will not turn my +house upside down. If she does, I will not keep her there."</p> + +<p>"I do not think there is much danger. Beryl has at least learnt to +control herself."</p> + +<p>Yet even as Millicent spoke, she wondered how far this self-control +would reach.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>CONFIRMATION.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"BY THE BYE, have you ever been confirmed, Beryl?"</p> + +<p>The question came out bluntly next morning in family conclave. Diana +was enjoying the sweets of idleness in an easy-chair, and Pearl was +making believe to get through a little fancy-work, as she sat in the +bow-window chatting with Ivor. Escott had appeared early, and was doing +his best to conceal languor by joining fitfully in the conversation. +Millicent's calm face had a careworn look. Beryl was for once reading +instead of working, and she had not spoken a word since breakfast, +finished about half an hour earlier. She looked up at the sound of her +name, and said, "No."</p> + +<p>"Very careless of Mrs. Brigstock. Of course, I supposed she would see +to all that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>Beryl coloured, and evidently had a difficulty in speaking on the +subject. But after a moment of hesitation, she said stiffly, "I did not +wish—"</p> + +<p>"Didn't wish what?" asked Mrs. Fenwick, with sharpness.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Brigstock asked me last year if I would be confirmed; and I said +not."</p> + +<p>"Why, pray?"</p> + +<p>"I did not wish it."</p> + +<p>"Absurd," Diana said, with an impatient jerk of her gold watch-chain. +"Why, Pearl is only just over sixteen, and she was confirmed more than +a year ago. You were sixteen last year, 'quite' old enough. Nobody +thinks of waiting longer. It is absurd to put off in that way. Now I +think of it, I remember writing to you, when Pearl was confirmed, and +saying that I wished you to take the first opportunity, if you had not +done so already. You remember?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember." Beryl lifted her eyes to look straight at Mrs. +Fenwick, not defiantly, but with the air of one bracing herself to +resistance.</p> + +<p>"Then why did you not do as you were told?"</p> + +<p>"I did not wish to be confirmed. Mrs. Brigstock gave me the choice, and +I said I would not."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Brigstock had no business to do anything of the sort. What was +your reason for refusing?"</p> + +<p>Beryl was silent.</p> + +<p>Diana evidently had not the faintest idea that the conversation was one +which should have taken place in private.</p> + +<p>"I hope you have not taken up any ridiculous scruples about the rite +being of no use, and so on," she said, with sufficient vagueness. "One +never knows what notions people will get hold of next, in these days."</p> + +<p>Silence still.</p> + +<p>Diana flipped a crumb from a small crevice in the arm-chair.</p> + +<p>"If you have no reason to give, of course I can only suppose it to +have been a childish fancy. There will be a Confirmation in Hurst next +autumn, and I shall expect you to be confirmed then. I shall give in +your name directly we return. It is provoking, for the classes are +always held at a most inconvenient time, just so as to interfere with +one's meals, and I hate to have arrangements upset. But it can't be +helped. As Mrs. Brigstock did not choose to see to it, I must."</p> + +<p>Beryl was crimsoning. "I would rather not," she said.</p> + +<p>"But I would rather you should," said Mrs. Fenwick.</p> + +<p>The defiant look came now unmistakably, and, Beryl breathed hard. "I +shall not be confirmed," she said. "Not yet, I mean. It would not be +right for me. I do not wish it, and it is not a thing can be forced."</p> + +<p>"Forced! Rubbish," said Diana petulantly. "Why, you are nearly +eighteen. It is not proper or respectable to go on without +Confirmation. Everybody is confirmed."</p> + +<p>"I hope not—in that spirit," Millicent said involuntarily. "If Beryl +does not feel yet that she could take the vows from her heart, she is +right to hold back."</p> + +<p>Beryl's eyes sent one glance of gratitude in her direction, while Diana +reddened angrily.</p> + +<p>"Stuff! Nonsense!" she said. "Why it is a form,—very good and +necessary, of course,—but it is a form. It is a thing one has to do. +Everybody does it. It is just that."</p> + +<p>"Just a piece of respectability," put in Ivor.</p> + +<p>"If it really were 'just that,' and no more, one could not be surprised +at any one counting it a meaningless rite," said Millicent.</p> + +<p>"I am sure 'I' don't know what you mean. It is a form,—everybody knows +that. And everybody goes through with it. You had your boys confirmed +as soon as they were sixteen."</p> + +<p>Millicent's gentle face lighted up. "Yes," she said, looking across to +the "boys" in question. "It was their earnest wish, and I was thankful. +I could not look into their hearts, Di, and God alone knows whether +they felt as much as they seemed to feel, only I know they honestly +thought they did. They did not come forward to make solemn promises +before God, merely as a respectable form, with the deliberate intention +of breaking their word."</p> + +<p>"You talk just as if the baptismal vows were promises in the common +sense of the expression," said Diana.</p> + +<p>"'They did promise and vow three things in my name,'" quoted Millicent.</p> + +<p>"Oh—well, yes,—but everybody knows there is a difference—"</p> + +<p>"I see none. A promise is a promise,—certainly not 'less' when spoken +to God than when spoken to man."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am tired of the subject," said Diana pettishly. "The upshot of +it all is that you encourage Beryl to set up herself against me."</p> + +<p>"You mistake me," said Millicent quietly. "I should be very sorry to +see Beryl opposing you for the sake of opposition. She owes you far too +much. But I think you will agree with me here, when you have considered +the matter. Children, is it not a pity you should waste your morning +indoors this fine day?" She often call them "children" thus, in her +motherly tender way, and the boys liked the word from her lips, though +a good many young fellows of their age would not have liked it. "Why +not take a walk—Beryl and Pearl and Ivor?"</p> + +<p>"And Escott," her other son said.</p> + +<p>"Are you up to it this morning?"</p> + +<p>Escott said, "Quite," and a general stir followed.</p> + +<p>Millicent went out of the room with them, and when the quartette had +disappeared, she came back, to find Diana shedding angry tears.</p> + +<p>"As if I had not worry enough already," she said. "It really is too +bad. The girl will be perfectly unbearable."</p> + +<p>"But, Di, it is evidently a question of conscience."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense! I don't believe it. She likes oppose me, and to make +a fuss. Conscience is the excuse for everything in these days. But I +intend to have my own way in the matter. I will not be baulked by a +girl's whims."</p> + +<p>"I hardly see how you can obtain your way. It would be better to yield +gracefully in the beginning than to be defeated in the end, putting +aside more serious considerations. Beryl has simply to tell Mr. Bishop +that she has no wish for Confirmation, or even to do no more than +decline to answer any questions, and she will not be admitted."</p> + +<p>"Beryl will do what I choose, or she will be sorry for it. Why, I had +no such fuss with Pearl. She said 'Yes' at once, and went through the +classes, and I am sure she looked a perfect picture in her white veil. +Everybody was noticing her. She was like a little bride."</p> + +<p>Millicent felt that the discussion was hopeless.</p> + +<p>"As for making such a fuss about feelings, the less people say the more +they feel, as a rule. I don't believe in all that talk about religion. +It is a pure case of conceit and obstinacy. Beryl likes to go against +me on all occasions, and always did. But she shall learn to submit, or +I will have no more to do with her. Not wish for Confirmation, indeed! +Your boys were not so absurd, say what you like in defence of Beryl."</p> + +<p>"They did wish for it, Di. That made all the difference."</p> + +<p>"Of course they did, and so would any person with proper feelings. 'I' +wished it when I was a girl. I never thought of putting it off. And it +is not that your boys are so tremendously religious either. Escott may +be inclined that way—sickly people often are,—but Ivor is just like any +other young man."</p> + +<p>"I think 'not,'—if you mean any other irreligious young man. Ivor is +reserved, but he has high principle, and I believe there is much deeper +feeling than appears on the surface. I am not denying that he has his +faults,—that is another question. And I do not for a moment contend +that self-deception is not possible,—is not even frequent. I only say +that no one ought to be confirmed, without at least a strong sense of +the reality of the promises, and an earnest purpose to keep them."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am sick of the subject. But I intend to have my own way with +Beryl. It would never do to let her begin by defying me." And Diana +settled herself to the perusal of a yellow-backed novel, with her feet +on the sofa, in a fatigued attitude.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>IN THE WOODS.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE four wended their way along the Kewstoke Road, turning after a +while into a broad shady path which slanted upwards to the right, +gradually widening its distance from the lower road. It was a +charming way through the woods; one of the few really pretty walks in +Weston-super-Mare. There had been much soft rain in the spring of this +particular year, and the result appeared in a semi-tropical luxuriance +of growth. Almost every trunk had its clothing of ivy; and between +the thick growth below and the dense foliage above, creepers hung in +countless festoons.</p> + +<p>To the right of the path, which was almost broad enough to deserve the +name of a road, the wooded height ascended somewhat steeply, and to +the left it descended in much the same fashion. The path in front rose +steadily, and in the rear it slanted downwards, without a bend, arched +over by boughs, and seeming to terminate in the sea. The road and beach +intervening were not visible. Only the sunlit waters showed in a round +green frame.</p> + +<p>Beryl was thoughtful, but Pearl had a gay fit on her, and looked her +prettiest. She and Ivor chatted together merrily. The little party +did not fall into two and two, as might have seemed more natural. +Escott attached himself persistently to Pearl's other side. And Beryl +walked sometimes evenly with the three, sometimes a little before or +behind. Escott became soon as silent as Beryl, but Pearl was so busily +conversing with Ivor as for some time not to notice this. Happening at +length to make some slight appeal to him, she came to a stand-still.</p> + +<p>"Why, Escott,—are we going too fast for you?"</p> + +<p>"Only the heat," Escott said, attempting to smile, but he was terribly +pale, and thick drops stood on his brow. He leant against the trunk of +a tree, evidently thankful for the pause. "This hill is rather a pull."</p> + +<p>"I hardly noticed that it was a hill at all," Ivor said, with concerned +looks. "But of course it is a warm morning. You must not go any +farther, my dear fellow. What have we all been thinking about?"</p> + +<p>"Had you not better sit down?" asked Pearl, her sweet eyes bent kindly +on him. "Poor Escott! I am afraid you are not much better yet for +Weston air. Shall we all rest here for a few minutes, Ivor? It really +is a tiring climb."</p> + +<p>Escott looked grateful as she betook herself to a little upright +tree-stump, motioning him to another. He obeyed, and sat with his face +resting on his hands, evidently exhausted.</p> + +<p>Ivor hovered about, concerned still, but aware that the kindest plan +was to leave his brother alone.</p> + +<p>Beryl sat on the opposite bank, near, yet apart. And after a minute, +she said bluntly,—"Have you not some eau-de-cologne, Pearl?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I have. Thank you for reminding me. We will all +refresh ourselves," Pearl said, with tact. "Handkerchiefs out, +please,—Beryl—Ivor—Escott."</p> + +<p>Beryl declined, saying she disliked scents, but Ivor was not so +disdainful, and Escott came in for a bountiful share. "What a pity to +give me so much," he said.</p> + +<p>"I have plenty more at home, and it will do you good," Pearl said, with +another of her kind sweet glances, which carried captive most people's +hearts. She did not mean anything by them. Pearl was only fond of +Escott in sisterly fashion.</p> + +<p>Then Escott was left quiet again, and Pearl and Ivor chatted +unceasingly about anything or nothing, and Beryl remained apart, lost +in her own thoughts,—thoughts stirred up by the conversation with Diana +Fenwick.</p> + +<p>Beryl was troubled, and anxious, and unsettled. She did not quite know +what, in her heart of hearts, she really wished. Certain words uttered +by Suzette Bise had been often in her mind of late, bringing unhappy +feelings with them. The year before, she had unhesitatingly decided +against offering herself for Confirmation. This year, though she did +not exactly wish to be a candidate, yet she wished that she "could" +wish it. Beryl was very true and honest. If she took the promises at +all, she would feel herself bound to keep them to the best of her +ability; so much was clear. She was not quite so clear as to what was +contained in the promises; and she believed that a good many things +might be implied which she would not like to do: yet somehow she could +not feel so easy or contented as the year before, to leave the matter +thus.</p> + +<p>Beryl wished she had somebody to consult, but there was nobody. +Millicent Cumming's very beauty and grace made her, despite her gentle +goodness, seem at a hopeless distance, and gave Beryl always a sense +of constraint with her. She wanted to find somebody more like herself, +more on her own level. Suzette Bise, as a foreigner, would know +little about the question, she thought; also Suzette Bise had not yet +answered her letter, written immediately on arrival at Weston. Beryl +was beginning to decide that Suzette Bise was only another example of +fickle human nature. "Another," for she looked upon Pearl as the prime +example in her experience, even while loving her still with unchanged +affection.</p> + +<p>So Beryl sat apart, lonely and self-occupied. Escott sat in a manner +apart too, with attention bent not upon self but upon the picture +opposite,—the graceful little figure, with shady hat, and smiling eyes, +and soft waves of hair showing as gold in the gleam of sunlight which +fell upon it through crossing boughs. Escott was only nineteen, but +ill-health had developed him early, and in feeling, he was far more of +a man than the vigorous sunburnt Ivor. Escott was becoming very much +wrapped up in Pearl Fordyce. He loved his mother dearly, yet there was +a pedestal in his heart occupied by Pearl and not by Millicent. Ivor +could honestly declare his belief that his mother was unrivalled by +living woman. But Escott could not quite echo the words. He did not +think Pearl "like" his mother, but certainly he thought her unequalled.</p> + +<p>Ivor was not at all in love with Pearl. Both boys had been for years +on brotherly terms with her; and the change which had begun of late +to creep over Escott had not affected Ivor at all. He had not even a +boyish fancy that he ought to be in love with so pretty a creature. He +admired Pearl greatly,—almost as much as he admired himself. He liked +Pearl, and he knew she liked him. The brother-and-sister terms of +intimacy were very pleasant, and he was much too gentlemanly to be less +polite and attentive because of the intimacy.</p> + +<p>And Pearl's manner was easy and natural enough. Perhaps, if she had had +a mother living, that mother might have detected danger. For, after +all, mere brotherly and gentlemanly attentions are not always quite +easily to be distinguished from attentions of another sort, and Pearl +at sixteen was not versed in such matters, though already accustomed +to a considerable amount of admiration. She had very simple and pretty +ways with both the brothers; only now and then a tinge of shyness +showed in her manner to Ivor; while her pity for Escott gave her a +particularly gentle and winning air with him.</p> + +<p>A discussion presently arose as to plans. Escott was suffering symptoms +of a bad attack from his inveterate enemy neuralgia, and further +walking was not to be thought of. He proposed to return home alone, +leaving the other three to go on; but no one quite liked the idea. Ivor +and Pearl had been suggesting a ramble "some day" straight up through +the woods, to the Roman encampment. Pearl did not generally affect +scrambling, but she looked prettily eager over the idea. Beryl, when +appealed to, understood it as a suggestion for the present, and held +back, saying she did not care to climb, and would walk home with Escott.</p> + +<p>Ivor seized on the thought, and asked why Pearl should not go at once. +Or at least they could climb a short distance, and decide whether she +could manage the whole another day.</p> + +<p>"Well, just for five minutes while Escott is resting," Pearl said; "and +then we can all walk home together."</p> + +<p>"Beryl must go too," said Escott.</p> + +<p>"I don't care for climbing," repeated Beryl. "One's things get so torn."</p> + +<p>"You are not so great at hedges and ditches as five years ago," +Ivor said, holding out a helping hand to Pearl, though somewhat +unnecessarily. "We shall be back in a few minutes, I expect; but if +not, don't wait for us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think we are sure to be," said Pearl, nodding and smiling from +among the trees.</p> + +<p>The two figures slowly disappeared. Escott gazed after them, and +murmured something about "little angel."</p> + +<p>"Is that your idea of an angel?" asked Beryl, in an oddly +matter-of-fact tone.</p> + +<p>Escott looked at her in some wonder, and her eyes met his steadily.</p> + +<p>"You think I am jealous of Pearl," she said. "But I don't think I am. +It is not that. She is very very pretty, only I do not think it is +angel-prettiness. Your mother looks much more like my idea of an angel. +She almost frightens me."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image005" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image005.jpg" alt="image005"></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>He looked up, smiling, to say, "You are at least as hard</b><br> +<b>upon yourself as upon others."</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"But Pearl's is not mere ordinary prettiness," said Escott, in a low +voice. "She is so sweet and tender,—so self-forgetting."</p> + +<p>"Is Pearl self-forgetting?" asked Beryl slowly. "I should not have +thought so. Girls generally know when they are pretty. I don't see +how they can help knowing it, and of course they think about their +prettiness. Pearl isn't a single grain worse than other girls, only she +has more prettiness than other girls, so perhaps she thinks about it a +little more."</p> + +<p>"You do not call Pearl vain, I hope?" said Escott coldly.</p> + +<p>"I don't call her anything. Most girls are vain," said Beryl, with a +touch of cynicism. "And, after all, one may be as vain about ugliness +as prettiness—not vain 'of' it, but 'about' it. It is just a question +of thinking about one's self, I suppose. Pretty girls like Pearl think +about their prettiness, and ugly girls like me think about their +ugliness."</p> + +<p>The pathetic simplicity of the last words recalled the Beryl of earlier +days, and melted Escott's annoyance. He looked up, smiling, to say, +"You are at least as hard upon yourself as upon others."</p> + +<p>"One is driven to it," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"My common experience has been that with less beauty there is often +more conceit," said Escott, anxious to generalise in favour of Pearl. +"One is glad to find an exception to such a rule."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it is a rule," said Beryl; "and if it is, I don't +believe I am an exception."</p> + +<p>Escott could hardly help laughing, but the laugh changed into a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Had you not better walk home?" asked Beryl. "I do not suppose +they will come back. Ivor is bent on getting Pearl to the Roman +encampment,—only some stupid heaps of stones, after all."</p> + +<p>"You don't pretend to archæological tastes."</p> + +<p>"I don't care for that sort of thing. Escott, I do think Mrs. Cumming +would say you ought to go home if she saw you. I am sure you are in +very bad pain."</p> + +<p>"Only neuralgia. Five minutes are hardly over yet, and we must allow +them a margin."</p> + +<p>Beryl pulled out the old-fashioned silver watch which had been her +father's. "They can't expect us to wait more than another five minutes, +at any rate," she said.</p> + +<p>Then, with the watch in her hand, she sank back into her former train +of thought, and was suddenly aroused by the question, "What are you so +intent upon?"</p> + +<p>Beryl came back to present life with a start. The inquiry took her by +surprise, and somehow she responded to it involuntarily, the uppermost +idea in her mind finding vent:</p> + +<p>"What made you and Ivor wish to be confirmed?"</p> + +<p>Then she turned crimson, and would have given anything to recall her +own words. "It doesn't matter," she added hastily. "Had we not better +go home?" And she stood up.</p> + +<p>Escott stood up also, actually forgetting to refer to Pearl and Ivor. +He was at least as much taken by surprise as Beryl had been. When they +had gone a few paces side by side, his answer came; not at all the +answer that Beryl would have expected.</p> + +<p>"I was so sorry for you," he said, with real feeling. "It was too bad +of Aunt Di."</p> + +<p>That touched Beryl to the quick. She was so little used to sympathy +that it had the more power over her. He caught one glance from eyes +actually full of tears, and then she looked resolutely down.</p> + +<p>"It is her way, you know," he said apologetically. "But it must have +been very trying and disagreeable. Ivor and I would have made our +escape, only it was a little difficult—and nobody knew what was coming. +I don't think my aunt understands the feeling of reserve one has on +such matters. But I thought you very brave."</p> + +<p>The feeling of reserve was on Beryl strongly at this moment. She +managed to break through the cobweb sufficiently to say, "I could not +be confirmed only just to please her."</p> + +<p>"No, of course not. It would not be right. But don't you really wish it +yourself?"</p> + +<p>He did not think Beryl meant to answer this, and he felt half afraid +she was vexed. They left the woods behind them, and walked slowly along +the lower road, Beryl gazing steadily into the dust. When at length +she spoke, she was evidently quite unconscious of the time which had +elapsed since his question.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," she said. "If I were good enough, I should wish it, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>"Only it isn't exactly a question of goodness, after all," Escott said. +"Not of our own goodness, I mean."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that depends on what one means by goodness," said Beryl. +The effort of the conversation was greater to her than to him, though +Escott did not speak without constraint. Beryl's shyness rendered her +voice gruff. "One ought to want to be what one promises, at all events."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you do not want it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she answered. "I don't know what I wish or don't wish. +Only 'if' I take those promises, I must keep them. I would rather not +take them at all, than not keep them."</p> + +<p>"I can understand the feeling," said Escott thoughtfully. "I remember +saying almost the same to my mother. She made me see that things were +not as I thought—that it was not a question of taking or not taking the +promises, but simply of coming forward openly to confirm them. For the +promises have been made already, at our Baptism, for us, and nothing +can undo that. They are binding on us all the while, whether or no we +acknowledge it. Mother always said so. She tried to make us feel that +we were 'bound' to God's service, solemnly promised already to Him, +though of course we had the power to rebel. And then the very promises +would only add to our guilt."</p> + +<p>Beryl was looking up with wide-open startled eyes. "I never thought of +that," she said. "I thought—of course—I was free to choose—"</p> + +<p>"I suppose we are all free, if you mean merely having the power to +choose. But God has the 'right' over us," said Escott. "A soldier once +enrolled in the Queen's service may be a deserter, but he cannot undo +the Queen's right to his obedience."</p> + +<p>"Some people would say God has a right over everybody," said Beryl, in +a low voice.</p> + +<p>"No one could deny that, who believes in Him as Creator and Father. But +He has a double right over those who are bound and promised from very +infancy to Him."</p> + +<p>"I'll think about it," Beryl said, after a pause. "I did not mean to +get into all this. Please don't tell anybody."</p> + +<p>"Could you not talk to my mother?"</p> + +<p>"O no, I would rather not. Don't say a word to anybody, please."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I will not."</p> + +<p>And these were the last words uttered, until the house was reached.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>UNEASINESS.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>LUNCHEON-TIME came, and Pearl and Ivor were absent still. Mr. Crosbie +disliked unpunctuality, and grumbled heartily,—to little purpose, +except that of making others uncomfortable, since the absentees could +not hear him. Beryl was silent and absorbed. Escott, equally silent, +was unable to eat, from an attack of violent neuralgia in head and +face. He bore pain with the patience which sometimes, though not +always, springs from long habitude, but his suffering look distressed +his mother and fretted Mr. Crosbie. Diana had regained her composure, +and chattered unceasingly, albeit her manner towards Beryl showed +displeasure. Beryl did not appear to be conscious of the same.</p> + +<p>Luncheon over, Mr. Crosbie withdrew to his own sitting-room, and +Escott to the sofa, while Beryl betook herself to the counterpane, and +Millicent brought one or two remedies to Escott, which sometimes gave +relief. Diana found employment in looking out of the window, watching +for the wanderers, and bemoaning herself over the dulness of Weston.</p> + +<p>"I hate to be in a place where I know nobody," she said. "How you can +have endured to spend a whole month here, and to make not a single +acquaintance, passes my understanding. One might as well go to a desert +island."</p> + +<p>"I thought it better for Escott, not to have people incessantly in and +out," said Millicent.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe in anything of the sort. Dulness is good for nobody. +Besides, you had to think of Ivor too, poor fellow. But well people +always have to go to the wall, where invalids are concerned. Really, +I think it is quite a charity in me to have brought Pearl. He has +somebody to speak with now,—and somebody who can give him an answer. +Young men don't care for a society of only middle-aged people and +dummies."</p> + +<p>Her words stung right and left. Beryl felt the slight, and Escott was +pricked, and Millicent endured for both.</p> + +<p>"They make a pretty picture together,—he and Pearl. I always do think +so. One of the prettiest pictures I have seen for a long while. He is +really almost as good-looking for a man as she is lovely for a girl. Of +course they are very young still,—but that sort of thing often begins +early. All the better when it does. I shouldn't wonder at all if, some +day, before long—"</p> + +<p>"I think premature suggestions of this kind are a very great pity, even +when made in jest," said Millicent gravely. "Pearl is a mere child +still, and Ivor is really only a boy. My pleasure is in seeing them +both so perfectly simple and at their ease. I do not believe such an +idea has ever crossed Ivor's thoughts."</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" and Diana laughed. "My dear Millie, you count all the +world as innocent as yourself; but it won't quite do, you know."</p> + +<p>"If not, I am sorry for it. But you mistake me, Di. This is a matter of +principle, not of ignorance, with me. It would be sheer cruelty, from +any love of joking or love of talk, to suggest such a notion to those +poor children. They are both too young to know their own minds. I hope +I may trust Beryl never to repeat to Pearl what you have said."</p> + +<p>Beryl's look was a sufficient answer.</p> + +<p>Diana laughed again. "What a fuss about nothing," she declared. "Why, +everybody says that kind of thing, and everybody knows what it is +worth. Of course I don't pretend to be infallible. But my own private +belief is that Pearl's little heart is taken captive already, whether +she knows it or not. You would believe the same, if you had seen the +state of distress she was in, when I proposed to give up coming here."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe it," said Millicent, so earnestly as to be almost +sternly. "The very suggestion about her is positive cruelty, Di. How do +you know that Beryl and Escott may never make an unwise or unkind use +of your words? I believe they are safe, but how can you know it? You +are reckless, surely, to put Pearl so into the power of any one,—poor +little defenceless Pearl. Suppose any of us chose to repeat your words +to Ivor,—and suppose Ivor to be, as I believe him to be, without a +thought or wish of the kind. Think what a position Pearl would be in."</p> + +<p>Millicent was actually trembling with womanly indignation. Diana seemed +rather pleased than otherwise to have succeeded in exciting her.</p> + +<p>"My dear, I am getting a little too old for elder-sisterly lectures," +she said. "And I don't think they ever had much effect upon me. We must +each 'gang our ain gait,' and take the course we think proper. For my +part, I believe that desirable affairs are sometimes helped forward by +a timely suggestion behind the scenes. But I don't expect you to take +that view of the matter. You and I unfortunately never did agree,—and +as for Marian, she and I don't even discuss our differences of opinion +now; it is such a perfectly hopeless matter. Well, I really think I +shall take a drive this afternoon. We live in such an atmosphere of +virtuous argumentativeness and setting people to rights, that I am +getting out of sorts and positively ill-tempered. I shall keep a sharp +look-out for Pearl and Ivor, and break in upon their 'tête-à-tête' if +possible."</p> + +<p>She did not offer to take Beryl, but went out of the room with her +perpetual little rustle.</p> + +<p>"My sister has been talking utter nonsense," Millicent said then. +"Mind, children,—you are both to forget it."</p> + +<p>"Pearl is younger than I am,—only sixteen," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—it is absurd," said Millicent, not often so ruffled. "You must +try to forget what you have heard."</p> + +<p>Beryl simply answered, "Yes," and Escott said nothing, but disappeared +abruptly.</p> + +<p>Millicent followed him, to spend over two hours in vain efforts to +alleviate a worse attack of pain than he had had since coming to +Weston. Possibly she was not without a suspicion of the cause, but she +spoke no more of Pearl. She had indeed no time to think about Pearl or +Ivor, and even when the pain lessened, she could not leave him for a +while.</p> + +<p>When at length able to come downstairs, she found tea on the small +table, Diana returned, and the walkers still absent.</p> + +<p>"Strange," Millicent said thoughtfully. "I do not understand it at all."</p> + +<p>"My dear, depend upon it, they have simply strayed on, forgetting the +time," Diana said, with her light air of patronage. "Some people's +company is sufficiently enchanting to some others, to render them just +a little oblivious. For my part, I really think Beryl ought to have +gone too,—but it can't be helped now. Do pray give me a cup of tea, for +I am perfectly exhausted."</p> + +<p>"If I only knew what direction they had taken," Millicent said, +arousing herself from a dream to lift the teapot.</p> + +<p>"That you might go after them? A mere wild-goose chase. By the time you +had reached the further extremity of their ramble, they would be at +home again."</p> + +<p>"But if anything has happened!"</p> + +<p>"What in the world 'could' happen? Ivor may have been stung by a wasp, +or Pearl scratched by a bramble. Do be reasonable. Thanks—a piece of +cake. There are two of them together. Even if anything so unlikely came +about as that one should choose to tumble down and break a leg, the +other could call for help. Weston woods are not American forests."</p> + +<p>"They are pretty large woods, though," said Beryl. "I quite lost my way +in them the other day, when I went alone."</p> + +<p>"Some people lose their way in walking from one end to the other of +Regent Street. It is a sort of gift,—a happy faculty. Very likely +indeed Pearl and Ivor have lost their way now. It is extremely likely. +I shall not be in the least surprised to hear it."</p> + +<p>"Some bread-and-butter, Beryl?" asked Millicent, her fair brow wearing +the gentle dent of displeasure which was its nearest approach to a +frown.</p> + +<p>"But, of course, if you want to try the effects of a wild-goose chase, +you have but to send Beryl and Escott after them," pursued Diana. "'Set +a thief to catch a thief.'" She laughed at her own joke, the force of +which none but herself could perceive.</p> + +<p>"Escott has done enough for to-day, thank you."</p> + +<p>"Would you like me to go and look anywhere,—or ask?" inquired Beryl, +rather shyly.</p> + +<p>"Not the slightest use," said Diana, before Millicent could speak. "I +have driven along all likely roads within reach, and saw not a trace of +them. Of course you could go where you went this morning, and you might +find Pearl and Ivor seated in a shady nook, enjoying themselves,—but it +is a great deal more likely that you would find nothing of the sort. +Depend upon it, they have gone some tremendous round, which will knock +Pearl up for a week at least. It is exceedingly thoughtless of them +both. If you go scrambling after them, you are pretty sure to get lost +yourself. In which case, I hope 'I' shall not be asked to act searcher. +That is all I have to say."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>ILL TIDINGS.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>ANOTHER hour of waiting passed. Millicent was really growing anxious, +and she found Diana's cool assurances that all was and must be +right somewhat difficult to bear. Escott had found his way to the +drawing-room, and was watching with them.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a little figure became visible, hurrying along the pavement in +a manner which told of failing power. The hat was falling off behind, +the steps though rapid were uncertain, and a general air of disorder +and distress was apparent. Millicent and Escott exchanged looks. Diana +stared, and Beryl gazed fixedly. All had a suspicion of the truth, yet +it was not till the little figure was almost below the window that a +general exclamation broke out—"It is Pearl."</p> + +<p>And then there was a simultaneous, "Where is Ivor?"</p> + +<p>"He has stayed behind for something, of course," said Diana.</p> + +<p>Millicent stood up, but did not move farther. Diana rushed to the door, +followed by Escott; but when Pearl came in, she pushed past them both, +and reached Millicent.</p> + +<p>That was all she could do. She was a pitiful sight, wan and +blue-lipped, with wide-open distressed eyes, and breath in such +laboured gasps that speech was utterly impossible. She grasped both +Millicent's hands with her poor little shaking fingers, and struggled, +but struggled in vain, for utterance.</p> + +<p>The others came pressing round her, unnoticed. Pearl seemed to see +no face except Millicent's. Diana was exclaiming and questioning in +voluble style. Millicent had grown white to the lips, but she was calm.</p> + +<p>"Hush, Di," she said. "Be quiet, all of you. Pearl will tell us +directly what is wrong. She has run too fast. We must have a moment's +patience."</p> + +<p>The gasps were lessening slowly, but with returning breath came thick +passionate sobs, fighting their way up, and preventing speech. Pearl +wrung her hands together in voiceless agony. And when Diane would +have touched her, she flung herself into Millicent's arms, with an +incoherent shriek, meant for words.</p> + +<p>Millicent held her firmly. "Hush, Pearl, hush," she commanded, with her +colourless lips. "There must be no screams. Diana, you 'must' be quiet, +or leave the room. Beryl, will you get a glass of water, please? Not a +word, any of you."</p> + +<p>Even Diana yielded, and for the moment said nothing.</p> + +<p>Millicent with difficulty made Pearl swallow a few sips of water. "A +little more," she said. "Now wait for a few seconds,—keep quite still, +and then you must tell me quietly what is wrong."</p> + +<p>Pearl buried her face in Millicent's shoulder, and for several seconds +the silence was unbroken, except by her sobs.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image006" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image006.jpg" alt="image006"></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>She grasped both Millicent's hands</b><br> +<b>with her poor little shaking fingers.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"Now," Millicent said at length.</p> + +<p>The agony of distress came back. "Ivor—Ivor—Ivor," gasped Pearl. "Oh, +what shall I do? I don't know what to do!"</p> + +<p>"Pearl, is Ivor dead?"</p> + +<p>The mother's lips asked the question slowly and distinctly.</p> + +<p>Pearl thrilled all over, and said, "O no!—O no!"</p> + +<p>"Then he is hurt."</p> + +<p>"O yes—"</p> + +<p>"How was it?"</p> + +<p>Pearl could not speak. Her efforts only resulted in heart-broken sobs. +A stronger and more unselfish nature would, in pity to the poor mother, +have put thoughts of self aside for the moment, but this Pearl could +not do. She was utterly overpowered.</p> + +<p>"Where is Ivor?" asked Millicent, her own self-restraint so heavily +taxed as to be in danger of failing. "Pearl, I must know," she said +gently. "I must go to him."</p> + +<p>Pearl managed to gasp out something about, "near Kewstoke," "house," +and "doctor wanted."</p> + +<p>Beryl came forward for the first time. "Can't I help?" she asked. "I +could fetch a fly,—and if I knew who your doctor is—"</p> + +<p>A faint look of relief at the suggestion passed over Millicent's +features.</p> + +<p>"One moment," Escott said, with a detaining movement. "Pearl will have +to tell us where to go."</p> + +<p>"Pearl, do have pity on Mrs. Cumming, and speak," said Beryl, in a low +voice.</p> + +<p>Sobbing still, but not so violently, Pearl drew a folded scrap of paper +from her glove. "The men wrote—wrote down the address," she said.</p> + +<p>Escott glanced at it. "Then we need lose no more time," he said. "If +Beryl will kindly call a fly, I will find a doctor to go with us. Is +Ivor 'much' hurt, Pearl?" The words were very gently uttered.</p> + +<p>"Oh—yes," gasped Pearl.</p> + +<p>"Had he a fall?"</p> + +<p>"Not—not exactly!" Pearl was crying excessively again. "He—he—caught +his foot—"</p> + +<p>It was very unsatisfactory, but more could not yet be obtained. Pearl +seemed to be on the verge of hysterics.</p> + +<p>Beryl and Escott disappeared on their respective errands, and Millicent +too went away, speedily to return, ready for her drive. She found Pearl +in a renewed flood of tears, under a process of close questioning from +Diana.</p> + +<p>"I can't get much out of her," Diana said, "except that Ivor went after +something at her request, and she thinks herself guilty in consequence."</p> + +<p>"Poor little girl," Millicent said kindly, and she kissed Pearl's brow. +"No one will count that of you, my dear."</p> + +<p>"He must have been pretty bad. The men had to carry him," continued +Diana.</p> + +<p>Millicent's hand came on Pearl's. "Was he insensible?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No," sobbed Pearl. "He couldn't—couldn't move."</p> + +<p>Then Escott came back, having happily found at home the first doctor at +whose house he had called; and immediately afterwards Beryl drove to +the door in a fly.</p> + +<p>"Mother, I am coming too," Escott said decidedly. "I told the doctor we +would call for him in ten minutes, or less."</p> + +<p>Then the two were gone, and the stir was over.</p> + +<p>"Well,—I shall decide to get home as soon as possible," Diana said, +in rather an injured tone. "This sort of thing really is too much for +one's nerves. I declare—nobody has thought of Uncle Josiah all this +time. Just like Millie! He will be dreadfully angry not to have been +told. Well, it cannot be helped now. Do stop crying, Pearl."</p> + +<p>The tone was not exactly unkind, but certainly it was not sympathising.</p> + +<p>Pearl crouched down in a corner of the sofa, burying her face in the +cushions, and sobbing still in a kind of exhausted way, as if she had +no strength to leave off.</p> + +<p>Beryl longed to go to her, but dared not.</p> + +<p>"Come,—the best place for you is bed," said Diana.</p> + +<p>Pearl silently declined to move, and Diana made no attempt to enforce +her own mandate.</p> + +<p>Mr. Crosbie presently came in, and heard the whole story from Diana's +lips, gaps in knowledge being lavishly filled up with suppositions. +The old gentleman waxed impatient, and questioned Pearl, but she +only crouched lower in her corner, and would not speak. When further +pressed, she started up and ran away.</p> + +<p>"The best thing you can do is to go and put her to bed," Diana observed +carelessly to Beryl,—"if you wish to make yourself useful."</p> + +<p>Beryl's heart bounded at the suggestion, though her manner showed no +particular pleasure. She obeyed immediately, only to find Pearl's door +locked. Pearl turned for some time a deaf ear to raps, but it was at +length opened.</p> + +<p>"May I come in?" asked Beryl.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't want anybody," Pearl said, holding the door against her. +"Please let me be alone."</p> + +<p>"But you will make yourself ill, if you cry so. Aunt Di told me to +come."</p> + +<p>"I don't care. If you would only leave me alone—"</p> + +<p>"I need not stay long. Just let me help you to undress."</p> + +<p>"I don't want help. I'm—I'm not going to bed—till—till I know how Ivor +is."</p> + +<p>She ceased resistance suddenly, and threw herself on the couch, sobbing +as much as ever.</p> + +<p>Beryl entered and stood over her, a good deal at a loss how to act.</p> + +<p>"Pearl, is Ivor very much hurt indeed?" she asked at length. "Don't you +think you would feel better if you could speak about it?"</p> + +<p>Pearl shook her head and moaned.</p> + +<p>Beryl suddenly bethought herself of a certain mode of school-treatment +for a certain hysterical child. She brought a basin of water to a chair +near, and began bathing Pearl's flushed face and disordered hair with a +wet sponge.</p> + +<p>Pearl did not resist, but seemed rather to like it, and the violent +crying lessened.</p> + +<p>"And now you will take your things off," said Beryl persuasively. "Do, +Pearl. You are so tired."</p> + +<p>Pearl did not respond to the suggestion. She was cramped up on the +couch, with her blistered face resting on one arm, sighing deeply every +few seconds.</p> + +<p>"I can't yet," she said. "Do let me be quiet. Beryl, he—he—didn't fall +exactly,—but it was in getting over a high gate,—he caught his foot—"</p> + +<p>The sentences were broken up by long sighs.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Pearl," said Beryl encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how—I didn't see. He was going to get a flower for me—" +and her face drew up into distressed puckers.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry any more," said Beryl. "It's of no use."</p> + +<p>"I can't help crying. It was so dreadful," sobbed Pearl. "If only I had +not wanted that flower. And I didn't know what to do. I thought he was +going to die—he looked so awful—I can't tell you how."</p> + +<p>"Did he say he was very badly hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—he—he—said so. He couldn't move, and he could hardly speak; but he +said it was bad—he thought it was a strain. And I got the men to come, +and one of them—one said—it was 'very' bad."</p> + +<p>"But I don't understand," said Beryl. "How could he hurt himself so +much, if it was a mere slip?"</p> + +<p>"O no, it wasn't. I didn't mean that. I think he tried to jump, and it +was too high, and his foot caught on the top bar, and he went over. It +was a longer way the other side to fall. I don't know how I climbed +over to him," sobbed Pearl, "I 'did' tremble so. I saw he couldn't +move, and I heard him moan; and when I saw him, I thought he would die +that minute. He said I must get help,—and we had seen two men just +before, quite near, and I ran for them."</p> + +<p>"And they took Ivor to Kewstoke?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, at least near Kewstoke,—the house where one of them was a +gardener, I think. He said he didn't dare move Ivor farther till a +doctor had seen him. He just wrote down the name of the house, and told +me I must come straight back for a doctor, and he sent the other man +for something to carry Ivor on. Oh, it is so very very dreadful," wept +Pearl. "If only Aunt Di and I had never come to Weston. And I made her +do it. Oh, I wish I hadn't."</p> + +<p>Crying came on again, and Beryl returned to cold water sponging, as +better than talk. Presently, to her great relief, Pearl dropped into a +sound sleep.</p> + +<p>Beryl drew a chair near, and settled herself to watch. She was quite +content to sit there, doing nothing. It was a sort of fulfilment of her +childish dream of caring for Pearl's wants. The old passionate love of +Pearl, long thrust down into deep recesses of her heart, came welling +up this hour. The poor little reddened and blistered face was sweeter +now to Beryl, than it had been in its loveliness that morning.</p> + +<p>"O Pearlie! If you could only care for me!" she murmured.</p> + +<p>Then Diana came in, opening the door without warning, and not too +quietly.</p> + +<p>Pearl stirred, but did not wake.</p> + +<p>Beryl looked up, and with difficulty checked a "Hush," which would have +given dire offence.</p> + +<p>"Asleep, is she?" said Diana. "Silly little goose."</p> + +<p>Beryl flushed hotly with a kind of anger. Diana came to the couch.</p> + +<p>"Well, the best thing she can do is to sleep on. I shall allow no more +long walks. They knock her quite up. I suppose she has not told you any +particulars."</p> + +<p>"Not much," Beryl said in a low voice. "Ivor tried to leap a high gate, +and caught his feet, and fell over. He told Pearl he thought it was a +strain."</p> + +<p>"Young men are always trying to do more than they are able. It is an +absurd habit," said Diana. "I don't suppose it will prove to be much. A +sprained ankle, probably."</p> + +<p>Beryl was glad to see her rustle out of the room.</p> + +<p>Pearl presently woke, but was so weary as to be glad to undress +and go to bed, where, after having some tea, she soon sank again +into unconsciousness. Beryl waited on her assiduously, restraining +expressions of affection, but curiously happy in her task.</p> + +<p>Late in the evening, she saw a fly stop in front of the house, and some +one descended from it,—Escott, Beryl thought, in the dusky light. She +went noiselessly out of the room, not waking Pearl, and entered the +drawing-room, just before Escott came in. He walked with bent head and +slow step. Beryl knew in a moment that he had brought no good news.</p> + +<p>"Well, Escott, what does it all mean?" asked Diana. "A false alarm, I +suspect."</p> + +<p>Escott looked at her vacantly, and then at Beryl. "Don't tell Pearl +to-night," he said. "Let her sleep quietly till the morning. Ivor is +dying."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_15">CHAPTER XV.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>OVER THE WAY.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>FIVE years earlier, Mrs. Fenwick's house had faced a meadow lying just +across the road, with a good open view beyond of fields and trees and +uplands. But Hurst was a growing place, and many changes had come about +in the course of five years. Among such changes was the erection of a +row of houses in the field opposite Mrs. Fenwick's, each more or less +pretty—small, indeed, but gable-roofed, and in variegated red-brick +style. Mrs. Fenwick was greatly annoyed. She did not much care about +pretty views, merely as views, but she did care extremely about what +she called "selectness," and to live in a row facing another row was in +her estimation many degrees less "select" than to live in a row facing +a meadow. She almost declared, in her first vexation, that she would +find another home as soon as possible, and she did quite declare that +nothing should ever induce her to call upon anybody who lived in those +houses.</p> + +<p>The latest finished of the villas was the one which stood exactly +"vis-à-vis" to Mrs. Fenwick's. It was detached and surrounded by a +neat garden, not painfully prim and bare like most new gardens, for +several medium-sized limes and poplars had been spared from the general +demolition in which the hearts of builders do commonly delight. Also +the borders had been well filled with young shrubs, early in the +spring, immediately the house came into possession of its present +owners, and the beds gave promise of being speedily bright with flowers.</p> + +<p>The said owners were two ladies, supposed at first to be aunt and +niece. Despite Diana Fenwick's chagrin at the loss of her drawing-room +view, she took a lively interest in these new neighbours, and speedily +set down Miss Carmichael, the elder lady, as a strong-minded individual +of eccentric habits, undesirable as an acquaintance.</p> + +<p>"Call upon her! Not she!" Diana held up her head, and swept loftily +past the house, quite unconscious of the amusement with which she was +herself regarded by that rather largely-built calm-faced woman, in +daintily neat though not very fashionable attire, who might often be +seen bonnetless in the little garden. Miss Carmichael perfectly well +understood the posture of affairs, and was perfectly well content to +wait.</p> + +<p>These views of Mrs. Fenwick lasted for a short time, while the two +ladies opposite were settling into their new home. The said views +then received a killing blow, in the discovery that Miss Carmichael +was only daughter of a Sir Stephen and Lady Carmichael, both dead, +and only sister to another Sir Stephen and Lady Carmichael, both +alive. Eccentricities, real or imaginary, went to the winds. Mrs. +Fenwick donned her best feathers, and called at once, all sweetness +and graciousness, bent on making a good impression; and the call was +returned in due time. Mrs. Fenwick did not like Miss Carmichael, but +she liked a baronet's daughter, and she was willing to put up with +the individual for the sake of the connection. Miss Carmichael might +or might not have liked Mrs. Fenwick, but at all events she "showed +herself friendly."</p> + +<p>The new acquaintanceship did not at first ripen quickly, for the two +ladies were busy about their settling in. Miss Carmichael could be seen +to take an active part in these arrangements, "working like a horse," +as Mrs. Fenwick expressed it. She did not herself see the slightest +need for hard work in life, and she disliked others to see it. Things +had to be done, of course, but somebody else would always do them—why +not?</p> + +<p>A second call introduced Mrs. Fenwick to Miss Carmichael's niece, +friend, dependent, or companion,—Diana's curiosity was greatly +exercised to discover which might be the true definition,—a Miss Wyatt, +who appeared to rejoice in a perplexing variety of names, and whose age +might have been anywhere between twenty and thirty.</p> + +<p>After that, came the summons to Weston-super-Mare, and a consequent +break.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>One sunny June evening, the two ladies were together in the +drawing-room, which was divided from the dining-room by large +folding-doors, commonly thrown open in warm weather. They were open +now, and the bow-window at each end gave a peculiar lightness to the +appearance of the double room. The operation of "settling in" seemed +to be tolerably complete, and the most fastidious eye could scarcely +have detected anything lacking in arrangements. There was a subdued +harmony about carpets and curtains, and also a grace of finish in minor +details, which told of a refined taste in at least one of the ladies.</p> + +<p>The elder of the two sat in an easy-chair near the front bow-window, +enjoying, and enjoying with evident intensity, the sunlight, the +fluttering leaves, and the singing of birds not yet banished from +this part of Hurst. Not that she was anything of an invalid, though +her attitude told of some fatigue. She could hardly have reached +her fiftieth year, and the smooth light hair, brushed neatly under +her cap, was untouched by grey. The light-coloured eyes had in them +a steady shine of happiness,—not exactly a smile, but a kind of +sunbeam reflected from within, over the whole face. Yet it was not a +beautiful face, so far as form and colouring were concerned,—not even +good-looking. No single feature could be selected as serving by a touch +of natural beauty to redeem the rest from plainness. And yet again, +no one who really knew that face could ever call it plain. Strangers +counted it so perhaps, after cursory observation.</p> + +<p>The younger lady was slender and small and dark-haired, not nearly so +tall as Miss Carmichael, not strictly pretty, but with a nice colour, +and a pair of most expressive eyes, peculiar in tint, and timid as +those of a fawn. She was in the back room, making tea and cutting +bread-and-butter, moving about with a light step, in a manner pleasant +to look upon. The two did not dine late, but had "heavy tea" at +half-past seven, and it was now close upon that hour.</p> + +<p>"I am glad our drawing-room faces west," Miss Wyatt said, shutting the +tea-caddy and coming forward, with the air of one whose work is for the +moment accomplished. "And I am glad the sunset takes place just there, +where we can see it, and not behind Mrs. Fenwick's house, though of +course it will not be so all the year round."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of a great many things, Hettie, a great many. The lines are +fallen to me in 'very' pleasant places."</p> + +<p>"And to me too."</p> + +<p>"That is something else for me to be glad about,—if you can say the +same."</p> + +<p>Miss Wyatt drew near, and rested a hand on Miss Carmichael's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"It is delicious," she said, "perfectly delicious. We shall be able to +breathe here."</p> + +<p>"I am taking a good breathing spell before plunging into work."</p> + +<p>"Why, you have done nothing but work, Miss Carmichael, since we came. I +want you to begin resting now."</p> + +<p>"Carpets and curtains! Well, yes, it is all work of one kind and +another. But I shall have time now for the 'other.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, only not yet. Think how terribly you were overdone before we came +away. I want you to have six months idle. I'll be your deputy, and work +for you."</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael smiled quietly, leaning back, with clasped hands, and +her look of measureless content. "Six months is a long while," she +said. "My dear, you must not be too much bent upon making a lazy old +woman of me."</p> + +<p>Miss Wyatt repeated the word "Old!" indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Forty-eight next birthday!"</p> + +<p>"That is only middle-aged, and some people have the gift of perpetual +youth."</p> + +<p>"Mentally, yes. One's body must grow old, if one stays on earth long +enough. It will be perpetual youth up there." And they both looked at +a distant lake of liquid blue, surmounting some layers of torn and +crimson-edged clouds.</p> + +<p>"At all events your body hasn't begun to grow old yet," said Miss Wyatt +jealously.</p> + +<p>"You think not, Emmie?"</p> + +<p>The words were half playful, half grave, and Miss Carmichael's +attention went again out of the window.</p> + +<p>"What are you looking at so earnestly?" asked Miss Wyatt. "You see, I +was right,—our friends over the way are back. They must have arrived +late last night, poor things. And the elder girl is with them. She +seems to be very unlike the winsome little Pearl."</p> + +<p>"We must call upon them again soon," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—soon, I suppose. Is there any hurry? I don't want to be +uncharitable, but I don't at all like that little Mrs. Fenwick. I don't +like her at all," repeated Miss Wyatt emphatically. "Do you, Miss +Carmichael? She thinks herself immensely charming, and expects to be +worshipped; but 'I' don't think her charming."</p> + +<p>"She is pretty," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"Pretty, yes—if that were all that signified. A doll may be pretty. But +she is affected. And I did so dislike the sort of slighting way she +spoke of the eldest of the two girls. She seemed fond of Pearl Fordyce, +I thought; but when she alluded to Pearl's sister, there was quite a +sneer on her lips, and a contemptuous tone. Oh, I felt really angry. +The girl may not be so taking as her sister, but that is not her fault. +I can't endure people to be punished for what they cannot help."</p> + +<p>"Why, Emerald, you are hot about the matter."</p> + +<p>"I feel hot," responded Miss Wyatt. "Didn't you notice what I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Miss Carmichael answered.</p> + +<p>"I knew you did. I saw it in your face. You may be quite sure that poor +girl is not happy in her home."</p> + +<p>"Patience, Em. We may as well not be too sure till we actually know it."</p> + +<p>"But I saw her this afternoon, when I was on my way back from the +post-office. They were all three walking together. Mrs. Fenwick +bowed to me, and so did the little Pearl,—by the bye, she is looking +wretchedly white and ill, anything but better for her change. The other +girl gave me a good look. She certainly is not pretty or lively—not in +the least,—but that is no reason why Mrs. Fenwick should snub her."</p> + +<p>"Some people are in the habit of snubbing everybody, as a relief to +their own feelings."</p> + +<p>"I never heard her speak to Pearl as she spoke to the elder girl, just +before she caught sight of me. Such a sharp contemptuous tone. The girl +made no answer at all, but she did not look happy. The moment Mrs. +Fenwick saw me, she put on her most gracious manner. I don't suppose +she thought I had heard; but I have keen ears."</p> + +<p>"Particularly so," assented Miss Carmichael. "Come, I see tea is ready, +and I think you want a composing draught."</p> + +<p>Miss Wyatt laughed, and followed her to the other room, where the +subject was dropped. It came up again after tea, however; for, on +returning to the bow-window, a closed fly was visible, standing at the +opposite door, and the little figure of Pearl became visible also, +dressed in white, with a flower in her hair, and a shawl round her +shoulders, waiting on the doorstep.</p> + +<p>"There's a concert to-night at the hall," said Miss Wyatt. "They are +going to it, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"But not the elder girl," said Miss Carmichael, as a second figure in +plain every-day dress, Cinderella-like in contrast, appeared beside the +first.</p> + +<p>"It's a shame," said Miss Wyatt.</p> + +<p>"It is a pity," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"Just returned from school, and left alone the very first evening,—I +call it a shame," repeated Miss Wyatt. "There comes Mrs. Fenwick, all +rustle and bustle and small self-importance."</p> + +<p>"Emerald!" pronounced Miss Carmichael softly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know it is very naughty," said Miss Wyatt; "but if you knew how +I do dislike that little woman!"</p> + +<p>"Better not to allow active dislike. Disapproval is enough. The little +Pearl is certainly ill or unhappy. She looks wretched."</p> + +<p>"There they go," said Miss Wyatt. "And the other left behind. Poor +girl! I do pity her. She doesn't seem to know what to do with herself. +Just look at her, standing like a stock on the doorstep. They didn't +even give her a parting smile. She is going to have a stroll in the +garden, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Suppose you run across and ask her to come here," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>Miss Wyatt hesitated. "What would Mrs. Fenwick think? We have never +even spoken to her yet. Wouldn't it seem rather funny?"</p> + +<p>"Very funny," assented Miss Carmichael. "I won't venture to predict +Mrs. Fenwick's thoughts. You can't go,—you shy puss! Never mind, I will +do it myself."</p> + +<p>Before Miss Wyatt could make up her mind to action, Miss Carmichael had +gone quickly into the passage, and thence through the front garden, +moving in a swift decisive fashion of her own.</p> + +<p>Beryl, pacing rather drearily along the path in her dust-coloured +dress, heard the crunch of feet upon the gravel, and looked up.</p> + +<p>"Excuse my freedom," Miss Carmichael said, with her easy +unconsciousness, as she smiled at the astonished girl. "You do not +know me, but we have made Mrs. Fenwick's acquaintance lately, and I +have come to make your acquaintance. I must introduce myself as Miss +Carmichael from over the way."</p> + +<p>Beryl gave her hand. "O yes, I know," she said, recalling certain +animadversions of Diana's upon the speaker's style of dress—a style +neither "outré" nor in bad taste, but marked by extreme simplicity.</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael had thrown a little shawl over her head and cap as she +passed out of her door, and the kind face looked out from the grey +folds, inviting confidence.</p> + +<p>"I know," repeated Beryl.</p> + +<p>"And you are the sister of little Pearl Fordyce," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"I'm Beryl Fordyce," was the answer, in the girl's usual blunt fashion.</p> + +<p>"Another gem," said Miss Carmichael softly. "Gems for the King's crown, +I hope."</p> + +<p>Beryl said nothing, and only looked down, but a wistful expression +crossed her face, an expression not often seen there. It did not +mean assent or pleasure; neither did it mean the least shadow of +offence-taking.</p> + +<p>"Come, I think we shall be friends," said Miss Carmichael pleasantly. +"Will you let me introduce you to my jewel, across the road,—not a +Pearl or a Beryl, but an Emerald."</p> + +<p>Beryl looked at her doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"I am talking plain English," said Miss Carmichael. "Hester Wyatt and I +saw you alone, and we wondered if you would like to sit with us, in our +cosy nest, for half an hour."</p> + +<p>"To go with you? I should not think Aunt Di could mind," considered +Beryl aloud.</p> + +<p>"Hardly," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I never can tell beforehand what she will like," said +Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Do as you think right," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>Beryl's answer was a move towards the gate.</p> + +<p>"Would you not care to get your hat? The wind will soon grow chilly."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter if you don't mind," said Beryl; "I never take cold."</p> + +<p>"Come—that is something to be thankful for."</p> + +<p>Hester Wyatt met them at the drawing-room door.</p> + +<p>"This is my Emerald," Miss Carmichael said, bringing them together, +with a hand on the arm of each. "We shall be friends soon, I expect, +beginning of course with—Miss Fordyce—Miss Wyatt. And now, Emmie, bring +a nice little low chair into the window for Miss Fordyce, and another +for yourself, and we will enjoy ourselves. Busy people know the luxury +of a lazy hour. I dare say Miss Fordyce has been very busy to-day after +her journey of yesterday, and you and I have certainly been so. I think +we have all fairly earned a right to a tired evening."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I have been busy," said Beryl. "I have only done +things—not hard work—and I am not tired."</p> + +<p>"You are stronger than your sister," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"O yes, I am very strong; I never am ill," said Beryl. "But there isn't +much to do; I wish there were. I like being really busy."</p> + +<p>"I shall have to hand over some of my superfluous work to you some +day," said Miss Carmichael. "How about unpacking after your journey?"</p> + +<p>"I got up early and did that before breakfast," said Beryl, with her +sober unrelaxed face. "I like getting up early."</p> + +<p>"So do I, but it doesn't like me. What have you done since?"</p> + +<p>"Not much," said Beryl. "I unpacked for Pearl,—and we all had a little +walk,—and I have my knitting."</p> + +<p>"Are you great at knitting? Then Emmie and you will sympathise on one +point. What do you want to ask, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"She is direfully puzzled as to my names," said Hester Wyatt.</p> + +<p>"I generally have to explain," said Miss Carmichael. "The truth is, I +ought to use only the real names of Hester and Hettie before strangers; +but I sometimes forget. Hester is the real name. 'Emerald' is just a +pet title of my own coining, and 'Emmie' comes naturally from it."</p> + +<p>"But why do you call her 'Emerald'?" asked Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Lean forward, Hettie," said Miss Carmichael. "So,—a little more. That +is the right light. Now, Miss Fordyce, come here. It is 'almost' too +dark, but you may get a glimpse. What is the colour of Hettie's eyes?"</p> + +<p>And the pretty shy eyes, usually dark, showed suddenly to Beryl's gaze +as a clear green.</p> + +<p>"No need to explain further," said Miss Carmichael. "That is how she +comes to be my Emerald. Pretty, is it not?"</p> + +<p>Beryl did not think the colour at all pretty. "It is like a cat," she +said bluntly.</p> + +<p>And both her companions laughed.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid there is no cure for them," said Hester merrily. "Green +they are, and green they will be to the end of the chapter."</p> + +<p>Beryl found herself in pleasant quarters, and under the genial +influences around, her tongue was becoming rapidly unloosed. She liked +Hester Wyatt; but she was still more drawn to that calm face opposite, +with its strength and sweetness of expression, a face as sweet as +Millicent's though with none of her beauty, but the force of character +was greater here. Beryl could not have defined the force; she only felt +it. Somehow she knew she might trust Miss Carmichael completely, from +the first.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>PLAIN, YET BEAUTIFUL.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"WHY did you not go to the concert this evening?" asked Hester, not +very prudently, when matters had advanced thus far, and Beryl had been +talking freely of her five years' schooling.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Diana said it was of no use, because I am not musical."</p> + +<p>"Don't you care for music?"</p> + +<p>"I like it sometimes. I mean I like some tunes,—'Bonny Dundee,' and +'Cherry Ripe,' and that sort of thing. And I 'do' think the 'Battle of +Prague' really beautiful, only they say that is bad taste."</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" said Miss Carmichael. "I do like honesty in any case."</p> + +<p>"Ninety-nine people in a hundred would have bad taste, if they did not +submissively like exactly what they are told to like," said Hester.</p> + +<p>"Then don't you care for music either?" asked Beryl hopefully of Miss +Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I care for it. I have been trained to love music of a kind which +perhaps you would not admire at all, and I think the taste is inborn +too. And I am afraid I don't much like the 'Battle of Prague.' But, my +dear, I do like to hear you speak the honest truth, and not pretend +to have a taste which God has not given you,—or which perhaps is only +lying dormant, and wanting cultivation."</p> + +<p>"Then you would not have cared really for the concert this evening?" +said Hester.</p> + +<p>"I should have liked to go. I wanted it very much," said Beryl. "Some +of the tunes might have been nice, and I should have liked to see the +people."</p> + +<p>"Honest again," said Miss Carmichael. "I wonder how many who go would +care to go if they could 'not' see the people—if they had to sit in +curtained recesses, and 'only' enjoy the music."</p> + +<p>"I should like that. I could have a private little cry, so nicely, at +the touching bits," declared Hester, with a blush.</p> + +<p>"And yet it is natural for human beings to enjoy things in company," +said Miss Carmichael. "There is immense power in sympathy, in the sort +of electric sympathy which runs through even a crowd of strangers. We +can't unhumanise human nature. Best to take things and people as they +are. I should not like at all when I go to church to be shut up in a +box apart from everybody. I like to 'see' as well as to hear that we +are all worshipping together."</p> + +<p>"Pearl did not want to go to-night," said Beryl, after a pause, not +able to respond to all this. "She did not like the feeling of it, with +Ivor so ill; but Aunt Di said it would do her good, because she is so +low and depressed."</p> + +<p>"Your sister looks low," assented Hester. "Who is Ivor?"</p> + +<p>"Escott and Ivor are our cousins—at least they would be our cousins if +Aunt Di were really our aunt," said Beryl, not very lucidly. "Their +mother is Aunt Di's sister, Mrs. Cumming,—and she lives with her uncle, +Mr. Crosbie."</p> + +<p>"Any relation to Miss Crosbie opposite?" asked Hester.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she is Aunt Di's and Mrs. Cumming's sister," said Beryl. "Mrs. +Cumming is a widow, and she has these two sons, nearly twenty years old +now. I like Escott, but I don't think I care for Ivor. Other people do, +though."</p> + +<p>"And he is ill?" asked Hester.</p> + +<p>"He and Pearl went for a long walk at Weston, and he tried to leap a +high gate to get a flower for Pearl, and he caught his feet in the +top rung and fell over. He hurt himself dreadfully—a sort of internal +strain, I believe. They don't seem to expect he will get over it for +a long while. The doctor thought he could not live through the first +night, but he did, and there has been another doctor down from London. +He thinks Ivor may perhaps get better, but nobody can tell yet."</p> + +<p>"Bad," said Miss Carmichael, drawing her lips together. "Poor young +fellow. He is at Weston, of course."</p> + +<p>"Yes; at least very near Weston, not in it. He was carried to a +gentleman's house, not far from where the accident happened. The +gentleman and his family were away, but they have been very kind. He +wrote to Mrs. Cumming that she must not think of moving Ivor, until +the doctors should say it was quite safe; and I don't know when that +will be. The accounts of him haven't been so good to-day and yesterday. +At all events, he couldn't possibly be moved yet. Aunt Di would not +stay in Weston more than four nights after Ivor was hurt. Pearl cried +and fretted so that Aunt Di said she would make herself ill, and she +thought we had much better come home. And Mr. Crosbie and Escott wanted +very much to go to some lodgings in Kewstoke, so as to be near Ivor. I +wished they would ask me to stay, but I suppose I couldn't really have +been a help."</p> + +<p>"It is a sad thing for the poor mother," Miss Carmichael said feelingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and Ivor has always been the strong one. Escott is often ill, but +Ivor is always well. I mean, he has been until now. And he doesn't care +for books, so it will be worse for him than for Escott."</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Cumming like Mrs. Fenwick?" inquired Hester.</p> + +<p>"O no," Beryl answered, with unusual warmth. "Not the very least. She +is like nobody that I ever saw. She is so beautiful and good that one +feels quite afraid of her. It never seems as if I could say 'anything' +to her, as I could perhaps to some people."</p> + +<p>"Is that the usual effect of beauty and goodness upon you, my dear?" +asked Miss Carmichael, with just a touch of sadness in her tone. For +she knew—how could she help knowing?—that she had been a "plain" woman +all her life through, according to certain ordinary ideas of plainness, +and she had never attempted to disguise the fact from herself. It had +been something of a life-trial to her, bravely accepted. And she did +not know—how could she?—of the genuine positive beauty which was in her +face, shining through from below.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Beryl said slowly, in her staid fashion. "I think I +feel that with Mrs. Cumming. If I were like Pearl, I suppose I should +not. But I am so different. If I were pretty, instead of ugly—"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe in ugliness," broke in Hester impetuously, with +flushing cheeks and kindling eyes. "In ugliness of that sort, I mean. +I never saw the face yet that couldn't look pretty under certain +conditions,—except a bad face. And the ugliest and wickedest face I +ever saw was that of a particularly handsome man. It isn't a mere +question of features. If there is a beautiful mind, the face must have +beauty. I don't believe in the sort of nonsense that people talk about +looks."</p> + +<p>Beryl gazed hard, astonished at Hester's extreme warmth, and then she +noticed Miss Carmichael's smile.</p> + +<p>"The child is doing her best to comfort her old friend for not being a +beautiful woman," Miss Carmichael said. "But don't distress yourself +for me, Emmie darling. I have never expected admiration, for I have +always known it could not be mine."</p> + +<p>"It 'is' yours," said Hester, with a sob, and she knelt down beside +Miss Carmichael, and looked up with eyes overflowing. "It is yours. +I don't care who doesn't agree with me. I admire you with my whole +heart, and you are beautiful—lovely—to me. I'm not flattering you, and +you know it. The look in your eyes, and your dear bright smile, are +lovely. Do you think I don't mean what I say?" And finishing off with a +passionate kiss, Hester sprang up, and ran out of the room.</p> + +<p>"My little Hettie is excited on the subject," Miss Carmichael said. +"But her loving heart cannot do away with the truth. Will it be any +comfort to you, my dear, to know that my lack of good looks has not +lost me friends and loving-kindness and happiness, all through life?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Wyatt is very fond of you," said Beryl. "But people don't care +for me."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." Beryl hesitated, but her reserve was not proof against +Miss Carmichael's thawing influence. "I thought it was 'that,'" she +said. "I thought that if I were like Pearl, people would take to me, of +course."</p> + +<p>"If you were like Pearl, people in general might run after you more. +But being run after for a pretty face does not mean being loved."</p> + +<p>"But people do love Pearl, and they don't care for me," said Beryl, +finding it a relief to unburden her mind to one who could, at least in +some measure, feel with her. "I heard an old servant say of me once, +when I was a child, that nobody ever could care for me, because I was +so ugly and disagreeable. And I suppose it is true. I never expect +anything else now."</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael sat looking at her.</p> + +<p>"You may have been disagreeable as a child," she said. "I do not +find you so now,—only I should like to unbend you a little. It was a +wrong thing for a child ever to hear said. Has your life since been +embittered by those words?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I couldn't forget them, of course," said Beryl slowly.</p> + +<p>"Have you kept them in mind, and allowed them to sour your intercourse +with others?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she repeated, and then she suddenly found herself in +danger of following Hester's example. "I couldn't help it. I used to +be very miserable, for a long long while. And then I thought it was no +good to mind, and I settled that I would just keep to myself, and let +other people alone, and be brave and not care."</p> + +<p>"And shut up your heart against the many who would willingly enter it. +Poor child!"</p> + +<p>"There hasn't been—anybody," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"No one who ever could have loved you? How can you tell?"</p> + +<p>"Except Mademoiselle at school. She said she would be my friend, and +she gave me a ring, and I wrote to her and she never answered me. +People are all alike."</p> + +<p>"I would trust Mademoiselle a little longer. There may be unknown +causes for the delay. People all alike! Nay, my dear, you don't know +much yet about human nature."</p> + +<p>"They are all alike to me," said Beryl. "And I don't care to have +friends who only just become friends because they are sorry for me. If +people don't really like me for myself, I would much rather be left +alone."</p> + +<p>"You are not like me there. If people are kind and loving, I don't +pretend to get to the bottom of their motives. It is a hopeless task. I +never yet succeeded in getting to the bottom of my own."</p> + +<p>Then she rose, crossed over, and placed a hand on each of Beryl's +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Hester and I will try not to be sorry for you," she said. "Look up at +me, Beryl. We should be sorry for most people who feel as you feel, +but you are of too independent a spirit to want pity, so we will offer +none. Still, do you not think you would like to have a little love from +us?"</p> + +<p>Beryl looked up, as directed,—composedly at first, but a changed +expression came soon. Her mood melted, and her eyes filled.</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael bent down and kissed her forehead.</p> + +<p>"It is no such hard task," she said. "There is plenty of lovable stuff +below, my dear, if you don't smother it up. Now mind, there is to be no +steeling of your little heart against us. You are to be at home here, +and to run in whenever you feel lonely. You understand? I hear Hettie +coming, and you may go into the conservatory and gather some cherry-pie +for yourself. People who don't like to be pitied, don't like to be +caught crying, I know. Run, my dear, and you will come back all right."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>THE WORST.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I AM DREADFULLY tired this morning," said Mrs. Fenwick. "Really, the +heat last night was quite appalling. Pearl, you are not eating any +breakfast. I insist on your taking something."</p> + +<p>Pearl looked blue-lipped and spiritless, and she sat in a drooping +posture.</p> + +<p>"You are not likely to hear any news of Ivor to-day, so it is of no use +expecting," said Diana, with a yawn. "Dear me, sitting up so late does +make one sleepy. Millicent is sure not to write two days running, and +Marian will get out of it if she possibly can. She has a mortal horror +of putting pen to paper. Besides, I don't suppose there will be any +change for the present. He will be ill for months. I always do think it +was the silliest thing to attempt to leap that gate."</p> + +<p>This remark recurred on an average about six times a day. Diana Fenwick +was one of those people who invariably judge of a deed by its results. +Had the leap been successful, she would have praised Ivor's spirit and +agility.</p> + +<p>"But young men always do silly things, and never learn by experience. +No use to attempt to control them. By the by, what were you doing all +the evening, Beryl? Pearson says she saw nothing of you. She grew quite +nervous, and hunted over the house when it was nearly dark. You are not +old enough to be walking alone in the lanes so late. I can't think how +you can like to do so."</p> + +<p>Beryl had been debating with herself how and when to tell what had +occurred. "I did not walk," she said. "I was over the way at Miss +Carmichael's."</p> + +<p>"You don't know Miss Carmichael," said Pearl, surprised out of her +apathetic air.</p> + +<p>"No, but she saw me alone in the garden, and she came across to speak +to me. She asked me to go back with her."</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary," said Mrs. Fenwick. "I detest that sort of meddling. +What business was it of hers whether you were alone or not? But it +is just the sort of thing one would expect from a person like Miss +Carmichael. I call it impertinent."</p> + +<p>"She was very kind, and I like her very much," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"How long were you there?"</p> + +<p>Beryl considered. "I don't know exactly. About an hour and a half, I +think."</p> + +<p>"Absurd!" said Mrs. Fenwick, evidently annoyed. "I hope you did not +gossip about my affairs."</p> + +<p>Beryl was silent.</p> + +<p>"What were you talking about?" Mrs. Fenwick spoke sharply.</p> + +<p>"A good many things," said Beryl reluctantly. "About—music,—and +different tunes. And I told them about school,—and about Ivor's +accident. And Miss Wyatt showed me some photographs the last part of +the time."</p> + +<p>"It sounds lively," said Diana, with a sneer. "Rather you than me. Did +they say anything about Sir Stephen?"</p> + +<p>Beryl did not remember at first. "O yes, she—Miss Carmichael, I +mean—showed me a photograph of her brother, and I think Miss Wyatt +called him 'Sir Stephen.'"</p> + +<p>"When is he likely to come to Hurst?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Miss Carmichael goes to visit him every year."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose you did not find out anything about Miss Wyatt,—whether +she is a relation or what?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think she is a relation. I think she is Miss Carmichael's +friend."</p> + +<p>"Her companion, do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl. "Her friend,—or perhaps like her child."</p> + +<p>"Adopted?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," repeated Beryl. "They did not say anything about that. +Miss Carmichael and Miss Wyatt seem very fond of one another."</p> + +<p>"It is queer. I don't understand the connection. What is Miss Wyatt's +real name?"</p> + +<p>"Hester Wyatt. 'Emerald' is only Miss Carmichael's pet name for her."</p> + +<p>"Absurd!" said Diana again. She was much given to using the word, when +not in a pleasant humour.</p> + +<p>"I did not think you would mind my going," Beryl forced herself to say, +after a pause. "Miss Carmichael saw you go off with Pearl, and she +thought I might be dull."</p> + +<p>"She had no business to think anything of the kind. It was no concern +of hers. I hate that sort of overlooking. I suppose you made yourself +out an injured individual, in being left behind."</p> + +<p>"I told her I was not musical," said Beryl stiffly. She found Diana's +manner difficult to bear patiently.</p> + +<p>The arrival of letters created a diversion, but there was not one from +Weston, and Pearl's face fell. She betook herself to the corner of a +sofa with a book, and made believe to read, seldom turning a leaf, and +now and then stealthily using her pocket-handkerchief. A bright drop +might have been seen to fall occasionally.</p> + +<p>Diana rang for the breakfast things to be removed, and disappeared for +a time. Coming back presently, she found Beryl in the window, over the +never-ending counterpane, now and then diversifying the monotony of her +occupation by a glance at the house over the way. The glances annoyed +Diana. She did not like Beryl to have advanced further than herself in +this new acquaintanceship.</p> + +<p>"There is one thing I have to say," she remarked sharply, opening her +writing-case. "About your Confirmation."</p> + +<p>Beryl's work came to a stand-still, and she made no answer.</p> + +<p>"The names have to be given in within the next fortnight. I shall send +yours to Mr. Bishop."</p> + +<p>"I can't decide in a hurry," Beryl said.</p> + +<p>"Hurry! Nonsense. I spoke to you about it days ago. You have had ample +time."</p> + +<p>"I can't be confirmed, feeling as I do now. It would not be right. I +should like to feel differently," said Beryl, finding it by no means +easy to say so much.</p> + +<p>"Feel differently!" Diana repeated the words with her scornful little +silver laugh. "What about, pray?"</p> + +<p>Beryl did not attempt to explain. "It would not be right," she +repeated. "I must wait."</p> + +<p>"Till when?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather wait another year, or ten years, than do it too soon."</p> + +<p>"You are nearly eighteen. Don't be ridiculous, Beryl. Your duty is to +do as you are told, without making a fuss, and I say this is the right +time."</p> + +<p>"It can't be only just a question of age," said Beryl. "No clergyman +would say so."</p> + +<p>"I shall tell Mr. Bishop that I consider it the proper thing for you; +and I expect you to obey, and not to make difficulties."</p> + +<p>Beryl was breathing hard.</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," she said; "I must do what is right. I 'cannot' +promise what I feel that I don't really want to do."</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense. Why, everybody wants to do it—if you mean the +Confirmation vows," said Diana. "We all want to do right, I hope. That +is all that is meant!"</p> + +<p>"Is it?"</p> + +<p>The two syllables had a certain sting in them, apparently. Diana +flushed, and threw back her head.</p> + +<p>"Of course. What else do you suppose is meant?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Something more than that," said Beryl. "If it only means +being like everybody else, I don't see the use of being confirmed at +all."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have been getting hold of some ultra notions. You seem +to me to be in a muddle about the whole concern. As for 'hurry,' there +are ten days to spare still, and you can think as much as you like. +But I expect you to do as I wish, and I shall certainly speak to Mr. +Bishop."</p> + +<p>"Is he the same Mr. Bishop who wrote to you about us five years ago?" +asked Beryl, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"No," said Diana shortly. "A cousin."</p> + +<p>A loud double knock sounded at the door. Pearl started as if she were +shot. "A telegram," she whispered hoarsely, and she whitened and +trembled.</p> + +<p>"Not at all likely," said Diana. "Numbers of tradespeople knock like +that. Just see what it is, Beryl. Now, Pearl, don't be a goose and make +yourself ill about nothing. It is of no use whatever to be perpetually +looking out for news of Ivor. We shall hear no more for a day or two. +He may go on like this for six weeks and more, before he really begins +to improve."</p> + +<p>Beryl came back with an envelope of thin texture.</p> + +<p>"Ah, then it 'is' one," said Diana, handling it carelessly, while Pearl +leant forward in an imploring fashion. "I wish people would be content +to write instead of startling one like this. I dare say Millicent +forgot to post a letter yesterday, and thought we should be anxious for +news this morning. She had much better have let the matter alone."</p> + +<p>Diana opened the sheet, and glanced at the few scrawled words. "From +Marian. Dear me—who could have thought it? I 'am' shocked. Poor dear +Millie! But, after all, it is no more than one might have expected—poor +fellow!"</p> + +<p>Pearl muttered hoarsely, "What?"</p> + +<p>"It is only what we might have expected," repeated Diana. "The doctors +never really thought he would recover. Well, if it 'was' to be, I +suppose it is a mercy that Millie is spared the pull of a long illness. +It would have worn her quite out. Poor dear Millie!"</p> + +<p>"Ivor dead!" broke from Beryl in utter incredulity. "Ivor!" She thought +of the strong young frame and elastic step, as she had last seen them, +only a few days earlier, and her whole being seemed to rise against the +thought. "Ivor!" she repeated. She had made up her mind that he would +certainly get well.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I did not mean to tell Pearl so quickly," said Diana, glad to +have somebody to blame. "How you do blurt a thing out. But it is always +your way. Marian does not say much. It is only—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'All is over. Ivor passed away at six this morning. M. pretty well. +E. much knocked down.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Diana laid down the sheet, sighed, and put her handkerchief to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Poor boy; it is a dreadful thing. I am sure I wish with all my heart +that we had never gone to Weston. I did not want to go. But, after all, +it might have happened just the same, and of course one never can tell +beforehand what is coming. I must write to Millie by the first post, +though what to say I really don't know. It will half kill her, I think. +One can't help feeling that if only it had been Escott!—He is always +so delicate. Ivor seemed such a strong hearty young fellow. Don't cry +so, Pearl. It is only what the doctors expected; but of course it is +dreadfully sad. I must have all the blinds pulled down at once, and see +about mourning for myself. You two are not his real cousins, so it will +hardly be necessary for you,—expect perhaps very slightly. Millie might +expect that."</p> + +<p>Diana talked on, really distressed, but finding relief in words, and +Beryl sat feeling stunned. Poor little Pearl's sobs were heartrending.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>WHETHER OR NO.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"ALMOST a fortnight since you have been near us. But there is reason, I +know," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>She had received Beryl with her frank cordiality of manner, giving a +kiss of welcome, and at once making her visitor feel at home. Hester, +who was present on Beryl's entrance, slipped away almost immediately, +seeming to know by intuition that a "tête-à-tête" with Miss Carmichael +was wished for. Beryl looked grave and absorbed, as if something were +weighing on her mind.</p> + +<p>"You have all been in sad trouble lately," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>Beryl sat opposite, gazing straight before her, not at Miss Carmichael, +but at the wall beyond. "Yes," she said.</p> + +<p>"How is Mrs. Fenwick?" asked Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"I don't think anything is the matter with Aunt Di. Pearl is ill—at +least not well," said Beryl. "She cries so, we can't do anything with +her, and she won't eat."</p> + +<p>"Poor little girl. Only sixteen," mused Miss Carmichael. "And Mrs. +Cumming?"</p> + +<p>"She doesn't write," said Beryl. "Aunt Marian says she is pretty well. +I don't know what they are going to do yet. Escott is so depressed."</p> + +<p>"The twin brother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But I don't hear much," repeated Beryl. Then she sat silent +again, and Miss Carmichael sat watching her.</p> + +<p>"What is it that you want to say to me, Beryl?" broke the stillness +suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether I can," said Beryl, turning crimson.</p> + +<p>"I think you can. It will go no farther without your leave."</p> + +<p>"Not even—"</p> + +<p>"No, not even Hester. I never repeat what is told me in confidence."</p> + +<p>Beryl moved her fingers uneasily, and said no more.</p> + +<p>"Come and sit here," said Miss Carmichael, drawing a chair close to +herself; and when Beryl obeyed, she laid a hand on the girl's arm. "Now +I think you will be able. Hettie will not come back yet. If she does, I +will send her away again."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Di wants me to be confirmed," said Beryl, "blurting" it out, as +Mrs. Fenwick would have said, without preface.</p> + +<p>"You have not been confirmed yet?"</p> + +<p>"No. Mrs. Brigstock asked me if I would, and I said 'No.'"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't. I'm not fit."</p> + +<p>"And you do not wish it now?"</p> + +<p>"No—yes,—I wish it—no, not really," said Beryl confusedly. "I don't +know what I wish exactly. But I don't think I ought."</p> + +<p>"Ought to be confirmed? Why not? Because you are not fit?"</p> + +<p>"I know I am not," said Beryl. "I don't feel as I ought—and I never +shall."</p> + +<p>"I don't feel as if I had reached anywhere near the bottom of the +matter yet," said Miss Carmichael pleasantly. "What makes one 'fit' for +it, my dear?"</p> + +<p>The pause following was longer than she expected, but Beryl evidently +meant to give an answer, and at last it came:—</p> + +<p>"One ought to 'want' to be—to do—to be—good."</p> + +<p>"I should say more. One ought to be heartily bent upon serving Christ +thenceforward."</p> + +<p>"I meant that," said Beryl, in her shyly gruff tone.</p> + +<p>"I am going to ask you a plain question, my dear. Is it your wish to be +Christ's faithful soldier and servant unto your life's end?"</p> + +<p>Another pause, and Beryl's usually staid features were working +painfully. "I can't," she said. "I 'can't,' Miss Carmichael—"</p> + +<p>"You cannot become His servant? But you are promised to Him already."</p> + +<p>"Yes, so Escott said. I didn't think of it before. I have been thinking +a great deal since," said the girl earnestly. "But I can't see what is +right. If I am confirmed, I must go to—to—the Holy Communion."</p> + +<p>"Is that your difficulty?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't go," said Beryl, her colour deepening. "I could not. It +would not be right. Nobody ought to go who can't forgive somebody else."</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael suddenly found herself in possession of the clue she +wanted. "And that somebody else is—"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Fenwick," Beryl said very low.</p> + +<p>"What injury has Mrs. Fenwick done you?"</p> + +<p>"She—stole Pearl from me."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand. Try to be clear, my dear child."</p> + +<p>"It is only that," said Beryl, breathing quickly, "Pearl and I did love +one another so much. And she came between and stole her from me. She +'meant' to do it. We had nobody else before except one another;—and I +have nobody now. Pearl does not love me."</p> + +<p>"And you—do you love Pearl?"</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael had not expected the answer which came. She scarcely +realised how great the effort of this conversation was to Beryl's +reserved nature, or knew how much strength of will and passion lay +beneath the composed exterior. Beryl broke into tears, and sobbed aloud.</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" Miss Carmichael said in her tenderest tone.</p> + +<p>Beryl was direfully ashamed of herself. She gulped and choked, and +struggled back to calmness as speedily as might be. "I didn't mean—" +she gasped, "I never do cry,—and I didn't know—"</p> + +<p>"You will be better for it afterwards. Tears do one good sometimes."</p> + +<p>But when self-command was regained, she said, "Now tell me more."</p> + +<p>"I have told," said Beryl, in a voice which to anybody else might have +appeared both hard and curt. "There isn't anything more. Only I have +lost Pearl—and I can't forgive Mrs. Fenwick. I never have all these +years, and I never shall."</p> + +<p>"'But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your +Heavenly Father forgive you your trespasses,'" said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. But I 'can't,'" repeated Beryl, somewhat sullenly.</p> + +<p>"And you are content to leave it so," said Miss Carmichael. "For how +long, Beryl?"</p> + +<p>Beryl was silent.</p> + +<p>"Till the end of life?" asked Miss Carmichael slowly and sadly. "That +would be very terrible."</p> + +<p>"I may feel differently some day," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"But if not? Life is uncertain. Think of poor young Cumming."</p> + +<p>Beryl's face changed. "Yes, I know," she said huskily,—"I think it is +'that'—I think that frightened me,—and I do want to be different, but I +don't know how."</p> + +<p>"There is only one possible 'how.' Come straight to Christ, and tell +Him all."</p> + +<p>"I thought I must forgive her first."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we all want to make ourselves a little better before we ask for +His healing. No, my dear. There is no first except coming to the feet +of Jesus. To be at His feet, and not to forgive others, is out of +the question; and to attempt to come to Him, while determined not to +forgive, is useless. But you may be willing and yet powerless, and then +He will give you power."</p> + +<p>Tears dropped again. "I'll try," whispered Beryl. "But I don't think I +can ever like her."</p> + +<p>"Possibly not. Liking is a different matter. She may not suit your +personal tastes. But if you would be Christ's servant, you must forgive +her,—you must not harbour malice."</p> + +<p>"And about Confirmation?"</p> + +<p>"Think it over, and come to me again."</p> + +<p>"I can't. Aunt Di gave me ten days, and the ten days are just at an +end. She says I am old enough, and she doesn't like me to put off any +longer."</p> + +<p>"Well—then send in your name as a candidate. You can go to the classes, +and consider the matter prayerfully, and you and I will have some more +little chats. If I were you, I would call at the Vicarage and speak to +Mr. Bishop alone."</p> + +<p>Beryl looked alarmed. "I couldn't say to him what I have said to you."</p> + +<p>"There is no need. Simply tell him that Mrs. Fenwick wishes it, and +that your own mind is not fully made up, and ask his permission to +attend the classes. If you would rather write a note, that would do as +well,—or nearly as well. By and by Mr. Bishop will of course see you +alone; and unless he thinks it right, he will not admit you. If you +still feel doubtful when that time comes, tell him so frankly, and he +will help you to a decision."</p> + +<p>Beryl's sigh spoke of some relief.</p> + +<p>"But I am sure I could not explain in writing," she said.</p> + +<p>"Some people find writing easier than speaking. Then try to see him. +Why not go now?"</p> + +<p>Beryl looked at the clock. "There would be time," she said unwillingly. +"I needn't be home for half an hour. Only I do so dislike going."</p> + +<p>"We must do a good many things that we dislike, in this world."</p> + +<p>"And you think I ought?" said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I think it is the wisest course you can take."</p> + +<p>"I should have time," repeated Beryl, standing up, with an air of +reluctance. "Only I must be home in half an hour. Aunt Di will be going +out, and she will want me to sit with Pearl."</p> + +<p>"You have to win back Pearl's love," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>Beryl shook her head hopelessly. "But I like being useful," she said. +"Sometimes reading aloud a story to Pearl keeps her from crying for a +little while, but she seems as if she could not care for anything. And +I think Aunt Di makes her worse. She doesn't seem to understand Pearl +at all."</p> + +<p>"Then Pearl has the more need of you, my dear."</p> + +<p>Another shake of the head. "Pearl does not think so," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"We must have patience. And now you are going to Mr. Bishop?"</p> + +<p>Beryl said "Yes" soberly, and walked away.</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael watched her through the garden, and earnestly hoped Mr. +Bishop might be at home.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Half an hour later, Beryl entered Mrs. Fenwick's drawing-room, to find +the little lady chafing at her continued absence.</p> + +<p>"I told you to be back sooner," she said. "That comes of letting you go +to waste your time at Miss Carmichael's. I have been ready to start for +a quarter of an hour past."</p> + +<p>"It is four o'clock exactly," said Beryl. "You told me to be back at +four."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't argue, pray. There is nothing I detest like argument. Where +in the world have you been? I saw you leave Miss Carmichael's an +immense while ago."</p> + +<p>"At half-past three," Beryl said, with rather irritating composure, +wearing her most stolid look.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been since?"</p> + +<p>"Only to the Vicarage—to give in my name as a candidate."</p> + +<p>"You had no business to go to the Vicarage. That was not necessary. And +you told me you would not be confirmed."</p> + +<p>"I said I could not in a hurry. I wanted to think first," said Beryl, +in a suppressed voice. "You gave me ten days, and the ten days are +gone. I told Mr. Bishop I could not be quite sure yet, but he will let +me go to the classes, and I am to decide by and by."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how I am to spare you for the classes. With Pearl like +this, and Marian away, I can't have you perpetually absent. It makes a +perfect slave of me. I am sure it is a lesson not to burden one's self +with other people's children. I am sick of it, for my part."</p> + +<p>Beryl was silent. She really did not know what to say.</p> + +<p>"Mind—I am not going to have this sort of thing again," said Diana +sharply. "You are not to act without asking my leave."</p> + +<p>"You told me I must be confirmed," said Beryl resentfully.</p> + +<p>"I have not spoken of it since all this trouble. That alters +circumstances. And you know very well that I did not say a word about +your going to Mr. Bishop. I am not at all sure that I can let you +attend the classes the next few weeks. You will have to do as you are +told. My own belief is that we shall have Pearl downright ill in a few +days. I don't know what is the matter with her."</p> + +<p>Diana rustled to the door, and paused.</p> + +<p>"Did Miss Carmichael advise you to go to Mr. Bishop's?"</p> + +<p>Beryl was no adept in the art of fencing. She said only, "Yes."</p> + +<p>"Miss Carmichael had better take care what she is about," responded +Diana, in a quiver of passion. "I always did think her a meddling +person. Mind, Beryl,—I will not have interference. And I will not have +gossiping about my concerns. I never saw anything like it. You had +better take care."</p> + +<p>Beryl thought that the question of Confirmation was more her own +concern than Mrs. Fenwick's. She had no opportunity to say so, however. +The next moment she was alone.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>VARIETIES.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT seemed to Beryl that she had never known Diana Fenwick in so trying +a mood as during the next few weeks. Probably the very fact that she +was herself struggling to feel differently towards Diana made her the +more sensitive to unkindness in word or manner. She sometimes thought +the struggle a hopeless one. She "could not" forgive Mrs. Fenwick, +"could not" conquer the bitter and resentful sensations which sprang +into being, so soon as the two were together.</p> + +<p>There were of course two sides to the question. Mrs. Fenwick was to +be pitied as well as Beryl. If she was a trial to Beryl, Beryl was a +trial to her. She did not love Beryl, but she loved money or money's +worth, and she had spent money on Beryl, and for her spending, she had +no return. She could not but know herself to be heartily disliked by +Beryl, and this dislike she heartily returned, yet she felt herself +after a fashion compelled or impelled to admit her as a perpetual +inmate of her home.</p> + +<p>Diana's extra irritability these weeks had also another cause, +unsuspected by any around her. Had Beryl guessed it, had she known of +the shadow which hovered over Diana's path, had she seen the despairing +tears which the little widow often shed in private, her resentment +would all have melted into pity.</p> + +<p>Moreover, Pearl's state was annoying to Diana. She disliked the visible +presence of grief, and could not understand the expression of it +lasting in another more than a few days. Wounds of that description +were apt in Diana's heart to heal quickly. For a week or more she was +interested in Pearl's distress, and was rather disposed to encourage +it, both by tender caresses and by much talk concerning "poor dear +Ivor." Then she grew tired of tears and woeful looks, and took to +reprimanding in place of coaxing. Pearl only cried and drooped the more +for sharp words, would not eat, refused to go out, and slept away half +her days in a sort of exhaustion of chronic misery. If not ill yet, she +seemed likely to become so soon.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Beryl went to the Confirmation classes; and though Diana +complained often and much about the inconvenience of sparing her, she +was never actually kept away. To have missed any one of the number +would have been a real trouble to Beryl. She had never before been +in the way of a steady course of religious instruction, wisely and +thoughtfully administered, and she drank it all in with thirstiness. +Mr. Bishop was a grave and elderly man, not powerful in preaching, but +exceedingly earnest, and possessing an unusual gift for systematic +exposition. The effect of his teaching, upon Beryl at least, was to +cause eager reading of the Bible,—and not reading only, but also +searching and comparing. She took notes in her own simple fashion, +conned them over, copied and learnt many of the texts, and dwelt much +upon them in mind. Questions in the class were seldom answered by her, +but the intent face was noticed often by Mr. Bishop with pleasure.</p> + +<p>The classes were supplemented by scraps of conversation with Miss +Carmichael. Mrs. Fenwick threw many difficulties into the way of +intercourse in that direction, but she did not entirely prevent it. +Hester generally left the two alone together. Beryl had little to say, +beyond the asking of a few questions, but she listened unweariedly +to whatever Miss Carmichael might choose to utter. These weeks of +preparation were found by Beryl, as they have been found by so many, a +time of real good to her spiritual being—a time of awakening to clearer +views of things unseen, and a time of food for soul-thirstiness.</p> + +<p>Yet when the hour for decision drew near, she was doubting still what +to do. Had she forgiven Mrs. Fenwick yet? Beryl thought not. "Could" +she come forward to be confirmed? She was conscientiously afraid of +deceiving herself. "Ought" was a word which weighed strongly with +Beryl. She had not yet reached higher than a general sense of duty, but +hers was not a self-pleasing nature.</p> + +<p>The sisters did not draw closer together, as Miss Carmichael had +expected, in consequence of Pearl's trouble. Pearl seemed to shrink +into her shell, and to refuse sympathy; and Beryl did not offer it. +She waited on Pearl, kept her company, and read to her by the hour +together, but her stolid composure never relaxed at home as it relaxed +at Miss Carmichael's.</p> + +<p>Millicent Cumming was still at Weston, nursing Escott, who had been +laid aside by a sharp attack of illness since his brother's death; and +Mr. Crosbie and Marian were still with her. Beryl, though much absorbed +in her own interests, saw that certain plans were under discussion, +not altogether pleasing to Diana. The latter had taken to watching +nervously for the postman, and over her letters from Marian she +exhibited often a petulant annoyance.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Matters appeared one morning to have reached a culminating point. Pearl +had always taken breakfast in bed of late, and Beryl alone sat at table +with Mrs. Fenwick. The postman had brought two or three letters, one +of which was evidently from Marian. Beryl was astonished to see Mrs. +Fenwick suddenly tear the latter across, fling it to the ground, and +stamp her foot upon it.</p> + +<p>"I knew how it would be! Just what I expected!" Diana said +passionately. "It is always the way. People just make use of one as +long as it suits their convenience, and then throw one over like an +old shoe. Marian was glad enough to have a home with me, when she +had nowhere else to go. But I might have expected this. Everybody's +convenience is always to be consulted before mine. If Milly does but +hold up a finger, she gets it all her own way."</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter?" asked Beryl.</p> + +<p>"A great deal is the matter. I never saw anything like it, for my part. +One would think I was a child of six years old, to have things settled +over my head in this fashion. 'Of course I shall agree that the plan +is wise and right!' Of course I shall do nothing of the sort! I intend +to give Marian my mind about it,—let her know for once what I really +think. I shall tell her she may please herself, and 'I' shall please +'my'self. Cool!"</p> + +<p>"Is not Miss Crosbie coming home next week?" asked Beryl.</p> + +<p>"No, she is not. She will not come next week or any week. If she wishes +for independence, she shall have it, and so will I."</p> + +<p>Beryl waited, really afraid to speak. Diana's face recalled to her the +day of the broken vase.</p> + +<p>"As if nothing in the world were to be considered but Millicent's +fancies! As if nobody in the world needed change except Escott! As if +Mr. Crosbie could not go with them, if he chose! But 'I' shall go all +the same. I will not be put upon like this."</p> + +<p>"Go where?" asked Beryl.</p> + +<p>"To the Engadine. They know well enough that I intend it, and this +is a trick to stop me. But I will not be stopped. I shall go, and I +shall take Pearl with me, as I told Marian I would. If Marian chooses +to break through her promise of coming home next week, it is her own +look-out. I shall tell her so plainly, and I shall take care that +friends understand."</p> + +<p>Beryl wondered what was to become of herself, and also felt generally +mystified concerning the cause of all this anger.</p> + +<p>"Are you going soon?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am. Next week."</p> + +<p>"And Miss Crosbie was to have been here with me?" said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Of course," repeated Diana sharply. "I don't know, I am sure, what to +do with you now. Marian is the most inconsiderate creature I ever knew, +and she takes a positive pleasure in crossing me."</p> + +<p>The door opened, and Pearson said, "If you please, ma'am, could Miss +Carmichael have a word with you?"</p> + +<p>Diana's face and bearing were suddenly transformed. She did not like +to be found in a passion by anybody out of her home circle, and she +certainly possessed a power of controlling herself when she would. +There was an impatient mutter, "What on earth does she want?" And then +a cordial—"Show her in at once,"—uttered distinctly enough for Miss +Carmichael to hear. A little flushed still, but gracious and smiling, +Diana rose to greet the early caller.</p> + +<p>"I must apologise for the hour," Miss Carmichael said, shaking hands +with Diana, and kissing Beryl. "You have not finished breakfast yet."</p> + +<p>"O yes, we have—quite," said Diana pleasantly. "We were merely talking +about a letter—rather a disagreeable one—which I have received."</p> + +<p>"I don't like disagreeable letters," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"This is from my sister Marian. It is disagreeable because it overturns +my plans," said Diana, speaking with composure. "Mrs. Cumming is +thinking of going abroad with her son for some months, and Marian +has decided to live with Mr. Crosbie while they are away. It is +inconvenient to me—extremely. But my sister does not think about that. +It is extremely inconvenient."</p> + +<p>"You will have to make use of Beryl, in Miss Crosbie's absence," said +Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"I do not know how to manage in the least. Marian knows that I intend +going abroad in a week or two myself with Pearl,—that in fact it is a +positive necessity. She was to have been here with Beryl. The change of +plans has quite thrown me out."</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael looked at Diana in her attentive way, and said somewhat +gravely:—"Yes, I think change of air would be good for you, as well as +for Pearl."</p> + +<p>"I must have it," said Diana, with a quick nervous glance back, as if +to see what Miss Carmichael meant. "And Pearl will be ill, if I do not +get her away. But I cannot afford to take Beryl too."</p> + +<p>"Beryl is quite strong, so it is not necessary; and also there is the +Confirmation. She will do very well here."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. It makes a difference—in other ways—my sister not being +with me," said Diana, drawn on to be confidential, as almost everybody +was with Miss Carmichael. "I shall have to send the servants home for +a holiday, and shut up my house. My uncle and Marian are staying on at +Weston for some time—he has taken such a fancy to the place. Beryl will +have to go to them there. I don't suppose my uncle will like it, for he +is dreadfully fanciful; but I don't see what else is to be done."</p> + +<p>"But the Confirmation!" Beryl broke out involuntarily, though not yet +clear as to her own wishes about being confirmed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the Confirmation!" echoed Miss Carmichael. "I can propose a +better plan, Mrs. Fenwick. Will you trust Beryl to me, while you are +away? Hester and I will take great care of her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenwick certainly had not expected this, and certainly did not +like it; but what could she say?</p> + +<p>"I don't think you need hesitate," said Miss Carmichael. "We are new +acquaintances, but we shall not be so much longer. I love to have young +people about me; and Beryl will be no trouble. I shall not scruple to +make her a useful individual in the house. It really may be a positive +convenience to me, for I am thinking of sending Hester away for a short +time, and Hester would not like to leave me alone. Shall we consider +the matter settled?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks,—you are most kind," said Diana rather faintly.</p> + +<p>"Then it is to be so! Now I must not hinder you longer, for it is a +busy time of day. We will meet again to arrange details. I must not +forget the small matter which so happily brought me over. Could you +give me the name of a good dressmaker?"</p> + +<p>This business completed, Miss Carmichael left, Beryl accompanying her +out to the front door, in a state of wordless happiness.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we shall get on together, I think," Miss Carmichael said with a +smile, answering the girl's look. "Good-bye, my dear."</p> + +<p>And Diana received her with a sharp—</p> + +<p>"I suppose it has to be; but mind, Beryl, you are not to make my +household affairs the talk of Hurst."</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl, trying instinctively not to look too pleased. "But +Miss Carmichael wouldn't repeat anything."</p> + +<p>"I don't care whether she would or not. 'You' are not to repeat things +to her," said Diana, with an uncomfortable consciousness of "things" +better not repeated.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_20">CHAPTER XX.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>A HAPPY NEST.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE idea of the Engadine roused Pearl more than anything else had done +since Ivor's death. She cried less, talked more, and waxed positively +eager over the choice of dresses and hats for the trip. Diana seemed +not to have the slightest idea how long she would stay away. She showed +impatience to be off, and was meanwhile in an uncomfortable state of +alternate excitement and depression. Beryl could not make her out.</p> + +<p>Marian's defection seemed to have caused even deeper annoyance than had +appeared at the first. Diana could not hear her sister's name without +an angry flush, and she repeatedly declared that Marian should never +again reside under her roof. Something in Marian's letter had probably +wounded her self-esteem. A hot and lengthy answer was despatched in the +first outburst of passion. Marian's reply was brief, and Diana read it +aloud to the girls, under one of her sudden impulses.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "DEAR DI,—I do not think you can have meant all you said in your last. +When you have had time to cool, you will be sorry. It is absolutely +necessary for Escott to travel, the doctors say,—and how could I leave +poor Uncle Josiah alone for six months or more? You could not really +wish it, or ask it of me. I dare say a trip to the Engadine would be +pleasant; but I must say I cannot quite see how you are to meet the +expense of it just now,—after what you said in your last letter.—Your +affectionate sister,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">"MARIAN CROSBIE."</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Cool! I am as cool as a cucumber," Diana declared, with burning +cheeks and glowing eyes. "I don't pretend to be a lump of ice like +Marian. Couldn't ask it, indeed! Why not? Millicent doesn't scruple +to ask what crosses my wishes, and why am I to be tongue-tied? 'Poor +Uncle Josiah!'—yes, of course,—poor anybody and everybody except me. +Can't see how I am to meet the expense! No, I dare say she can't. What +business is it of hers? But they shall see that I will have my own way; +I am not going to be sat upon in this style."</p> + +<p>The girls had little to say. Pearl only hoped that nothing might stand +in the way of the trip, and Diana's anger did not disturb her, when +not directed towards herself. Beryl dared not answer. She was falling +more and more into the clutches of that uneasy dread of "saying the +wrong thing," which checks all freedom of intercourse with some people, +occasionally even with those people who stand nearest in order of +natural relationship. She did not fear Diana's displeasure, for hers +was a tough nature, capable of standing rough words; but she did fear +the feelings which the expression of Diana's displeasure aroused in +herself.</p> + +<p>"I shall write at once, and tell Marian that everything is settled. +Thanks to Miss Carmichael, I need not ask any favour of her. I am quite +independent."</p> + +<p>Beryl began to understand why she was so easily permitted to accept the +invitation from over the way.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to start next week, but I don't quite see that we can be +ready, Pearl. Better say next Tuesday week."</p> + +<p>Beryl was sorry, knowing that "next Tuesday week" would be the day of +the last Confirmation class. She would much have preferred to be then +at Miss Carmichael's.</p> + +<p>Diana went on, unheeding:—</p> + +<p>"Marian will be sorry by and by for behaving in this way,—when +Millicent comes back, and my uncle doesn't want her any more. But I +shall not have her here. I can't endure that sort of playing fast and +loose. She may look-out for herself in future. I have a great mind to +give notice to my landlord next quarter, and go to live somewhere else. +I am getting sick of Hurst, and of being overlooked and meddled with +at every step."</p> + +<p>The last few words filled Beryl with dismay.</p> + +<p>Diana noted her expression, and thenceforward made systematic use of +the notion, when she wished to annoy Beryl.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenwick proposed to spend a week with Pearl in London, +before starting for the Continent. The last few days before they +left, Beryl had enough to do, to satisfy the requirements of even +her occupation-loving nature. She was at their beck and call +incessantly—sewing, mending, packing, shopping, running up and down +stairs, acting the part of "white slave" uncomplainingly. It was +gradually becoming a habit with them to hand over to Beryl whatever +they did not care to do themselves. Beryl liked to be busy, and liked +to be useful. Yet, however willing to work, she had at times a wish for +a grateful word or smile in return for her labours. Diana and Pearl +could smile and thank gracefully enough, when it pleased them; but they +did not count it worth their while to waste smiles upon Beryl. "Just do +this," and "Just fetch that," with, "Oh, you have finished at last," or +possibly a careless "Thanks," were the order of the day.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Tuesday came at last, and early in the afternoon the travellers +started. Beryl was busy up to the moment of their departure. She had +found time by early rising to put together what she would need at Miss +Carmichael's; but after eight o'clock not a minute of her time had been +her own. Diana was excited and irritable; and Pearl, now that things +had come to a point, looked flat. Neither remembered to give Beryl a +parting kiss, and Beryl would not ask for one. She stood quietly on the +step, watching the fly rumble down the road, and feeling as if a sudden +calm had come over the face of nature.</p> + +<p>"Miss Pearl 'might' have taken the trouble to look round and say +'Good-bye,'" Pearson remarked unexpectedly by her side.</p> + +<p>"People don't remember everything when they are busy," said Beryl +slowly, turning round.</p> + +<p>"She don't forget her ribbons and gloves, though," said Pearson with +some point. "You're tired, Miss Beryl."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I am—a little," said Beryl, as if not quite sure of so +unwonted a sensation. "I don't quite know how I am to get my things to +Miss Carmichael's."</p> + +<p>"I'll see to that. You just tell me what has to go, and I'll see to +it," said Pearson, who had experienced a growing approval of Beryl +during the last few weeks, and a growing disapproval of the manner in +which she counted her to be "put upon."</p> + +<p>"If you don't mind, I should be glad," said Beryl. "I must be off to +the Confirmation class in a few minutes, and Miss Carmichael expects me +to tea."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't you trouble yourself, Miss Beryl. Your things 'll be +over all right, by the time you're there. And we shan't be off till +to-morrow, so if you want anything more you can just run over in the +morning, you know."</p> + +<p>Beryl's "Thank you," if sober, was grateful. She went upstairs for hat +and jacket, and started soon, with her Bible in her hand.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>An hour and a half later, Miss Carmichael saw her coming up the garden +path, and Hester met her at the front door.</p> + +<p>"Welcome, Beryl,—I am glad you are here at last. We have been looking +out for you. Your 'baggage' has arrived first. Go and speak to Miss +Carmichael in the drawing-room. I am wanted downstairs for a minute."</p> + +<p>Beryl obeyed, and received a second affectionate greeting. Miss +Carmichael held her hands, scrutinised her face, and said "Well?" +inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"They are gone," said Beryl, with an unconscious accent of relief.</p> + +<p>"And you have been to your class since. A pleasant one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—I liked it very much," said Beryl, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Rather longer than usual, was it not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Am I late? It did not seem long, but it is the last. Mr. +Bishop wants to see us all alone now, and he has fixed the day after +to-morrow for me."</p> + +<p>"Do you see your way yet, my child?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Beryl, lifting her eyes to her friend's face. "I want to be +confirmed."</p> + +<p>"And the difficulty about Mrs. Fenwick?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is gone," said Beryl. "You have helped me so much. I don't +feel the same now that I did. I don't 'like' her, Miss Carmichael, and +I don't see how I can. But I like to be useful to her,—and I should +not be glad to see her unhappy,—and it doesn't make me angry now to +see Pearl fond of her. I don't know whether Pearl really is so very +fond—but still she cares for Aunt Di much more than for me, and I can +bear it now. I 'think' I may be confirmed."</p> + +<p>"I think so too," said Miss Carmichael. "But be true, Beryl. Don't have +any sham about the matter,—and don't be half-hearted. Let your life be +one of real faithful service to Christ from this time forward."</p> + +<p>"I want that—" said Beryl huskily, with flushing face. "Miss +Carmichael, the class to-day was about—"</p> + +<p>Beryl hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—about—?" said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>Beryl's tone took its shy gruffness. "Only about—the love of God," she +said.</p> + +<p>"And that has gone home to your heart?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I ever saw it before," said Beryl. "I thought—of +course—I 'had' to try to do right—just because I ought. I didn't see +'that!'"</p> + +<p>"You did not see the outpouring of tender love, beyond a mother's, +asking your heart in return. But you see it now,—and you will not let +go what you have found. If you see His love, you 'must' love Him in +return. Only, the life must go with the love. You cannot separate the +two."</p> + +<p>Beryl's look was responsive. She had no more to say.</p> + +<p>"You will be glad of your tea now," said Miss Carmichael. "Come and see +your room."</p> + +<p>She led Beryl to a cosy chamber, looking out upon the back garden, +pretty with white muslin and pink linings. A glass of geraniums stood +on the toilet-table, and the very pincushion spoke "welcome" with its +pins. To Beryl all this possessed the charm of novelty. She had never +before been a petted and honoured guest.</p> + +<p>"Your home for the present—for many weeks, I hope," said Miss +Carmichael. "Hettie has filled the bookcases with a selection which she +thinks may suit your taste. We must try to turn you into something of a +reader while you are here. Do not wait to unpack now, or to change your +dress, for tea is ready. Just make yourself tidy, and come down."</p> + +<p>Beryl obeyed, positively speechless with happiness. She had never +known such a sense of peaceful enjoyment as seemed to pervade the +very atmosphere of this house—an atmosphere which she had never been +so fitted to breathe as on this particular evening. She did not dream +how her own usually stolid face was changed by this new sense of +peace, within and without. When she re-entered the drawing-room, Miss +Carmichael and Hester looked at her, exchanged glances, and smiled, +both well content.</p> + +<p>"This is to be your seat at the table," said Miss Carmichael kindly. "I +dare say you are tired, and hungry too, after your busy day. The last +few days have been far from idle, I think."</p> + +<p>"No, I have had a great deal to do," said Beryl. "But I am not tired +now. I was, before the class—a little. I like being busy."</p> + +<p>"That liking is a gift worth having. Hettie and I mean to keep you +employed while here. We don't approve of 'idle hands' any more than +Watts did. How is the little Pearl?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think she is happy," said Beryl. "She seems to have been +so very fond of poor Ivor. Aunt Di thinks they would soon have been +engaged."</p> + +<p>"Poor child! Too young," said Miss Carmichael pityingly. "Foreign +travel will be the best cure for her, probably. And Mrs. Fenwick?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Di is quite well," said Beryl. Then she saw something in Miss +Carmichael's face which made her add, "Why? Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Miss Carmichael, and Hester shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I did not know anything was the matter with Aunt Di," said Beryl, +rather bewildered.</p> + +<p>"She is not well," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"But what is the matter with her?"</p> + +<p>"I am not in her confidence, so I cannot undertake to say. It is easy +to see that something is wrong, and that she is aware of it. If you +were a little more experienced, you would have noticed the same. Don't +talk about it to anybody else."</p> + +<p>"She does seem unhappy sometimes," said Beryl. "But I fancied it was +only just her way. I did not know she had anything particular to make +her so."</p> + +<p>"I may be mistaken, but I should say that she has. I am glad you have +felt more kindly towards her lately, poor thing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so am I," said Beryl. "But she isn't really ill, is she?"</p> + +<p>"'Ill' is an indefinite term. I do not count her well. Try some +home-made cake, Beryl."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>BRIGHT HOURS.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE Confirmation was to be on Monday, and the evening before was to +Beryl a strangely happy time. She had seen Mr. Bishop in the course of +the week, and had received her ticket of admission. A sermon especially +intended for the candidates, and full of the subject of that great love +of God for men, which had already touched and stirred Beryl's heart +with a thrill never again to cease vibrating, had just been preached at +the evening service. It seems strange that few sermons comparatively +should be spoken upon this mighty theme. Is it because men know so +little of God's love?</p> + +<p>The three were together in the drawing-room, Miss Carmichael resting, +Hester and Beryl on either side of her. Lights were out, and blinds +were drawn up, and the moonbeams fell full upon the little group.</p> + +<p>"It has been a good time for you, child," Miss Carmichael said at +length.</p> + +<p>"It has been the very best day I ever had in all my life," said Beryl. +"Will to-morrow be better still?"</p> + +<p>"Such days are sometimes disappointing, hardly coming up to our +expectations. But there is generally a reason."</p> + +<p>"What reason?" Hester asked. "I remember a feeling of flatness and +disappointment when I was confirmed, as if the whole did not at all +come up to what I had pictured beforehand. Why was it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know the 'why' in your particular case, Emmie. It might have +been that you gave thought to your own or your neighbour's dress +and appearance. Or it might have been that your mind was too easily +distracted by the little events of the day. Or it might have been that +you expected a sort of unnatural spiritual exaltation—such as comes +sometimes in a life, but certainly doesn't come just when it is looked +for. Or it might have been that you were more occupied with your own +feelings than with your Master."</p> + +<p>"I think it may have been a little of all four," said Hester in a low +voice, and Beryl inquired abruptly,—</p> + +<p>"How am I to keep myself from anything like that?"</p> + +<p>"You cannot keep yourself, child. Christ alone can keep you."</p> + +<p>"And I can't do anything?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; you can look to Him, moment by moment. And you can set it +before yourself as a definite aim, in His strength to be calm, to +let the little things of every-day life pass by you unnoticed, to be +indifferent to what your fellow-candidates may wear or do, and so to +escape being tossed to and fro needlessly."</p> + +<p>"There is something else I have been wanting very much to ask you," +Beryl said presently, finding it easier to talk by moonlight than by +daylight.</p> + +<p>"Yes. What?" asked Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about what I ought to do,—I mean, if I live with Mrs. +Fenwick. There doesn't seem any work for me."</p> + +<p>"Work for God?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"There is always work for God, if you are where He intends you to be."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether I am."</p> + +<p>"Did He place you there, or did you place yourself there?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I had much choice about it," said Beryl slowly. "But I +should like something else much better. I should like to be a nurse in +a hospital very much indeed. I always think I could do that well."</p> + +<p>"I should like has a doubtful sound, in connection with work for God," +said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"Is it wrong to like what one has to do?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not; but it would be wrong to put aside what He has given +you to do, and to take up something else, merely because you would like +it better."</p> + +<p>"But it might be the right thing for me," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"It might. Have you any reason for supposing this to be the case, at +the present moment?"</p> + +<p>"I should like hospital work," Beryl began, and paused. "I mean, I +think I am fit for it. I am strong, and I like taking care of sick +people. And I am not wanted here. I don't like living with Aunt Di. She +does not care for me in the least, and she always speaks as if I were a +burden. And I don't see that I can be of any real use to her and Pearl. +I have worked for them a good deal lately, mending and so on, and of +course I don't mind; but it isn't 'that' work. I should not like to go +away from Hurst, because of you; but still I 'do' want to have real +work for God."</p> + +<p>"'Seeking for some great thing to do,'" murmured Miss Carmichael. +"There is a good deal as to your own liking in all this, my dear. Now +tell me your reasons for supposing such a step to be God's will for +you."</p> + +<p>Beryl was silent for some time.</p> + +<p>"But, Miss Carmichael," she said, "ought I to live on Mrs. Fenwick, and +not do anything for myself?"</p> + +<p>"You should ask Mrs. Fenwick herself as to that. She has been +practically in the place of a parent to you for years. It is not for +you, a mere girl, to break away from her, unless by her will as well as +your own."</p> + +<p>"But if she did not mind?"</p> + +<p>"I have a strong impression that she would mind. If not, your way would +become so much the clearer. At the same time, you should be cautious +how you bring matters to a crisis. Better that the responsibility of +the step should be hers, not yours."</p> + +<p>"Only, if it were right for me—"</p> + +<p>"If it is God's will for you, indications of your way will soon appear. +But there may be work for you to do in your present home first. How +if, by your own action, you were to cut yourself off from it? I am not +trying to discourage you, my dear, but I certainly recommend you to +wait. A few months hence—"</p> + +<p>"Months!" repeated Beryl.</p> + +<p>"No one is the worse for a little exercise of patience," said Miss +Carmichael.</p> + +<p>After a break, she added softly:</p> + +<p>"Those long years of waiting and preparation at Nazareth—I often think +of them. One fancies HE must have been so eager to come forward, to +make Himself known, and to do the great work for which He had come. +Yet, all through those quiet years, He was just as much 'about His +Father's business' as in the three years' busy ministry."</p> + +<p>"Miss Carmichael, I will be patient," spoke Beryl. "I won't be in a +hurry."</p> + +<p>"And be willing to follow the guidance when it comes, my dear, whether +or no it may point the same way as your own wishes. Remember, you are +perfectly free to '"ask" what you will;' but take care not to '"choose" +what you will,' or you will be sorry later. Always leave your Father to +choose for you."</p> + +<p>Beryl said again, "I will."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>They went to bed early, and Beryl slept as usual soundly, to wake in +the morning with a placid sense of happiness.</p> + +<p>Breakfast passed quietly, little being said by any one. Beryl could see +that her companions were anxious not to distract her thoughts by light +conversation, though Miss Carmichael was the last person to endeavour +to force religious talk.</p> + +<p>Breakfast over, she said simply, pressing Beryl's hand, "You will like +a short time alone, my child."</p> + +<p>And Beryl went away obediently to her own room.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image007" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image007.jpg" alt="image007"></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>She went away to bring back a soft white Indian shawl,</b><br> +<b>which she folded round the girl's square shoulders.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Thither Miss Carmichael followed her, when the hour for starting drew +near, to see that Beryl was duly equipped. No stir was made about the +matter, and Beryl certainly offered no "bridal" appearance. She wore a +plain light-grey dress, lately procured for her by Mrs. Fenwick. Miss +Carmichael's kindness had supplied a pair of white gloves and a little +white net cap; and with her own hands Miss Carmichael fastened the +latter on.</p> + +<p>"Shall I wear my black jacket?" asked Beryl doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; that will not quite do," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>And she went away, to bring back a soft white Indian shawl, which she +folded round the girl's square shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Now it is all right," she said, and she kissed Beryl.</p> + +<p>"You are so kind," was all Beryl could say.</p> + +<p>"Never mind me now. I want your little mind to be full of other +matters."</p> + +<p>"I am trying, Miss Carmichael."</p> + +<p>"Don't try after feelings of excitement; only quietly remember your +Master, and think how you are promising yourself anew to Him, and how +He has promised to keep you to the end. 'I will pay my vows unto the +Lord now, in the presence of all His people.' 'Unto Thee, O Lord, do I +lift up my soul. O my God, I trust in Thee.'"</p> + +<p>Then again she left the room, and only came back when the fly was at +the door.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Three hours later the service was over, and they were at home again.</p> + +<p>Beryl went upstairs, and Hester remarked, "I think she was thoroughly +happy all the while."</p> + +<p>"I could not see her face," said Miss Carmichael. "She looks happy now."</p> + +<p>"I saw her plainly," said Hester. "She seemed grave and reverent, just +as one would wish, and there was no gazing about at her neighbours. And +the whole service was so nicely arranged, no fuss or bustle about it. I +am glad Beryl went from here, not from Mrs. Fenwick's. She would have +heard nothing but talk about the candidates' veils, if she had been +there."</p> + +<p>"And now, Em, we want our dinner," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>Beryl came downstairs, feeling dreamy, and rather shrinking from +ordinary conversation. Dinner over, she seemed at a loss what to do +with herself, and was set down by Miss Carmichael to hem a seam. She +did as she was told, but remarked, "It feels like Sunday—as if one +ought not to work."</p> + +<p>"It is not Sunday, my dear, and I doubt if you would find yourself able +to attend to a book. Your mind has been on the strain yesterday and +to-day, and if you keep it up too long, you will have an uncomfortable +reaction. I want this shirt finished for a poor person."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it is really useful, I shall like to do it," said Beryl, her +face lighting up. "May I help as much as possible while I am here?"</p> + +<p>"That is the first step," said Miss Carmichael, smiling. "I shall soon +see what the help is worth."</p> + +<p>Beryl was spurred on by the words to diligent exertion, and her next +hour's performance was creditable to herself both in quantity and +quality. She was disposed to fall into grave talk again about future +plans, but Miss Carmichael discouraged this, thinking that enough had +been said for the present.</p> + +<p>After a while, she sent out Hester and Beryl for a walk, herself going +upstairs to lie down.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>By teatime, Beryl was natural again, entirely happy, but without her +look of strained gravity.</p> + +<p>"It has been such a nice walk," she said. "Hester and I have been +talking about all sorts of things. And we both think that nobody in the +world is like you, Miss Carmichael."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I am to take your words as a compliment, my dear; but +they have a doubtful sound. One may be pre-eminent for disagreeable +qualities, as well as for agreeable ones."</p> + +<p>"But you know what we mean," said Beryl, looking into Miss Carmichael's +face with an expression which transformed her own, and which would +indeed have astonished Mrs. Brigstock and Diana Fenwick. "Hettie says +she always thinks of you as a sort of mother, and I am sure 'I' do."</p> + +<p>"Then I have two children instead of one child," said Miss Carmichael. +"Ah, the post has come. A letter for Beryl. Sensible man to bring it +here, instead of dropping it into the box over the way."</p> + +<p>"From Mademoiselle Bise!" exclaimed Beryl. "How curious! It seems as if +everything nice came together at once."</p> + +<p>And presently, she put the letter into Miss Carmichael's hand.</p> + +<p>"I should like you to read it," she said. "It is 'very' nice—all +through. Poor Suzette! She was taken ill two days after I came away, +and she had to go to a sort of home for governesses, and lately she +could not find my letter, and didn't know my address. She says she +hopes I have trusted her: but I have not."</p> + +<p>"Don't doubt friends hastily in future," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"I'll write to her directly," said Beryl. "She is just going to another +school in London. I am so glad I have heard. I had been looking for a +letter, and wondering why one did not come, so long. Isn't it strange +everything coming to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I hope a few more things may come in the next few days," said Hester.</p> + +<p>"And the next few weeks," said Beryl. "Oh, I hope Aunt Di will stay a +long time at the Engadine,—if I am not in the way here. I wish it could +be very long. I want to learn so many things."</p> + +<p>"'Homme propose, Dieu dispose,'" murmured Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"But it will be so nice," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very nice," said Miss Carmichael kindly. "But take each day as it +comes, my child. Don't set your heart on what lies ahead."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>DISAPPOINTMENT.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"SLEPT well?" asked Miss Carmichael next morning, as Beryl came, +glowing and fresh, out of the garden.</p> + +<p>She did not look pretty; nothing could make Beryl's plain face +pretty; but her open and honest enjoyment was pleasant to behold. The +constraint of her school-days seemed to have vanished.</p> + +<p>"I always sleep well," Beryl answered. "I have been out of doors half +an hour and more. Only think; it is a week to-day since I came."</p> + +<p>"Does it seem longer or shorter?" asked Hester.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Longer and shorter too, I think," said Beryl. "I am so +happy that the time goes fast, and yet I feel as much at home here as +if I had been months and months in the house. To think of weeks more +still,—it seems like a dream."</p> + +<p>"You will quite belong to us by the time they are over," said Hester.</p> + +<p>"It 'feels' like belonging to you now," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>Prayers at an end, they drew round the table, and Miss Carmichael's own +hands supplied Beryl's plate with toast-and-butter. "Eggs and ham will +come soon," she said. "But you are hungry with the fresh air, and you +need not wait. Post come?—And another letter for Beryl! From Pearl, +perhaps."</p> + +<p>"No, it is Aunt Di's handwriting," said Beryl. "I didn't expect her to +write to me."</p> + +<p>She opened the letter, and, as she read, her happy face clouded over +heavily.</p> + +<p>"Bad news, my dear?" asked Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"They are not going abroad at all," said Beryl, in a thick and +half-choked voice.</p> + +<p>She crumpled the sheet together, and thrust it into her pocket, +beginning to eat dry toast as fast as possible, under an evident +impression that it was buttered. Hester handed her a cup of tea, and +Beryl gulped some down hastily.</p> + +<p>"Take care,—you will choke yourself," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>She sat watching solicitously the girl's perturbed face, crimson with +the struggle to keep down tears. It was plainly an almost hopeless +struggle.</p> + +<p>"Will she leave you with us a little longer, Beryl?" asked Miss +Carmichael.</p> + +<p>Beryl shook her head.</p> + +<p>"What is the reason of the change?"</p> + +<p>"I—don't know. I didn't—didn't read it all." She pulled out the +crumpled sheet, and thrust it into her friend's hands, tears still +gathering in hot rushes, and all but overflowing.</p> + +<p>The letter ran as follows:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "DEAR BERYL,—Will you please to go back to our house early on +Wednesday,—some time in the morning. I have decided to give up the +Engadine entirely for this autumn, and Pearl and I will return from +London to early dinner on Wednesday. I have sent word to the servants +to go home the first thing on Tuesday, and they will get everything +ready. I am dreadfully tired, and can't write more; and Pearl has cried +herself ill about not going abroad, but it can't be helped. I dare say +Miss Carmichael will be glad enough not to have you on her hands for a +month or six weeks; anyhow, I must have you at home to help. It is time +you should learn to be useful. Yours affectionately,—DIANE FENWICK."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Fenwick's surmise is wrong," said Miss Carmichael. "I am sorry, +not glad." And seeing that Beryl did not understand, she read the +letter aloud. "No reasons given, you see."</p> + +<p>"It is terribly disappointing," said Hester.</p> + +<p>Beryl was reaching a point beyond self-command.</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael saw this, and said quietly, "Come here."</p> + +<p>Beryl obeyed, choking with sobs, and knelt down to hide her face on her +friend's shoulder.</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael's arm, placed tenderly round her, spoke of comfort, +yet the very tenderness made composure the more difficult, and Beryl's +crying had about it something of the passionate emotion seen often in +her childish days, though of late years commonly suppressed.</p> + +<p>"My child, it isn't worth all this distress," said Miss Carmichael. +"You are only going across the road. Come, dry your eyes and be brave. +I didn't know there was such a reservoir of tears beneath. You and I +shall meet often."</p> + +<p>"It won't be the same," gasped Beryl. "She always tries to hinder me +from coming. And I 'did' so want to be here next Sunday, the first time +I go to—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I understand," said Miss Carmichael. "But that will be the same, +child, wherever you are. The Master's Presence at the feast is its joy."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but she will very likely make me feel so that I shall not think it +right to go at all," murmured Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I hope not. Something must be wrong if you can only come to the +Master's Table when nothing has happened beforehand which could ruffle +you. The things may happen—only don't be ruffled. Make it your aim to +keep—or rather to be kept—in calmness."</p> + +<p>"I'll try," Beryl said, rather despondingly. "But one doesn't always +feel quiet when one looks quiet."</p> + +<p>"Beryl Fordyce does not, certainly. My dear, there lies the difference +between keeping calm and being kept calm by God. Our quietness is an +outside affair very often. The peace of Christ, poured into our hearts, +reaches to the very depths."</p> + +<p>And then, as Beryl remained kneeling beside her, flushed and troubled, +she added, "The tea is getting cold. Come, child, we are going to make +a good breakfast, all of us. Emmie, give Beryl some eggs and ham."</p> + +<p>Beryl had not seen them brought in, but there they were. She went back +to her seat, and cried no more, but the heavy look of disappointment +continued, a touch of sullenness being mingled with it.</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael took no notice of this. Breakfast at an end, she +attended to household matters as usual, and was busy for an hour or +more. Then she came to the drawing-room, and found Beryl seated idly +in the window, gazing with a forlorn air into vacancy. Miss Carmichael +realised suddenly the cause of Beryl's general unpopularity. In her +present mood, she certainly did wear an exceedingly uninteresting +appearance.</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing since breakfast?" she asked cheerfully, +taking a seat and pulling some work out of a drawer.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Hardly possible that, my dear. Some part of you must have been +employed, whether hands or head."</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking," said Beryl, with an effort.</p> + +<p>"With what result?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I don't feel as if anything was of much use," replied +Beryl. "I feel as if I were just going back to the old way of things."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Miss Carmichael quietly. "Then the vows of yesterday were +hardly more than a form, after all. You are willing to be a soldier and +servant of Christ just so long as you may do what 'you' wish. But if +He gives an order which you don't quite like, away goes all thought of +faithful service."</p> + +<p>Beryl was silent, but her face grew softer, and Miss Carmichael left +the words to work.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I ought to have been confirmed," Beryl broke out +suddenly. "I thought I had forgiven Mrs. Fenwick, and I haven't."</p> + +<p>"Forgiven her for what?"</p> + +<p>"For—everything," said Beryl. "If I had forgiven her, I shouldn't be so +angry with her for this."</p> + +<p>"You were able to forgive her last week for anything of seeming +unkindness in the past. If you are tempted again to an unforgiving +spirit, you must fight the battle over again, and conquer in your +Master's strength. But as for 'this'—my dear, you are not so childish +as to blame her, without knowing her reasons."</p> + +<p>Beryl looked ashamed. "I will not," she said. "But I 'did' feel so +vexed—"</p> + +<p>"Then don't be vexed any more, for you have no cause. You cannot tell +what moves her. Better to take the disappointment straight from God's +hand, Beryl. That will save much needless worrying. It is His will for +you; what matters anything else?"</p> + +<p>"It did seem such happiness to be here, and I meant to learn so much," +murmured Beryl. "And nobody cares for me there."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Miss Carmichael slowly—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"'If loving hearts were never lonely,<br> + If all they wish might always be,<br> + Accepting what they wish for only,<br> + They might be glad, BUT NOT IN THEE.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"I didn't think of that," said Beryl, understanding more quickly than +Miss Carmichael had expected, for she was not usually quick to grasp +another's thought. "Please say it again."</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael obeyed, adding no remarks.</p> + +<p>"But I thought—'you' would teach me," whispered Beryl.</p> + +<p>"A child at school doesn't have the choosing of her own class and +teacher," said Miss Carmichael somewhat quaintly.</p> + +<p>"There is nobody to teach me anything at home."</p> + +<p>"There is your Master Himself, Beryl."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I would rather learn from you than in any other way," said +Beryl, tears threatening again. But the sullen look was gone.</p> + +<p>"I dare say you would, dear. Most of us would rather turn to the right, +when God tells us to turn to the left."</p> + +<p>Beryl sighed audibly.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Di means to make use of me now," she said. "It doesn't look much +like getting away to be a hospital nurse."</p> + +<p>"If you are wanted in Hurst, you are not wanted for hospital work," +said Miss Carmichael. "Patience, Beryl, and don't be too eager to +shape life for yourself. You do not know what God may have for you to +do first, over the way. Only remember it is work of His setting, not +merely of Mrs. Fenwick's."</p> + +<p>And Beryl said at length, meekly, "I am afraid I have been very wrong +this morning."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>A PERPLEXING CONDITION.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I AM FEARFULLY tired,—don't bother, pray. Yes, you can pay the +cabman,—oh, don't ask me how much. Pearson knows. Here, take my +purse. Just get the parcels out of the fly, and take care nothing +is forgotten. There is a bandbox, with my new bonnet—don't have it +crushed. I hope tea is ready. We could not get off by the morning +train; I was not up in time."</p> + +<p>Diana spoke in a hurried and peevish voice, as she walked slowly into +the house. Beryl had returned home, according to directions, before +early dinner; but the absentees had not appeared when expected, and +it was not till past five o'clock that the railway cab stopped at the +door. Pearl lingered in the passage, while Beryl settled with the +cabman.</p> + +<p>"Do come with me, Beryl," she said then, in a low voice. "I don't want +to be alone with Aunt Di any longer."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what has come over her. She has been dreadfully cross +and miserable, crying and moaning half the way. We had the carriage to +ourselves, and I wished we had not, for she quite frightened me. She +won't say what is wrong, and she will hardly let me speak to her."</p> + +<p>"What made her give up going abroad?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know in the least. She says she is too nervous, but I don't +believe it is really that. She went away alone to see somebody in +London, and when she came back, she told me quite suddenly that she had +changed her mind. It was frightfully disappointing, and she was angry +with me for crying."</p> + +<p>Beryl was glad Pearl did not know that she too had cried. She felt +rather ashamed at the recollection.</p> + +<p>"Of course it doesn't matter to you, but it is 'frightfully' +disappointing to me," repeated Pearl, heaving a sigh, and looking both +very pretty and very doleful.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I don't wonder you are sorry," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>They made their way into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Fenwick was +seated in an arm-chair, haggard and troubled in appearance.</p> + +<p>"What are you both dawdling about?" she demanded, sharply. "I want my +tea at once, for I could not eat a morsel at dinner. What have you in +the house, Beryl? Cold mutton! I can't touch that. Pearson ought to +have known better. Eggs! No. If there were a little cold chicken, I +could manage it. I am so sick and exhausted, I must have something. +Mutton, indeed! It really is too bad. As if nobody in the house knew +anything of my tastes!"</p> + +<p>"Cook has made a little dish of mince, ma'am," said Pearson, standing +in the doorway. "She thought you might perhaps like it, if you came by +this train."</p> + +<p>"I hate mince," Diana asserted. "But you must bring it up, if there is +nothing else. And be quick, pray. One of you two can make tea."</p> + +<p>"Beryl," Pearl said indolently.</p> + +<p>Beryl moved to obey, feeling somewhat flattered, and Pearl accompanied +her into the dining-room.</p> + +<p>"I can't stay alone with Aunt Di," she said, by way of explanation, and +she dropped into an easy-chair. "O dear, I am so tired. Put a spoonful +for each, and two extra ones, Beryl. We always do. Aunt Di likes it +strong."</p> + +<p>"Won't she want you, Pearl?"</p> + +<p>"O no, I don't suppose she will care. I really can't stand the way she +goes on."</p> + +<p>"What way?"</p> + +<p>"You will see, fast enough."</p> + +<p>Beryl's perplexity increased, but she asked no more questions. Her +staid common-sense, and her habit of avoiding needless remarks, were of +good service to her. She made tea, and put the cosy over the teapot, +her thoughts flying to the dear friends over the way. Beryl had to +combat a strong desire to be there.</p> + +<p>Tea at Miss Carmichael's was a very cheery and chatty meal. Beryl +could not but note the difference here. She could herself join in +conversation started by others, and was able to enjoy it, but she had +small power to originate remarks, and seldom at any time spoke unless +addressed. Pearl sat listlessly silent, refusing to eat. Diana tried a +scrap of everything on the table in turn, only to grumble at each. She +found the butter to be salt, the bread to be underbaked, the mince to +be burnt, the cake to be heavy. Beryl dared not answer her complaints, +and Pearl paid no attention to them.</p> + +<p>"What a pair of dummies you are," Diana said at length, in a +dissatisfied voice.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to talk about," said Pearl, yawning. "I wish I could +go to bed."</p> + +<p>"You may go as soon as you like, for all that I care," said Diana +tartly. And she led the way to the drawing-room, saying, when there, +"So you were confirmed, Beryl."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Beryl answered.</p> + +<p>"How did it go off?"</p> + +<p>Beryl wore her perplexed look. "It!" she repeated.</p> + +<p>"The Confirmation, of course. What else do you suppose I mean? Don't +pretend to be more stupid than you are."</p> + +<p>"It went off—" Beryl began, and came to a pause.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Diana.</p> + +<p>"Nicely," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"What did the candidates wear? Veils, chiefly?—Or caps?"</p> + +<p>"I had a cap," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Did most of them wear caps?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Some had veils; but I tried not to see," Beryl answered.</p> + +<p>"You may as well try the other way in future. I don't see the good of +having eyes, if one doesn't use them."</p> + +<p>"But at such a time—" said Beryl.</p> + +<p>Diana mimicked the words, with a sound of inquiry at the end.</p> + +<p>Beryl was silent.</p> + +<p>"At such a time! Well? Go on," said Diana.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to say any more."</p> + +<p>"Pray do. I've no doubt I should find it edifying," said Diana. +"Anything better than to be left to hear the clock ticking. You have +been in an atmosphere of preaching the last week, and I must expect +a few discourses to be handed on for my benefit. I dare say you will +manage to curtail them a little. Oh!"</p> + +<p>Beryl could not think what had startled Diana. She flushed up, then +turned pale, and trembled. Pearl, sitting on the sofa corner near +the fire-place, made an uneasy movement, and the fire-irons slightly +rattled.</p> + +<p>"Pearl! I can't stand that. Do stop fidgeting. You make me so fearfully +nervous."</p> + +<p>Nervous she evidently was, and even the inexperienced Beryl could +not but perceive it. Diana might have recovered herself, but at that +moment, the postman's rap sounded sharply at the front door. Diana not +only started again, but fairly shrieked.</p> + +<p>And Pearl, with an alarmed face, rushed out of the room.</p> + +<p>"It is only the post. Are you expecting anything very particular?" +asked Beryl, astonished. "Pearl has gone for the letters, and I will +see too."</p> + +<p>Diana was in an agony of sobs, nearly approaching hysterics.</p> + +<p>Beryl went into the passage, and found Pearl hovering near the door, +with a scared look.</p> + +<p>"Is there a letter for Aunt Di?" asked Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I haven't looked. Beryl, I wish she wouldn't go on like +that. What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose she is afraid of bad news from somebody," said Beryl, +opening the box.</p> + +<p>"It isn't that. You don't understand. She was just the same all +yesterday. If anybody just tapped at our door, it upset her; and at the +station, when the whistle sounded, she quite screamed. I was so ashamed +of her. And it does frighten me so. I feel as if I could run away +anywhere. Just listen how she is crying."</p> + +<p>"I must go back," said Beryl, with a curious pleasure in finding Pearl +thus suddenly dependent on herself.</p> + +<p>"You can't do any good. I wish you would come with me. It makes me +tremble so that I can hardly stand, when she shrieks out in that queer +way. We can send Pearson to her."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it would be kind to leave her. Hush! She is calling. I +must go, Pearl."</p> + +<p>Beryl returned hastily. "There is only one letter for you, Aunt Di," +she said. "Don't cry so, please."</p> + +<p>Diana did not seem to care about the letter. She said beseechingly, +"Don't go away; don't leave me!" then dropped the unopened envelope, +and buried her face in the sofa cushion.</p> + +<p>"May I call Pearson?" asked Beryl.</p> + +<p>"No,—no,—nobody. Don't call anybody. And mind, I won't have a word said +to Miss Carmichael."</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Don't go. I can't bear to be left alone," gasped Diana, hearing a +movement.</p> + +<p>"No; I will stay here," said Beryl, sitting down close to Diana.</p> + +<p>What to do next she did not know. Diana kept her face hidden, and +moaned repeatedly,—whether from pain or distress, Beryl had no means of +guessing. She ventured at length to ask—</p> + +<p>"Have you toothache?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Diana shortly.</p> + +<p>"I thought something must be hurting you," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>The only answer to this was a deep sigh. Diana presently sat upright, +and sighed again.</p> + +<p>"What has become of Pearl?"</p> + +<p>"She went away when you called out. I think she was frightened."</p> + +<p>"Pearl is a thorough little goose," said Diana scornfully.</p> + +<p>"She isn't used—" began Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't being used, or not. I know better. She doesn't like +anything that disturbs her peace and comfort. It is all selfishness. +Pearl cares for nobody in the world except herself."</p> + +<p>Beryl was again much astonished. "Why, Aunt Di," she said, "I thought +you were so fond of Pearl."</p> + +<p>"There are different kinds of fondness," said Diana. "She is of no use +at all when one is ill,—thinks of nothing but her own feelings. If that +isn't selfishness, I don't know what is."</p> + +<p>The latter assertion was too obviously truth to be contradicted. And +Beryl could not venture to make excuse for Pearl, by remarking on the +fact, of which she was indeed but dimly conscious, that poor Pearl had +been systematically trained into a spirit and habit of self-indulgence.</p> + +<p>"Are you ill, Aunt Di?" she asked in her straightforward style, struck +with the expression.</p> + +<p>"It does not matter whether I am or not," said Diana.</p> + +<p>"Miss Carmichael thought you did not look well before you went away, +and she seemed sorry," said Beryl, wondering, as soon as the words +had escaped her, whether Mrs. Fenwick would be offended. But, on the +contrary, she looked rather gratified.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was very much knocked up," she said. "I wanted the change +terribly; but really I am too nervous to attempt it just now. And Pearl +is no good at all in travelling. She just sits still and expects to +have everything managed for her. If I could have afforded to take you +too, I dare say I should have found you more useful."</p> + +<p>"I like being useful," said Beryl. "Then that is why you did not go +abroad?"</p> + +<p>The words were rather an assertion than a question, but Diana seemed to +take them as a question. A red spot rose in either cheek, and she said +sharply, "My reasons are no concern of yours."</p> + +<p>Somehow Beryl did not feel angry. "No," she said. "Of course they are +not. I didn't mean to ask."</p> + +<p>"There are generally more reasons than one for doing a thing," said +Diana, going back to her former manner. "How ridiculous of Pearl to +stay away all this time!"</p> + +<p>Then, after a pause,—"Do pray talk, Beryl. I feel as if I should scream +if nothing is said."</p> + +<p>Beryl found herself in difficulties. "I don't know what to talk about," +she said.</p> + +<p>"Anything. I don't care what. Only just talk. I am so fearfully +nervous, I really can't sit and listen to the clock. It sends me wild. +Tell me about Miss Carmichael, if you like."</p> + +<p>"But you don't care for Miss Carmichael," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"That doesn't matter. I don't know that I dislike her. Anyhow, you can +tell me about her, can't you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think so," said Beryl slowly, with her honest eyes bent on +Diana.</p> + +<p>"Nothing to tell, after a week there!"</p> + +<p>"It isn't that. Of course I could tell a great many things," said +Beryl. "But she has been so good to me,—so very very good,—and I love +her dearly. And if I told you things—"</p> + +<p>"Well! If you did?" said Diana.</p> + +<p>"I think you might laugh. I don't mean that there is anything really to +laugh at, for there is not," said Beryl. "But you might."</p> + +<p>"And if I did?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want that. It would make me feel about you as I ought not. I +would rather—a great deal—that you should laugh at me," said Beryl, +colouring.</p> + +<p>"You are a queer girl, if there ever was one," responded Diana. "I am +glad to see you can be grateful to some people in the world, at all +events."</p> + +<p>Beryl could not but understand. She did not meet the remark with +silence, as she would have done a few weeks earlier.</p> + +<p>"I am grateful to you too," she said, with an effort.</p> + +<p>Diana made a sound of incredulity.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I know you have done a great deal for me," said Beryl. "But that +is quite a different sort of thing. Miss Carmichael loves me."</p> + +<p>The dry simplicity of words and manner heightened their effect. If +Beryl had spoken with more of passion, Diana would have sneered; but +this bare and brief assertion did not lie open to sneers.</p> + +<p>"And you mean to say that I do not?" was her reply.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you love me, Aunt Di. I always thought you cared for +Pearl, until this evening."</p> + +<p>"Well, you are making talk now with a vengeance," said Diana. "A +particularly good subject for quieting my nerves, I must say." And +with a sudden change of voice she broke out, "Loves you! Does anybody +really love anybody? It is all a farce, Beryl. People like others for +what they can get out of them. That is 'my' experience. People care for +you as long as you are young and pretty, or as long as they find you +useful, and then they throw you overboard."</p> + +<p>"Miss Carmichael would never do that," said Beryl. "I think she would +love one more if one were ill."</p> + +<p>"Miss Carmichael is like the rest of the world. You don't know what +people are. Mind, Beryl, I won't have you tell her I am ill. I don't +say I 'am' ill, either."</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl, in her matter-of-fact tone. "But I think you are, +Aunt Di."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! Stuff! You don't know anything about it," said Diana, +agitated, yet trying to laugh. "I am nervous, and I want change; but I +can't have it this year. If Marian were here—"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't Miss Crosbie come, if she knew you really wanted her?" asked +Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Diana sharply. "I would not have her on any +account. After the way in which she behaved, I will never have her to +live with me again,—never. That is quite a settled point. I do not wish +to hear anything more about Marian."</p> + +<p>Beryl took refuge in silence.</p> + +<p>"Of course you don't understand," pursued Diana; "It is not to be +expected that you should,—and really I cannot get into an argument now. +I am going to try to have a little sleep on the sofa. Just put a shawl +over my feet. And tell that little goose to come back. I don't mean to +have any more hysterics to-night. I am more likely to sleep if you two +are talking. There is nothing I hate like dead silence."</p> + +<p>Beryl went immediately to summon Pearl, and gave her a hint as to what +was expected. Pearl shrugged her shoulders pettishly, and said, "I am +not going to talk just to suit Aunt Di's fancies. I am tired too, and I +want to rest."</p> + +<p>"But wouldn't you sleep better at night, Pearl, if you didn't sleep +now? And you have not told me anything about your week in London."</p> + +<p>"Why, you never care to hear about anything that I do," responded +Pearl, evidently meaning what she said.</p> + +<p>"I thought you never cared to tell me," said Beryl. "I do like to +hear—very much."</p> + +<p>That set Pearl off; for she dearly liked a sympathetic listener, and +she had a good deal pent up in her little mind as to London sights, +and more particularly as to shops, dresses, and ribbons. During the +first part of the week, Diana had taken her about much, and had largely +indulged her taste for buying.</p> + +<p>The murmur of voices proved successful, and Diana was soon sleeping +soundly. Pearl took a good look to make sure of the fact.</p> + +<p>"She won't hear now, Beryl. Yes, it was very nice, until the day when +she went away alone,—to pay a visit, she said. That quite changed +her. Before that she was always arranging to go somewhere with me, +and didn't mind how much she did. Afterwards, she seemed afraid of +everything. She said she had a shock to her nerves, but she would not +tell me what it was, or let me ask any questions. I think she ought +to see a doctor, but I daren't propose it. The least word makes her +hysterical."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>DIANA'S TROUBLE.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>ON Friday morning, somewhat early, Miss Carmichael crossed the road, +and sought admittance at Mrs. Fenwick's. "That child has not run in +yet," she said to Hester. "I must go and see after her."</p> + +<p>She was shown into the drawing-room, and found Diana there with Beryl. +Somehow Miss Carmichael discovered, almost at the first glance, that +things were on a happier footing between the two than in past days.</p> + +<p>"I have come to thank you for the loan of Beryl for a week, and to wish +that the time had been longer," she said, kissing the one and shaking +hands with the other.</p> + +<p>"You were very good to have her at all," said Diana, assuming an air of +light indifference.</p> + +<p>"When you want to get rid of her again, you will know what to do with +her, Mrs. Fenwick."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I don't think that will be at present. Beryl is old enough now +to be useful."</p> + +<p>"And she has the will and intention to be so, I am sure," said Miss +Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"She is more practical than Pearl," said Diana. "I do not find I can +depend upon Pearl."</p> + +<p>"I hope Pearl is better for her little change."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," repeated Diana. "I don't think much is wrong with her. Of +course the death of poor Ivor was rather a shock,—the two had been on +such intimate terms. But she will shake it off in time."</p> + +<p>"She is very young,—poor little woman."</p> + +<p>"Girls don't break their hearts now-a-days," said Diana carelessly. +"She was quite delighted with the West-End shops."</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael's face wore a rather comical expression. "Then I think +you are right," she said. "It can hardly be a case of a broken heart +with little Pearl. Perhaps the few days' change of scene will have set +her up again."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," responded Diana, as if she did not much care about the +matter.</p> + +<p>"Can you spare Beryl to go for a drive with me this morning? I am +expecting a pony-chaise at home in ten minutes."</p> + +<p>Diana's colour came and went, and there was a suppressed start.</p> + +<p>"Thanks; you are very kind. I—I really don't see how—I don't quite +think I can spare Beryl this morning."</p> + +<p>"Only for two hours. We would not keep her longer."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite see that I can spare her."</p> + +<p>Diana's manner was agitated, and her lips trembled visibly.</p> + +<p>"It does not matter. I'll come another time to see you, Miss +Carmichael," said Beryl, with an effort of self-denial far greater than +appeared on the surface.</p> + +<p>"I must not tempt you away from your duty;" and Miss Carmichael's smile +of approval almost repaid Beryl for the lost delight.</p> + +<p>She rose to say good-bye, and for a moment retained Diana's hand, +looking solicitously into her face. "You are not well, I am sorry to +see," she said.</p> + +<p>"I—I—it is nothing, I assure you," said Diana hurriedly. "I am a little +nervous and low just now,—nothing of consequence. One must expect that +sort of thing occasionally."</p> + +<p>"I think you should consult a doctor. It is not well to let oneself +down too low."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps—yes—if I find it necessary."</p> + +<p>"I have noticed a change in you lately. Forgive my frankness, but I do +not think you ought to neglect yourself, Mrs. Fenwick."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed; I assure you I do not. I am most careful," said Diana, +with a cheerful air. "I hope you will enjoy your drive, Miss +Carmichael."</p> + +<p>"How would the little Pearl like to come with me, since Beryl cannot?" +asked Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"She would like it very much. You are extremely kind," said Diana. +"Pearl shall be with you in five minutes."</p> + +<p>"You would not like to put the question to her? No—never mind. If she +does not appear in ten minutes or so, I shall understand, and I shall +not wait."</p> + +<p>"She will be quite delighted," said Diana. "Beryl, you can open the +door for Miss Carmichael, and then tell Pearl. She must make haste; and +you can come back to me."</p> + +<p>Beryl obeyed, accompanying Miss Carmichael into the porch.</p> + +<p>They paused there for a moment, and Miss Carmichael said gently, "I am +sorry it cannot be you, my child."</p> + +<p>"I was afraid you would think I did not care," said Beryl gruffly. "But +I do."</p> + +<p>"I am not so blind. I confess I do not quite see why you cannot be +spared."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Di seems so nervous about being alone," said Beryl, in a low +voice. "She told you she was nervous, so I suppose I may say that; but +please don't tell anybody. She had Pearson to sleep in her room last +night, and all day long she can hardly bear me to be five minutes away +from her."</p> + +<p>"Cannot Pearl take turns with you?"</p> + +<p>"Pearl is frightened, and does not like it."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Miss Carmichael gravely, "you wanted work, child, and here +it is."</p> + +<p>"She is much kinder than she was, only she cries so. I like being +useful," said Beryl. "But I do long to see you oftener."</p> + +<p>"Would she spare you to spend Sunday with us?"</p> + +<p>Tears came to Beryl's eyes. "If I only 'could!'" she said. "I am afraid +she will not like it."</p> + +<p>"Wait till to-morrow, and we shall see. Patience meantime, my child, +and do the work your Master gives you. Now send me the little Pearl."</p> + +<p>Beryl was rather surprised to find Pearl quite as much pleased as Mrs. +Fenwick had foretold. "I don't care for Miss Carmichael," she took the +trouble to explain; "but the house is so dismal with Aunt Di like this. +Anything to get away."</p> + +<p>"You must be quick, Pearl, or Miss Carmichael will start before you get +there."</p> + +<p>This fear shortened Pearl's operations before the looking-glass. +Beryl remained with her, and was thus absent ten minutes from the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>As the two girls passed the door, Pearl said, "She is crying again. I +shan't go in; there really isn't time."</p> + +<p>Beryl knew that remonstrance would be useless, and entered alone.</p> + +<p>Diana lay on the sofa, with her handkerchief pressed over her face, in +an agony of weeping. It was by far the worst fit of distress that Beryl +had yet seen.</p> + +<p>"Don't call Pearson,—don't go away," gasped Diana, when Beryl would +have rung the bell.</p> + +<p>She desisted, and stood beside the sofa, wondering what she ought to do.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would never come back," broke out at length in sobbing +complaint. "So unkind!"</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to be so long," said Beryl, speaking gently. "I just +stayed to help Pearl get ready."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know—I understand. Nobody cares what 'I' feel. Nobody cares to +be with 'me.'"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you like me to get a little 'sal volatile,' Aunt Di?" asked +Beryl, taking refuge in her most passionless manner.</p> + +<p>"No, no,—no use," answered Diana. "Nothing is of any use. Oh, I do feel +so ill and miserable. I think I shall die."</p> + +<p>Beryl was young enough to be alarmed at the words, though less alarmed +than if she had not been accustomed to Diana's habitual use of strong +expressions.</p> + +<p>"I think you ought to see the doctor," she said. "I am sure Miss +Carmichael would tell you so."</p> + +<p>"Miss Carmichael knows nothing about it. Nobody knows, and nobody can +do anything."</p> + +<p>"I thought, perhaps, it was what she said that made you cry," observed +Beryl. "I mean, what she said about your looking ill."</p> + +<p>Diana's response to this was another paroxysm of sobs, so violent and +unrestrained as to break at times into positive screams. There was a +strange mixture of childishness and misery in the display. Beryl took +the matter with quietness. Happily she was able to do so. Excitement +of manner on her part would have made Diana worse. She said what she +could; but, finding her words unavailing, she took out her knitting, +and sat down by Diana's side, with a half-finished square. This step +proved efficacious. Diana's weeping came to an end.</p> + +<p>"You certainly are the oddest girl," she said, in a changed voice. +"Pearl would be frightened out of her wits."</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything to be frightened at," said Beryl calmly. "I wish +I knew what to do for you, when you are like that."</p> + +<p>"You can't do anything. People must cry when they are utterly wretched."</p> + +<p>"I think Miss Carmichael would do something."</p> + +<p>"I don't want Miss Carmichael. I am not going to be condoled over and +gossiped about," said Diana passionately. "If I am miserable, I can +bear it, I suppose. There is nothing I hate like being pitied."</p> + +<p>"Do you? I don't think I feel so now," said Beryl slowly. "But I did +once, I know."</p> + +<p>"You queer girl," Diana said again.</p> + +<p>Beryl was naturally silenced. She worked steadily at her square for +some time, making no remarks, and never lifting her eyes. She did not +notice the change of mood which was creeping over Diana, or see the +excitement passing into utter dejection.</p> + +<p>But when at length Diana spoke, the sunken and despairing voice could +not fail to make an impression.</p> + +<p>"Beryl, can you keep a secret?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Beryl, looking up. Then she laid her work aside, for the +haggard misery in Mrs. Fenwick's face called for undivided attention.</p> + +<p>"I believe you could, but I can't be sure. Somehow, I think you are a +good girl now, Beryl, not what you used to be."</p> + +<p>Beryl could not talk freely of herself to any one except to Miss +Carmichael, least of all to Mrs. Fenwick. "I want to be different," she +said soberly. "If it would be any comfort to you, Aunt Di, I am quite +sure I could keep a secret as long as you wish."</p> + +<p>"And not tell even Miss Carmichael?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl firmly. "I would tell her my own secrets, but I would +not tell her yours. I promise to say nothing to anybody, if it is +right."</p> + +<p>"Right! Of course. Nonsense. Right, indeed! It is nobody's business +except my own. Miss Carmichael has nothing to do with the matter. I +don't know why I should think of telling you, but there is nobody else. +I won't be gossiped about by other people, and Marian has left me, and +Millicent has no thought except for Escott. And one can't write such +things. But I feel as if I must speak to somebody. I think I shall go +mad with it, if I don't."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Beryl quietly. "I think you ought to tell some one."</p> + +<p>"Tell—what? You don't know what I mean."</p> + +<p>"No; but I can see that you are very unhappy about something," said +Beryl. "And I am sure you feel ill. And I think it must be dreadful to +have no friend to help you."</p> + +<p>"Feel ill,—yes, frightfully. I never felt so ill in my life," +said Diana hurriedly. "But that is nervousness,—I am only low and +nervous—not ill. You need not fancy me really ill, Beryl. I am not +going to die yet, to please you or anybody," and she laughed in a +hysterical fashion. "O no, it is not that. As for friends, I don't +believe in friends. If I did, you don't suppose 'you' could help me, +do you?" She spoke scornfully, and then burst into tears. "But I don't +want to be unkind to you, for I have nobody else to depend upon,—and +by and by—by and by—I shall have to depend on some one. O Beryl, I am +so fearfully unhappy, so fearfully miserable. I don't know how to bear +it. And he told me so suddenly, so cruelly. I shall never get over the +shock. Sometimes I think I shall die of it in the end. Oh, I am so +utterly wretched. And I ought not to cry, they say. Not cry! When I +feel like this."</p> + +<p>"If you could just say what it is that is wrong, I should understand +better," said Beryl gravely.</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to understand. I don't want anybody to understand. I +wish I didn't know it myself. Sometimes I don't believe it now, and I +think I won't believe it. I never thought anything so dreadful could +happen to 'me' in life. I can't tell you yet, Beryl. Perhaps to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"It must be just as you like, of course," said Beryl. "Only I do think +you would feel better, if you did not keep it all to yourself."</p> + +<p>"Talking does not make one's troubles less," said Diana. "But perhaps +I might feel better. I don't know. I don't think anything can make any +real difference. There seems no hope or comfort left in life. And one +thing I can't stand, and that is being preached at. You have grown more +religious lately, I know; and if you like to be so, you can, of course. +But you are not to throw it at me. I am not going to be lectured +about submission and patience, and all that sort of thing. I am not +submissive, and I am not patient; and I never was."</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl. "But perhaps that is just why the trouble has had to +come."</p> + +<p>"You know nothing about it," said Diana sharply. "Who is that? A +caller? Pearson must say I am engaged."</p> + +<p>"If you please, ma'am, it is Miss Crosbie," said Pearson.</p> + +<p>Marion Crosbie entered quietly, without waiting for permission. Diana +flushed scarlet, rose from her reclining posture, and threw back her +head. Marian's greeting was coldly responded to, but she appeared +unconscious of any change of manner.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were at Weston-super-Mare still," said Diana stiffly.</p> + +<p>"I have only come back for a night. There are some books and papers +which Uncle Josiah wants, and which a servant could not find for him. +The truth is, we are talking of joining Millicent abroad."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed," said Diana.</p> + +<p>"We have poor accounts of Escott, and Uncle Josiah wishes to see for +himself how he is."</p> + +<p>"Some people are fortunate in having more money to throw away than +others," said Diana.</p> + +<p>"Some have more calls for their money. I do not suppose we shall start +for another two or three weeks, but the plan is under discussion."</p> + +<p>"Very absurd, at Uncle Josiah's age. But of course it is no business of +mine."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you can give me luncheon to-day," said Marian. "There is +nothing prepared for me at home. You are not looking well, Di."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, I am quite well," said Diana, with more curtness than truth.</p> + +<p>"You do not look so. I am sorry you had to give up your tour. How was +it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, 'you' advised it."</p> + +<p>"I gave no advice. I was a little perplexed how you meant to meet the +expense," said Marian patiently. "But that could hardly have been the +reason for your change of plan."</p> + +<p>"I chose to come home instead of going abroad. That is all," said +Diana, with a toss of her head.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_25">CHAPTER XXV.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>EXPLANATION.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>MARIAN had promised Mr. Crosbie to return on the following day, and +her visit was consequently a hurried one. She saw little of Diana, and +sought in vain for a few minutes' conversation alone with Beryl. That +the latter held a new position in the house, that Diana had begun to +depend on her, and that something was wrong with Diana, were facts +easily perceived. Beyond this, Marian made no advance. Diana seemed to +guess her wish, and carefully checkmated each effort in turn.</p> + +<p>"I wish people would leave me in peace," Diana said fractiously on +Saturday evening. "I thought I should have a little quiet, now Marian +is disposed of."</p> + +<p>Beryl simply asked, "What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Carmichael wants you to spend to-morrow with her. So +unreasonable—just when I need you at home particularly."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you didn't tell Miss Carmichael you were not well, Aunt Di," +Beryl ventured to say.</p> + +<p>"That is no concern of hers. Besides, I am quite well. I have said so +before."</p> + +<p>Beryl was silent.</p> + +<p>"I told her you could please yourself; there was nothing to hinder +you that I knew of. She said she should expect you to breakfast at +half-past eight."</p> + +<p>"Can you spare me?" asked Beryl, with trembling hope.</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>Beryl was, as usual, at a loss to understand Diana's changes of mood. +Pearl looked dismayed when she heard of the plan, and used some +persuasions to make Beryl give it up; but Beryl's longing to go was +very great.</p> + +<p>"You know I shall be quite close at hand," she said. "You can send me +word at any moment, if I am wanted."</p> + +<p>"You are not going to stay late, I hope. I can't undertake Aunt Di," +was Pearl's pettish answer.</p> + +<p>Beryl went; but Diana's manner and Pearl's remonstrances cast a grey +shadow over her day. She was haunted all breakfast-time by an uneasy +wonder, "Ought she to have refused to come?"</p> + +<p>At Church, sitting in Miss Carmichael's pew, she could see Mrs. +Fenwick's pew to be empty, and her uneasiness deepened. All through +the sweet and solemn Communion Service, her attention was painfully +distracted.</p> + +<p>And when it was over, she walked home between her friends without a +word, gloomy and dissatisfied.</p> + +<p>"Well, Beryl?" Miss Carmichael said, as they reached the garden-gate.</p> + +<p>"I ought to go home now," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I saw that was in your mind. No; you must dine with us first. We are +late, remember, and your aunt's dinner will be over."</p> + +<p>Beryl followed her into the house, saying, "I don't think I ought to +stay afterwards."</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael offered no objections. Dinner passed almost in silence. +Beryl was apt to become engrossed with one idea, and when so engrossed +she could not bend her attention to other matters.</p> + +<p>But when dinner was over, Miss Carmichael left the room, and came back +to say, "I sent to ask how Mrs. Fenwick is, and whether you are wanted. +The answer at the door was that she is well, and you may stay with us +as long as you feel inclined."</p> + +<p>Beryl looked extremely doubtful.</p> + +<p>"Do as you like," said Miss Carmichael kindly. "I will not keep you, if +you think you ought to go."</p> + +<p>Beryl sat considering, and her friends waited patiently.</p> + +<p>"No," she said; "not directly. Aunt Di might not be pleased. I think I +had better go back in an hour."</p> + +<p>"So be it," Miss Carmichael answered.</p> + +<p>Somewhat later, when Hester was absent for a few minutes, she said +quietly, "The morning has not been all joy."</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl sadly. "I could not feel sure that I was right to +come, and it seemed to make everything dull. I didn't enjoy it at all +as I expected."</p> + +<p>"One's own arrangements are not always the best," said Miss Carmichael. +"I wanted you here, and you wanted to come, for this first time. But, +under the circumstances, perhaps if you had gone straight out of your +home duties, you would have found more happiness in it."</p> + +<p>"I was so afraid Aunt Di would say or do something beforehand to upset +me."</p> + +<p>"Something to bring a shadow. And the very means we took to prevent +that, brought the shadow."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it does seem odd," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"But now that is over. We will not waste our hour in vain regrets, +Beryl. Here comes Hester, and we are going to read something nice, all +together. I should like to send you back feeling cheery again."</p> + +<p>The hour grew into an hour and a half; unnoticed by Beryl. She rose +then, and they would not press her to stay longer.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Pearl rushed out to meet her sister at the front door. "I am glad you +have come—oh, I am glad," she said breathlessly. "Aunt Di 'would' send +that message. And she went into hysterics directly after, and she has +cried so dreadfully. I have been up in my room ever so long. It is +horrid to have her like this. I do wish you would make her tell you +what is the matter. I was so afraid you would not come back till night. +She won't have Pearson with her, and I daren't stay, and she walks up +and down the drawing-room and sobs. O dear!"</p> + +<p>Pearl really looked white and frightened.</p> + +<p>"I would have come back earlier if I had known," Beryl said. "Shall I +go to her at once, Pearl?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you must; but I wish you could stay with me. I am so tired +of being alone."</p> + +<p>Diana had thrown herself on the sofa, exhausted with weeping.</p> + +<p>When Beryl spoke, she turned from her coldly, and would not answer. +Beryl waited a minute, and then said, "If you don't want me, Aunt Di, I +had better go to Pearl."</p> + +<p>"No,—I can't be alone any longer,—it drives me wild," said Diana +sullenly. "Sit down, pray."</p> + +<p>Beryl obeyed silently. But silence was as bad as solitude in Diana's +estimation. She broke anew into passionate sobs. Beryl after some +hesitation moved nearer, and took one of her hands.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry I went away," she said. "I don't think I ought to have done +so, when you are so poorly. But now I have come back, I think you ought +to leave off crying, or you will be quite ill. If you don't, I shall +have to send for Miss Carmichael. I really mean it, Aunt Di. You and +Pearl will both be ill, if you go on so."</p> + +<p>Diana moaned something about "hard and unkind," but the steady manner +took effect. She buried her face in the cushion, gradually becoming +still.</p> + +<p>"And I think you ought to tell me what is the matter," continued Beryl, +in the same tone, after a few minutes—a tone of quiet firmness which +surprised herself. "I don't want to pry, but I am sure you ought to +speak to some one—either to me, or Miss Crosbie, or Miss Carmichael."</p> + +<p>Diana sat up, flushed and agitated. "Very well," she said. "Mind, you +have promised not to repeat it."</p> + +<p>"Not without your leave, Aunt Di."</p> + +<p>"I am going blind!"</p> + +<p>Dead silence followed. Beryl was absolutely struck dumb. She was some +seconds realising the full meaning of the words.</p> + +<p>Diana watched her, at first with a sort of combative self-assertion, +but this gradually grew into pitifulness.</p> + +<p>Beryl sat motionless. The thought was entirely new to her, and she was +turning it over in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Going blind!"</p> + +<p>Beryl broke out thus, at length, in deepening grief and horror. She had +not very quick sympathies, and usually her expression of feeling was +much restrained. But restraint broke down here. The threatened calamity +seemed to her so fearful,—so especially fearful for one of Mrs. +Fenwick's character and habits. Diana Fenwick blind! Why, she would +have nothing left to her. All interest in existence would be dashed +away at one fell swoop. Beryl remembered too her own long-cherished +resentment against Diana in the past. It added keenness to her pity.</p> + +<p>"Going blind!" she said. And then, "O poor Aunt Di!" and she burst into +tears.</p> + +<p>Diana's face changed and softened strangely. "Do you really care?" she +asked. "I thought no one would mind."</p> + +<p>Beryl could not speak at the moment. She squeezed Diana's hand in a +passionate way, and then pressed it to her lips.</p> + +<p>"But you don't really care,—not really!" said Diana. "It is nothing to +you, Beryl."</p> + +<p>Beryl did not attempt to convince her of the contrary, or to analyse +the component parts of her own strong emotion. When she spoke, it was +in her gruffest voice—a voice often supposed in childhood to mean +ill-temper.</p> + +<p>"Are you quite sure?"</p> + +<p>"Quite. I went to an oculist in London. Beryl, come and sit close +to me. I like to know that somebody is really sorry. I have felt so +frightfully alone lately."</p> + +<p>Beryl obeyed, and Diana held her fast.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—so. Put your arm round me, Beryl. Mother used to do that, and +nobody has since mother died. I have longed so for mother lately. +Nobody else ever understood me, Millie and Marian least of all. But you +mustn't say anything of this to anybody."</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl huskily.</p> + +<p>"Don't let go. I want you to hold me tightly," said Diana. "It seems to +do me good. Beryl, will you take care of me by and by? There is nobody +else. Pearl is of no use. She just thinks of herself. You will stay +with me?"</p> + +<p>Beryl's "Yes" was a sob rather than a word.</p> + +<p>"I have felt so differently about you lately,—as if I could depend +upon you. I suppose it is because you are more religious." Then she +shuddered. "O Beryl, it is very dreadful. To be blind for life!"</p> + +<p>"What made you go to the oculist?" asked Beryl, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"I knew something was wrong with one eye; have known it a long while. +It has made me miserable for months. I couldn't bear to speak of it +to anybody, but it has got worse and worse. I have hardly read at all +since you came home; and that is why I have made you do so many things +for me. I thought it was just weakness, and I fancied a trip abroad +might set me right. But when Pearl and I were in London, I thought one +day I would just go and see an oculist, and ask his opinion. I didn't +take Pearl, for I did not want her to know."</p> + +<p>Diana evidently found it a relief to speak, now she had begun.</p> + +<p>Beryl said, "Yes. And you went?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I thought I might as well. Sometimes I felt quite sure it was +nothing of consequence, but sometimes I was frightened about myself. +I never shall forget that visit. He made me sit in the chair and lean +back. And I was quite alone—nobody there to help me. He just looked at +the bad eye, and I heard him say softly, 'Cataract!' And then he looked +at the other, and said 'Cataract!' again."</p> + +<p>"Poor Aunt Di," murmured Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't speak. I can't tell you what I felt. It was just as if all +my blood had turned to ice. I nearly fainted away, and he was very +kind, and did all he could to bring me round. But he had done the +business. I always shall think it was cruel to tell me so suddenly. +I have never felt well for a moment since, and I don't think I ever +shall."</p> + +<p>"Did he say any more?" asked Beryl presently.</p> + +<p>"He said I must come and see him again. And by and by, he expects +there will have to be—to be—an operation. And I have such a horror of +anything of the sort. I don't know how to bear the thought even. I +sometimes feel as if I should go mad with the very idea. He said it +might be some time first, he could not tell yet. The cataract is much +more advanced in one eye than the other. But you can't wonder now, +Beryl, that I have been so miserable. To have all this before me—and +perhaps to end with being blind for life. Oh, it is far far worse than +death. But you mustn't say a word to anybody. You have promised, and I +can't have it talked about yet. I mean to keep it secret as long as I +possibly can."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_26">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>IN THE MOUNTAINS.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>MILLICENT CUMMING had taken refuge with her boy in a quiet little +mountain village, somewhat out of the beaten track of Swiss tourists. +The shadow of her recent loss lay heavily upon her still, and she +was in no mood for making fresh acquaintances, or exchanging polite +commonplaces with strangers. For herself, the calm of this little +valley, with great heights and peace around, and the ceaseless rush of +a cascade down its slope, meant peace of spirit, and absence of worldly +distractions, and nearness to the heavenly land where she confidently +believed her boy to be.</p> + +<p>With Escott, however, things were different. He was beginning to grow a +little weary of this absolute seclusion.</p> + +<p>He had been shattered by the shock and grief of so suddenly losing his +twin brother, and for a while he had shrunk morbidly from friends and +strangers alike, seeming to desire no face except his mother's. She had +tended him with unremitting devotion, finding her comfort in so doing, +for he was now her all in life.</p> + +<p>Escott loved his mother dearly in return, but she was not his all. And +while Ivor's death had unstrung him, and caused bodily suffering, that +loss was not actually to him what it was to her,—nay, his depression +was by no means exclusively owing to that event.</p> + +<p>"Mother," he said wearily one day, "how long shall we stay here?"</p> + +<p>"Tired of the place, Escott?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Yes, I am tired of everything."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is so natural," she said tenderly, and her thoughts went +straight to Ivor's memory.</p> + +<p>And he knew that his thoughts were supposed to take the same course. +But it was Pearl's face, not Ivor's, which rose vividly before him, and +he was vexed with himself, yet he would not have driven the vision away +even had he been able.</p> + +<p>"So natural," she repeated. "But one must not give way to the feeling. +And this is a sweet little nest, Escott. I think I could be content to +live and die here."</p> + +<p>"I could not," said Escott involuntarily. "At least—unless others were +with us."</p> + +<p>A faint shadow crept over Millicent's fair brow. "I have always felt +that you and I were sufficient for one another," she said. "But you are +young still. I cannot expect it to be the same with you. Then you do +not think it would hurt you to see other people now?"</p> + +<p>"It would do me good. I think I am getting rusty," said Escott, with +ill-concealed eagerness. "I have been wondering so much whether, when +Aunt Di and Pearl are abroad, you could not persuade them to meet us +somewhere. I know she said she would not come here, but we might move. +I think a change would do me good."</p> + +<p>"I have just heard about them from Marian," said Millicent. "Diana has +given up all idea of a foreign trip this year. I do not understand why."</p> + +<p>Escott's face fell heavily.</p> + +<p>"I did not know you had looked forward to anything of the kind as even +possible," said Millicent. "You know Diana thought it would be better +for poor little Pearl to be among strangers. She thought that seeing us +would recall—"</p> + +<p>Escott made an impatient movement. He and his mother had received +exaggerated accounts from Diana of Pearl's low spirits, and somehow +Millicent had never realised how much of Escott's own depressed +condition was owing to these same accounts.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Di knows nothing about it," he said. "'You' could comfort Pearl, +if any one could."</p> + +<p>Millicent sighed quietly. "I have not told you all my news," she said. +"Uncle Josiah and Marian are talking of coming abroad to spend a few +weeks near us. You will like that, dear?"</p> + +<p>Escott's assent was languid. "That" was not what he wanted. She put the +letter into his hands, and after a minute, he remarked, "Mother, she +says Pearl is very much disappointed."</p> + +<p>"She has never been abroad, so it is quite natural I am glad she is +well enough to care for the excitement of a trip."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it shows—" Escott began, and stopped. "Mother," he said abruptly, +"why not ask Pearl to stay with us? Aunt Marian could bring her out."</p> + +<p>Millicent did not seize on the idea. "Do you think you are fit for +visitors?" she asked reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"Fit! I should be delighted. It would do me more good than anything in +the world."</p> + +<p>"I thought you said last week you did not feel up to seeing people."</p> + +<p>"People! No. But Pearl!"</p> + +<p>His eyes shone, and his pale face flushed, with an expression not to be +mistaken.</p> + +<p>"But, Escott—" she said gravely. "But, Escott—"</p> + +<p>Doubt and remonstrance were in the voice. Escott sat upright, with a +sudden look of resolution.</p> + +<p>"Mother, it is of no use to hide the truth from myself or you. I love +Pearl with all my heart. And if I don't win her for my own—mother, I +almost think I shall die of it."</p> + +<p>"And I am nothing to you!"</p> + +<p>Beryl might look upon Millicent as perfect; yet with all her gentleness +and sweetness she was human, and she was capable of that poor failing, +human jealousy. Dearly as she had loved Ivor, she could have borne +calmly the fact of "his" loving Pearl. But Escott was the very core +of her being; and it wrung her very heart-strings that another should +be to him what she now saw Pearl was. She had been dimly aware for +some time of an inclination in that direction, but he had never before +spoken openly to her of his love, and she had tried to shut her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Mother, how 'can' you?"</p> + +<p>He looked hurt, almost displeased, and she was displeased with herself +immediately.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," she said sadly. "I understand. You love me, of course, +darling. The new does not touch the old—of course. But, Escott, don't +you know what Diana said about Pearl, and her distress at our dear +Ivor—"</p> + +<p>Millicent's voice failed, but Escott was composed. "I have nothing to +do with that," he said. "Nothing was ever said. I do not believe Ivor +had any such thought, and it would be very wrong of us to speculate +about Pearl's thoughts. It is enough that she cared for him like a +sister. If there were anything more—she is very young,—and in time—I +should hope—mother, I don't see that we need consider that part of the +matter. Aunt Di is no judge. Pearl is poorly, and wants change, and I +want her. It would put fresh life into me to see her again. Sometimes +I have felt lately as if I could not wait much longer,—as if I 'must' +somehow have a glimpse of that sweet face."</p> + +<p>"Then it has not been for Ivor!" she said in choked tones.</p> + +<p>And Escott said, this time pettishly, "You can't understand, mother. +It's of no use to talk."</p> + +<p>A few hot tears fell quietly on Millicent's work, and Escott quitted +his couch to kiss them away.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," he said penitently. "I am very cross, mother darling. And +I know you understand,—or you will when you think it over. There never +was a mother like you in the world, and I can't tell you how dear you +are to me. But that does not make the other impossible. And you know +Pearl, and you know what she is."</p> + +<p>"Yes; she is a dear little girl. I don't think there is much strength +of character, Escott,—if I may venture to say so."</p> + +<p>"Say just what you like, mother. She is soft and tender and +yielding,—that is what you mean."</p> + +<p>Millicent had not meant it. She knew Pearl to be far from yielding, +where her own will was concerned.</p> + +<p>"But you shall train her, when she is mine,—make her as like yourself +as possible," said Escott.</p> + +<p>Millicent smiled, and answered, "A mother-in-law's training is not +generally acceptable."</p> + +<p>"You will not be the conventional mother-in-law."</p> + +<p>"'My son is my son till—'" she half quoted.</p> + +<p>"Mother mine, I thought you were above such vulgar delusions. Well, we +shall see." Escott suddenly grew desponding, and sighed. "Who can tell? +She may disdain the very idea."</p> + +<p>"In which case, I should feel that I had been wrong to bring her here."</p> + +<p>Escott brightened. "That means that you really will ask her," he said.</p> + +<p>And she answered, "Yes."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The letter was enclosed in one to Marian, and in due time reached its +destination. Marian wrote with it, from Weston-super-Mare, to say that +she would have no objection to escort Pearl, if Diana would allow her +to go.</p> + +<p>"I can't afford it," Diana said at first. She was more than usually +unstrung that day, poorly and hysterical, satisfied with nothing that +anybody could do, and unwilling to have Beryl five minutes absent. +Pearl flushed with eager delight as the letters were read.</p> + +<p>"I really can't afford it," Diana repeated. "I have so many expenses +just now—extra expenses. I don't see how I can possibly afford it. And +you would not like to go away for an indefinite time, Pearl. It isn't +as if I were going too. One can't tell in the least how long Marian and +my uncle may remain abroad, when once they are there. He is so odd in +his ways. I really can't afford it, Pearl."</p> + +<p>Pearl pouted, and her eyes filled. "I wanted so very much to go," +she said complainingly. "I do think it is too bad. You promised to +take me this autumn, Aunt Di, and you disappointed me. And now that I +might have the pleasure, you won't let me. It is so very very unkind." +Pearl's handkerchief went to her eyes.</p> + +<p>Manner is certainly infectious. Though the two were not connected by +birth, Pearl's spoilt child air was an exact copy of Diana's own.</p> + +<p>"And you don't care how long you are away from me, now I am ill," said +Diana, not so much with anger as unhappiness.</p> + +<p>Pearl used her handkerchief, and looked prettily doleful.</p> + +<p>"Well, it is just like you," said Diana, her tone becoming indignant. +"It is the sort of gratitude one may expect. All that I have done goes +for nothing, if you can't have your own way. If there ever was a time +when you could be useful to me, it is now, and all you care for is just +to keep out of my reach."</p> + +<p>Pearl attempted no self-defence, but she was not stirred from her +purpose. She murmured in the following pause, "I want so 'very' much to +go."</p> + +<p>"Then go," said Diana harshly. "That's enough. You may go,—and the +longer you stay the better. There, that is enough. I don't want to hear +any more about the matter."</p> + +<p>"Pearl would not really wish to go, if you can't afford it," Beryl +ventured to say.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she would. I'll afford it somehow. You may write and say it is +settled, Pearl."</p> + +<p>The manner was cuttingly cold, and the voice was displeased, but Pearl +did not seem troubled. She withdrew her handkerchief from her eyes, +said cheerfully, "Thank you, dear Aunt Di," and tripped out of the room.</p> + +<p>Diana would speak to no one for the next hour, and was exceedingly +curt to Pearl during the remainder of the day. Her pride and also her +affection were wounded by Pearl's eagerness to leave her. Whether or no +Pearl loved Mrs. Fenwick deeply, there could be no doubt that for years +Mrs. Fenwick had lavished the chief of her love and her thought upon +Pearl. She was exceedingly hurt, and took no pains to conceal the fact +from the two girls.</p> + +<p>Mr. Crosbie and his niece were leaving soon, and Pearl had barely a +week in which to prepare for her journey. She passed the intervening +days in a state of high excitement, looking her prettiest, but so +absorbed in her own affairs as not even to notice Diana's deepening +depression. Beryl was hard-worked between the two.</p> + +<p>"Pearl, do say something kind to Aunt Di before you go," she pleaded, +when the last morning came.</p> + +<p>And Pearl said, with an amazed look, "Why, what in the world do you +mean?"</p> + +<p>She understood no better, half an hour later, when it came to the +parting.</p> + +<p>Diana looked wretched, but this was too frequent an event to make much +impression on Pearl. She counted Mrs. Fenwick nervous, and was eager to +be off.</p> + +<p>"I'm only going for a few weeks, Aunt Di. You needn't be dismal," she +said, kissing Mrs. Fenwick, and speaking lightly. "One would think you +expected never to see me again."</p> + +<p>The random shaft struck home, and Diana broke into a passion of tears. +She knew weeping to be a thing forbidden, as injurious to her eyes, but +she had never learnt self-restraint.</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't," said Pearl, in an injured tone. "It is so +uncomfortable. Good-bye, Aunt Di. Beryl will look after you."</p> + +<p>"How long shall you be gone, Pearl?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Aunt Di, you ought to know best how long Miss Crosbie is likely +to stay. Just a few weeks, I suppose. I shall miss my train if I don't +make haste. Good-bye, auntie."</p> + +<p>Pearl tripped lightly through the garden, and sprang into the fly. +Hester Wyatt had kindly undertaken to see her off at the station, as +Beryl could not be spared. Pearl was to meet Mr. and Miss Crosbie in +London.</p> + +<p>"So selfish—to be so glad to go," sobbed Diana. "And I have done so +much for Pearl. I am sure her own mother couldn't have done more. And +this in return is all the gratitude I have. I shall never see her +again,—I know, I know I shall not. My eyes have been so much worse the +last few days."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you will make them worse if you cry so often," said Beryl. +"Pearl does not know about 'that,' Aunt Di. If she did, I think she +would feel differently. She cannot guess what is wrong, and of course +it is a great treat for her to go abroad."</p> + +<p>"I shall never never see her again," moaned Diana despairingly.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_27">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>LIFE-TRAINING.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THREE months had passed, and Pearl was still absent.</p> + +<p>Winter drew on apace, and days grew short and nights grew long. The +little mountain village no more sheltered Millicent and Escott. They +had travelled to the south of France, accompanied not only by Pearl, +but also by Mr. Crosbie and Marian. Mr. Crosbie, in delight at escaping +his enemy, the damp cold of an English winter, talked of remaining +there until the spring, and it seemed to be taken for granted that +Pearl was to do the same.</p> + +<p>"She hasn't even the grace to ask leave," Diana said bitterly. "But it +doesn't matter. If she does not wish to come back, I am sure I don't +want her. So much for gratitude!"</p> + +<p>Diana was sinking into a state of thorough invalidism. Her pretty and +youthful looks were rapidly forsaking her, and she grew, week by week, +more feeble, haggard, and fretful. She had not been again to London to +see the oculist. The necessity for so doing was frequently discussed +between herself and Beryl; but she seemed never to be or never to count +herself equal to the fatigue of the journey.</p> + +<p>Morbid dislike to the truth becoming known continued unabated. Mrs. +Fenwick preferred that friends should ascribe her ill-health to nerves, +fancies, or anything they pleased, sooner than that they should hear +the real explanation. Miss Carmichael was often in and out, but Miss +Carmichael asked no questions. She seemed to know by instinct that +Beryl was not free to answer; and neither she nor Hester ever put Beryl +into a corner, or forced her to take refuge in uncomfortable evasions.</p> + +<p>Beryl's life was no easy one, those weeks. She was in attendance on +Diana day and night, and rarely had five minutes to herself. Soon after +Pearl's departure, Diana had begged Beryl to sleep in her room, "just +for a week or so;" and the plan once begun was continued. Diana was an +exacting invalid, and her nervous depression, yielded to unresistingly +from the first, steadily increased. It became gradually a settled +matter that, if Diana could not walk out, Beryl might not walk out +either; if Diana could not go to Church, Beryl must sit at home to bear +her company.</p> + +<p>Beryl chafed somewhat under the restraint. The incessant companionship +of a querulous invalid, whom she pitied but scarcely loved, could +not but be trying, even to one of Beryl's steady nerves and strong +constitution. She had longed for work, and here it was. Now she found +herself longing for freedom.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to grumble," she said one day, when snatching a five +minutes' chat with Miss Carmichael at the garden-gate. "But it is a +little tiresome sometimes. Aunt Di doesn't seem to think I can ever +want any time at all away from her. And I 'should' like a good sharp +walk now and then. Aunt Di only creeps, and I never go out except with +her. I think I am getting restless."</p> + +<p>"You are young and healthy, and exercise is a necessity for you," said +Miss Carmichael. "Cannot you take your own way in this matter, Beryl?"</p> + +<p>Beryl shook her head. "Aunt Di can't bear to be crossed," she said.</p> + +<p>"My dear, invalids must be crossed sometimes, for their own good as +well as for the good of others."</p> + +<p>"Yes, only she would not like it from me. I don't want to make her +dislike me again. And it is so bad for her to cry."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>Beryl began forgetfully to say,—"The occu—" and stopped short.</p> + +<p>A light seemed to flash on Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see," she said.</p> + +<p>"I hope I have not told you anything," said Beryl, distressed. "I ought +not."</p> + +<p>"No; but I understand. I have fancied once or twice that all was not +right there. We will not discuss it now, however, or I may get you into +trouble. Good-bye."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>On the afternoon of the next day, Miss Carmichael appeared again. +And when shown into the drawing-room, she said in a matter-of-fact +manner—"I have come to ask leave to sit with you for an hour, Mrs. +Fenwick, while Beryl takes a walk. It is a lovely afternoon, and I +don't suppose you can walk so far yourself as you would wish her to go."</p> + +<p>To Beryl's utter astonishment, Diana offered no objections.</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael's manner of taking consent for granted possibly made +them difficult; also this was one of Diana's better days.</p> + +<p>Beryl dressed with all speed, and was soon hurrying along the road, +into the nearest country lane. "If you go in the direction of +Barrowfield, you may possibly meet Hester," Miss Carmichael said to her +at the last moment.</p> + +<p>And Beryl obeyed, but soon forgot to expect Hester's appearance.</p> + +<p>She had perhaps never in her life more enjoyed herself than during +this brief and well-earned respite. The sun shone brightly; and a keen +wind, which would have troubled some people, only gave zest to Beryl's +pleasure. Her quick walk broke at length into almost a run, nobody +being within range of sight; but presently, to her surprise, she found +herself growing quite tired with the exercise, of late so rare, and she +was glad to take a seat on a fallen log.</p> + +<p>There she sank into a muse on her little world of interests,—not nearly +so wide a world as many gals of her age can boast. She only had Pearl, +whom she dearly loved, but in whose return-love she felt no confidence; +and Diana Fenwick, whom she pitied greatly, but for whom she scarcely +could be said to feel affection; and Miss Carmichael, who was to her +the embodiment of all that is good and tender and beautiful; and Hester +Wyatt, whom she regarded as a fainter shadow of Miss Carmichael. In +a quiet corner of her mind—perhaps of her heart—lay also an image of +Escott Cumming, as of one true and trustworthy and kind; and a more dim +image of Millicent, statuesque and fair. These comprised the whole of +Beryl's heart-belongings, except that into the outer circle crept also +a gentle remembrance of Suzette Bise, and of good Mr. Bishop. There +was nobody else. Mr. Crosbie disliked Beryl, and made no secret of the +fact. Her life touched—consciously to herself—no other human beings. +Unconsciously to ourselves, the ripples resulting from our motions +spread often farther than we imagine.</p> + +<p>These were her human interests, her heart-possessions of this world. +And had they been all that she had to turn to, Beryl would have been +poor indeed.</p> + +<p>But heavenly light had broken of late into the twilight of her being. +The little circumscribing wall which closed her in had of late been +shattered, and a rush of deeper and wider interests had come to her. +She had sprung from a lower to a higher life. For God, not for self; +for eternity, not for time; this was the change. It was as if she had +stepped out from a small underground cellar, and had suddenly found +herself free beneath the wide blue sky.</p> + +<p>People are not all alike, and Beryl did not go through precisely the +same order of experiences that some others pass through. There is one +pathway to heaven, but there is no one stereotyped mode of treading +that pathway. And there are many who stumble into and along it, and +reach their goal in safety, who are all the while very vague indeed in +their ideas and definitions as to the nature of the pathway.</p> + +<p>Beryl had little to say as to her own feelings, even to Miss +Carmichael, and nothing at all to anybody else; and she would have +come off badly in a set examination on forms of doctrine. Yet on some +points she was clear. She had come first to the sense of need, and the +knowledge of evil in self to be put down; and then she had reached +suddenly the great reality of God's love for her, had seen the dying of +Christ upon the Cross, had learnt something of His wondrous power to +save. Accepting all in easy trustfulness, like a child, she knew Him as +her living Lord, and knew herself as His servant. Afterwards, sprang +up the longing to do something for Him, followed by disappointment at +finding herself ready to murmur at the work when it was given her to +do, just because she found it a little burdensome.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I don't like it because it isn't exactly the kind I had +fancied to myself," Beryl murmured, as she sat on the log. She +had little power of definite thought except in spoken words, and +consequently she often uttered her thoughts aloud, when alone. "I am +sure, though, that one oughtn't to want to choose for one's self. It +would not be a good thing if one could. This sort of life isn't really +a bit harder than the hospital work, which I wanted,—only that sounded +grander. But this is best for me, or I shouldn't have it, of course. I +wonder if I am to go on so for years—waiting on Aunt Di. When she is +quite blind, she will need me more than ever. And she is so young,—she +might live thirty, or forty, or fifty years. It would be rather hard +to keep on all that time, never changing. I am afraid I should get +impatient. It isn't as if I really loved her from my heart. It seems +as if I never could or should do that. But of course, in a hospital I +shouldn't love all the patients either, only there would be more bustle +and change. Now it is always the same, hour after hour,—never the least +change. Well, I must be brave, and try not to mind, that's all."</p> + +<p>The last few words were spoken more clearly than any before, and, as if +in response, a soft voice said,—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"'Why should I hold my ease so dear?<br> + The work of training "must" be done!'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Beryl started, and sprang to her feet. She looked behind and around, +but could see no human being. The lane in which she sat was straight +and narrow, with a thick hedge on one side and a grassy bank on the +other.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" she asked, almost trembling, though not at all given to +nervousness.</p> + +<p>Silence answered. Beryl stood still, waiting. The words came home to +her strangely. But by whom had they been uttered? A feeling of awe +crept over Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" she repeated gravely. "Please answer me. Please speak +again."</p> + +<p>And the voice recommenced, in soft distinct accents,—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"'Why should I hold my ease so dear?<br> + The work of training must be done.<br> + I must be taught what I would know;<br> + I must be led where I would go,—<br> + And all the rest ordained for me,<br> + Till that which is not seen I see<br> + Is to be found in trusting Thee.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Hettie!" exclaimed Beryl, in astonishment.—"Where are you?"</p> + +<p>She recognised the voice this time, yet still the feeling of awe was +upon her, as if she had received a message from another world. The +intonation of the last few words was unmistakable, and it was half in +relief, half in disappointment, that Beryl called—"Hettie! Where are +you?"</p> + +<p>"I am here," Hettie replied.</p> + +<p>"Where? I can't see you!"</p> + +<p>"The other side of the hedge. I can just see you, through a little +peep-hole. The field is nicer than the lane. There is a stile farther +on, and we can meet there. No, not that way,—the other."</p> + +<p>Beryl sped along at a pace which brought her first to the stile, and +she was quickly across. Hester came up more slowly.</p> + +<p>"What made you say all that?" Beryl asked, with an odd flushed look.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; it came into my mind. I didn't know you were near till +I heard you muttering something, and then I found my peep-hole and saw +you. I caught a few words that you said, and I answered them. Miss +Carmichael is very fond of those lines, and she repeated them to me a +few days ago, and said they made her think of you. So I learnt them by +heart, meaning to say them to you some time or other, but I did not +know it would be so soon. Were you startled?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Beryl gruffly. "I thought—almost—just for a +moment—it was an angel. At least,—I think I thought of mother."</p> + +<p>Beryl choked, and was very nearly crying.</p> + +<p>Hester threw an arm round her, and drew her down on the grassy slope.</p> + +<p>"Poor Beryl! You don't remember your mother, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Just a little; not much."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have thought mine was at all an angelic voice," said +Hester, softly smiling.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would write out that piece of poetry for me," said Beryl +shyly. "I liked it very much. And I think it would be a help."</p> + +<p>"I'll get you a copy of Miss Waring's 'Hymns and Meditations,' and you +will find it there, Beryl."</p> + +<p>Beryl's "Oh, thank you," spoke of unmitigated pleasure. She had had so +few presents in her lifetime that the coming of one unexpectedly was a +real delight.</p> + +<p>"I suppose the teaching and the leading are a little hard just now," +said Hester suddenly. "I mean you must find it a little hard to be +patient."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Beryl, "I think I do. I should not mind it for a time—a +good long while—but I have been wondering whether it will go on always +just the same."</p> + +<p>"Nothing ever does go on always just the same," said Hester +confidently. "Fresh things are always happening."</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything likely to happen now," remarked Beryl.</p> + +<p>"No; you can't see round the corner," said Hester, smiling. "But God +can. And it is so nice to think that He is arranging all for us. You +needn't be afraid, Beryl. It will all come right somehow, if you just +leave it to Him."</p> + +<p>"But suppose it were the right thing for me to go on for years—forty or +fifty years—doing nothing but wait on Aunt Di?" said Beryl soberly.</p> + +<p>"Well—if it were," said Hester,—"if it were—God could make it easy +to you. He could make her quite different, so sweet and loving that +it would be a real delight to wait on her. Or He could give you such +great joy in Himself, Beryl, that nothing else would seem of any great +importance. I don't know how it will be, of course; only I am 'quite' +sure that you may be happy and restful, and may leave it all with Him."</p> + +<p>"I'll try," said Beryl. "I suppose it is best not to look forward."</p> + +<p>"Why, you can't," said Hester. "You can't possibly look forward. It is +all grey mist ahead. God can see through it, but we can't. And what we +call looking forward is only fancying all sorts of things, which most +likely will never happen at all. I wouldn't, dear. It is of no use."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you and Miss Carmichael never get into a worry," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I dare say Miss Carmichael would say she did sometimes, but she +doesn't let it appear. I am trying to trust more, and not to be so +easily fretted. It isn't always easy—when one is tempted to try the +'looking forward' plan."</p> + +<p>"But you have nothing to look forward to that isn't delightful," +exclaimed Beryl.</p> + +<p>Hester's smile was sad this time. "Do you think so?" she asked. "It is +all utter perplexity, Beryl."</p> + +<p>Beryl was amazed, and her face said so.</p> + +<p>Bright tears were shining in Hester's eyes.</p> + +<p>"I can't see my way in the least. But I know it will all come clear by +and by. I can't tell how yet. There must be great pain either way."</p> + +<p>"Either way!" repeated Beryl, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"There are two paths, and I shall have to go down one. And both look +wrong, and yet right; and both mean sorrow, and yet joy. Beryl, you +must not say a word of this to anybody,—not to Miss Carmichael, mind. +I only say it to you, because I want you to see that other people have +their troubles too. But I am trying to leave it all alone for the +present, and by and by I shall see my way plainly. You will see yours +too, if you wait quietly. 'It is good that a man should both hope and +quietly wait,' you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I am puzzled," said Beryl: "I only feel rather inclined +to grumble at what I have to do."</p> + +<p>"Don't," said Hester briefly. "One loses so much by grumbling."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't mean to," responded Beryl sincerely, though not quite +grammatically; and she added,—</p> + +<p>"I suppose I can't do anything at all to help you, Hettie."</p> + +<p>Hester shook her head, and the two sat on, till Beryl suddenly +recollected the time, and sprang up. Her hour of absence was already +over.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_28">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>PEARL'S LETTER.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>NO reproaches awaited Beryl on reaching home. Miss Carmichael, seated +still in the drawing-room, welcomed her affectionately. Mrs. Fenwick +looked unusually bright, and when again alone with Beryl, she said,—"I +like Miss Carmichael extremely—much better than I expected ever to do. +I have told her about my eyes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am glad!" Beryl exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"She said she had noticed something wrong, and asked if I had found +them weak. I told her everything—I am sure I don't know why, for I +had not the least idea beforehand of doing so, but it seemed to come +naturally. She looked at my eyes, and asked a good many questions. +And when I told her the name of my oculist, she did not seem to think +much of him. She said it was a case in which I ought to have the very +best advice, and she has advised me to go to another for a second +opinion. I have written down his name and address—quite one of the +first London oculists—and I really think I shall go. It is always worth +while to have a second opinion. He might even say that an operation +will not be necessary. What a relief that would be! I have such an +utter horror of any sort of operation. I really am very glad I spoke to +Miss Carmichael. She is wonderfully kind and feeling, and I seem quite +cheered up by her visit. I hope she will come again soon. What day do +you think we had better go, Beryl?"</p> + +<p>Diana was positively excited, talked incessantly for the next hour, and +was like a different person. A reactionary low fit set in later, and +after indulging in a good many dismal forebodings, and deciding that +Miss Carmichael's opinion was worth little, she fell asleep on the sofa.</p> + +<p>Beryl experienced a sense of relief. She was just settling herself with +a book, when the postman came through the garden. Beryl rose softly, +and went out to the front door, thereby stopping the loud rap which +would inevitably have aroused Diana.</p> + +<p>A letter from Pearl, addressed to herself. Beryl received it with a +flutter of pleasure, which was enhanced as she tore open the envelope +by perceiving that it was no mere hasty business scrap. Pearl must +have been in a sisterly or home-sick mood, indeed, to write so much. +Beryl dared not remain alone to enjoy it, as her inclinations would +have prompted, and she crept noiselessly back to the window of the +drawing-room, stilling every movement which might arouse the sleeper. +She wanted to have her letter to herself, just at first. It ran as +follows:—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">"CANNES, <em>Thursday.</em></span><br> +<br> + "DEAR BERYL,—We have been having some nice drives and walks lately. +I like Cannes very much, for some reasons, but I think I am growing +tired of being abroad. Of course my French is much better for it. I +could teach French quite well now, only I should hate to teach anybody. +I shall never be able to do 'that.' If it came to the worst, I would +rather make bonnets and caps than teach.<br> +<br> + "Mr. Crosbie does not mean to leave Cannes until the spring winds are +over—at least he says so now. He may change to-morrow, perhaps. But +there is a sort of change of plans going on. He is to live with Mrs. +Cumming again, and he says he will stay abroad just as long as she +likes. And Miss Crosbie means to go home. She doesn't like France, and +French cooking makes her ill. I suppose she has written to Aunt Di, or, +if not, of course she will write. She is going to start very soon, and +I am going with her. I don't know exactly what day yet, but I am sure +dear Aunt Di will be glad to have me back; and this is my first chance, +you know. I'll write to Aunt Di to-morrow or next day.<br> +<br> + "Don't tell Aunt Di what I am going to say. I am so dreadfully puzzled. +Beryl, Escott has asked me to marry him, and Mrs. Cumming seems to want +it too,—and she seems almost sure that I shall say 'Yes.' I like Escott +very much, of course,—very much indeed. He is as good and nice as can +be. But I don't seem to feel like 'that,'—you know what I mean. Ivor +was so different. If only he were more like Ivor. And yet he is very +nice,—and he seems so fond of me, poor fellow.<br> +<br> + "I said at first that I couldn't, and then Mrs. Cumming asked me to +think about it. And I am not sure after all that I shall not. But I +want to come home first. You don't know much about such things, but you +have a sort of sensible way, and I think I should like to talk it over +with you.<br> +<br> + "Only mind, Beryl, you MUST NOT say one word of this to Aunt Di or +anybody. It is only just for yourself.<br> +<br> + "Escott is a great deal stronger than he was in the summer, though he +looks very white and thin still, I wish he were stronger and browner. I +don't like invalidish men. But I fancy he will get over that by and by.<br> +<br> + "Aunt Di doesn't seem well yet, from her own account. Give her my love, +and tell her that I expect seeing me will do her good.—Believe me, your +affectionate sister, PEARL FORDYCE."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Who is that letter from?" asked Diana's voice suddenly, as Beryl +reached the end.</p> + +<p>"From Pearl." Beryl was utterly perplexed, knowing what would come next.</p> + +<p>"Any news in it? She doesn't often trouble herself to write."</p> + +<p>"Pearl and Miss Crosbie are coming home," said Beryl slowly.</p> + +<p>Diana sat upright, a red flush coming into either cheek. "Marian is not +coming 'here,'" she said.</p> + +<p>Beryl was silent.</p> + +<p>"What does Pearl say? Read me the letter."</p> + +<p>Beryl obeyed, so far as was in her power. She managed cleverly to skip +the private piece, without too obvious a break. Diana was unconscious +of the hiatus, being, perhaps, too irate for delicate observation.</p> + +<p>"Cool. As if my house were a public hotel! I wonder what next! I don't +care where Marian goes, but she will not come here. Pearl seems very +well satisfied about 'her' welcome!" And Diana laughed.</p> + +<p>Beryl folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket, hoping that the +danger was over. "Aunt Di, wouldn't it be so much happier for us all, +if you could just forgive, and let Miss Crosbie be the same that she +used to be?" she asked.</p> + +<p>The fact that Beryl might venture to put such a question at all showed +the altered relations between them.</p> + +<p>"No," said Diana shortly. "I never change my mind. I have said that +Marian shall not live here again, and she shall not."</p> + +<p>"You won't write and say that to her?" expostulated Beryl, with real +courage. "Will you, Aunt Di?"</p> + +<p>"I shall write and say what I choose. It is no business of yours. What +does Pearl say about the time of their coming? Let me see the letter."</p> + +<p>"She says they do not know yet exactly when they start, Aunt Di, but +she will write in a day or two."</p> + +<p>Something in Beryl's manner roused Diana's suspicions. "Let me see the +letter," she repeated.</p> + +<p>Beryl made no movement in response. "Have you read the whole of it to +me?"</p> + +<p>Beryl was always truthful. "No," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Pearl can say nothing to you which she would not say to me. I choose +to see the letter."</p> + +<p>Beryl was in dire perplexity. It was not her way to be frightened, but +she could not decide as to which was the right course to pursue. How +far was she bound by Pearl's confidence? How far did she owe submission +in such a matter to Mrs. Fenwick?</p> + +<p>"I choose to see the letter at once, Beryl!"</p> + +<p>Diana grew white with passion at the delay. She was alike of a jealous +and an inquisitive temperament, and was quick to take offence at what +she considered a slight to herself.</p> + +<p>But before Beryl's eyes rose a recollection of Pearl's face—a sweet +little face, pearl-complexioned, with pink tinting and pretty wistful +eyes,—as it had been in childhood, rather than as it had been of +late, certainly somewhat marred by habits of self-consciousness and +self-indulgent wilfulness, though still it was a face which nobody +could help admiring. Could she refuse Pearl's wish, and decline to act +the sisterly part for which Pearl appealed?</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Aunt Di, but I don't think I should be right to show it," +she said.</p> + +<p>"You dare to refuse?"</p> + +<p>"It is nothing about you or Miss Crosbie. It is only something about +Pearl herself, which she says I am not to tell anybody."</p> + +<p>"If you and Pearl are going to band together against me, there's an +end of the matter, and I shall wash my hands of you both. A couple of +penniless children, who would have been in the workhouse but for me. +And this is all the gratitude I get in return."</p> + +<p>Diana was working herself up to fever-heat.</p> + +<p>Beryl, though greatly troubled, remained quiet outwardly.</p> + +<p>"You know you don't really mean that, Aunt Di," she said. "I have tried +hard lately to show that I am grateful. And you know I am Pearl's own +sister. It is natural she should have something to say to me sometimes."</p> + +<p>"I don't care whether it is natural or not. I intend to see that letter +before I go to bed to-night."</p> + +<p>Silence followed for some seconds, and then Beryl rose suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" Diana asked in her sharpest tone.</p> + +<p>"Upstairs. I will be back directly."</p> + +<p>She passed swiftly out of the room, and went straight to her own. There +she drew out the letter, looked at it, and sighed.</p> + +<p>"I should have liked to keep it—the first real letter like a sister's +that I ever had from her. But I mustn't. I must not mind. I must guard +Pearlie's secret. I am so glad that she can trust me."</p> + +<p>Beryl walked to the fender, struck a match, and set the sheet alight. +Then she knelt watching, till it was reduced to a little heap of light +ash.</p> + +<p>A movement behind made her look round, and she met Diana's eyes.</p> + +<p>"A nice fashion of taking your own way," sneered Diana.</p> + +<p>Beryl stood up slowly. "I am very sorry," she said with a strange +meekness, for by nature she would have flown out in self-defence, +knowing herself to be in the right. "But I could not do anything else."</p> + +<p>Diana turned away, and conversation was at an end for that evening. If +Beryl spoke to Mrs. Fenwick, she received no answer.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_29">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>A LONELY DAY.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>DIANA'S displeasure continued unabated during the next day, and the +hours passed in uncomfortable silence. Beryl wondered how long this +was to last. She had sudden liberty granted her to come and go as she +pleased, and Diana seemed oddly to lay aside, for one day, her invalid +habits. Was it the cheering effect of Miss Carmichael's visit, or was +it the excitement of her own anger upholding her? Beryl could not tell.</p> + +<p>This condition of affairs went on during the best part of a week. A +letter then arrived for Diana from Marian, and another from Pearl +by the same post. Beryl recognised the handwritings, and waited for +news, but received none. Diana gave her a look, and put both letters +straightway into the fire.</p> + +<p>"When are they coming, Aunt Di?" Beryl asked, and no answer was +vouchsafed. She had difficulty in restraining her vexation at this +petty revenge.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>On the following morning, Diana's mood seemed to have changed. She +came downstairs unwontedly early, dressed unwontedly well, and looking +unwontedly lively. In the middle of breakfast, she said—"I am going to +London to-day."</p> + +<p>"Shall I come with you, Aunt Di?"</p> + +<p>"No." The monosyllable was sufficiently ungracious.</p> + +<p>"I thought you might want me to help you," said Beryl soberly.</p> + +<p>Diana passed over the suggestion. "You may as well spend the day at +Miss Carmichael's," she said. "Of course you will be welcome there. +Pearson is going with me to London, and I have told Maria that she will +have no cooking to do."</p> + +<p>"I should not like to invite myself for a whole day to Miss +Carmichael's," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. Of course she will be glad to have you. I thought you were +on such terms that you could go in whenever you chose."</p> + +<p>"Yes,—go in to see her. I could not invite myself there for a day," +repeated Beryl.</p> + +<p>Diana took no further notice of her, and presently disappeared. When, +after the lapse of half an hour, she came back, she was dressed for a +journey.</p> + +<p>"Pearson is just ready," she said. "We are going to walk to the +station. Have you arranged about going to Miss Carmichael's?"</p> + +<p>"I have not done anything," said Beryl, in surprise. "I did not know +you were going yet, and I don't like the thought of asking for meals +there."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have no time to stay and discuss the question," said Diana +coldly. "You will take your own way of course, as usual. Come, +Pearson,—I do not wish to miss my train."</p> + +<p>Pearson gave Beryl a look, full of meaning, and followed her mistress +out of the house. Beryl stood still, in utter perplexity. What should +she do?</p> + +<p>Go to Miss Carmichael, and tell her the truth! That suggestion came to +her mind as a real relief. She could depend upon her friend's truth and +kindness.</p> + +<p>Somewhat slowly Beryl went for her hat, and crossed the road. She had +hopes of seeing Miss Carmichael's face in the bow-window, but it was +not there. The servant, answering the bell, said,—"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss +Fordyce, but Miss Carmichael isn't at home."</p> + +<p>"Not at home," repeated Beryl.</p> + +<p>"No, Miss; she and Miss Wyatt went away yesterday evening to see some +friends, and they don't come back till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>That settled the matter. Beryl said only, "I am sorry," and turned +away, conscious of keen disappointment. She had not liked to invite +herself, but a long day with her friends would have been full of +delight.</p> + +<p>A day alone did not offer to Beryl the enjoyment that it offers to some +people. Her mind was by no means to her a kingdom, and she cared little +for reading.</p> + +<p>Moreover, the sense of being left out in the cold, which had often +assailed her as a child, came over her sharply now. She was hurt at +Diana's continued anger, after all her careful attentions through weeks +past.</p> + +<p>"But I haven't been doing it all for Aunt Di's own sake," Beryl +murmured, after standing forlornly in the hall for a few minutes. "I +have been trying because I wanted to please God, and that ought to be +enough. As for Aunt Di, I suppose I do owe her a great deal, and I +think she counts all that I can do for her only a paying back. I am not +going to be dull and unhappy to-day, just because she has not chosen +to take me to London. I am quite sure I should not have been right to +betray Pearl's secret; and if Aunt Di is angry with me for doing right, +it can't be helped. I just have to be patient."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenwick's cook, a stout and middle-aged personage, appeared on +the scene. "If you please, Miss Beryl, your aunt said you was to spend +the day with Miss Carmichael," she said. "And if I knowed when you was +agoing—"</p> + +<p>"I am not going at all, Maria. Miss Carmichael is away: so I must stay +here. I suppose there is a little cold meat that I can have for dinner."</p> + +<p>Private plans of Maria's own were plainly disconcerted. Her face +clouded over, and she clumped heavily down the kitchen stairs, giving +vent to discontented mutterings.</p> + +<p>Beryl vigorously determined to have a pleasant time. After all, she +found herself in possession of an unexpected holiday, and it was +well to make the best of the same. The day was cloudy and dull, with +threatenings of rain, but she dressed herself in weather-defying +costume, and started on a ramble, which lasted two hours. It would have +lasted yet longer, had not a sharp downpour driven her in. She came +back, fresh and glowing, having lost sight of all dismal feelings, and +the remainder of the morning was taken up with a thorough turn-out of +her clothes and orderly arrangements of her drawers.</p> + +<p>At half-past one Beryl descended, in a hungry condition, to the rather +bare bone of cold mutton which lay on the dining-room table, and which +she left the barer. Maria had not seen fit to provide vegetables or +pudding, but Beryl found enough to satisfy her hunger, and she was +happily of a contented temperament. Luncheon over, she worked for an +hour, and then, the rain having ceased, she went off on another ramble.</p> + +<p>At half-past four she returned, and saw a railway cab drive away from +the door, three minutes before she reached it. Diana back already! +Beryl could hardly believe her eyes. She entered with a latchkey, went +to the drawing-room, and was face to face with Marian Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" And kisses were exchanged quietly, the two being alike +habitually sober in manner.</p> + +<p>Beryl, in her astonishment, actually forgot at first to miss Pearl.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you were coming to-day," were her words.</p> + +<p>"Diana knew," said Marian composedly.</p> + +<p>"She did not tell me."</p> + +<p>"Di has her own way of doing things. The cook says she has gone to +London;—to avoid me, I presume."</p> + +<p>"She has only gone just for a day, to see an oculist," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Only for that! You are sure?"</p> + +<p>Beryl considered. "She did not say so this morning, Miss Crosbie,—I +remember now. But she has talked lately of going soon, and I thought it +was that."</p> + +<p>"It may be. She would choose the day—" Marian began and paused. "Diana +mentioned a weakness in her eyes some months ago, and I notice that she +writes seldom. Is anything seriously wrong with the eyes, Beryl,—or +with her health?"</p> + +<p>Beryl was embarrassed. "Aunt Di has not been well," she said. "But she +would not like me to repeat anything. I think she would be angry at my +even mentioning the oculist."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense," said Marian. "I have a right to know, if any one +has. Pearl described to us the state Di was in before she left, and +called it 'nervous;' but no doubt there was a cause."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I must say anything," replied Beryl. "She would be so +vexed. Can't you ask Aunt Di herself?"</p> + +<p>Marian moved her head assentingly. "You and she get on better now than +in old days?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it has been much better, only she is angry with me now, because I +could not show her Pearl's letter."</p> + +<p>"Could not!"</p> + +<p>"Pearl told me I mustn't,—and I thought it would be wrong; but Aunt Di +has been vexed ever since."</p> + +<p>"Di never knew what it was to have her will crossed in childhood—a +miserable training for any human being," said Marian.</p> + +<p>Beryl broke out suddenly—"But, Pearl,—Miss Crosbie, why isn't Pearl +here?"</p> + +<p>"I was surprised that you did not ask sooner. I have a letter for you +from her. She will come by and by—not now."</p> + +<p>"I thought she was to come with you," said Beryl, looking much +disappointed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, so matters were arranged,—but there have been changes. Pearl and +Escott are engaged."</p> + +<p>Beryl stirred suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Escott had asked her, and she half refused him, seeming unsettled and +uncertain about her own mind. She promised to write him a decisive +answer from England. I don't suppose it ever occurred to Pearl as a +possibility that Di might not give her a welcome. But Diana has plainly +taken offence at something, perhaps at Pearl's remaining so long away. +It doesn't much matter what. When people get into a habit of being +offended about trifles, anything will do. She wrote a most cold cutting +letter to Pearl, and another to me in the same style,—good clear +handwriting, both of them, as is generally the case when Di is at white +heat. I should not have thought there was much the matter with her eyes +judging from those letters. I suppose you know nothing of this."</p> + +<p>"No," said Beryl. "Was it after Pearl wrote to me?"</p> + +<p>"It was immediately after you and Di knew of our intended return. Di +must have written that same night or the next morning, and her letters +came a few hours before we meant to start."</p> + +<p>"And Pearl changed her mind then?"</p> + +<p>"Di's ways are no novelty to me, and I was only more determined than +ever to come home; but Pearl nearly broke her heart, cried and clung to +Millie, and said she had no home. Millie and Escott did their best to +comfort her, and Pearl gave in then and there. I don't know exactly how +it came about: only within an hour after the letters arrived, she and +Escott were engaged. I wanted her still to return with me, but Pearl +said she could never be happy again with Di, and the others would not +hear of it. Escott was overjoyed, and Millie is delighted with anything +that makes him happy. I hope it is all for the best. He is a dear +fellow, wonderfully good and sweet-tempered; but I always think Ivor +was her real hero."</p> + +<p>Beryl was silent. Her first distinct feeling was of relief that she had +burnt Pearl's letter. Every word seemed stamped on her own memory, but +nobody else needed ever to know what Pearl had said.</p> + +<p>"This is for you," said Marian, taking out an envelope. "When you have +read it, I shall be glad of some tea."</p> + +<p>Beryl hardly heard the words. She perused the sheet eagerly.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "DEAR BERYL,—I am not coming home with Miss Crosbie after all. I +'can't.' Aunt Di has written such a horrid unkind letter. I don't feel +as if I wanted ever to see her again. I shall never believe any more +that she loves me. I can't think how she 'could.' But I believe she is +tired of me.<br> +<br> + "She seems very angry about what she calls you and I 'plotting +together.' Such nonsense! I suppose it is because I told you not to +show her that letter of mine. Please burn it, Beryl, and never tell +anybody what I said.<br> +<br> + "I have settled not to come home. I am going to be married to Escott; +and I don't think we shall wait long, either. Escott is so very eager +that we should not. It will be so nice to call dear Mrs. Cumming +'mother.' There never was anybody like her for kindness and sweetness.<br> +<br> + "I don't mind if you show this letter to Aunt Di.<br> +<br> + "Miss Crosbie wants me to go home now, and not be married till the +spring. But how can I, after that letter? I don't mean to be beholden +any more to Aunt Di, if I can help it. And Escott and Mrs. Cumming are +both set against the plan. So I think we shall be married here quite +quietly. I wish you could come and be my bridesmaid, but I suppose Aunt +Di couldn't spare you, and the expense would be too great. She seems to +have taken 'you' up at last, instead of me.<br> +<br> + "But I have a home now, and I am quite happy.—Believe me, your +affectionate sister,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">"PEARL."</span><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_30">CHAPTER XXX.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>WRONG ON BOTH SIDES.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT is easy to predict what people will say or do under particular +forthcoming circumstances; but it is astonishing how seldom such +predictions come exactly true. And perhaps it is more astonishing still +how slow we are to take a lesson from such failures, and to cease +predicting.</p> + +<p>Of all uncertain individuals, Diana Fenwick was one of the most +uncertain, from the simple reason that she acted entirely upon impulse, +and that the faintest breeze sometimes swayed her unexpectedly to right +or left.</p> + +<p>Marian and Beryl sat long together, talking part of the time, and part +of the time watching in anxious silence for Diana's return.</p> + +<p>Would she return at all that evening? Had she resolved to embarrass +Marian by staying all night in London? Hardly an unkind supposition +this, for Diana was given to such actions when out of temper. If she +came back, what would be her mood? How if she absolutely declined to +give her sister shelter?</p> + +<p>"In which case there is nothing left for me but absolutely to decline +to go," Marian said, laughing, as she discussed the question with +Beryl. "I am determined on one point, and that is, to avoid a sisterly +'split.' Di will thank me by and by for preventing it. If she orders +me away, I shall not go; and she will scarcely call a policeman to her +aid."</p> + +<p>But laugh as they might, they grew nervous with expectant waiting. A +woman's ill-humours may be puny, yet have they power to cause distress +and uneasiness. Marian was tired, and shrank from an encounter of +wills; and Beryl dreaded having to tell about Pearl.</p> + +<p>A railway cab stopped again before the door, and Marian exchanged +glances with Beryl. Neither of the two stirred.</p> + +<p>"I declare I am a positive coward to-night," Marian said. "Hush—here +she comes."</p> + +<p>Diana tripped into the room, smiling and gay, with her youngest and +prettiest look, of late entirely wanting.</p> + +<p>"So you have arrived, Marian," she said. "How do you do? Where is +Pearl? Gone to bed, I suppose. And Beryl has come back from Miss +Carmichael's. Pearson, give me that bonnet-box—carefully. Don't bump it +down on the table. Tell Maria I must have something to eat directly. I +am as hungry as a hunter, and I forgot to give any orders this morning +about supper. If she has nothing else, she can poach me some eggs. +I dare say Miss Crosbie will want something too. Well, I have had a +delightful day in London. How did you leave them all, Marian?"</p> + +<p>Marian was too much bewildered by the changed aspect of affairs to say +more than, "Pretty well."</p> + +<p>"Escott never is well, of course: so one can't expect it. Has Beryl +seen to your bedrooms and everything? But of course she has,—I always +find Beryl practical. It was unfortunate my having to be away, but I +could not put off going any longer. I have been to see an oculist."</p> + +<p>Marian nearly said, "So Beryl told me," but checked herself. "What does +he think, Di?" she asked. "You mentioned a weakness in your eyes some +months ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and it has been worse. One can't talk about that sort of thing +to everybody; but I went to see an oculist in the summer—not the +same as to-day—and he frightened me horribly, talked about cataract, +and blindness, and operations, till I almost thought I should die of +nervousness. To have a dread like that hanging over one night and day +is frightful. I don't know how I have borne it."</p> + +<p>"And the oculist you have seen to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he takes quite a different view of my case. He says it is not +cataract at all. In fact, he quite pooh-poohs the other's opinion. It +is 'such' a relief. I feel like a different person."</p> + +<p>Marian and Beryl both began to realise, and to realise pityingly, +something of what poor Diana had gone through of late. After all, there +is often all unseen cause for the harsh and unpleasant moods of another.</p> + +<p>Beryl said nothing. She found it more difficult to express sympathy +with Diana in joy than in sorrow; yet she felt sympathy. A positive +glow of unselfish gladness was on her, unhindered by recollections +of Diana's late coldness. Diana, however, did not seem to be on the +look-out for congratulations, neither did she appear to retain her +displeasure. She was in high spirits, and evidently in high good-humour +with everybody.</p> + +<p>"I went there the first thing, so as to have my mind set at rest," she +said. "I felt sure Miss Carmichael thought the other man mistaken; and +somehow Miss Carmichael is a person whose opinion one trusts. It is +odd how one can stand suspense up to a certain point, and then one can +bear it no longer. I have felt lately as if I did not 'want' to have +the matter settled,—I was so afraid of having to give up all hope. +And yesterday it came over me suddenly that I couldn't wait another +twenty-four hours, and must positively be off the first thing this +morning. I am sure I am glad enough now that I went. It is an immense +relief."</p> + +<p>"Does he say that nothing at all is wrong with your eyes?" asked Marian.</p> + +<p>"Why, no—not that, of course; I couldn't expect it. He doesn't say +exactly what is wrong, only he says it is not cataract. He talks of +weakness of the nerve, and says it depends a good deal on my general +health. I am to feed up well, and to avoid worries, and to have change +of air, and I must not read much, or do fine work, or try them in any +way. But it isn't cataract—that is my comfort—and I have not to look +forward to anything so awful as blindness. I feel as if I had come back +to life again. It has been horrible lately."</p> + +<p>"You have much to be thankful for," Marian said—a little too much as if +she were quoting from a sermon.</p> + +<p>"Of course. Will you have poached eggs for supper, or have you had all +you want? Has Pearl had plenty?"</p> + +<p>"Beryl has seen to my needs, thank you. Pearl has not come back with +me, Di."</p> + +<p>Diana had risen, and was unfastening the bonnet-box which stood on the +table. She paused suddenly, and looked up.</p> + +<p>"Not come!"</p> + +<p>"No; she changed her mind just at last."</p> + +<p>"What for?" asked Diana.</p> + +<p>Marian was reluctant to enter on perilous discussions, but an answer +had to be given. "You wrote to Pearl," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well! What then?" demanded Diana.</p> + +<p>"Pearl did not seem to think she would have a warm welcome."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," Diana said tartly. "The little goose!"</p> + +<p>"Pearl is engaged to Escott," said Marian.</p> + +<p>"Next best to Ivor, I suppose," said Diana. "I always expected that, +sooner or later. Pearl might have had the grace to refer to me, I +think,—considering the past."</p> + +<p>An ominous red spot had risen to either cheek, and she opened the +bandbox with a jerk.</p> + +<p>"I might have spared myself some trouble to-day, choosing a new hat for +Pearl. Thank goodness, I shall have no responsibility in the matter. A +sickly fellow like Escott—she will be in for a life of nursing. But of +course Millicent only sees his side of the matter. Has Pearl written to +me?"</p> + +<p>"No," Beryl said sorrowfully. "Only a few lines to me, Aunt Di."</p> + +<p>"Confidential, of course," said Diana with a sneer.</p> + +<p>"No," repeated Beryl. "Pearl gives me leave to show you the letter. But +it would be better not, if you don't mind. Pearl wrote when she was +vexed."</p> + +<p>Diana held out her hand with a decisive gesture, and Beryl had no +choice.</p> + +<p>Diana read the letter quickly, her colour deepening, and at the end she +tossed it back.</p> + +<p>"That's a nice composition. Nice sort of gratitude too. It is a lesson +against taking up other people's children. Talk of tempers! Escott will +have his hands full, if he doesn't look-out."</p> + +<p>"I was anxious that Pearl should come home with me still," Marian +said, desirous to soften matters. "But she seemed afraid, after your +unfortunate letter, that you did not really want her."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunate letter! Nonsense! There was nothing in it," said Diana, +who, like many hasty people, had but vague recollections when a fit of +anger was over, of her own words spoken or written during its duration. +"There was nothing at all in that letter which could make Pearl think +anything of the sort. My letter is a mere excuse. But at all events, +the matter is settled now. I do 'not' want Pearl, and I don't care who +tells her so. She may stay away and welcome—so much the less expense +and bother for me. What do I care? The sooner she marries, the better."</p> + +<p>Did Diana not care? Her companions wondered, looking at her. The tossed +head and flushed cheek scarcely bespoke indifference. If she had loved +anybody, she had seemingly loved Pearl.</p> + +<p>"The wedding ought to take place from here," said Marian.</p> + +<p>"Thanks! The affair is Millicent's, not mine. There has been precious +little consideration of my wishes. Pearl has taken her choice, and she +may abide by it. I wash my hands of Pearl and the whole affair."</p> + +<p>Diana was rather given to "washing her hands" of friends and relatives. +She went out of the room, shutting the door sharply behind her, in the +manner of a spoilt child.</p> + +<p>"If I had guessed the kind of letter Pearl had written, I would not +have brought it," Marian said.</p> + +<p>"Miss Carmichael often says people ought to wait twenty-four hours +before sending off a letter, if it is the least bit doubtful," remarked +Beryl.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The breeze about Marian seemed to have died away, or perhaps it was +lost sight of in the stronger breeze about Pearl. Marian settled +quietly down into her old quarters, and Diana offered no objection. +Either she had not meant all she had said, or her mind was preoccupied +with other matters.</p> + +<p>She showed, however, no signs of a readiness to forgive Pearl. In +other respects, she was in high spirits, and in a state of unwonted +good-humour; but the most distant allusion to Pearl brought an angry +flush to her cheeks. Wounded pride had much to do with the matter. +Diana's self-esteem was hurt by Pearl's independent action. But there +was the bitterness of wounded affection also. Diana's affection, never +of a self-forgetting nature, could not easily recover the blow.</p> + +<p>She was laying aside invalid habits, and taking again to walking, +driving, and paying calls, apparently with much enjoyment. Her usual +version of affairs to friends was in brief,—"Pearl has gone and engaged +herself to Escott Cumming, poor little thing. Very foolish, of course, +with his health,—and she a mere child still. But my consent was not +asked, happily. My sister has undertaken all the responsibility. Escott +is a very good fellow, but not equal to poor dear Ivor. The wedding +will probably take place in France, and very soon. No particular object +in putting it off. I have not any present intention of going, but +matters are scarcely settled yet. In fact, I really do not care to give +the sanction of my presence. Poor little Pearl! I only hope she will +not have cause to regret the step."</p> + +<p>Some sympathised with Mrs. Fenwick, counting her slighted in return +for years of kindness. Some said, "Mrs. Fenwick seems rather vexed +about this affair of Pearl and Mr. Cumming." A few, among whom was Miss +Carmichael, said, "Mrs. Fenwick is unhappy about Pearl."</p> + +<p>"But I don't see why she should be," said Beryl, to whom the words were +spoken by Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"Try to see both sides of the matter, Beryl. Mrs. Fenwick has lavished +love and care upon Pearl for years. Is this quite the return she has a +right to expect?"</p> + +<p>"Only, Aunt Di wrote her such a letter!—and with no real reason."</p> + +<p>"That is no excuse for Pearl. She owes patience and forbearance, to say +the least, in return for all she has received. Remember, Beryl, but for +Mrs. Fenwick you two might have been struggling year after year for +your very bread, instead of living in ease and comfort."</p> + +<p>Beryl's eyes filled with tears, "Ah! But I should have kept my Pearlie +then."</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael looked steadily at Beryl. "Yes," she said, after a +pause, "that has been your trial. But I am not quite sure that the same +might not have come in other circumstances. I am afraid Pearl's is +scarcely a constant nature."</p> + +<p>Beryl's "Oh!" was as nearly indignant as any word she had ever +addressed to Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"I think not," repeated Miss Carmichael. "Look at her action about Mrs. +Fenwick."</p> + +<p>"I can't bear to think any harm of Pearl," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Then don't," responded Miss Carmichael, smiling. "I like you the +better for the feeling. But do not heap a double supply of blame on +Mrs. Fenwick, merely because you cannot endure to blame Pearl. That +would not be fair. Pearl is in the wrong now."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_31">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>WHICH WAY TO TURN?</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>WINTER and early spring were over, and fairly warm weather had set in. +The absentees were expected home at last—old Mr. Crosbie, and Millicent +Cumming, and Escott with his young wife.</p> + +<p>The wedding had taken place soon after Christmas, in the south of +France—a very quiet and simple wedding. Diana would not go to Cannes, +as invited. She said the journey was too long, and the fatigue too +great, and she had "nothing to do with the matter—nothing whatever. All +responsibility rested with Millicent."</p> + +<p>Neither would she permit Beryl to go. The expense was not to be thought +of, she averred.</p> + +<p>Millicent then offered to pay Beryl's journey, if an escort could be +found; but Diana sharply forbad the plan.</p> + +<p>"Pearl has not treated me rightly, and I do not approve of the +marriage," she said. "If you go, Beryl, you go against my wish, and you +will not come back to live with me."</p> + +<p>There could be no doubt that Diana's temper, yielded to unresistingly +year after year, was growing steadily worse. Beryl submitted as usual, +saying little about the soreness of her disappointment. But her very +patience in this and other matters gave the fuller rein to Diana's +ill-humours. Pearl had resisted often, had shown wilfulness, had +fretted and striven for her own way; but nothing of the kind was seen +in Beryl.</p> + +<p>Marian marvelled often at the girl's self-command, knowing that the +gift of natural serenity was not hers.</p> + +<p>It had been a trying winter for Beryl, not alone during the first +part. Marian's presence in the house was a help, but Marian had +been much away since Christmas, paying a round of visits. Diana had +been suffering again from her eyes, and still more from nervous +irritability. Pearl's conduct seemed to have had a souring effect upon +her. The softness she had at one time showed towards Beryl had entirely +ceased, and she indulged often in bitter and cynical remarks about the +fickleness and ingratitude of people in general—Pearl in particular +being of course implied. She kept Beryl hard at work in attendance +upon herself, allowing her scant liberty for intercourse with Miss +Carmichael. Beryl had many a struggle against discontent; and as spring +drew on, she looked forward with eager pleasure to Pearl's return. That +prospect showed as a bright spot ahead in her grey life—grey, so far as +outward matters were concerned. But for Miss Carmichael and Hester, it +would have been outwardly a cheerless life indeed.</p> + +<p>One week more, and the absentees would be in Hurst again. Pearl's home +was no longer to be one with Beryl's home. But the delight of meeting +would be to Beryl great, and somehow she fancied that Pearl would be +more her own now than during many a year past.</p> + +<p>A week more only! Beryl was seated in the window one evening, sewing +a long seam, and smiling over it unconsciously. Diana, lounging in +an easy-chair, watched the square plain face with an uncomfortable +contraction of her own brows, almost as if she disliked to see Beryl +look so happy.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking about?" she asked sharply and suddenly.</p> + +<p>Beryl was surprised into an unhesitating answer,—"Pearl."</p> + +<p>"What about Pearl?"</p> + +<p>Beryl's manner became unconsciously a little deprecating. "It is only a +week before she comes, Aunt Di."</p> + +<p>There was a pause of full three minutes. Was Diana making up her mind +whether or no to utter just then her next words; or was she actually in +that brief space resolving on the course of action which she proceeded +to announce?—</p> + +<p>"Her coming will make little difference to us. We shall not be in +Hurst."</p> + +<p>Beryl's work slid from her hands, and dropped to the ground. She gazed +fixedly at Diana, in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"Well, you need not stare at me like that! Can't you understand plain +English?"</p> + +<p>"Not be in Hurst!" faltered Beryl.</p> + +<p>"No; we shall not be in Hurst. You don't want me to say it a third +time, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"But where are we going?" asked Beryl, positively pale.</p> + +<p>"London first. I wish to be some weeks near my oculist. After that, to +Scotland—and I am not at all sure that I shall not spend the autumn +and winter abroad. I am sick of Hurst. I shall consider, while we are +in London, whether to let this house furnished for two or three years, +or whether to give it up as quickly as I can, and house the furniture. +I don't believe I shall ever care to settle down in this stupid place +again."</p> + +<p>Beryl's next utterance was not her uppermost thought. "And Miss +Crosbie?"</p> + +<p>"I am not bound to keep a house here merely for Marian's convenience, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>"And—Pearl?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to do with Pearl's movements. Next Tuesday I intend to +leave."</p> + +<p>Tuesday! And the Cummings were expected to arrive on Wednesday.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Di, I must see Pearl," spoke Beryl tremblingly. "I must see +Pearl. It is so long since we have been together."</p> + +<p>"You may take your choice—Pearl or me."</p> + +<p>Beryl felt stunned. "Take my choice!" she repeated.</p> + +<p>"You have a rude habit of repeating people's words," said Diana tartly. +"Yes,—you may take your choice. I mean what I say. If you stay behind +to see Pearl, you stay behind altogether. No doubt Mrs. Escott Cumming +will offer you a home—if she has the power."</p> + +<p>Beryl sat with her hands before her, trying to think. "I cannot give +up Pearl," she said, in a pained voice. "She has done nothing really +wrong,—nothing deserving of that, I mean,—nothing that ought to make +you seem as if you hated her. And you used to love Pearl so much."</p> + +<p>Diana's expression changed slightly, just for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Di, do wait. If once you saw Pearl's sweet face, I know you would +feel the same that you used to feel about her."</p> + +<p>"I do not feel anything particular about Pearl. She is a fickle little +creature, not worth troubling oneself about. I have done my duty, and +I wash my hands of her for the future. Certainly I do not intend to +change my plans, on Pearl's account. I shall start next Tuesday; and if +you travel with me at all, you go with me then."</p> + +<p>"And if not—where shall I live?"</p> + +<p>"That will be your concern, not mine. If I undertake your support, +I expect that you will do as I choose. You will manage for yourself +otherwise."</p> + +<p>"When shall I see Pearl—how soon, I mean—if I do go with you?"</p> + +<p>"I have no definite plans for the present. I do not intend to return +to Hurst in a hurry. You may think the matter over, and tell me your +decision to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Beryl was thankful for the respite. Her thoughts were in a whirl, and +she could see nothing clearly. The first impulse which came to her was +to seek Miss Carmichael's advice, but she dared not attempt to go just +then. The second impulse was a wiser one. She stole away upstairs to +her own room, locked the door, and knelt down beside the bed. If ever +Beryl had prayed earnestly to have her way shown, she prayed then.</p> + +<p>The guidance would be sent. Beryl's trust was simple, and she felt no +doubt there. By one means or another, her path would become plain.</p> + +<p>It was not plain yet. She was in a very tangle of perplexity throughout +the remainder of the day. How ought she to decide? Where lay her +duty? Was she bound by ties of gratitude to remain, at any cost, +with Diana? Ought she and could she give up Pearl? How far would it +be a giving up, and not merely a somewhat longer separation? Diana's +fickleness of mood and will might incline her to return much earlier +than she now intended. But suppose it were not so, would Beryl ever +be free to return without her? Should she be right now to follow her +own inclinations? And, after all, where did her inclinations really +point? She longed to see Pearl, and she dreaded to be away from Miss +Carmichael; but also she shrank from finding herself homeless, and +foreign travel had a tempting sound.</p> + +<p>Beryl had never in her life before spent an entirely wakeful night. +This night she gained no sleep, and counted the strokes of the clock +each hour in succession. She rose in the morning, unrefreshed, and +still troubled and bewildered.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Diana seemed to be bent on preventing an interview with Miss +Carmichael. She was captious and irritable, and kept Beryl incessantly +busy.</p> + +<p>The second post brought a letter from Pearl, addressed to her sister. +Beryl happened to be alone at the moment it arrived, but this mattered +less, since Diana had of late ceased to show any desire for a sight of +Pearl's letters. She had never written to Pearl, or Pearl to her, since +Marian's return from abroad.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "MY DEAR BERYL,—" the letter ran:<br> +<br> + "We are coming home on the day we intended, and everything is pretty +well settled. I have been wondering whether I ought to send a few lines +to Aunt Di. I don't want to have things unpleasant between us, and +perhaps she would like to hear from me. But I feel lazy, and I don't +know what to say to her. Never mind,—things are sure to come right when +we meet.<br> +<br> + "I am looking forward so much to seeing you. There will be all sorts +of matters to talk about. I know you used to think I did not care for +you, dear, but I do. I was a stupid little thing in those days, and +now I feel different—so 'much' older. Being married makes one older, I +suppose. Not that I have any of the cares of married life, for mother +and Escott manage everything, and we are to live all together at home, +just the same. Mother asked me what I would like, and I said I did not +mind in the least. I don't think I should be a good hand at managing a +house. I should have to make you come and do it for me. Aunt Di is sure +to get tired of you some day, and then, perhaps, by and by, Escott and +I might have our own home, and you could live with us; but that is only +a private little dream of my own. There is not room in Uncle Josiah's +house—at least, I know he would say so. And I do think it would be +cruel to take Escott away from mother. She is just wrapt up in him.<br> +<br> + "He is so good and kind,—I am sure nobody ever had a better husband. +And the mother is only 'too' good. She quite frightens me, she is so +unearthly. I am afraid they are both too good for me, and they must +think me silly and flippant sometimes.<br> +<br> + "But I am really not so flippant as I seem, perhaps—and I want you +to show me how to be better. I think I want something to make me +different. And I can't speak about it to anybody else. But I know you +have always felt just the same for me all along, even when I was most +cold to you, and I do so look forward to having you again. I think you +will understand me, more than anybody. I can say things to you that I +could not say to anybody else—hardly. I know all this is safe with you. +Ever since you refused to show that letter to Aunt Di, I have felt that +I might say anything I liked to you—and I am glad it happened, though +of course I am sorry she was so angry.<br> +<br> + "Mother and Escott send love, and I am ever your own sister,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">"PEARL."</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"I am so glad, oh, so glad, I never changed to Pearl," murmured Beryl, +clasping the letter tightly. "If I had, she might never have turned to +me, or trusted me again. But I 'have' felt the same all along. Pearlie, +my own darling, I think you are going to be my own again. I don't see +how I can leave you just now, Pearlie."</p> + +<p>Diana appeared in the doorway, and Beryl was suddenly cool and stolid.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_32">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>A DECISION.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>TOWARDS evening, Diana Fenwick said abruptly,—</p> + +<p>"You have heard from Pearl to-day."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Beryl answered.</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to hear what she says. It is no concern of mine now. But +I expect an answer soon as to your plans. My own arrangements depend in +some measure upon it."</p> + +<p>"You can't travel alone, Aunt Di," Beryl broke out. She had had the +thought in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I am happily not dependent upon you for protection."</p> + +<p>"I 'must' see Pearl," Beryl murmured half-unconsciously.</p> + +<p>Diana rose to leave the room, as if not choosing at that moment to hear +more. But she changed her mind before reaching the door, and turned +back.</p> + +<p>"It just comes to this, Beryl—do you love Pearl best, or me?"</p> + +<p>Love! Beryl had no difficulty in answering that question to herself. +And yet her heart sank at the thought of letting the little widow go +away alone. If she did not greatly love Mrs. Fenwick, she had for her +something of the kind of tender interest which a nurse feels for a +sick person under her charge, fractious and trying as that sick person +may be. To Beryl, the look-out seemed really more forlorn for Diana +than for herself. She almost forgot at that moment her own position of +threatened homelessness.</p> + +<p>"The question hinges there," said Diana coldly, with a certain glitter +in her eyes. "I do not see why I am to go on, year after year, +lavishing money and thought upon girls who do not care a rap for me in +return."</p> + +<p>"I do care for you, Aunt Di," Beryl could truthfully say.</p> + +<p>"As much as you care for Pearl?"</p> + +<p>This answer came, truthfully too. "No one in the world can be to me +what Pearl is. But, Aunt Di, the one doesn't hinder the other."</p> + +<p>"And if the choice lies between Pearl and me?"</p> + +<p>Beryl lifted a pale and troubled face. "I don't want to be a burden to +you," she said. "I would gladly earn my own living, so far as money is +concerned. But indeed I don't want to forsake you."</p> + +<p>"If the choice lies between Pearl and me!" repeated Diana, with a +strange expression, anger and pain struggling for the mastery.</p> + +<p>"I should have to choose Pearl. I couldn't give her up," Beryl said +sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"Very well. Then the matter is settled. You may find another home for +yourself by next Tuesday,—or sooner if you like."</p> + +<p>"I have nowhere to go. How 'can' I?" said Beryl, in distress.</p> + +<p>Diana swept from the room without making a reply, her head thrown back +in disdainful fashion.</p> + +<p>Beryl had risen, and she stood now with her hands clenched together, +and a feeling of despairing loneliness at her heart. Was she to lose +all at one blow?</p> + +<p>Yet probably the bitterness of suffering was keener with Diana than +with Beryl. For Beryl was acting, as she believed, rightly, and was +keeping the love of those for whom she most cared; whereas Diana was +yielding to the sway of ungoverned passions, and was with her own hand +severing the ties which united her past to her future life.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do?" murmured Beryl. "Oh, it is cruel. I have nowhere to +go—no one to take me in. Am I wrong? Ought I to have given way to her +at once? Would that have been right? I wish I knew."</p> + +<p>Then, under a sudden impulse, fearing to be hindered or forbidden, she +hastened out of the room and into the garden.</p> + +<p>It was a cold evening, but she would not delay to seek wraps.</p> + +<p>A window opened in her rear, and a voice called, "Come back this +minute, Beryl."</p> + +<p>She heard almost without hearing, and the idea of turning back in +obedience did not even occur to her mind.</p> + +<p>"I want to see Miss Carmichael," she said eagerly to the servant who +answered her ring, and scarcely waiting for a reply, she rushed into +the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Hester had just made tea, and was beside the table, chatting to Miss +Carmichael. Both looked up in surprise at Beryl's abrupt entrance.</p> + +<p>"Not even a shawl!" said Miss Carmichael quietly. "Hettie, will you +shut the door? Sit down, Beryl, and tell us what is wrong."</p> + +<p>Beryl was too much excited to take the proffered seat. She grasped the +back of it with her hands, and stood still, panting.</p> + +<p>"I have come to see—to ask—" she said hurriedly, in her gruffest voice +of stirred feeling—"I thought—I thought you would help me—would tell me +what is right. I don't know what to do. Aunt Di is going abroad, and I +shall have no home."</p> + +<p>"Going abroad to-night," Hester exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"No,—but she has only just told me. She is going away from Hurst next +Tuesday. And Pearl comes home on Wednesday. And Aunt Di would take me +with her, if I were willing to give up Pearl. But I can't—how can I? +Pearl wants me, I know. How 'can' I give her up? Aunt Di says I must +take my choice." A sob broke into the words. "It seems so cruel, when +I have tried so hard to do my very best for her. And she thinks me +ungrateful because I care for Pearl most. Of course I love Pearl best. +I don't see how I can help it."</p> + +<p>"Why should Mrs. Fenwick wish you to give up Pearl?" asked Miss +Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"I don't know—I mean, she was vexed with Pearl, first about the letter +which I could not show her, and then about Pearl being engaged without +asking her leave, and not coming home, and writing about Aunt Di as she +did. I suppose Pearl was wrong—of course. But Aunt Di has never spoken +kindly of Pearl since, and now she seems as if she were determined not +to see her. I don't know whether it is only a sudden fancy, and whether +she will keep to it: but she talks as if she meant to stay away an +immense time, and meant never to live in Hurst again. I shouldn't like +that. But indeed I do want to do what is right, and it can't be right +to give up Pearl. It couldn't be,—and just now she wants me so much. +And Aunt Di doesn't seem to want me at all,—at least, she talks of the +expense."</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael asked questions gently, trying to obtain a clear +understanding of the case; while Hester listened intently, with +sympathising looks, and Beryl became calmer.</p> + +<p>"You will feel better now you have told me all," Miss Carmichael said +at length. "Cheer up, Beryl, and don't be downhearted. If you are to +lose your home with Mrs. Fenwick, some other home will be provided for +you."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" asked Beryl. "Pearl can't take me in, I know. She +would like it, I think; but Mr. Crosbie can't bear a full house, and +he doesn't care for me either—he never did. Besides, Miss Crosbie will +most likely have to go there now. I could work for my living. I have +often thought of that. I am not clever enough to be a governess, but I +might be a companion to some old lady,—or I might be a nurse. I should +like nursing. But it can't be settled all in a moment, and I have +nowhere to go."</p> + +<p>"Can you stay to tea, and let us consider the matter quietly?"</p> + +<p>Beryl hesitated. "Aunt Di would be angry," she said. "Do you think I +ought?"</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael sat in grave thought. "No," she said at length. "Better +to avoid giving unnecessary offence. I think I will go back with you, +and see what Mrs. Fenwick really means."</p> + +<p>"O Miss Carmichael!"</p> + +<p>Beryl's face told of unspeakable gratitude. Tea was left to grow cold, +as it might. Hettie offered no objections, but only wrapped up Miss +Carmichael warmly, lent a shawl to Beryl, and watched the two across +the road with eyes of eager interest.</p> + +<p>"'My heart shall not fear,'" Miss Carmichael quoted softly, as they +walked the little distance. "'When my father and my mother forsake me, +then the Lord will take me up.'"</p> + +<p>"It is easier to trust, now I have spoken to you," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Don't, wait for that another time. Trust Him always—'at all times.'"</p> + +<p>Diana received them coldly, biting her lip and reining up her head, +with an air half-vexed, half-embarrassed. "Beryl seems to have fetched +you without any warrant on my part," she said, extending two fingers. +"I do not know what for. She is a great deal too much given to +gossiping about home affairs out of the house."</p> + +<p>"Beryl did not fetch me. It was entirely my own idea to come," said +Miss Carmichael, quietly taking a seat unasked, since Diana showed no +signs of offering one.</p> + +<p>Diana bit her lip again, and sat down also.</p> + +<p>"Beryl had scarcely a choice, under the circumstances, about mentioning +the matter to some one, if she understood you rightly. I have come, in +the hope of finding that there is some mistake."</p> + +<p>"There is no mistake about the fact that I intend to leave Hurst next +Tuesday. Whether Beryl accompanies me or not, is a matter of free +choice on her part. If I am not mistaken, she has decided against doing +so."</p> + +<p>"I hardly think Beryl meant you to understand her words as decisive."</p> + +<p>"I think she did. This is a matter which concerns her and me alone, +Miss Carmichael."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me! It concerns others also," said Miss Carmichael, in her +gentlest tone. "Am I to understand that you do not wish to give Beryl a +home any longer?"</p> + +<p>"You may take it in what way you please," said Diana shortly. "The fact +is, I am tired and sick of the state of things. Nobody knows the amount +of worry connected with the care of other people's children. I am worn +to death with fusses and discussions. Pearl has set herself up against +me, and now Beryl is following in her steps. I am not going to have any +more of it. If Beryl comes, she does so on my conditions. I don't want +a 'managing partner.' If she is to form her own plans, and choose her +own time for travelling, and act as an independent lady, and I am to +have only the pleasure of paying for her expenses, the sooner we part +the better."</p> + +<p>"Beryl would be the last to wish for such a state of things. Still, +after all these months of separation, is it not natural that the +sisters should want to meet?"</p> + +<p>"O yes, of course it is natural—highly natural," said Diana, in an +irritated voice. "I suppose it is natural, too, that I should want to +have my own way in the matter. And perhaps it is natural that I should +not care to see Pearl Cumming next week, after the manner in which she +has treated me. Everything is natural."</p> + +<p>Miss Carmichael did not answer immediately. She seemed waiting either +to consider the matter, or to give Diana time to cool.</p> + +<p>"You are content to leave Beryl absolutely without a shelter for her +head, after all these years of treating her as your own, Mrs. Fenwick?"</p> + +<p>"The choice is Beryl's, not mine," Diana replied.</p> + +<p>Yet Miss Carmichael's words were not without effect. Diana cared a good +deal for the "look of things."</p> + +<p>And after a moment's hesitation, she added, "Of course I have no +intention of leaving her 'absolutely without a shelter.' If she does +not choose to accompany me next Tuesday, I do not choose that she shall +accompany me at all. But I am willing to pay for her board somewhere, +during a few weeks, while she looks out for employment."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear so much," Miss Carmichael said. "But it will be +unnecessary. Beryl shall remain with me for the present, till we can +decide upon her future course."</p> + +<p>Diana muttered something which sounded like "preconcerted plan;" while +Beryl's troubled face was lighted with a sudden gleam of happiness.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Fenwick. This is the first word that Beryl +has heard of such a plan. I had not made up my own mind to the step +when I came into your house. It is now a settled matter, however. Beryl +shall pay me a visit of a few weeks, and I will take upon myself the +responsibility of finding an opening for her—in or out of Hurst, as the +case may be. She shall be a trouble to you no longer."</p> + +<p>There was a slight pause.</p> + +<p>"Would you prefer to keep her till next Tuesday, or shall she come to +my house to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to do with the matter," said Mrs. Fenwick, her face +changing strangely for an instant and then becoming hard. "Beryl has +taken to independent action, and she may please herself."</p> + +<p>"I think you wrong her. I believe Beryl to be acting conscientiously, +and not in mere self-pleasing. But I should be sorry to help on a hasty +decision. Will you tell me frankly—would you like two or three days' +delay that you may consider the matter afresh?"</p> + +<p>"No, thanks. I am sick of delays."</p> + +<p>"Do you wish to have Beryl still to live with you, Mrs. Fenwick?"</p> + +<p>Diana looked at her and then at Beryl, drew her brows together, and +said, "No."</p> + +<p>"The decision then is plainly yours, not hers," said Miss Carmichael, +speaking gravely, and rising. "Mrs. Fenwick, you will some day regret +this."</p> + +<p>"I never wish to have people with me who do not wish it themselves," +said Mrs. Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"I do wish it—if only I need not give up Pearl," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>Diana turned away her head.</p> + +<p>"Then it is settled," said Miss Carmichael. "Whether Beryl shall come +to me to-morrow, or wait until next Tuesday, you must please decide for +her."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, if you like. I do not care," said Diana, looking haughty +and white.</p> + +<p>Her good-bye was of the slightest possible kind.</p> + +<p>Beryl went into the hall, and clasped Miss Carmichael's hand with +unspeakable gratitude.</p> + +<p>"It is too much,—I can't thank you," she said.</p> + +<p>Then she returned to a sombre and silent companion who vouchsafed +scarcely a remark through the remainder of the evening.</p> + +<p>But when they were retiring for the night, Diana said icily, "You may +as well go to-morrow. I intend to leave on Saturday. And if ever I come +to this place again—"</p> + +<p>"I would rather stay and help you to pack up," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"No, thanks. I prefer to manage for myself."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_33">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>TOGETHER AGAIN.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>MRS. ESCOTT CUMMING was much the same that Pearl Fordyce had +been—sweetly pretty and winning, but indolent, easy, unpunctual, +seemingly content to live an aimless life, pleased to be petted and +made much of, and by no means anxious to take up work or responsibility.</p> + +<p>Beryl had a sense of disappointment, having somehow expected a change. +She could see that Millicent was not satisfied, and she noted that +Escott indulged in an expostulatory "My dear!" not seldom, in place of +counting his little Pearl a human angel. He loved her intensely, but +he had a high ideal of what the womanly life should be, formed on the +model of his mother's life, and Pearl's did not by any means correspond +with his ideal. Her little vanities, her petty tempers, her wilful +moods, did not cause him to love her less, but they did cause him to +love her differently. The quality of his affection changed, not the +quantity. He was watchfully tender and thoughtful as ever, but in his +heart, Escott crept quietly back to the boyish feeling which he had had +of old, and which Ivor had never lost, that "there was nobody in the +world like mother."</p> + +<p>Yet he did not regret his choice. Millicent might and did regret it +secretly for him, but he did not for himself. He knew he would not have +been happy without Pearl. She disappointed him often, yet she was so +winning and fair as to be a great delight in his life. How long that +delight would last, with nothing more stable to sustain it, was another +question. Not four months had as yet elapsed since the wedding-day.</p> + +<p>Foreign travel, and the happiness of winning Pearl, had done much for +Escott's health. He was a delicate man still, liable to attacks of +illness, and compelled to be careful in his habits of life, after a +fashion which rather teased his little wife, for Pearl liked men to be +dashing. But he was an invalid no longer. His invalidish ways had been +totally dropped in the south of France, and love of study was resuming +its old sway over him.</p> + +<p>The confidential talks with her sister, to which Beryl had looked +forward, did not come about quickly. Pearl was pleased to be with Beryl +again, but she seemed rather to shrink from "tête-à-tête" interviews. +Diana's conduct was evidently a distress to her, yet she said little +in reference to it. Her talk was chiefly about her new dresses and +trinkets.</p> + +<p>This did not last. Three weeks passed, during which Pearl settled into +her new home, and Beryl remained at Miss Carmichael's. No news had been +received from Mrs. Fenwick, beyond one brief note to Millicent, in +which she carelessly or wilfully omitted to give her address. Marion +Crosbie, on hearing what had passed, travelled post-haste to Hurst, +only to find herself powerless to take any further steps. She, like +Beryl, was rendered homeless by Diana's action. She took up her abode +under Mr. Crosbie's roof, and there waited, with the best patience she +could muster. Millicent was mistress of the house still, and Pearl +lived in it as a petted child. Beryl sometimes wondered how Pearl liked +the position.</p> + +<p>Pearl's reserve broke down suddenly one day. Beryl had found her for +once alone, and Pearl took Beryl to her own room, walking listlessly, +as if she had not much spirit or interest in life. She wanted to show +her sister a new brooch, she said, which Escott had given her—"such a +dear little brooch, just suited to her complexion."</p> + +<p>Beryl took the brooch into her hand, looked at it absently, then lifted +her eyes to Pearl's pretty face, and said quietly, without having had +the least previous intention of so doing:—</p> + +<p>"Pearl, are you happy?"</p> + +<p>Pearl gave a startled glance, and the pink tinting of her cheeks grew +crimson. She hesitated a moment, and then, in a quick low voice said, +"No."</p> + +<p>Beryl's arm stole round her waist affectionately. "Why not, Pearlie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. I suppose—I suppose it isn't in me," said Pearl, +with slight sobs catching her breath. "I haven't been happy a long +long while. I've always been wanting—something—and it never comes—and +it never will now. O Beryl, I wish I were you. Yes, I do," repeated +Pearl, as Beryl drew her in front of the looking-glass, where two faces +were reflected side by side: one a lovely little picture as to outline +and soft hues; the other solidly sensible and plain. "Yes, I do. Being +pretty doesn't make one happy,—and you are happy and I am not."</p> + +<p>"But, Pearl, darling, what is it that you want and can never have?" +asked Beryl, as the sweet face dropped tearfully on her shoulder; and +her heart beat fast with the joy of having her own Pearl clinging to +her once more.</p> + +<p>"I don't know,—oh, I don't know," said Pearl sorrowfully. "Everybody +is so kind,—but it doesn't seem enough, somehow. I sometimes think I +shouldn't be much missed if I were to die. You would be sorry, I know; +but Escott has mother, and she does so much for him. Of course she +would let me do things, if I asked her; but they seem to come naturally +to her, and I haven't got into the way of being useful. I never was +useful, like you. Aunt Marian thinks I waste my time, and Escott wants +me to be different—I can see he does. He said once lately that he used +to think I cared more about—about religion. I don't seem to have cared +much about that or anything, for a long while—ever since Ivor died."</p> + +<p>Pearl sobbed again. "I told Escott, when he wanted me to marry him, +that he and Ivor had always been such good dear brothers to me, and +that I had liked Ivor best,—and he said he knew it, and he only wanted +me to love him for Ivor's sake. It was only a silly girlish feeling, +Beryl, and poor Ivor didn't know it; but somehow nobody ever satisfied +me like him. But of course that is all over now, and Escott is the +best and dearest of husbands. Only I am not fit to be his wife. He and +mother are so very very good, and I am not good at all. I do feel as if +I wanted—something!" concluded Pearl.</p> + +<p>"I think you do," said Beryl. "I think you have a longing in your heart +for JESUS, Pearlie." She spoke the holy word in a low and reverent +tone. "Nobody else can make one satisfied."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is that, perhaps," said Pearl more quietly. "That was +what made poor Ivor happy at the last."</p> + +<p>"I never heard much about Ivor's death. Was he happy?"</p> + +<p>"O yes. Mother can't speak about him often, even now. He didn't say +much, for he couldn't. But he did not seem the least afraid, and he was +so quiet and patient. And just at last, when they thought him almost +gone, he opened his eyes and whispered—'The blood of Jesus cleanseth!' +Mother and Escott are always so glad of that."</p> + +<p>Pearl was crying, and Beryl caressed her anew.</p> + +<p>"I think it is ever since then that I have not been happy," said Pearl. +"Partly, Ivor being gone—and partly thinking about its being so sudden. +I should have been so frightened, if it had been me."</p> + +<p>"Only you know there is the Blood that cleanses," said Beryl softly.</p> + +<p>Pearl looked perplexed and pitiful. "Yes, of course I know the text," +she said. "But it doesn't seem to comfort me like other people. I +suppose I don't believe properly. It all seems like a great blank."</p> + +<p>Beryl was not quick at speech, and she had to consider.</p> + +<p>"One may know the text, and yet not know the 'thing,'" she said at +length. "It wouldn't be enough to have learnt the text, Pearlie, and +yet not to have had the real Blood-washing. Don't you think it is that +you want?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; it all seems a blank," repeated Pearl.</p> + +<p>"I suppose, when the blind man was standing and begging, it all seemed +a blank to him," said Beryl. "And yet Christ was there—quite close to +him; and when he heard Christ's voice, and when he did as he was told, +he was cured."</p> + +<p>Pearl's eyes grew wistful. "I should like Him to be near to me," she +said.</p> + +<p>"Then I am sure He is," said Beryl. "Near—and just waiting till you +speak to Him."</p> + +<p>"I can't—'speak,'" said Pearl almost tremblingly. "What do you mean, +Beryl? I do say my prayers, of course—every morning and evening."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but just saying prayers isn't enough," said Beryl. "It must be +real asking, Pearlie—telling Him what you want."</p> + +<p>Pearl made no answer, but moved away, and began putting her new brooch +into its little box. Then she said, "Shall we go downstairs now?"</p> + +<p>"If you like," Beryl answered.</p> + +<p>Pearl lingered still. "I can't think what makes you so different," she +said.</p> + +<p>Beryl could not suppress a smile of pleasure, but she only said, "Can't +you?"</p> + +<p>"No; you used to be so 'gruff,'" said Pearl. "I was half frightened of +you, I think. I like you to talk to me now. You don't mean to leave +Hurst, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell yet," said Beryl quietly. "I must find something to do. I +asked Miss Carmichael to look-out for me, and she promised to consider +what would be best. I am very very happy with her, but of course I must +earn my own living."</p> + +<p>"I think it is quite 'horrid' of Aunt Di to turn you off like this," +said Pearl indignantly.</p> + +<p>"I think Aunt Di is very unhappy, Pearl. You see, she is so used to +having her own way that she can't stand contradiction. I pity her, and +so must you. She hasn't many real friends, and I am sure she must feel +lonely. She has disliked so much being alone, the last few months, and +now she has nobody except Pearson."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad you did not go with her," responded Pearl. "I want you +to talk to me again, as you have done to-day. And, Beryl, I do really +mean to try."</p> + +<p>With which shy and vague utterance, Pearl turned quickly to go +downstairs.</p> + +<p>But Beryl did talk to her again, after the same simple and earnest +fashion, not once or twice only, and not without avail. After years of +heart-separation from her sister, she had now the great joy of being +allowed to help in the guidance of Pearl's faltering steps towards and +along the pathway of life.</p> + +<p>Nobody else knew much about the matter. Only after awhile, both +Millicent and Escott saw something of a change in Pearl, saw her to be +fighting against inertia, listlessness, and temper, and found her no +longer coldly irresponsive on matters which touched them most deeply.</p> + +<p>Pearl was able at length to say one day to her husband, "Escott, I +think I am learning to live to God now, and I want to have more to do +for Him. Beryl has been helping me, and I should like you to help me +too."</p> + +<p>But other events happened meantime.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_34">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>PAST AND FUTURE.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"MISS CARMICHAEL, I think something ought to be settled about me soon," +said Beryl suddenly.</p> + +<p>She had been working for some time at one of her favourite +counterpanes. Not the same which she had had in hand when she left +school: that had been long ago finished, and sent as a present to +Suzette Bise. This was destined for Pearl. Diana Fenwick had presented +her, the previous summer, under a sudden impulse of generosity, with a +supply of cotton large enough to keep her busy for a year to come.</p> + +<p>"I have seen that thought in your face for half an hour past," said +Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"Have you? I didn't know," said Beryl. "I have been thinking for some +days. It isn't that I am in a hurry to go. The last seven weeks have +been the very happiest I ever spent in all my life. But I must not go +on so. It wouldn't be right."</p> + +<p>"Would it not?"</p> + +<p>"I ought to earn my own living," said Beryl, too intent on her own +ideas to notice a certain exchange of glances between Miss Carmichael +and Hester. "And after all, the longer I stay here, the worse it will +be to go. I can't bear to think about saying good-bye. But it 'has' to +be. I have stayed seven whole weeks here now. If only I could hear of +something in Hurst!"</p> + +<p>"We have no hospital in Hurst," said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"No,—and I am not so sure now that I am fit for nursing," said Beryl +humbly. "I think one is much more sure about one's self when one is +younger. Besides, I don't quite see how I 'can' be a nurse yet, because +I should not be paid anything if I were in a hospital, and I have to +make enough to get my own clothes. I think it would be best for me to +begin by being a companion to some old lady; and I shall try to lay by +a little every year. But you did not like me to ask more about Miss +Brown."</p> + +<p>"No, I did not. You were a good child to obey in the dark."</p> + +<p>"I did think that might have done," said Beryl regretfully. "But of +course you know best. Only there seems nothing else in Hurst."</p> + +<p>"How old must your old lady be?" asked Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>Beryl looked rather reproachful. "I really mean it," she said. "I am +not joking, Miss Carmichael. I think I feel much more like crying than +laughing."</p> + +<p>"Don't cry just yet," said Miss Carmichael. "I believe I can tell you +of exactly what you want, and in Hurst too. I will explain further +presently, and you shall decide for yourself. Hettie has something to +say to you first, however, and I fancy her 'say' will not leave me much +to explain."</p> + +<p>To Beryl's surprise, Miss Carmichael left the room.</p> + +<p>"Is it a secret?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No; but I made her promise to leave us alone. I can speak more freely +when she is not here," replied Hester. "It is odd that you should have +brought up the subject, for we had resolved on a talk about plans this +very day."</p> + +<p>"Does Miss Carmichael think I have stayed too long?"</p> + +<p>"No," Hester said, smiling. "Don't be afraid. Beryl, do you remember a +little talk we had one day in a field, when you took a ramble alone, +and I spoke to you from behind a hedge?"</p> + +<p>"O yes," answered Beryl. "You told me you were so puzzled about +something—two paths, you said, and one was as bad as the other."</p> + +<p>"Well, no; not precisely that," said Hester, looking amused. "Neither +path is 'bad.' But I could not see which was the right path for me to +take. And now, I begin to think my difficulties are clearing away."</p> + +<p>"Are they? I am glad," said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I want to tell you what the difficulty has been. It will have to be +quite a little story. I am thirty years old now, and it is just twelve +years since Miss Carmichael first gave me a home. She has been a mother +to me ever since, and I owe her—oh, more than I could tell. I owe her +the devotion of a dozen lives, if I had them."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think anything would ever make you leave her," said Beryl +innocently.</p> + +<p>Hester sighed, and blushed faintly. "One cannot judge for another," she +said. "There may always be an equal pull in a second direction. I think +I have never mentioned Frank Jamieson to you."</p> + +<p>"No," Beryl said wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"He and I were playmates from almost babyhood, and we were engaged when +we were very young—only sixteen and nineteen. After that, he fell among +bad companions at college, went wrong, and was rusticated. My dear +father was then dying, and one of the last things he did was to insist +on the engagement being broken off."</p> + +<p>"Did you care very much for him?"</p> + +<p>Hester's eyes filled. "Yes," she said,—"more than I can tell you. Life +seemed at an end when I had to give Frank up. And yet I knew my father +was right."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Jamieson?"</p> + +<p>"He seemed distracted, and said I was driving him altogether to the +bad. He sailed for Australia, and never wrote a word home to anybody +for years. We heard that he was going on in a wild way, and that he +had married a woman quite beneath him in position, and not at all a +nice person. You can fancy how unhappy I was. To make matters worse, I +had lost everything at my father's death, and for more than two years, +I had to live with an uncle who looked upon me as a mere burden. It +was when things were in that state, and I was feeling so hopeless and +wretched, that I met with Miss Carmichael, and she gave me shelter and +comfort and everything. Oh, the peace that it was to be with her!"</p> + +<p>Hester paused, and Beryl said "Yes?" expectantly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Jamieson's wife died six years ago," said Hester, in a low voice. +"For 'his' sake, one could not regret it—he was so miserable in his +home life. And since then, there has been a great change in him. We +heard first from others about his becoming so steady, and refusing to +have anything to do with bad companions. Then he began writing home +regularly himself. And three years ago he came to England for a few +months. I saw him several times, and it did seem to me that he was +growing into all one could wish. He wanted me very much to promise +to marry him then, but I could not. I said I must wait; and Miss +Carmichael told him he must be content, after the past, to be tested. +He was very humble, and said she was right. But he has stood the test +well. There cannot be any doubt now that the change in him is genuine."</p> + +<p>"And you want to leave Miss Carmichael, and to go to Australia, and to +be his wife," said Beryl slowly, with an odd expression.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Hester answered simply. "You cannot of course understand that."</p> + +<p>Beryl considered the question. "Yes, I think I can," she said. "If I +had ever loved him, I could not leave off loving him. And you really +mean to go?"</p> + +<p>"He is very lonely," said Hester gently. "And I was promised to him so +long ago. I have never cared for anybody else, and I never could. It +seems as if now I might help him to keep out of danger, by being with +him. He and I would serve God together now. Things are quite different +from what they were. But my difficulty has been about Miss Carmichael. +I cannot bear the thought of leaving her alone. She says I must not +think of her. But I do think; and if it were not for that, I would have +gone out to Australia months ago. I am sure I would."</p> + +<p>"And you have not told Mr. Jamieson yet that you mean to marry him," +said Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Yes; we are engaged. I am promised to him, only I wrote that it could +not be yet. But Miss Carmichael wants me not to delay. She says it is +not right."</p> + +<p>"I don't know him, of course, and I do know Miss Carmichael, so I +suppose I am not a good judge," said Beryl. "It seems to me as if I +could never leave Miss Carmichael for anybody else, in your place. I +don't wonder you have been puzzled what to do."</p> + +<p>"I have been; but I think I see a way out of the difficulty," said +Hester. "Beryl, will you live with Miss Carmichael in my place? We both +wish it."</p> + +<p>Beryl sat staring at Hester. The proposal seemed to her too radiant +with happiness to be true. She thought other words must follow, +explaining away the apparent sense of the question.</p> + +<p>"Don't you understand?" asked Hester. "When I go to Australia, will +you take my place with Miss Carmichael, and be her comfort, and do +everything you can for her?"</p> + +<p>"Live with Miss Carmichael!" Beryl's manner was short, and her voice +was husky. She broke into a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Would you like it? Or have you a fancy for being independent?"</p> + +<p>"Live with Miss Carmichael! I—I—you don't mean only just to stay with +her? 'Live' here! O Hettie!"</p> + +<p>The undemonstrative Beryl sprang up, and threw her arms round Hester.</p> + +<p>"O Hettie, you don't mean it really! I can't believe it yet. Live with +Miss Carmichael! Not always!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, always," Hester said, gently releasing her neat little figure +from Beryl's clutch, and kissing either cheek. "I am glad you feel so +about it. I felt sure you would be pleased."</p> + +<p>"Pleased! It's—it's—only too good to be true," Beryl gasped.</p> + +<p>"But, Beryl, listen to me quietly. I want to say something more. If +this is to take place, I want it to be a lasting plan. I don't want +to hear by and by, when I am settled in Australia, that you have left +Miss Carmichael, and have taken up hospital-nursing or anything else of +the kind. I want you to count this your life-work, so long as the need +exists—to count yourself bound to it, if once you take it on yourself. +It seems to me that the daily ministering to one like Miss Carmichael +is as truly work for God as any other work could be. But you may see +the matter differently."</p> + +<p>"I don't. I see it just the same," said Beryl. "I should like to spend +my whole life in waiting upon her. I can promise, with all my heart, +never, never to leave her, of my own free choice."</p> + +<p>"Unless, of course, Mr. Right makes his appearance, in your case as in +mine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no fear of that. I'm too ugly ever to marry, and I care for so few +people," said Beryl joyously.</p> + +<p>"And how about Mrs. Fenwick? Suppose she should change her mind by and +by, and wish you to live with her again."</p> + +<p>"I could not do that," said Beryl. "I talked about it the other day +with Miss Crosbie, and I think she agreed with me. I would be glad to +do anything to help Aunt Di, but I could not be dependent on her again. +I should always feel that she might any day want to turn me off."</p> + +<p>"Then you can promise that nothing over which you have control shall +break through the engagement, except Mr.—"</p> + +<p>"O Hettie, I promise with all my heart, and you need have no fear of +any Mr. Right or Mr. Wrong either. I shall have Miss Carmichael, and +Pearl will be near. I want nothing else."</p> + +<p>Hester went to the door, and called,—"Miss Carmichael!"</p> + +<p>"Is the matter settled?" asked Miss Carmichael, coming in. "Will you be +my child, Beryl?"</p> + +<p>Beryl's answer was a wordless clasp of exceeding happiness.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know what the long talk has been about," said Miss +Carmichael. "My own fashion of settling the question would have been +much simpler, I suspect. But Hettie wished to have the management in +her own hands."</p> + +<p>"I am quite satisfied with the result," said Hester.</p> + +<p>"I can't believe it yet," Beryl said, looking dazed, and she repeated +again: "It seems much too good to be true."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand that expression," said Miss Carmichael. "I never +found yet that any joy in life was 'too good' to be my Father's will +for me. 'He giveth us richly all things to enjoy.' And when He gives +you of the best, children, 'take, and be thankful.'"</p> + +<p>Then turning to Hester,—</p> + +<p>"Now your heart is at rest about Beryl and me, what of your own plans, +my Emerald? When is it to be?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how to leave you," Hester said, with full eyes. "And yet—"</p> + +<p>"How soon?" repeated Miss Carmichael softly. "Will he come home?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I ought to ask it."</p> + +<p>"And you are willing to undertake the voyage alone—for his sake?"</p> + +<p>"If it is right, I can," said Hester meekly. "He could not come home +for many months, and he seems so sad and depressed."</p> + +<p>"I must settle the matter for you," said Miss Carmichael, touching +Hester's brow lovingly. "A few more weeks only! But the separation is +not for long, after all. We shall be together—by and by."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Some minutes later, she said, "I have had a visitor in the other room, +while you two were chatting so busily."</p> + +<p>"Who was it?" asked Hester.</p> + +<p>"Miss Crosbie. She gave me a piece of news. Mrs. Fenwick's house is let +for three years."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Di's house!" exclaimed Beryl.</p> + +<p>"The matter has been suddenly arranged. Miss Crosbie seems uneasy about +her sister. Mrs. Fenwick writes to her, as if relieved to be quit of +Hurst for the present. But Miss Crosbie thinks she will wish to return +long before the three years are over."</p> + +<p>"And Miss Crosbie is not going to travel with Mrs. Fenwick?" asked +Hester.</p> + +<p>"I imagine not. She speaks of remaining at Mr. Crosbie's."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_35">CHAPTER XXXV.</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>DIANA'S RETURN.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THREE years slipped by, showing the average amount of development in +people and in people's lives.</p> + +<p>They were happy years to Beryl. She found ceaseless delight in devoting +herself to Miss Carmichael, and a full return of love and care was +bestowed upon her. Beryl had not the unhappy temperament which must +needs make worries where none exist, and she enjoyed to the full her +placid life, which yet was thoroughly busy, laid out for others. +Miss Carmichael never could rest long without working for those who +needed; and though her strength did not permit so much exertion as +her will prompted, she found the healthy and vigor Beryl a valuable +adjunct. The two were soon in a round of occupations, which yet Miss +Carmichael never permitted, either for herself or for Beryl, to become +a disorderly rush after more than could be duly accomplished. And Beryl +never forgot that her first duty was to Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>They heard from Hester often. She too was happy in her distant home, +with a husband who seemed to satisfy her utmost desires. They had one +little child, and Miss Carmichael sometimes said, with glistening eyes, +that she felt quite "grandmotherly" towards the tiny stranger.</p> + +<p>Pearl had two children. They were twins, just two years old, and an +unspeakable delight to herself and Escott, not to speak of Millicent +and old Mr. Crosbie. The latter was never weary of petting them, +crowing at them, and winning peals of infant laughter. Pearl had wished +to name them "Millicent and Marian," or "Beryl and Pearl;" but somebody +suggested "Jacinth and Amethyst," and Pearl seized on the idea.</p> + +<p>"I want them to be His jewels," she had whispered to Beryl. "O yes, let +it be Jacinth and Amethyst."</p> + +<p>Amethyst was a dainty little fairy, her mother in miniature; while +Jacinth was a square stolid child, with a sturdy and resolute will. If +Pearl clung more to one than to the other, that one was Jacinth.</p> + +<p>"Everybody will take to Amethyst," she said; "but this little darling +isn't pretty, and she will want a double portion of mother's love."</p> + +<p>So strong was this feeling that Beryl sometimes feared little Amethyst +would be a loser in consequence.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Diana Fenwick had never yet returned to Hurst. The letting of her house +for three years seemed to have decided the matter. After a few months +of uncertain wandering from place to place, she had settled into some +Brighton lodgings, "to be within easy distance of London," she said. +She wrote less and less often as time went on, shorter and shorter +letters, in more and more illegible handwriting. Marian went at length +to see her, uninvited, and brought back a melancholy report of failing +health and eyesight. But Diana had refused to allow her sister to share +her temporary home, and Marian lived still at Mr. Crosbie's.</p> + +<p>That went on for a while. At length, somewhat more than a year after +Diana's departure from Hurst, there came a telegram—no letter having +been received during many previous weeks—begging Marian to go "at once."</p> + +<p>Marian obeyed without hesitation, self-forgetting as usual, and a day +or two later, she sent home a sad tale. Pearson, unable any longer to +put up with her mistress's irritable temper, had given warning and +left suddenly, forfeiting nearly a month's wages. Diana had found +no confidential servant to take Pearson's place. She was alone in +lodgings, with only an untidy young lodging-house girl to attend to +her, suffering from much nervous excitement, and with eyesight rapidly +failing.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Diana did not know me when I came into the room," Marian wrote, "and +she is unable to feed herself properly. I am afraid, from what the +doctor says, that it is an affection of the optic nerve, more hopeless +than cataract would have been. She is fearfully depressed, and has +violent fits of crying; but now that I am here, I am sure she finds my +presence a relief. She said to me this morning, 'You won't leave me, +Marian!'<br> +<br> + "And when I said, 'Not till you drive me away,'—she said pitifully, +'Oh, I am past all that now—a poor helpless creature, fit for nothing.'<br> +<br> + "I wish I could get her back to Hurst, but she seems to turn from the +idea with positive horror. I suppose it is a dread of being seen and +pitied by old friends. She does not yet mention Pearl or Beryl, and my +one wish is to keep her calm. Poor Di! You and I must pray for her, +Millie. It is a sorrowful story. Sometimes I think this may be the way +in which God is leading her to Himself. But I dare not yet say a word +to her on religious topics. She goes into hysterics immediately, if I +attempt it. Well, my work is cut out for the present. Better so, for +you really have not room for me under your roof."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>For nearly two years thereafter Marian never came to Hurst. Diana +refused to return, and Marian could not leave her.</p> + +<p>Then the three years were at an end, and Marian electrified the home +circle by quietly writing,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Di's house will be free in a week, and we are coming to live there +again. I thought she would never be willing, but she seems suddenly to +have taken to the idea. Poor dear! She has been so much more patient +and easy-tempered lately. I hope it will last."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>The tenants went out, and painters and paperers came in. And a month +later, the day being fixed, Marian and Diana arrived.</p> + +<p>No one was permitted to meet them at the station, or allowed to welcome +them home. The very hour of their arrival remained unknown, by Diana's +wish. Miss Carmichael and Beryl happened, however, to be writing +letters at that hour, in the pleasant bow-window opposite. They saw the +fly drive up, and Marian Crosbie descend, and then they saw her help +a slight stooping figure to descend likewise, and to pass slowly up +the pathway into the house. The faltering uncertain movements of one +sister, and the carefully-guiding hand of the other, told their own +tale.</p> + +<p>Beryl uttered a startled "Oh!"</p> + +<p>"Poor thing!" said Miss Carmichael.</p> + +<p>"She can't see to go alone," gasped Beryl. "Oh, poor Aunt Di!"</p> + +<p>"I did not imagine it was quite so bad."</p> + +<p>"O no—Pearl doesn't know it, or she would have told me. O how dreadful!"</p> + +<p>Beryl could write no more. She tore sheet after sheet across, then gave +up the attempt in despair, went upstairs to her own room, and stood +looking across at the other house, with strangely mingled feelings. +It had been her home, and, after all, she owed Mrs. Fenwick much. +Beryl had never loved Mrs. Fenwick greatly, never one twentieth part +as much as she loved Miss Carmichael. And life in her present abode +was sunshine indeed, compared with her past life over the way. Yet her +heart ached keenly for the poor little widow.</p> + +<p>"Beryl, would you like to ask after Mrs. Fenwick this evening?" asked +Miss Carmichael, when she reappeared.</p> + +<p>Beryl looked uncertain. "Do you think I might? Would Aunt Di mind?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot be sure; but I should advise you not to let any attention on +your part be lacking. You need not even propose to go in. Stay,—you +shall take a few flowers from the greenhouse, and send them in, with +your love and my kind regards."</p> + +<p>Beryl looked her gratitude. Miss Carmichael walked into the greenhouse, +and culled a bouquet of sweet-scented blossoms, putting them gracefully +together. Beryl waited a while longer, till the first stir of arrival +should subside. And then she went, almost trembling with a species of +nervousness to which she was not commonly subject.</p> + +<p>Not the servant but Marian opened the door. "I saw you from the +window," she said. "How do you do, Beryl? Come in and see Diana."</p> + +<p>"Will she like it?" asked Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I told her it was you, and she asked me to bring you. This way."</p> + +<p>Beryl followed Marian into the drawing-room, where, at the further end, +a silent figure sat dejectedly in an arm-chair. Diana scarcely stirred. +There was a slight turn of her head in the direction of the door, but +she neither lifted her downcast eyes nor spoke a word.</p> + +<p>"Go to her," Marian said softly.</p> + +<p>And Beryl went forward.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Di, won't you give me a kiss?"</p> + +<p>Diana shook from head to foot. She put both arms round Beryl, and held +her in a passionate clasp.</p> + +<p>Beryl tried to say something, and found herself sobbing instead.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Beryl. There must be no tears," said Marian quietly. "I +dare say you can stay for a few minutes' chat, while I go upstairs to +unpack."</p> + +<p>She passed away, leaving the two alone, still clinging tightly the one +to the other.</p> + +<p>"Poor Aunt Di! Poor, poor Aunt Di!" Beryl whispered once or twice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if only I had not done it! I have wanted you so terribly!"</p> + +<p>The words were broken, but Beryl understood. Diana presently loosened +her clasp, and leant back.</p> + +<p>"I can't see you, Beryl. I am almost blind," she said mournfully. +"There is only the faintest glimmer of light sometimes, and that is +going."</p> + +<p>Beryl pressed her hands silently, not venturing to speak.</p> + +<p>"I shall never see you again. And I shall never see Pearl again—my +Pearl's sweet little face!" said Diana, with a tearless wail in her +voice. "I wouldn't while I could, and now I can't—never, never more."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps by and by it will get better, Aunt Di."</p> + +<p>"No, never; there is no hope at all. I shall never be able to see +again. And I drove you both away. I might have had you still, and been +so happy."</p> + +<p>"But Pearl is so happy now," said Beryl, "and so fond of Escott; and +she has such darling children. And Pearl is sweeter as a mother than +she ever was before. I suppose it is because she forgets herself in the +twins and in Escott. When you see—I mean, when you are with them all, +you will not wish any of that to be different."</p> + +<p>"Will Pearl come to me? Isn't she vexed still?"</p> + +<p>"O no, indeed. Why, she has written to you, Aunt Di."</p> + +<p>"There never is anything in Pearl's letters. Will she really care to +see me?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed she will—very very often, and so shall I. We shall take care, +between us all, never to let you feel lonely. Miss Carmichael and I are +so close, that we can run in at any time."</p> + +<p>"I shall like that," Diana said. "Marian is very good, and does +everything for me, but still we never did suit, and we never shall. She +tries me, and I try her. But she is very patient, and I am struggling +to be patient too. I think I am beginning to see things differently, +and I don't want to go on as I have done. If only all were not so +terribly dark, inside and out too."</p> + +<p>"The light will come to you by and by, I am quite sure," said Beryl +thoughtfully. "The better kind of light, I mean."</p> + +<p>Diana shook her head hopelessly. "And you are living with Miss +Carmichael," she said, as if to turn the subject. "You have a nice home +there—too nice for you to wish ever to leave it?"</p> + +<p>"O yes, indeed. Miss Carmichael is just like a mother to me," said +Beryl hurriedly. "And I promised Hester faithfully, before she went +away, that I would never leave Miss Carmichael of my own free will. But +indeed I don't forget all that I owe you. I want to see a great deal of +you now, if you will let me."</p> + +<p>"You will all grow tired of it soon," Diana answered wearily.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The depressed mood continued on the morrow, and Marian told Beryl that +she rarely rose above it even for an hour. She was evidently eager for +an interview with Pearl, and Beryl went to beg Pearl to call quickly.</p> + +<p>"I shall go at once, and take the twins with me," Pearl said.</p> + +<p>She soon presented herself in Diana's drawing-room—a lovely picture of +young motherhood, slight and girlish still, with her pearl-white skin +and brilliant colour, but thinking nothing about her own appearance in +the delight of showing off her tiny pets.</p> + +<p>Diana could not see the picture in its prettiness. She stood up, shaken +and tremulous, gazing into the darkness with her poor eyes, vainly +seeking to catch a glimpse of what she knew to lie before her.</p> + +<p>Pearl did not intend to have any agitating scene. She came quickly +forward, kissed Diana with much affection, and then placed the little +hands of Amethyst and Jacinth between Diana's.</p> + +<p>"Kiss Aunt Di, darlings," she said brightly. "Auntie Di is a very dear +kind auntie of mamma's, and Amethyst and Jacinth have to love her a +great deal. Why, Aunt Di, they ought almost to call you 'grannie,' only +it would be rather too absurd. This is Amethyst, and this is Jacinth. +Amethyst is like me, and Jacinth is thought rather like Beryl."</p> + +<p>"I can't see them," Diana's trembling lips said. "I can't see 'you,' +Pearl."</p> + +<p>Pearl put her arms round Diana, and placed her sitting in the chair.</p> + +<p>"There,—that is better than standing," she said. "You won't feel it all +so much another day, Aunt Di. Just at first of course it seems so very +trying. But Beryl and I mean to be always in and out, auntie. And these +little pets are to be yours too. When I want to get them out of my way, +I shall just send them to you for an hour. They have plenty to say for +themselves, I assure you, only they are shy just at first. Let me put +Amethyst on your lap for a moment,—there—is she too heavy?"</p> + +<p>Diana hugged the little one, and really seemed comforted.</p> + +<p>Pearl stayed long, chatting, kissing Diana from time to time, and +showing off her children's pretty ways. No explanations or apologies +took place.</p> + +<p>When at length they parted, Pearl's eyes were full, and she went home +to break down into a hearty fit of crying over "Poor Aunt Di! So +dreadfully changed!"</p> + +<p>But the interview had a precisely opposite effect upon Diana, leaving +her in brighter spirits than during many past months.</p> + +<p>"They are sweet little children," she said to her next visitor, Miss +Carmichael. "And Pearl seems so happy. I don't think one can regret +things being as they are. Except 'some' things—if they had but been +different!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose there are many steps in life which we would all retrace if +we could," said Miss Carmichael; "but a step once taken can never be +untaken. It is better to leave past mistakes alone, and to press on, +clinging more closely to the Master's Hand."</p> + +<p>"Beryl must be such a comfort to you," said Diana sadly. "I threw that +comfort away."</p> + +<p>"Yes,—and I wondered at you," said Miss Carmichael gently. "But the +child is happy now. She sings over her work like a bird, morning, noon, +and night."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78471 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78471-h/images/image001.jpg b/78471-h/images/image001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..25ae328 --- /dev/null +++ b/78471-h/images/image001.jpg diff --git a/78471-h/images/image002.jpg b/78471-h/images/image002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..24d9c86 --- /dev/null +++ b/78471-h/images/image002.jpg diff --git a/78471-h/images/image003.jpg b/78471-h/images/image003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e01ba7 --- /dev/null +++ b/78471-h/images/image003.jpg diff --git a/78471-h/images/image004.jpg b/78471-h/images/image004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..93b7bec --- /dev/null +++ b/78471-h/images/image004.jpg diff --git a/78471-h/images/image005.jpg b/78471-h/images/image005.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac44111 --- /dev/null +++ b/78471-h/images/image005.jpg diff --git a/78471-h/images/image006.jpg b/78471-h/images/image006.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..02ccc4f --- /dev/null +++ b/78471-h/images/image006.jpg diff --git a/78471-h/images/image007.jpg b/78471-h/images/image007.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..eefb7ed --- /dev/null +++ b/78471-h/images/image007.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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