 CHAPTER X PENUTHLON Emulating the example of the Mrs. Trogothon, PENUTHLON had put on its best dress to grace the occasion of the arrival of the visitors. As they drove from the little railway station, Lisbeth was of the opinion that she had never seen the sea so blue and cool and sparkling, the sand so silver-white, or the village so picturesque. The truth was, the sight of it quite subdued her, and invested her with one of her softest and most charitable moods. I did not know it was so pretty, she said. I believe we shall enjoy ourselves, Georgie. Georgie was enraptured. Everything pleased her. The sea, the beach, the sky, the quaint white cottages, the bare-legged children, the old Welsh women, in their steeple hats and woollen petticoats. The uphill streets of the village were delightful. The little bandbox of a railway station was incomparable. She had been rather pale and tired during the journey, but as soon as she set her feet upon the platform at PENUTHLON her pallor and fatigue disappeared. The fresh breeze from the sea tinged her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle, and she was in the best of good spirits. I never saw such a dear little place in my life, she said delightedly. Enjoy ourselves, Lisbeth! Why, as you know, I feel just as I used to when we were all children, and went to the seaside with Mamar and the nurses, and dug caves in the sand with wooden spades, and built forts, and looked for shells. I'm going to make friends with those little urchins on the beach to-morrow, and ask them to play with me. Behold the Trogothan household, a raid in all its modest splendour, when the carriage drove up to the garden gate. Behold the neatest of young handmaidens, brisk and blue-eyed, and the smallest of pages, standing ready to assist with the boxes, and admire the young ladies with an exceeding admiration. Behold also the three Mrs. Trogothan, in the trimmest of company-dresses, and in such a state of affectionate tremour and excitement that they kissed their dear Lisbeth on the tip of the nose by one consent, instead of bestowing their delighted caresses upon her lips. So very happy to see you, my love! said Miss Clarissa, squeezing Georgie's hand as she led the way into the parlour. Our dear Lisbeth's friend, I hope you're not tired, and that you left your mamma and papa quite well. Our dear Lisbeth is so tenderly attached to your mamma and papa, that if such a thing were possible we would be quite jealous. They are quite as much attached to her, I can assure you, answered Georgie in her pretty earnest way. Indeed, we all are, Miss Clarissa. Everybody is fond of Lisbeth. And thereby rendered her position as a favourite secure at once. Indeed, she found her way to the heart of the Spinster household in an incredibly short space of time. Miss Millicent and Miss Hetty and Miss Clarissa were charmed with her. Her pretty face and figure, her girlish gaiety, her readiness to admire and enjoy everything, were attractions enough to enchant any Spinster trio, even if she had not possessed that still greater charm of being Lisbeth's dearest friend. The two girls shared Lisbeth's old room together. A cool nest of a place with white draperies and quaint ornaments, and all the child Lisbeth's treasures of land and sea still kept in their original places. It looks exactly as it did when I went away with Mrs. Despard, said Lisbeth, glancing round with a sigh which meant she scarce knew what. She scarce knew what. I gathered that seaweed when I was fourteen, and I was always engaged in difficulties with the cooks, because I would bring in more shells than I wanted, and leave piles of them in the kitchen. Aunt Clarissa sent one woman away, because we had a row, and she said I was her imperant young minx, all as litter in the place with my rubbish. How the dear old souls did spoil me! If I had brought a whale into the drawing-room, they would have regretted, but never resented it. I had my own way, often enough, when I ought to have had my ears boxed. You must have been very happy in their loving you so, said Georgie, who had drawn a low wicker chair to the open window, and was enjoying the moonlight and the sea. You would have been, returned Lisbeth, drawing up chair number two, and you would have behaved yourself better than I did. I was an ill-conditioned young person, even in those days. They were both silent for a while after this. There was a lovely view from the window, and all was so still that neither cared to stir for a few moments. Then the thoughtfulness on Georgie's face attracted Lisbeth's attention. I should like to know, she said, what you are thinking about. The girl drew a positively ecstatic little sigh. I was thinking how sweet and quiet everything looked, she said innocently, and how much happier I am. Happier, exclaimed Lisbeth. When were you unhappy, Georgie? The surprise in her tone brought Georgie to a recognition of what her words had unconsciously implied. She found herself blushing, and wondering at her own simplicity. She had not meant to say so much. She could not comprehend why she should have said anything of that kind at all. It is strange enough to hear that you can be made happier than you always seem to be, said Lisbeth. You speak as if— And then her quick eye, taking in the girl's trepidation, she stopped short. You never had a trouble, Georgie, she added. In a voice very few of her friends would have known. It was so soft. No, said Georgie. Oh, no, Lisbeth. Not a trouble exactly. Not a trouble at all, indeed. Only— And suddenly she turned her bright, appealing eyes to Lisbeth's face. I don't know why I said it, she said. It was nothing real, Lisbeth, or else I am sure you would have known. But it—well, I might have had a trouble, and I was safe from it, and I am glad and thankful. And to Miss Crespini's surprise she bent forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. Lisbeth asked no questions. She was not fond of asking questions, and she was a young person of delicacy and tact when she was in an affectionate mood. She was too partial to Georgie to wish to force her into telling her little secrets. But a certain thought flashed through her mind as she sat with her eyes resting on the sea. She is the sort of girl, she said sharply to herself, who would be likely to have no trouble, but a love trouble. Who has been making love to her, or rather, who, among all her admirers, would be likely to touch her heart? But this mental problem was by no means easy to solve. There were so many men who admired Georgie Esmond, and such a large proportion of them were men whom any girl might have loved. It was one of Lisbeth's chief wonders that Georgie, who was so soft of heart and ready with affection, should have held her own so long against so agreeable a multitude of adorers. Certainly if she had lived through any little romance, she had kept her secret well. She did not look like a love-lorn young lady when she came down the next morning fresh and rosy, and prepared to explore Penathlan in all its fastness. It was exhilarating to see her, and the Mrs. Tragothan were delighted beyond bounds. She made a pilgrimage through half the up and down hill little streets in the village, and before dinner had managed to drag Lisbeth a mile along the shore against a stiff breeze which blew their long loose hair about and tinted their cheeks brilliantly. Lisbeth followed her, with an amused wonder at her enthusiasm mingled with discontent at her own indifference. It was she who ought to have been in raptures, and she was not in raptures at all. Had she no natural feeling, whatever, any other woman would have felt a sentimental tenderness for the place which had been her earliest home. They had found a comfortable nook behind a cluster of sheltering rocks, and were sitting on the sand when Lisbeth arrived at this stage of thought. The place was an old haunt of hers, and Hector and Struthers had often followed her there in their boy and girl days, and the sight of the familiar stretch of sea and sand irritated her somehow. She picked up a shell, and sent it skimming away towards the water with an impatient gesture. Georgie, she said, I should like to know what you see in Penathlan to please you so. Everything, said Georgie, and then somehow I seem to know it. I think its chief attraction is that you lived here so long. Lisbeth picked up another shell, and sent it skimming after the other. What a girl you are, she said. It is always your love and your heart that are touched. You are all heart. You love people, and you love everything that belongs to them, their homes, their belongings, their relations. It is not so with me. It never was. You are like what Hector and Struthers was when I first knew him. Bah! with a shrug of her shoulders! How fond the foolish fellow was of Aunt Hetty and Aunt Millicent and Aunt Clarissa! Her tongue had slipped just as Georgie's had done the night before. For the moment she forgot herself entirely, and only remembered that old sentimental affection of her boyish lover. That affection for her spinster relatives, which in the past had impressed her as being half-travelsome and half-absurd. Georgie turned to her, taking sudden courage. Lisbeth, she said. You never told me much about your acquaintance with Hector and Struthers. I wonder how it was, because you knew him very well it seems. I wish broke out Lisbeth almost angrily, that I had never known him at all. The faithful heart beating in the breast of the girl at her side leaped nervously. It was Lisbeth, said she to herself. It was Lisbeth. I wish repeated Lisbeth frowning at the sea, that I had never seen him. Why? Was Georgie quiet question? But because it was a bad thing for us both. In greater impatience than ever, Georgie looked up at her sadly. Why again? She ventured in her soft voice. She could not help it, but for a moment Lisbeth did not answer. She had risen and stood leaning against the rock, a queer look on her face, a queer darkening in her eyes at length. She broke into a little hard laugh, as if she meant to defy herself to be emotional. How horror-stricken you would be if I were to tell you why. She said, does that mean Georgie put it to her that you were unkind to him? It means, was her strangely reply, it means that it was I who ruined his life forever. She met the confession fairly in spite of herself, and she was emotional, vehement. She could not stand this innocent Georgie and her beliefs any longer. She had been slowly approaching this mood for months, and now every inner and outer influence seemed to combine against her natural stubborn secretiveness. Perhaps Penelan, the sea, the shore, the sky, helped her to the end at any rate. She must tell the truth this once and hear what this innocent Georgie would say to it. I ruined his life for him, she repeated. I broke his faith, I believe that I am to blame for every evil change the last few years have wrote in him. I, myself, Lisbeth, do you hear Georgie? The face under Georgie's straw hat was rather pale, but it was not horror-stricken. You're too young, she faltered, to understand. Too young? echoed Lisbeth. I never was young in my life. I was born old, I was born a woman, and I was born cold and hard. That was it. If I had been like other girls, he would have touched my heart after he had touched my vanity, or he might even have touched my heart first. You won't have loved him with all your soul. Are you willing to hear the whole history, Georgie? Quite willing, only. And she raised her face with a bright, resolute, affectionate look. You cannot make me think harshly of you, so don't even try, Lisbeth. Lisbeth regarded her with an entirely new expression, which had, nevertheless, a shade of her old wonder in it. I really do not believe I cold, she said. You are very hard to deal with, at least I find it hard to deal with you. You are a new experience if there was just a little flavor of its sincerity of uncharitableness in you. If you would be false to your belief now, and then I should know what to do, but as it is, you are perplexing, notwithstanding here comes the story. She put her hands behind her, embracing herself against the rock, told it from beginning to end in her coolest, most daring way, even with a half deviant ear. If she had been telling someone else's story, she could not have been more caustic and unsparing, more determined to soften Noah's outline or smooth over anything. She said the girl Lisbeth before her listener, just as Lisbeth Crispiny at 17, had been. Selfish, careless, shallow, and deep at once. Restless and grateful, a half ripe coquette, who notwithstanding her crudeness, was yet far to ripe for her age. She pictured the honest boy's young fellow who had fallen victim to her immature fascination, simply because he was too guilless and romantic to see in any woman anything but a goddess. She described his sincerity, his unselfish willingness to bear her caprice and see no wrong in them. His laugh is a faction for everything and everyone who shared his love for her. His readiness to believe, his tardiness to doubt, and see her as she really was. The open-hearted faith which had made the awakening so much harder to bear. When it forced itself upon him at last, she left out the rest of Noah Perry Wong she had done him, and no small tyranny or indignity she had made him feel. She told the whole story, in fact, as she saw it now, not as she had seen in it that shallow, self-ruled girlhood, and when she had touched upon everything and ended with that last scene in the garden among Aunt Clarissa's roses, she stopped. And there was a silence. Georgie's eyelashes were wet and so were her cheeks, a tear or so stained her pink crafted. It was so sorrowful. Poor Hector again, and then, of course, poor Lisbeth. By her own showing, Lisbeth deserved no pity, but the warm young heart gave her pity enough and to spare. Something that had been wrong somewhere. Indeed, it seemed as if everything had been wrong, but poor Lisbeth. She was so fond of Lisbeth herself, and Mama was so fond of her, and the Mrs. Three-Garden. So many people were fond of Lisbeth. And then Lisbeth's voice started her. A new voice, tremulous, and as if her mood was a sore and restive one. You're crying, of course, Georgie. I knew you would. I have been crying. Pause enough to allow a struggle, and then, well, since you're crying, I suppose I might cry too. It is queer enough that I should cry, but, and to Georgie's amazement and trouble, Lisbeth put her hand up on rough rock and laid her face against it. Lisbeth cried the girl. Wait a moment, said Lisbeth. I don't know what has come over me. It is a new thing for me. I… I… It was a new thing indeed, and it did not last very long. When she raised her head and turned again, her eyelashes were wet too, and she was even pale. Ah, Lisbeth, said Georgie, pitting her. You are sorry. Lisbeth smiled faintly. I never was sorry before for anything I had done. Never in my life, she answered. I have had a theory that people should take care of themselves as I did, but now? Well, I suppose I am sorry for Hector and Struther, and perhaps little for myself. No one will over me such an unreasoning love again. Very few women are offered such a love once, but I always got more than my share of everything. It is my way. I suppose I was born under a lucky star. Oh, Georgie, what do you think of me now? Georgie got up and kissed her in a most earnest fashion. What? cried Lisbeth with a dubious smile. You can't be moral and improving and sanctimonious even now. Think what an elegant lecture you might read me. I have sometimes thought I was merely created to point a moral or adorn a tale to see how reckless I am. After all, you ought to be done on me, Georgie. It is your duty as a well-trained young woman of the period. Then, said Georgie, I can't do my duty. You are so different from other people. How can I pretend to understand what has made you do things that other people are not tempted to do? And then you know how fond I am of you, Lisbeth. You are a good, pure little soul, cried Lisbeth, her pale face flushing excitedly. And the world is a thousand times better for you being in it. I am better myself and heaven knows I need something to make me better. Here, let me take hold of your hand and let us go home. And as they turned homeward on the beach, hand in hand, like a couple of children, Georgie saw that there were tears in the inconsistent creature's eyes again. They did not say much upon the subject after this. That wise young woman, Miss Esmond, felt that it was a subject of far to delicate a nature to be lightly touched upon. It had been Lisbeth's secret so long that, even after this confidence, she should not help regarding it as Lisbeth's secret still. Perhaps she felt in private that there were certain little confidences on her own. But she would scarcely be willing, even for Lisbeth to river to, as if they were her own property. For instance, that accidental confession made in the bedroom on the first night they had spent in it together. How glad she had been that Lisbeth had let it pass, as if she had not noticed it very particularly, but though the subject was not discussed. Is it to be supposed that it was not brought to mind at all, but was buried in oblivion? Certainly not. While that thirst young woman, Miss Esmond, said little, she thought much and deeply. She had constantly before her a problem which she was very anxious to work out. Was it not possible that these two interesting beings might be brought to, might be induced to, well, not to put to vine a point upon it, to think better of each other and the unfortunate past and the world generally? Would it not be dreadful to think that so much poetic material had been lost, that these two who might have been so happy should drift entirely apart and leave their romance incomplete? As the most incestuous factory of novels? Probably having sensibly, even if with a little pang. Given up that bud of a romance of her own, the girl felt the need of some loving plot to occupy her mind. And if so, it was quite natural and very charming that she still turned to her friend. Hector would make his appearance one of these fine days, and then perhaps Penelan, and its all familiar scenes, would soften his heart as she had an idea they had softened Lisbeth. Surely old memories will touch him tenderly and make him more ready to forgive his injuries. In fact, Miss Georgie painted for herself some very pretty mental picture in which the figures of Lisbeth and her ex-lover were always the prominent features. Lisbeth in the thrusting place and sea breeze blowing her beautiful hair about and coloring her pale face that queer mist of tears in her mysterious eyes. Lisbeth in one of her soft moods making those strange, restive, unexpected speeches which were so fascinating because so un-look-forward and Hector and Truth are standing by and listening. Such interesting little scenes as these she imagined and having imagined them positively drew some consolation from their phantom existence. End of a confession. Chapter 12 of Miss Krispani. This is the LibriVox recording. All the LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Miss Krispani by Frances Hoxton-Bernet. A visitor. In the meantime, however, she made herself very agreeable and attractive to her hostesses and enjoyed Penelan very much in a girlish way. She explored the tiny village and the rude shore. She met friends with fishermen and their wives and sturdy children. She won admiration on every side by her pretty interest in everything appertaining to the Penelanites. She took long walks on the sands and broad home shells and seaweed and pebbles which such honest delight in any traveling rarity. As made Lisbeth look on and feel restless and the Mrs. Trigarthan grow young again unanitedly. I wish, my dear, said Miss Clarissa to Lisbeth, that you enjoyed yourself as much, but I am afraid you do not. I am afraid you find Penelan rather dull. I never found Penelan so pleasant in my life before, but, you know, I'm not like Georgie, said Lisbeth. Penelan is alright on Clarissa and I enjoy myself here more than I should anywhere else. Oh, I am glad to hear that you say that, my love. Miss Clarissa faltered. Sometimes, do you know, I have really fancied that she was not quite happy. Lisbeth got up from her chair and came to the window. Her incomprehensible eyes reaching far out to sea. Happy, she echoed, obscenely. Is anybody happy? What a conundrum to answer. As for me, I give it up. She gave up a good many things during these weeks at Penelan. She was wont to be fond of a certain school class of metaphysics, but somehow things of that order seemed to slip from her grasp. She was not so sure of herself as she had been, not so obscenely complacent. Indeed, she had never been so ill-satisfied and out of passions with Lisbeth Crispiny in her life. In the course of a week or so, Hector and Sturzov came as he had promised. One quiet afternoon, Miss Millicent, who was sitting at the window, looked out into the garden with a sudden expression of surprise. Sister Clarissa, she exclaimed. Miss Abman, there's a gentleman coming up a walk, a young gentleman and really a very handsome one. Do either of you know him? Dear May, his face seems very familiar. It can't be. Georgie ran to the window and the next minute was waving her kind little hand to the individual in question and smiling and nodding her head. You ought to know him, Mr. Garthen. She said, it is Mr. Hector and Struther. Oh, broke forth Miss Clarissa in some distress. And Lisbeth is here. I do hope she's her Millicent. He saw Lisbeth very often when she was at home, explained Georgie, feeling very guilty and extremely fearful of committing herself. I know Lisbeth did not like him very well at first, but he was one of Mrs. Desparte's favorite and he is a sort of cousin of mine. It was a great relief to the Mrs. Trigarthen, this piece of news. They remembered various unpleasant little episodes of the past too well, to have confronted serenely the re-responsibility of bringing their dear Lisbeth face to face with this young man again. Indeed, Miss Millicent had turned pale and Miss Clarissa had lost her breath at the mere thought of it. They had hardly recovered themselves when the visitor was handed into the room, but of course, what Miss Edmund said must be correct and under such circumstances how delightful it would be to welcome this genius and hero to Penelan once more. They had heard wondrous reports of his career from chance visitors. Even though the beloved Lisbeth had been so reticent, they had heard of his good fortune, his good looks, his talent, his popularity, and remembering the fair Herod Blue Eye young fellow who Lisbeth had not so persistently. They had wondered among themselves if all they heard could possibly be true. But here was the admirable Christian to speak for himself, and so change was his appearance, so imposing his air, so amiable his condescension, and that each gentle spencer owned in secret that really, after all, it seemed probable that rumor for once had not exaggerated. And it is not to be denied that Mr. Hector and Truther was shown to an advantage upon this occasion. On his way from the small band boss of a station, he had been reminded of many a little incident in that far distant past, which had somehow or other warmed his heart toward these good simple souls. They had been true and kind at least. They had never failed him from first to last. They had pitted and tried to comfort him when his fool's paradise had been so rudely broken into. He remembered how Miss Clarissa had stolen down into the garden, the last bitter night and finding him lying full-length faced downward upon the dewy grass among the roses had bent over him and put her teammate hand upon his shoulder and cried silently, as she tried to find words with which she could console him and still be loyal to her faithful affection for that wretched girl. He remembered too how fiercely he had answered her like a passionate young cup as he was, telling her to leave him alone and let him fight it out with himself and the devil, for he had had enough of woman. She had not been of ended. Good little Miss Clarissa, though she had been dreadfully shocked and troubled, she had cried more than ever and patted his sleeve and begged him to think of his dear mother and forgive, forgive ending by sobbing into her dainty handkerchief. So, when he entered the pretty parlor and saw this kind friend standing near Georgie, a trivial, tremulous and agitated at the sudden sight of him, everything but his memory of what a true generous little soul she was, slipped out of his mind and he actually blushed with pleasure. My dear Miss Clarissa, he said, and with a sudden frank boyishness, such as Georgie had never seen him give way to before, he put one strong young arm about her and kissed her with her cheek twice. My dear boy, said Miss Clarissa, a moment before she had been on the verge of making him her best bow and calling him Mr. Unstruther, how pleasant it is to see you, how pleasant it is! The brightest of sweet smiles dimpled Miss Georgie's mouth. How good and honest and affected he was! After all, how kind at heart! How she wished that Lisbon would have been seen him just then! Indeed, she found it necessary to hold herself very bravely in check for a moment or so. For fear she should be tempted to give way to any weak impulse of feeling, he seemed so worthy to be admired and loved. But Lisbon was not in the house, no one knew where she was exactly. Lately she had indulged in the habit of taking even longer walks than Georgie's and often lonely ones. Sometimes in the morning or afternoon they would miss her for an hour or so and she would come back rather vague and well-blown about and at such time it always appeared that she had been for a walk. For the good of my health, she once said that to Georgie, I find it benefits me physically and morally. Penelence is a queer place and it's productive of queer effects upon people. Among other things Georgie discovered that she too sometimes talked to the children who played upon the sands and that she had her favorite to whom she had once or twice even condescended to tell certain tales of favorites and mermaids. When Georgie mentioned this discovery, she laughed and colored as if half a shame of herself and explained the matter in her usual style. Well, the fact is, she said, I do it as a sort of penance when I was a girl and lived here. The children were afraid of me and it was no wonder I used to concoct horrible eerie tales with the devil fish to friend them and I rather enjoy my reputation as a sort of hop goblin creature. Who had an uncanny knowledge of the terrors of the sea? Well, some of them used to delight me by screaming and running away when they caught sight of me and now I have arrived at years of discretion and I feel as if I ought to do something to retrieve myself with this second generation. Those poor little limbs, their lives are not too easy. She was away indulging in one of these walks this afternoon. We could find her somewhere on the shore, I know, said Georgie in answer to Ms. Stregarth and Inquirely. Well, she's fun of the shore and always goes there for her stroll. If Hector is equal to a sea breeze and a mile or so of sand after his journey, he might even go in search of her. And it having been proved satisfactorily that Hector was not only equal to such exertion but anxious to enjoy it. After an hour chat with Ms. Millicent and Ms. Clarissa and Ms. Hattie, Georgie ran upstairs for her hack and returning to the parlor, took charge of the expedition. It really seemed one of the peculiarities of Penelan to be on its good behavior at opportune times. It is bluer than ever today, said Georgie, nodding at her friend the sea as they stroll toward it. And oh, the crests of the little waves are wider and the seagulls are in a better temper than they usually are and more satisfied with their lot. She had never looked brighter or more attractive herself and this was her companion's mental comment. The many resplendent young Swains who admired Ms. Georgie as she appeared in London ballrooms would surely have become more hopelessly enamored than ever. Had they seen her with the Penelan roses on her cheeks and the sparkle of the sunlit sea in her eyes. Where is there another creature like her? said Hector and Struther to himself. Where is there another creature as fresh, as good, as natural, and unspotted? End of a visitor. Chapter 13 of Ms. Krispani. This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information on the volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Ms. Krispani by Francis Hoxton Burnett. A ghost. He had thought of her very often of late and indeed had been quite eager to make his visit to Penelan for no other reason, he saw himself, then because he should see her there and hear her sweet young voice again. And now he had come and she had welcomed him and they were walking over the sand side by side and yet was it possible that he felt restless and dissatisfied with his own emotion? Was it possible that the rapture he had tried to imagine Unden was not so rapturous here in Penelan? Could it be that after all he was still only admiring her affectionately in a brotherly way as he had always done? admiring and referencing her gently as the dearest, prettiest, truest girl he had ever known? Long ago, when at the time of that old folly, he remembered a certain, tremulous bliss he had experienced when he had been permitted to spend an hour with the beloved object. He remembered the absolute pangs of joy with which one's glance from certain great cruel dark eyes had filled him. He remembered how the sound of a girl's voice had possessed the power to set every drop of blood in his veins beating. He was as calm as ever he had been in his life as he strolled on which Georgie Esmond. He could meet her bright eyes without even the poor mockery of a tremor. He had felt nothing but calm pleasure even when he grabs her soft hand in greeting. Would it always be thus? Was it best that it should be so? Perhaps, and yet, in the depth of his heart lay a strange yearning for just one touch of the old delirium, just one pang of the old bitter sweet pain. There! exclaimed Georgie, ending his reverie for him. There she is, standing on the rocks! Don't you see the dark blue ribbon flowering? It was curious enough that his heart should give such starlit bound when his eyes fell upon the place to which Georgie directed his attention. But then again, perhaps, it was no wonder considering how familiar the scene before him was. Years ago he had been one to come to this very spot and find a slight figure standing in that very nook of rocks, a slight girl's figure clad in a close fitting suit of a sailor blue, a cloud of brown about hair falling to the waist and dark blue ribbons fluttering from a rough and brady little sailor hat of straw. And there was the very figure and the very accompaniment that dressed the abandoned toes about hair, the fluttering ribbon, the sea, the sky, the shore. He was so silent for a moment that Georgie spoke to him again after a quick glance at his changed expression. Don't you see that it is Lisbeth? She said, laughing. She is very quiet but she is alive nevertheless. We saw all reach her in a minute. She is watching the girls, I think. I thought we should find her here. This is our favorite resting place. Lisbeth was affinitely either watching something or in a very thoughtful mood. She did not move or even appear to be conscious of any approaching presence until Georgie called to her. Lisbeth! Lisbeth! And then she looked around with a start. What? she said. Is it you two? How you startled me! You came like ghosts and Mr. Unstruther! Glancing at Hector. Looks like one! He is so pale! I have seen the ghosts, was his reply. Well, I am glad to hear it, said Lisbeth coolly. Ghosts make a place interesting. She is so like herself, so self-possessed and holy Lisbeth like that she awakens him completely from the sword of supper into which he had for a moment fallen. She holds out her hand for him to shake and favors him with an unmoved, not entusiastic smile. She is polite and reasonably hospitable in her greeting, but she does not seem to be overwhelmed with the power of her emotions. Sit down, she says, and let us rest a while. We have plenty of time to reach home before dinner, and if we hadn't it would not matter much. My aunts are used to being kept waiting. We are too amiable to be iron-hearted about rules. So they sit down and then, despite the reality of her manner, Unstruther finds himself in a dream again. As Lisbeth talks, her voice carries him back to the past. Unconsciously, she has fallen into an attitude which is a familiar as all the rest. Her hands folded on her knees, her face turned seaword, the scent of the seas in the air, the sound of its murmurs in his ears. The color on the usual clear pale cheek is the color he used to admire with such loverlike extravagance, a purping, thin, bright, and rare. She seems to have gone back to her seventeen years, and he has gone back with her. When at last they rise to return, he is wandering in this dream still, and he is very silent as they walk home. As they enter the garden gate, they see Miss Clarissa standing at the window watching for them, just as she had used to do to Lisbeth's frequent irritation in the olden days, and Lisbeth, causing at the gate, gathered a large red rose. The rose are in bloom, she said. Just as they were when I went away with Mrs. Desport, I could almost persuade myself that I had never been away at all. That velvet-leaved red rose was placed carelessly in her hair, when she came downstairs after dressing for dinner, and its heavy fragrance floated about her. She wore one of her prettiest dresses, looked her best, and was in a good humor, and accordingly, the Mrs. Triggerthon were restored to a perfect peace of mind, and rendered happy. It was plain they thought that Miss Asman had been right, and there was no need for fear how the Spincers trio enjoyed themselves that evening to be sure. You used to sing some favorite pretty song for us, my love, said Miss Clarissa. I wonder if you remember the one Hector was so fond of, something very sweet about drinking to somebody with your eyes, and he would not ask for wine. I really forget the rest. Lisbeth, who was turning over a pile of her old music, looked up and untruth her with a civil wicked smile. Did I sing, drink to me only? she said. And was it a favorite of yours? I wonder if it is here, how nice it on Clarissa should remind us of it. She drew out the yellow old sheet from under the rest of the music in a minute more, her smile not without a touch of venomous amusement, how she had loved it in the few years ago. I wonder if I could sing it? she said, and prompted by some daring demon, she sat down at the piano and sang it from beginning to end. But by the time she had struck the last chord, her mood changed. She got up with a little frown, and she did not look at untruth her at all. She said, what nonsense it is! And she pulls the poor old faded sheet impassionately aside, and stuther moved a step forward and laid his hand upon it. Will you give it to me? He asked with a suppressed force in his manner, quite new. Why? she demanded indifferently. For a whim's sake, he answered. There is no accounting for taste, perhaps I am a fancy that I should like to learn it. She raised her eyebrows and gave her shoulders a puzzled little shrug. You are welcome to it? she commented. It is not an article of value. Thanks. Rather sardonicly, and he folded the sheet and slipped it into his pocket. Their life at Pennyland was scarcely exciting, but not withstanding this. They found it by no means unenjoyable, even now, on the first week also had accustomed them to it. They took long stretches of walks. They sunned themselves on the stands. They sailed and rowed and read and studied each other in secret. Georgie, who studied Lisbeth and stuther by turns, found that she made more progress with the Ludenda former. Lisbeth, never easy to read, was even more incomprehensible than usual. She shared all their amusements, and was prolific in plans to add to them, but her manner toward her ex-adover was merrily resonably civil and hospitable, and certainly did not encourage common. To her friend, it was a manner simply inscrutable. Can she care at all? Wondered Georgie. She does not look as if she had ever been sorry in her life, and yet she cried that day. With and stuther it was different. He could not pursue the even tenor of his way without feeling sometimes a sting. At first he controlled himself pretty well and held his own against circumstances, even almost calmly. Then the stings came only at rare intervals, but afterward he experienced them more frequently. He was not so careless after all, and he found it more difficult to conceal his restlessness when some old memory rushed upon him with sudden force. Such memories began to bring bitter, rebellious moods with them, and once or twice such moods revealed themselves in bitter speeches. Sometimes he was silent and half gloomy, sometimes reclassly gay, but at all times he held to Georgie as his safeguard. Whatever his mood might be, he drew comfort from her presence. She gave him a sense of security that kind little hand of hers held him back from many and indiscretion. Surely that day was throwing near when he could open his heart to her and asked her to let the kind young hand be his safeguard forever. He was sorely tempted many a day, but somehow it always ended in not yet, not quite yet. But his tender admiration for her showed itself so indisguisedly in every action that the Mrs. Trigothan looked undelighted. I am sure that there is an understanding between them. Observe Miss Millicent. Miss Hedy shook her head in a comfortable, approving fashion. Ah yes indeed, she said. One can easily see that. What do you think my dear? This was to Lisbeth, who was sitting reading. Lisbeth shot her book suddenly and getting up came to the window. What is it you're saying? She demanded in the manner of one who had just awakened from a sleep or a drowsy reverie. I don't think I heard you. Well we were speaking, said Miss Millicent, of our young friends in the garden. Sister Hedy thinks with me that Hector is very fond of Miss Esmond. End of a ghost. Chapter 14 of Miss Christmas. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or a volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Miss Christmas by Frances Hoxton Burnett. It might have been very sweet. Lisbeth looked out into the garden where the two stood together. The Georgie blushing and smiling. As fresh and flower-like herself as any of Miss Clarisse's many blossoms. Hector talking to her eagerly. His eyes full of pleasure in her beauty and youth. Fawn of her? She said abstractedly. Who is not fond of her? But suggested Miss Hedy. We mean Fawn of her in a different way. She had laid her hand on Lisbeth's shoulder and as she spoke, she thought she felt a slight start but the girl's voice was steady enough when she spoke the next minute. Oh! She said, laughing a little. You mean that he is in love with her? Well I have no doubt you're right though. Though I had scarcely thought of that, men are always in love with somebody and if he is in love with Georgie, it does him great credit. I did not think he had a good taste. But the fact was that the idea was something like a new light dawning upon her. Actually, she had been so blind as not to think of this and it had been before her eyes day after day. You have been an idiot. Was her unceremonious mental comment upon her own stupidity? You have thought so much of yourself that you have seen nothing. It is Hector and Struther who has touched her heart. She doubted either herself or him when she was not so happy and this is the end of it. The end of it. Good! Perhaps she was relieved and felt more comfortable for she had never been more amusing and full of spirit than she had appeared when she joined the couple in the garden. The twilight had been falling when she left the house and when the soft dust came on, they still loitered in the garden. The air was warm and balmy. Miss Clarissa's flowerbed breathed forth perfume. The murmur of the waves upon the beach crept up to them. The moon rose in the sky, silent, watchful, and silver clear. Who would care to go back to earth and parlors? Said Georgie. This is Arcadia. Silent, adored and sweet. Let us stay, Lizbeth. So they sauntered here and there until they were tired and then they found a resting place under a labyrinthum tree and Struther flinging himself upon the grass lay at full length. His hand clasped under his head watching Lizbeth in nearly stirred bitterness and discontent. Discontent? What discontent it was? What bitterness! Tonight it raged its climax. Was he a man indeed or had he gone back to boyhood and to that old folly upon which his youth had been wrecked? Moonlight was very becoming to Lizbeth. It gave her a colorless face with the white of a lily leaf and her great eyes and new depth and shadow. She looked her best just now. She had the habit of looking her best at all in opportune and dangerous signs. Georgie, leaning in a luxury of quiet dreaming against the trunk of the labyrinthum, broke in upon his mental planes by speaking to her friends. Sing, Lizbeth! She said, you'll hook as if you were in the singing mood. Lizbeth smiled, a faint smile not unlike moonlight. She was in the singing mood, but she was in a fantastic half-millanqually mood too. Perhaps this was why she chose a rather melancholy song. She folded her hands upon her knees in that favorite fashion of hers. The fashions and struther remembered so well and began. All I had to give, I gave goodbye. Yet love lies silent in the grave and that I lose which moves I crave. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Nay, turn your burning eyes away, goodbye. It comes to this, the spirit day that you and I can only say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. The restless spirit wins the past goodbye. The golden days are sparse so fast, the golden days too bright to last, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Fairest truths, blooms better day, goodbye. The fairest spring must end with me, a new night can only say goodbye, goodbye. Lizbeth cried Georgie when she stopped. What a sad thing! I never heard you sing it before! Answered Lizbeth, I don't think anybody ever heard me sing it before. It is an imitation of a little German song I have heard or read somewhere. I can't remember where indeed. I can't remember nothing but that the refrain of goodbye haunted me and the words I have just sung grew out of it. And struther said nothing. He had watched her face as she sung and had almost lost control over himself as he was often on the verge of doing lately. What a consummate actress the girl was. The mournful little song had fallen from lips as sweetly and sadly as if both words and music welled from a tender, tried, soft heart. An innocent girl of 16 might have sung just such a song in just such a voice if she had lost her lover. Once he had been amazed by the fancy that the large mellow dark eyes were full of tears. He had been quiet enough before but after the song was ended he did not utter a word but lay silent upon the grass until their return to the house. Georgie rose first and then Lizbeth and himself but Georgie going on before them left them a moment together and as they crossed the lawn, Lizbeth paused and bending over a bed of lilies together a close wide bud sang in a low tone as if unconsciously the last verse. When she stood upright she found herself confronting a face so pale and agitated that she drew back a little. I wish to God, he broke out. I wish to God that you were a better woman. She looked up at him for a second with a smile cold and strange and bitter. I wish to God I was, she said and without another word turned from him and walked away flinging her close lilies upon the dewy grass. When the next day at noon they strolled out upon the lawn. The lilies were lying there, their waxing petals browning and withering in the hot sun. Georgie stopped and picked one up. What a pity, she said. They would have been so pretty today, I wondered who gathered them. Lizbeth regarded the poor little brown bud with a queer smile. I gathered them, she said. It does seem a pity too, almost cruel, doesn't it? But it is always the way with people. They gathered their buds first and sympathized with them afterward. Then she held out her hand. Give it to me, she said. And when Georgie handed the wilted thing to her, she took it, still half smiling in that queer way. Yes, she commented. It might have been very sweet today, it was useless cruelty to kill it so early. It will never be a flower now. You see Georgie in my ear? Dryly. How I pity my bud afterward. Draw a moral from me and never gather your flowers too soon. They might be very sweet tomorrow. She had not often talked in this slight satirical way of late, but Georgie observed that she began to fall into the habit again after this. She had odd moods and was not quite so frank as her young admirer liked to see her. And something else struck Georgie as peculiar too. She found herself left alone with Hector much oftener. In their walks and sails and saunteries in the garden, Lisbeth joining them became the exception instead of the rule as it had been heretofore. It seemed always by chance that she failed to accompany them, but it came to the same thing in the end. Georgie pondered over the matter in private with much anxiety. She really began to feel as if something strange had happened. Had there been a new Hector was more pitiful and moody than ever. Sometimes he looked so miserable and pale that she was a little frightened. When he told he was bitter and when he was silent, his silence was tragical. But he was as funner for as ever he had been. Nay, he even seemed funner of her and more anxious to be near her at all times. I am not a very amusing companion, Georgie my dear, he would say, but you will bear with me, I know. You are my hope and safeguard, Georgie. If you would not bear with me, who would? She often wondered at his ways of speaking of her as his safeguard. Indeed, he had not only called her his safeguard, but showed by his manner that he flew to her as a sword of refuge. Once when they had been sitting together in silence, for some time he suddenly seized her hand and kissed it passionately and desperately. Georgie, he said, If I were to come to you someday and ask you to save me from a great danger, would you try to do as I ask you? She did not draw her hand away, but let it rest in his as she answered him with a quiet, half sad smile. I would not refuse to try to help anyone in the world who was in danger. Even a person I was not fond of, she said, And you know, we have been friends all our lives, Hector. But if I were to ask a great gift of you, he persisted. A great gift of which I was not worthy, but which was the only thing that could save me from ruin? You must ask me first. She said, and then, though it was done very gently, she did take her hand away. And, of it might have been very sweet. Chapter 15 of Miss Crispiny. This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recording are in the public domain. For more information on the volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Miss Crispiny by Francis Hoxton Burnay. We won't go yet. Having coolly laid her plans for leaving the two to enjoy themselves, Lisbeth retired upon her laurels, with the intention of amusement of her own. She had entertained herself before. Easily enough. Why not again? Well, naturally, as they had fallen in love with each other, they would not want her. Even Georgie would not want her, and it was quite natural that they should have fallen in love. They were just sort of people to do it, and Georgie would make a charming wife, and if her husband proved a tyrant, would still go down upon her knees and adore him. And thank heaven for her prince of action, and his perfection to the end of her innocent days. As for herself, it was no business of hers. When she had done with her duty toward her friend, the best thing she could do would be to leave them alone, and she left them alone, and gave them every opportunity to be lover like if they had chosen. But one day, Miss Clarissa, looking up from her sewing, started quite nervously at the sudden impression made upon her of something new in her dear Lisbeth's appearance. My dear Lisbeth! She exclaimed, How pale and ill you look! I am always pale. I am always pale, said Lisbeth. But my love, protested Miss Clarissa, you're pale today in a different way. You must be suffering, dear! Oh dear! How careless in us not to have remarked before! I almost believe, nay, indeed I am. I am sure that you look thin, actually, thin! I am always thin, said Lisbeth. But Miss Clarissa was not to be consoled by any such coolness of manner. When she looked again more closely, she was quite sure that she was right, that her dear Lisbeth showed unmistakable signs of being in a dreadful state of health. She fell into a positive condition of tremor and remorse. She had been neglected. They had been heartlessly careless not to see before that she was not strong. It must be attended to at once, and really, if Lisbeth had not been very decided, it is not at all unlikely that she would have been put to bed and dosed and webbed over by all three spinsters at once. I hope it is not that Penelan does not agree with you, faltered Miss Hedy. We always thought the air very fresh and bracing, but you certainly do not look like yourself, Lisbeth. And the truth was that she did not look like herself, much as she might protest against the assertion. She was thinner and power than usual. I am not ill, she said. Whether I look ill or not, I never was better in my life. I have not slept very well of late. That is all. And I must beg you to let me have my own way about it on Clarissa. It is all nonsense. Don't fuss over me. I implore you. You will spoil Georgie's love story for her and make Mr. Unstruther uncomfortable. Men hate first of any kind. Leave me alone when you are in the house, and I will take all the medicine you choose to give me in private. Though it is all nonsense, I assure you. But was it nonsense? Alice, I must confess. Though it is with extreme reluctance that the time came when the invincible was beaten and felt that she was, it was not nonsense. One afternoon after sitting at her bedroom window for an hour, persuading herself that she was reading while Georgie and Unstruther enjoyed a tet-a-tet in the garden below. She suddenly closed her book and rising from her chair began to dress to go out. She was downstairs and out upon the beach in five minutes and once away from the house. She began to walk furiously. She looked neither to right nor left as she went. She was not in the humor to have her attention distracted from her thoughts by any beauty of sea or sky or shore. She saw the yellow sun before her, and that was all. She reached the old, tristing place among the rocks before she stopped. Once there, she gave herself time to breathe and standing still, look back at the ground over which she had come. There was a worn-out expression in her face such as the Mrs. Turgathan had never yet seen. Even when they thought her at her worst and yet in a minute more, she smiled with an actual grimness. I am being punished now, she said aloud. I am being punished now for everything I have ever done in my life. Now I began to understand. There was a humiliation enough in her soul then to have made her travel in the sand at her feet if she had been prone to heroics or drama. Yes, she was beginning to understand. It was her turn now to have come to this, to have learned this. It was characteristic of her nature, an unfortunate nature at this time, passing through a new experience and battling fiercely against it. That when immediately afterward the tears began to fill her eyes and roll down her cheeks, there were the bitter, bitter tears of passionate mortification and anger. She could almost have killed herself for very self-contempt and shame. What reason is there in it? She said. None. What has brought me to it? Nothing. Is he as worthy now as he was then? No. Isn't it sheer madness? Yes, it is. She spoke truly too. There was no reason in it. It was madness. He had done nothing to touch her heart, had made no effort to reach it, and yet he had reached and touched it. It would not have been like her to love a man before he was good, because he had made love to her, indeed, because of anything. Her action were generally without any cause but her own preventory fancies, and here some strange sudden caprice of emotion had been too much for her. How she had suffered since she discovered her weakness, no one but herself would ever know. She had wraith under it, burn under it, loathed it, yet been conquered by it. Almost every blade of panty land grass reminded her of some wrong she had done to the kindly impetuous young fellow who had loved her in the past. Almost every grain of panty land sand haunted her with some wanton selfishness or cruelty which must be remembered by the man who could have nothing but dislike for her in the present. I should be grateful now. She cried bitterly. Yes, grateful for a taste of what wounds had under foot. This is eating dirt with the vengeance. She might well frighten Miss Clarissa with her parlor and wretched looks. The intensity of her mystery and the humiliation was wearing her out, and robbing her of her sleep and appetite. She wanted to leave panty land, but how could she suggest it? Georgie was so happy, she told herself with a vindictive pleasure in her pain that it would be a pity to disturb her. She woke up and down the beach for half an hour before she returned home, and when she went away, she was so tired as to be fairly exhausted. At the side door, by which she entered the house, she met Georgie, who held an open letter in her hand, whom from a sleepbath for lack of something to say. Mama, was the girl's answer. Well, she wonders when you're going home, but I'm enjoying panty land so much. She paused and blushed. Just lately, it had occurred to her that it might be possible that Lisbeth misunderstood her relation to Hector, and something in Lisbeth's face made her stop and blush in this apportioned manner. The weather is so lovely, she ended. Did I don't think I want to go yet? Lisbeth smiled, but her smile was an abstracted sort of affair. No, she said. We won't go yet. Panty land is doing both of us good, and it is doing Misser and Struther good too. We won't go yet. Tell Miss assessment so, Georgie. And then, she carried her absent smile upstairs. And, no, we won't go yet. Chapter 16 of Miss Crispiny. This is a LibriVox recording. All the LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information on the volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Miss Crispiny by Francis Hoxton Burnet. Yes, to Lisbeth. Georgie stood still and looked after her. She blushed more deeply than ever. A queer distress and discomfort came upon her and filled her mind. She had only wondered before if it was possible that Lisbeth did not know, did not wholly understand, but now the truth reveal itself in an uncomfortable flash of recognition. Oh, she exclaimed under her breath. She does not see, she thinks. I'm sure she thinks, but she did not put the rest into words. Panty land and the lovely weather quite lost their charm for the moment, as she walked slowly down the hole toward the parlor, holding her mother's letter in her hand. She would almost have been glad to run away. She remembered so many little peculiarities she had noticed in Lisbeth's manner. She had managed to leave her alone with Hector so often. She had taken so many of those long walks by herself. She had not looked well. She had sometimes been abstracted and restless. The girl's heart quite fluttered at the thought which all these things force upon her. She was afraid to indulge in such a fancy. That day, when her compassion had been made upon the beach, Lisbeth had confessed that she was sorry for her past cruelty. Could it be that her remorse had developed into a stronger feeling? Could it be that she was more than sorry now, that she was beginning to value the love she had thrown away, even too long for it? As I have said, they thought frightened Georgie a little. She had seen so much to admire in Hector and through her, that she had often wondered, innocently, how it was possible that Lisbeth could have resisted his numerous charms and perfections. How indeed could any woman whom he loved be so hard to please as not to appreciate him? She herself had appreciated him. She told herself, blushing, even though he had not loved her at all as he had loved Lisbeth. And yet she felt now as if it would be almost dreadful to think that Lisbeth, cool, self-controlled Lisbeth, had given way in spite of her coolness and self-control. And then, if this was a true state of affairs, how much more dreadful it became to feel that she was misunderstood, that Lisbeth saw in her arrival. Something must be done. It was plain, but it was a difficult matter to decide what the something should be. Eh, if it had only been a matter she could have talked over with Mama, who knew everything and could always advise her. But it was Lisbeth's secret, Lisbeth and Hector's, and so she must be loyal to her trust. She was quite sad in the midst of her labyrinth all the afternoon. So sad that when Anstruther came in from the village to partake of Miss Clarissa's tea, he marked the change in her at once. But he was in a gloomy mood himself. So it's not to be wondered at that the small party around the table was not nearly so gay as usual. Lisbeth had an headache, her eyes were heavy, and she said but little and disappeared as soon as the meal was at the nan. Georgie would have followed her at once but in the whole Hector stopped her. Come into the garden Georgie, he said. I have something to say to you. Very well, said Georgie. As soon as I have asked Lisbeth to come too. But he returned. I do not want Lisbeth. What I have to say I must say to you, not Lisbeth. Georgie had been standing with one foot on the lower stair and her hand on the balustrade. But a tone in his voice made her turn around and look up questioningly. He was pale and haggard. She saw in an instant that he was not quite himself. A little pain shot through her tender heart. How unhappy he looked. He was very pale Hector. She said pittingly. He tried to smile but it was a constrained effort. And suppose I am nervous. He answered. Be good to me Georgie my dear. And he held out his hand to her. Come. He said. Lisbeth does not care for our society much. She always avoids us when she can. Georgie's face fell. Had he seen it too? Then surely it must be true that Lisbeth did avoid them. She was so full of her trouble about Lisbeth that it scarcely occurred to her mind that he had made a very simple request in an unusual way. She did not even ask herself that he could be going to say that he would not say before Lisbeth. But she became more conscious of the strangeness of his mood every moment. He hardly spoke half a dozen more words until they reached their usual seat under the labyrinth. There when she sat down he flung himself upon the grass at her side in his favorite unceremonious fashion. But for a minute or so he did not even look at her. She had never thought him boyish before but just then the thought entered her mind that he was very boyish indeed. And she began to pity and wonder at him more and more. And suddenly he turned toward her and spoke. Georgie my dear. He said his voice quite trembling. I am going to ask you for that great gift which I am so unworthy. One need that he should say another word. She knew quite well then what he meant and why it was that he had not wanted Lisbeth. And ready as she usually was with her blushes she did not blush at all. She even lost all of her bright color at once and confronted him with a face quite pale and altered. You may go on Hector. She said I will listen. So he broke out hurriedly and desperately and poured forth his appeal. I don't know how I dare ask so much. He said I don't know how I dare speak at all. You do not understand what my life has been. God forbid that you should but what is left of it is not worthy of you Georgie. The sweetest purest woman that God ever made. And yet I think it is because I honor you so much that I dare to throw myself on your mercy. I want to be a better man my dear. And will you help me? You see what I am asking you for Georgie. And he bent his pale face over her hand kissing it as some sad penitent might kiss the saints. A strange love making indeed. The girl gave a little sob. Yes actually a little sob. But she let him hold her hand just as she had let him hold it the day before. She had put her budding love aside and outlive it bravely. But there was a pang in this nevertheless and she could not help but feel it. It would be over in a moment but it had stung sharply for the instant. Yes Hector I see. She answered almost directly. You are asking me if I will marry you. Yes my dear. And he kissed her hand again. Then there was a silence for a little while. And he waited wondering and feeling. God knows what strange hope or fear at heart at length. However another fear small hand was laid softly on his causing him to glance up questioningly. Is that the answer? He ventured with a new throb of heart. But she shook her head smiling a sweet half sad smile. It is not that answer. She said. But it is an answer in its way. It means that I am going to speak to you from my heart. I think you always do that. He said unsteadily. Yes always but now more than ever. I must be very true to you indeed today because you have made a mistake Hector. A mistake then it is not the first. But what a craven he failed at soul. How hard it was to meet her clear bright eyes. You have made a mistake. She went on. If I was not true to you and to myself as well your whole life might be a mistake from this hour and everything might go wrong. You fancy that because you can admire and trust me that you could learn to love me too in that best way as you do not now. When I was your wife but you could not however hard you might try and however hard I might try to you could not. You could only teach yourself a poor imitation of that best way and you would be unsatisfied at heart Hector and so should I. Husbands and wives ought to have that best kind of love and nothing else because nothing else will feel its place. The place in their hearts that God made to be filled by it because you're honest and true to me. With the warm graphs of the small hand though warm tears were in her eyes. You do not say that you have that kind of love to offer me and I know you have not. I think that perhaps he could not give it to me even if don't be angry Hector because I could not help seeing it. You had not given it almost in spite of yourself to someone else. To someone else he exclaimed. Yes she said sorrowfully to Lisbeth. He drew his hands away and covered his face with them with something like a groan of despair. I am answered. He said don't don't say anything more Georgie that is enough please don't misunderstand me cried the girl. You could not help it how could you the old love never died out really and now when you see her so much better and more beautiful how could be otherwise than that it should spring into new life and be stronger than ever. It is Lisbeth you love Hector and she is worthy of your love of anybody's love if you would only understand her rightly. Is it pride that holds you back from showing your heart to her or is it because even though you love her you have not forgiven her for your old misery. Tell me do I love her he asked or hate her you love her answered Georgie and yet he said gloomily I have asked you to marry me and you have answered me as gently as an angel might have done it was only that you made a mistake said the girl a mistake he echoed I it was a mistake and as I said it is not the first I have made my life has been full of blunders said Georgie how I wish I was wise enough to know how to set them right if you would only trust me and let me try he gave her a mournful smile I thought there was a way he said but did he not agree with me I knew better shaking her head and coloring and perhaps I was too proud and jealous I'm not so good as you think me I am very fond of you but not fond enough to take your half love let us forget it all together and of yes to Lisbeth Chapter 17 of Miss Crispiny this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or volunteer please visit LibriVox.org miss Crispiny by Francis Hoson Burnay goodbye surely so serious a question was never so dismissed in so short a time for these few busy moments the matter was completely disposed of as if they had spent hours in arguing it he scarcely knew how it was that he felt so sure that he needs say no more that the brave simple pretty Georgie had set his poor weak plans aside so easily and yet so tenderly much as he admired and referenced her there was a death in her girlish nature which he had never sounded it was all over for him with georgiasmen though he did not fear that her friendship would ever waver if I was only wise enough to help you she repeated if you would only trust me and let me try if anyone could help me you could he said but there is no help for me he had never once admitted to himself that this miserable passion could ever make him happy it had never occurred to his mind that its termination would be anything but a wretched and humiliating one as Georgie had suggested he loved but had not forgiven and he told himself that his love was degraded infatuation what was there to tie it to in such a feeling did he trust the woman to whom he was in a secret slave no he trusted her no more today than he had done before but she had a hold upon his heart strings nevertheless the old witchry was exercising its full power upon him it had been so strong at loss that he had been maddened into making this coward's effort free himself if Georgie would stretch out her hand she might save him of fatal weakness and so even while he despise himself for his selfish folly he had resolved to throw himself upon georgie's mercy and here was the end of it georgie was wiser than himself clearer of sight truer of soul stronger with a brave simplicity and she had proved to him what a shameful folly it was georgie would have none of him and yet how sweet she was god bless her i shall leave penieland in the morning he said there is nothing to keep me here now since you do not want me say that you forgive me georgie and we will bid each other goodbye for the present you must not think that i have anything to forgive she answered but i do not say that you will be wrong in going i believe it will be best you do not quite understand yourself yet go away and give yourself time to find out whether you can conquer your heart or not the time will come and you will know and then somewhat bitterly something will happen i think her simple faith in the kindness of fortune asserting itself i cannot believe that you will always be as unhappy as you are now one of you will be sure to do or say something that will help the other a sudden caller leaped into his face her words held the suggestion of which he had never once thought and which set his pulse beating hard and fast what he exclaimed his new feeling giving him no time to check himself you do not think the time will ever come when she when she might feel too i think said the girl in a grave almost reverent voice i think the time has come now when they returned to the house listed seeing them from the parlor window made a mental comment judging from his face she observed i should say that he had asked her to marry him it had been accepted judging from hers i should say her answer had been no you're not easy to read for once george what does it mean george came into the house with a more compass look than her face had worn for several days she laid her garden hat upon the whole table and walked straight into the parlor to her dear lisbeth she had a very rude idea that her dear lisbeth knew nothing of their guest intended departure and she wanted to be the first to break the news to her it would not matter if any little secrets were betrayed herself so she went to the window and laid her hand on lisbeth's shoulder did hector tell you that he was going she asked as if he's having done so would have been the most natural thing in the world that he was going repeated lisbeth george is considerably out into the garden yeah back to london you know tomorrow well i suppose he thinks he has been idle long enough lisbeth struck her shoulders rather southern isn't it she commented i think you have been the first to hear the news well gentlemen always do things suddenly remarked george asked literally she had no need to have been so discreet lisbeth had been very cool under the information and indifferent observer might have easily concluded that she cared very little about it that her interest in hector and streuthers going and coming was an extremely well controlled feeling when he came into the room himself a few minutes later she was quite composed enough to touch upon the subject with polite regret on clareisa will positively mourn she ended with one of her incomprehensible smiles she has been almost radiant during your visit and there her share in the matter seemed to terminate she said nothing when the three old ladies hearing the news poured forth affectionate planes and from the first course at dinner until the last she listened composedly without remark though once or twice she looked at george with rather an interested air it was her turn to feel curious now and she was curious enough george blush when she was looked at the scrutinizingly but her manner was decidedly not that of a girl who had just accepted a lover said lisbeth examining her coolly she would not refuse him she must be fun of him and if she is fun of him she is too sweet nature and straightforward to cope quite with him yet well it is decidedly puzzling she found the evening radar bore upon the whole how was it that it dragged so in spite of her efforts she thought it would never come to an end when with long suffering good nature hector drew out the chess table and challenged the delighted miss clarissa to a game her passions fairly gave away she turned to the piano for revenge and sang song after song until she could sing no more then when george took her place she made a furtive exit and slipped out through the hole and the side door into the garden what made her turn her steps toward miss clarissa's roast ticket she did not know but she went there there she had been her boy lover goodbye and broken his heart there she's had sung her little song to george and hector on both occasion it had been warm and balmy and moonlight and now it was warm and balmy and moonlight again she stood and looked through the trees catching silvery glimpses of the sea in a minute or so she moved her hand in an impassioned jester i'm sick of it all she cried breaking the silence i'm sick of the whole world of myself more than the rest how i wish i was like on clarissa she began to wonder about restlessly pulling all the roses with no particular object but because she could not keep still buds and blossoms red and cream and white were torn from their stems ruthlessly until her hands were full and then she stopped again half wondering at herself what am i thinking of she said what do i want them for poor things remembering her parable bitterly they might have been very sweet tomorrow she held the cool fresh things close up to her face breathing in their fragrance eagerly and when she took them away their blossoms were bright here and there perhaps would do certainly would do if it was due that what her fevered cheeks and softened her eyes so strangely scarcely three minutes later she turned with a start and then stood listening someone had left the house and was coming across the lawn toward her she waited a few seconds to make sure that she was not mistaken and then she bent down over a bush and began leisurely to gather more roses though she was overloaded already where is georgie she asked calmly of the intruder when he reached her side georgie returned a rather constrained voice is talking to miss heady miss clarissa sent me here to remind you that the dew is falling and that you're not strong enough to bear the night air miss clarissa is very good this best answer and so are you but dear miss clarissa has been threatening me with an untimely grave as the result of night air ever since i was six months old so perhaps i am not so grateful as i ought to be i love darkness rather than the light upon the hole and don't find that it disagrees with me perhaps because my deeds are evil perhaps dryly for fully two minutes she guarded her flowers in silence while and struther waited and looked at her but at last she stood upright and their eyes meet it is a beautiful night she remarked sententiously yes we have had a great number of lovely nights lately yes she visited herself with her roses for a little while to the exclusion of everything else and then she gave it up well she said suppose we go into the house i can do nothing with them here the fact is i don't know why i gathered them unless it was from an impulse of destructiveness let us go stop a moment he said well nay almost commanded her she paused not seeming in the least disturbed however she would have cut off her right hand almost before she would have exhibited an emotion i had a reason of my own for coming here he went on apart from his Clarissa's command i want to bid you goodbye he must be going she commented very early in the morning and yet her heart was beating like a three-parmer it is not that was his reply though i am going early i had a whim you remember my whim about the song fancy that i should like to say my goodbye here where i said a goodbye once before it is easily said answered Lisbeth and held out one of her hands goodbye he took it with a pretence at a coolness as masterly as her own but he could not keep it up he gave way to some swift passionate inexplicable prompting and in an instant had covered it with kisses had even fiercely kissed her slender wrist she snatched it from his grabs breathless with anger forgetting her resolve to control herself what do you mean she cried you are mad how dare you he drew back a step confronting her deviantly i do not know what i mean he answered unless as you say i am mad i think i am mad so being a mad man i would not ask you to pardon me it was a far well it is over now however will you let me take your roses and carry them to the house she vouchsave him no answer but turned away and left him to follow if he choose her helplessness against him drove her fairly wild nothing she could say or do would ever wipe out the memory of those mad kisses he either loved or despised her utterly and remembering his manner toward Georgie she could only conclude that he despised her and had overt her that deadly insult the bloodshot of her cheeks like a rush of fire and her eyes blaze ominously my dear lispeth a blissed good little miss Clarissa the moment she saw her you have caught fresh cold i am convinced you're you're in high fever fever indeed she had never been in such a fever in her life but it was a fever of anger and humiliation i think it's probable she said seriously did i'm going to have missiles or scroll atina on Clarissa which would you prefer Georgie came upstairs long after she had shot herself in her room to find her sitting by the open window looking worn out and wretched lispeth she ventured is it possible that you are going to be ill probably Georgie Esmond had never been so spoken to in her life as she was when her dear lispeth turned upon her at this simple remark Georgie my dear she said if you ask me such a question again i believe i shall turn you out of the room and lock the door Georgie regarded her for a moment in mute amazement but after that she managed to recover herself hi i beg pardon lispeth she faltered and then discreetly turned her attention to the performance of her nightly toilet preparatory to going to bed but in the morning it was lispeth to whose share the meekness fell her mood has changed all together and she was so astoundingly humble that Georgie was alarmed you have more passions with me than i have with myself Georgie she said or i should know it was not worth my while to say a word to you do you have pity on me i well i was out of short so something and i have such horrible temper really her demon might have departed from her that night she showed no more temper she became almost as amiable as a more commonplace young woman she made so few caustic speeches that the mrs trigarthan began to fear that her delicate health had affected her usual flow of spirits and accordingly mourn over her in secret not feeling it discreet to do so openly she used to be so spirited sigh mishaddy over her suing to georgie don't you observe an alteration in her my love sister Clarissa and sister Millicent and myself really do not know what to think it would be such a comfort to us if she could only be persuaded to see dr pottyfoot he's such a damn man so extremely talented because i have been trying to behave myself decently they think i am ill said lispeth smiling a little mournfully just think how i must have treated them georgie you're so used to my humors that if i am not making myself actively unpleasant they won't see it because i have not the strength to do it if i were to snap on haddie and snap it on Clarissa i believe it would shed tears of joy and of goodbye