Turquoise and Ruby. Meade L. T.

you feel within you, even for a minute or two, the true spirit of Helen of Troy?” said Mrs Hazlitt, then – “that divine woman who turned all men’s hearts?”

      Penelope fidgeted and sighed. Mrs Hazlitt returned to the bower. She sat down; she was still holding Penelope’s hand, but was unconscious that she was doing so.

      “I will speak quite freely to you, girls,” she said. “I should particularly like to present ‘A Dream of Fair Women’ to our audience on the eighth. There is nothing else that would please me quite so well. But I would rather it were not presented at all than that it were presented unworthily. The principal figure, and the most important, is that of Helen of Troy. The candidate who presents herself for the part has neither sufficient height nor beauty to undertake it. But what you say, Susanna, is quite true – that a great deal can be done by external aids, and, although I dislike artificial aids to beauty, yet on the stage they are necessary. We shall have our stage and our audience. Perhaps, Penelope, if you will come to me to-morrow, and will allow me to experiment a little on your face and figure, and put you into a suitable dress, I may be able to decide whether it will be worth while to go on with these tableaux. More I cannot say. I had intended to propose other tableaux, but, as you have appeared on the scene and offered yourself most unexpectedly, I will give you a chance. Girls, what do you say?”

      “We can only say that we are delighted!” replied all four in a breath.

      Mrs Hazlitt immediately afterwards left the arbour. Mary went up, and whispered in Penelope’s ears: “You mustn’t expect us to write for the money until it is decided whether you are to be Helen of Troy or not; but when once that is settled we will write immediately and get it for you.”

      “And,” said Penelope, trembling a little – “you will let me feel assured that this transaction never transpires – never gets beyond ourselves. I am a poor girl, and I should be ruined, if it did.”

      “We do it for ourselves as much as you. It would disgrace us as much as you,” said Mary. “Yes; I think you may rest quite assured.”

      Chapter Five

      Five Important Letters

      On the following evening five girls might have been seen all busily employed writing to their respective friends. These girls were the five who had been elected to take the parts of the heroines in Tennyson’s “Dream of Fair Women.” Penelope Carlton was writing to her sister Brenda. She had passed her test sufficiently well to induce Mrs Hazlitt to alter her resolution and to determine that “A Dream of Fair Women” should be represented on the little stage in the old Elizabethan garden of Hazlitt Chase.

      The girl was full of deficiencies, but she was also full of capabilities. There was, in short, a soul somewhere within her. Those light blue eyes of hers could at will darken and flash fire. Those insipid lips could curve into a smile which was almost dangerous. There was an extraordinary witchery about the face, which Mrs Hazlitt felt, although she had never noticed it before. She blamed herself for considering – at least for the time being – that in some respects Penelope Carlton outshone Honora Beverley. Honora, with her stately grace, her magnificent young physique, could never go down into the very depth of things as could this queer, this poor, this despised Penelope. Mrs Hazlitt decided to give in to the girls, and, that being decided, the necessary letters were written.

      Penelope wrote briefly to her sister, but with decision:

      “Dearest Brenda: Don’t ask me why I have done it, but accept the fact that your desires are accomplished. I have sunk very low for your sake, and I feel absolutely despicable; but the less you know of the why and the wherefore of my deed, the better. All that really concerns you is this: that within the next week or so you will receive twenty pounds which you can do exactly what you like with. You will owe this gift to your sister, who will have made herself – but no matter. You know, for I have told you already, how truly I love you. I don’t think it would be quite frank not to say that I don’t care for any one in all the world like you, Brenda. I am only sixteen, and you twenty-one – or is it twenty-two – and all my life I have adored you from the time when I used to cry because you were so beautiful and I so ugly, and from the time also when you used to take me in your arms and pet me, and kiss me and call me your own little girl.

      “It takes a great deal to get me to love anybody, but I do love you, Brenda, and I think I prove my love when I disgrace myself now in the school for your sake and do something which, if it were found out – but there – how nearly I trenched on ground which I must not touch in your presence; for if you knew, and if you were in the least worthy of what I think you, darling, you would not take the money. You would not, because you could not.

      “I hope whoever the man is who cares for you and who wants to see you in your fine dress and your pretty hat and ruffles, that he will not take the little affection you have for me away. But, even if that happens, my love for you is so true, and so very, very deep, that I think I would not change my purpose, even though I knew, by so doing, I should lose the little love you give me. For, Brenda, – I must say it now – I read you quite truly – you have got a lovely face and a beautiful manner and all people are attracted to you. But it is I – your sister – who have got the heart; and the one who has the heart suffers. I accept the position. I know quite well that no one will ever care for me in the way people will care for you; but so great is my love for you, that I am satisfied even to do what is wrong for your sake. It is all dreadful, but it can’t be helped.

      “Your affectionate sister, —

      “Penelope Carlton.”

      Having finished her letter, Penelope addressed it to: Miss Brenda Carlton, c/o Rev. Josiah Amberley, The Rectory, Harroway; and, leaving her room, she ran with it into the hall, where it was deposited in the post box in sufficient time to go out with the evening letters.

      The four girls who had promised to get the money for Penelope had been equally busy with their pens, and each had written the sort of letter which would assuredly bring back five pounds in its train. Cara Burt wrote briefly and decidedly. She wanted plenty of pocket money just now, and wouldn’t darling great-grand-dad supply her? and would he promise to keep it dark from grandfather and grandmother and father and mother and from every one else at home, and just let it be a secret between his own Cara and himself; and if he did this, would not she reward him by a special walk, and a special button-hole, which she would make for him on the day of the break-up?

      Cara knew her man to a nicety, and was assured of the dear little crisp five-pound note that arrived by return of post. Annie Leicester also wrote with calm assurance to her parents. She wanted a little extra money. She knew she had been a trifle extravagant with regard to chocolates and suchlike things. If she could have a five-pound note to see her safely to the end of term, it would put her into such excellent spirits that she could act Fair Rosamond to perfection. She wanted the money, and by return of post, and of course it would be forthcoming. Mary L’Estrange found more difficulty with her letter; for, although her people were rich, they were careful; but she managed to write such a letter as would make her mother deny herself a summer ruffle or some such luxury for the sake of supplying her little daughter with what that daughter considered necessary. Susanna was the only one who had any real difficulty in penning her letter.

      Now, Susanna’s people were much richer than the parents of any other girls in the school. They counted their money by tens of thousands; for Susanna’s father was, in his way, a sort of Rothschild and he was fond of saying that everything he touched turned into gold. But if what he touched turned to gold, he was very fond of that said metal and did not at all like to part with it, and Susanna knew that it would be perfectly useless to apply to her mother on the subject, for Mrs Salmi had always to go to her husband for every penny she spent. Great lady as she supposed herself to be, she was not favoured with a separate banking account; but her bills were paid off with loud protestations by her lord and master. Susanna, however, was perhaps more anxious than the others to take the part of Cleopatra. She felt that she could do the swarthy queen of Egypt full justice. Her blood tingled at the thought of what her appearance would be, decked in the jewels which her own mother would lend her for the occasion. How her eyes would flash! how striking would be her appearance! Not for twenty-five five-pound