 Chapter 1 of The Adventures of an Ugly Girl. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Zarina Silverman, Los Angeles, California. The Adventures of an Ugly Girl by Elizabeth Burgoyne Corbett. Chapter 1. Come, Dora. I shall never be ready if you don't make haste. They will be here in ten minutes, and my hair is not half so nice as it ought to be, thanks to your carelessness. You are very good to ignore my own claims to attention so utterly. I have been helping you this half hour, and have barely time enough left to change my frock to make my own hair presentable as impossible now. Why? What does it matter how your hair is dressed, or what sort of a gown you put on? You may just as well spare your pains, for unfortunately nothing that you can do seems to mitigate your ugliness. I'm sure I cannot think where you get it. You are. But, somehow, I did not feel inclined to wait for the end of Bell's encouraging lecture. Perhaps it was because I was so often treated to my beautiful elder sister's homilies that they had lost the spark of novelty and had acquired a chestnutty flavour. Perhaps I failed to recognise any generosity in her persistent efforts to nip such latent buds of vanity as from time to time tried to thrust their poor little heads above the chill crust of ridicule and contumely. Perhaps I was really as bad tempered as I was said to be. Anyhow, my behaviour could not claim to be either quiet or elegant as I stormily quitted Bell's room, slamming the door behind me with such violence as to elicit from my more well-bred sister a little shriek of affected dismay. So far from feeling sorry that I had given Bell's nerves a shock, I wished viciously that her fingers had been jammed in the doorway or that something equally disastrous had occurred to take off the edge of her conceit and self-satisfaction. In the corridor I met my brother Jerry, of whom I was devotedly fond, but although he had evidently some interesting remark to make, I did not stop to speak to him, but hurried noisily to my own room where I locked myself in and threw myself on the bed to give way to a storm of sobs and tears. And all for what, it may be asked? Surely a spiteful remark from one sister to another is hardly worth all this display of feeling. Ah, well, perhaps one such remark now and then might be treated with the cool contempt which spiteful utterances deserve. But does the reader know what it is to be perpetually and persistently snubbed from one year's end to the other? Does he realize how hard it must be for a sensitive and love-craving girl to be reminded that she is ugly and unattractive? Not reminded once in a way, either, but pretty nearly every day of her life? But does anyone doubt how the heart must needs ache to see all the love and flattery of friends and relations alike showered upon a being whom you know to be empty-headed and frivolous while everybody seems to regard your plain exterior as sufficient reason why you should be snubbed and neglected? If the reader has ever had any of these experiences, he will the more readily understand my inability to restrain my tears on the especial occasion just mentioned. For it really was a very especial occasion, and I had been more anxious to look well at this particular moment than I ever remembered to have been in my life. I had hoped that Belle, just for once in a way, would take a little interest in my personal appearance and that she would help me to create as good an impression as possible upon the newcomer whose advent I had both dreaded and longed for. But Belle was too self engrossed and too firmly convinced of my hopeless unpresentability to give the slightest thought either to me or to my feelings. Nay, she had even claimed so much of my time in the task of enhancing her own beauty that, as we have seen, I had only a few minutes left for myself, and even this morsel of time was not utilized by me, as things turned out. The fact is, I was anxious and overwrought, and Belle's unkind speeches had multiplied all day until they had utterly broken my composure. Can it really be true, I wondered in abject misery, that nothing I can either do or wear will help to mitigate the first feeling of repulsion which my new mother must necessarily experience at the sight of my ugliness? The question was a very vital import to me, for I longed for the advent of at least one sympathetic woman in the house, and when I heard that my father, now three years a widower, was about to marry again, I hoped, with a fervour that was nearly akin to agony, that his second wife would be the friend I so sorely needed. True, she would be my stepmother, and she would naturally assume the direction of the household affairs at once placing the daughters of the house in a subordinate position. This being the case, I believe it would have been more orthodox to have railed against the new invasion, and to have followed the prevailing social custom of resolving to make life miserable for the woman who had presumed to step into my mother's place. But I always was terribly unorthodox in many things, and, considerably to my father's surprise, I expressed my enthusiastic delight at the prospect of having a stepmother to reign over me. He need not have been surprised if he had ever taken the trouble to understand me. But he was wrapped up in bell's charms, and never looked at me without regretting either my ugliness or my temper, which all in the house, except dear little Jerry, pronounced unbearable. And yet, I can truthfully say, that if I had experienced anything approaching to just treatment, I should have been infinitely sweeter-tempered than my much-bepraised sister, than whom none could have been more unfeeling to the motherless girl whose heart ached for a little love. I generally did bell's bidding, for she always contrived to make things unpleasant for me if I rebelled against her authority. But to Lady Elizabeth Courtney, I felt ready to yield the most devoted service and obedience if only she would love me just a little in return, and I had anxiously revolved every means of creating a favourable impression upon her. I meant to have taken considerable pains with my toilette, and to have welcomed the homecoming bride with radiant smiles. And this was how my good resolves had ended. Just when, after working hard all day to see that everything was conducive to a warm and comfortable homecoming, I had begun to hurry through my toilette. I was summoned to bell's aid, with the result that instead of giving my stepmother a smiling welcome, I was up in my own room, with a face red and swollen with weeping, and a heart full of angry feeling when she arrived. Presently I heard a carriage approaching, and at the same instant Jerry knocked vigorously at my bedroom door. Be quick and come down, Dory! he cried, in an eager, excited voice. Papa and Lady Elizabeth are nearly here, and I want you to run down the avenue with me to meet them. I'm not coming, I answered, with a sob that was audible to Jerry, and provoked him to quick wrath. I knew she would, he exclaimed. That horrid bell's been at her tricks again and said something nasty. But don't let her have the best of you like that. Don't you know that you promised to go with me to meet them, and if you don't come they won't believe you're glad about it. I can't help it, Jerry, was my mournful reply. I look so hideous just now that I could not possibly face a stranger. Run off quickly yourself. Say that I have a headache or something of the sort, and that I shall try to sleep it off. Run now, there's a dear boy. And forthwith Jerry, whose real name by the by is Gerald Mortimer Courtney, ran along the corridor down the wide, shallow stairs across the tiled hall and into the open air, just as the carriage containing the newly married pair drove into the large, graveled space in which the Chestnut Avenue terminated. In spite of my discomforture and unpresentable appearance, I possessed my due share of curiosity, and hastily jumped to my feet, crossed the room, and looked through the window at the prancing horses and elegant equipage which bore the newcomers. As soon as the carriage stopped, a liveried footman descended and opened the door with a flourish. By the time he had let the steps down, Belle and Jerry were at the carriage door, and I saw Mr. and Lady Elizabeth Courtney get out and exchange smiles and kisses with my sister and brother, while I, poor pariah, looked on with hungry eyes and an aching heart, and bewailed my luck in seeming ill-natured and inhospitable, after all my efforts to prove the contrary. Lady Elizabeth, I must explain, had had some love passages with my father a long time ago, but their youthful desires had been taught to bow to the demands of fortune and position. Lady Elizabeth was the daughter of an earl, and could aspire to more material comforts than could have been provided for her by the penniless younger son of a country squire. True, the earl had no money, and what little land was still left him was mortgaged up to the hilt. But he had many friends who possessed sufficient influence to pitchfork his four sons into government sinecures. He had a cousin also, the Duchess of Lindeen, who chaperoned his handsome clever daughter through two whole seasons, and eventually resigned her charge into the care of Samuel Chisolm Esquire, once upon a time a shoe-blatt, now the proud possessor of twenty thousand a year, all made by the judicious advertisement of his prize-patent blacking. Upon the whole the earl's daughter was supposed to have done tolerably well for herself, and, as her husband's fortune steadily increased, there was every reason for her to feel satisfied. Even the encumbrance, which she had been compelled to take with the fortune, was not especially disagreeable to her, for Mr. Chisolm was a very clever man, whose mental and social equipments kept pace with his fortunes, and, in spite of his low origin and antecedents, he was as courtly and well-bred as Lady Elizabeth's nobly-born brothers. The pair, therefore, lived harmoniously enough together, at least to outward seeming, for many years, then Mr. Chisolm died somewhat suddenly, and his will was read in due course. It was during that important ceremony that the unexpectedly bereaved widow first felt real resentment against her late husband, for though he had died a millionaire, he had only willed his wife a life interest of five thousand a year, which was quite a paltry income, compared with the princely revenue she had expected to be hers. To her father, a like fortune was bequeathed, in addition to a sum of thirty thousand pounds, wherewith to redeem his impoverished estate. The widow's brothers each received a gift of five thousand pounds, and to the widow herself was willed all the personal property of the deceased. All the rest of his vast fortune was divided among a swarm of poor relations, whose existence Lady Elizabeth had never acknowledged, but, who no doubt, showered blessings on the memory of the dead man who had thus befriended his own flesh and blood. The Earl of Great Lands, too, declared himself delighted with his son-in-law's generosity. But his daughter did not hesitate to say that she had been treated shamefully, and at once proclaimed her intention of resigning the tenancy of the costly London establishment, which it would be a farce to attempt to keep up on five thousand a year. She retired to a pretty place in the country, declining to reside with her father, who, elated by his unwanted prosperity, was actually talking of taking a young wife to comfort his old age. My father had, meanwhile, married my mother, whose memory I adore, for she loved me passionately, and while she lived I was never humiliated, as was perpetually the case after her death, which occurred some three years before my story opens. I do not remember hearing how my father came across Lady Elizabeth again, but I believe that the early attachment soon reasserted itself, and though he was much the poorer of the two, and encumbered with three children, the match was soon arranged. Although Lady Elizabeth had been dissatisfied with her widow's portion, she was very much richer than we were, and her coming to Courtney Grange was likely to be a very important event to the previous humble inhabitants thereof. In addition to the Grange, which had been my maternal grandfather's property, my father had just six hundred a year, derived partly from what his father had left him, partly from my mother's small fortune. Our establishment consisted of two servants, in addition to the family. Their names were John and Martha Page. They had never seen any other service but that of my father and grandfather, and had lived seventeen years under the same roof before it entered their heads to amalgamate their interests by marrying. They were quite used to the constant scraping and economizing which we were compelled to practice, and did not look upon the arrival of a new mistress as an unmixed blessing, even though she was bringing a good income with her. As for Belle, she was quite wild with delight at the gorgeous prospect which opened itself before her mental vision. London seasons, presentations at court, halcyon days of brilliant pleasure, and a swarm of dukes and earls sighing for the honour of her hand. These were some of the glowing visions in which she indulged. And I mean to get into Lady Elizabeth's good graces whether I like her or not, she informed me. She can do so much for me if she likes, and I can be amiability itself when I like. Besides, my looks will win her over at once. She will soon see what credit I can do to pretty gowns. As for you, you'll be lucky if she tolerates you at all. I'm sure it's a shame that our family's reputation for beauty should suffer as it does through you. And so on, Ad Libetum. Of course I was not surprised to see her warm, gushing welcome of my father and his wife, nor to note the glance of surprised admiration which the latter cast upon Belle and Gerald, for they were really both very beautiful, and both tall and well-grown, with lovely golden hair, rich deep blue eyes, and an exquisite complexion, united to perfect features. Lady Elizabeth, too, I was sorry to see, was a tall, handsome woman, who by no means looked her forty years. When I say that I was sorry to observe this, it must not be imagined that I grudged her her good looks, but I had had a vague notion that if she were comparatively plain, she would the more easily sympathise with my troubles into which no one in the house except Jerry seemed able to enter. Now my hopes in that direction were upset, and I already knew instinctively that my own absence was being commented upon. I saw my father, the very picture of masculine comeliness, glance up at my window with an angry frown, and I knew almost as well as if I had been present what Belle and Jerry were saying about me. After all, I thought, I had been very foolish to let Belle's ill nature and my own ill temper spoil my resolve to make Lady Elizabeth's homecoming as pleasant as possible. Apart from looks, my remaining upstairs would have already made me lose ground with my stepmother. Was it too late, I wondered, to rectify my error and make my appearance before dinner was served? Answering the question in the negative, I resolved to complete my toilette as quickly as possible and get over the ordeal of the first meeting without further loss of time. So I began operations at once, wondering, while I brushed my hair, how it was that I was so different to Jerry and Belle. I pulled faces at my own ugly reflection in the glass, but as that only seemed to make matters worse, I desisted. But I could not banish the discontent which enhanced my ugliness and made it almost perfect in its own way. Why was I so short and dumpy, I asked myself vainly? And why was my hair so black and lank and scanty? And how was it that my complexion was more like Thames' mud than anything else? And why was my face covered with freckles? These freckles I always felt to be in a special aggravation of nature, for whoever heard of freckles on a dark, sallow skin. And then how did it happen that my eyes were of a pale, watery, brown hue, while I had hardly got either eyelashes or eyebrows that were visible? And why, oh why, had my nose got that exasperating habit of looking skyward? Even as I asked these questions of myself, I felt how hopeless it was to attempt to answer them. So I abandoned them, and tried to console myself with the reflection that my mouth was well-shaped and that I had splendid teeth. But then my great red hands obtruded themselves upon my notice and blotted out all consciousness of my redeeming features. I took considerable pains with my hair and put on my best dress. Alas! the latter was of a curious brown shade which somehow only seemed to enhance my ugliness. Belle was dressed in a dainty pink cambrick, but I was never allowed such a luxury as it was considered that I was too untidy and too plain and altogether too unsuitable to indulge in pretty things. Besides, we had to be economical, and as I could never hope to captivate a lover, no matter how I was dressed, it would have been a shame to waste money upon my futile adornment. So Belle argued, and I had hitherto had no choice but to bow to her arguments. I was at last ready to go downstairs, when once more Jerry came to look me up. Oh, you're dawned up, are you? he remarked, and upon my word you're looking quite spry. But I was not to be soothed by such negative flattery as this, and sternly asked Jerry what he meant by looking quite spry. Why, spry? You know, spry means, at least I mean, that you look as if you were going to a prayer meeting, that is, you look so prim and tidy and straight. But, dory dear, I like you far better as you were this morning, and as you generally are, you look real jolly then. Saying this, Jerry kissed me warmly, and I forthwith resigned myself to the hopelessness of attempting to improve my appearance. This morning I had worn an old lilac print that had originally been made for Belle. It was faded with much washing, and possessed sundry little adornments in the way of frayed edges and sleeves out at elbows. Truly Belle had been right after all, and it was sheer folly on my part to rebel against fate, since neither coaxing nor rebelling seemed to propitiate her. Seeing, therefore, how stern and uncompromising she was with me, I resolved to take less notice of her in future, and had no sooner made the resolve, then I began to feel peaceful and self-possessed. What if the gift of beauty was denied me? Had I not many other blessings to be thankful for? In all my seventeen years of life I had never had anything but the most robust health, and if my school record was anything to go by, I possessed a much more valuable property in the way of brains than Belle did. These should outweigh my physical defects, and prove my passport to the world's good graces. I daresay Jerry was rather surprised to see me suddenly straighten myself up and assume a much more cheerful expression. What is Lady Elizabeth like? I asked. Looks. No ways. Well, I take her to be rather a brick, do you know? She was as pleasant and as much at home with Belle and me as if she had lived here all her life, and had just been off for a holiday. She thinks we're just like Pa, and that is high praise I should fancy. Very high praise, Jerry. I wonder what she'll say about me. But it doesn't matter. Is dinner nearly served? Yes, but John was grumbling because you hadn't helped to see that the table was all right as you had promised to do. Oh, poor John! It was a shame of me to forget all about him. I'll hurry down now and see what I can do. Come on, Jerry. A minute later, we were both skipping nimbly downstairs, and while Jerry, at my earnest request, ran round to the stable to see how my bull terrier Bobby was progressing, I ran into the kitchen to make my peace with John and Martha. As Martha was somewhat sulky, and protested that they had managed very well without me, I made my way to the dining-room, and began swiftly to rearrange the flowers which I had culled for the table earlier in the day. John looked rather scandalised, and remarked that he thought he knew how to arrange a table as well as most folks. But I did not heed John's grumbling much, for it was his chronic condition, and I had just completed my little task to my own satisfaction when John rang the second dinner-bell, the first not having been noticed by me. Just then Jerry came back. Bobby will be all right in a day, he said, were at, I expressed my satisfaction, for I had been greatly troubled when poor Bobby had come limping home with every sign of war about him. And oh, I said, with sudden remembrance, what has been done with the wonderful carriage and pair and those gorgeous servants? They went straight home. They belonged to the Earl. He sent them to meet Lady Elizabeth at the station. Her own carriages are coming after she has seen what arrangements it will be best to make here. I fancy she doesn't like the place very much. Not like the Grange? I exclaimed indignantly. Why, she must be a veritable heathen. Dora, I regret that you should think fit to behave so badly, but must demand a little of your attention while I introduce you to the notice of Lady Elizabeth Courtney. Was ever luck like mine? Here had I quite lost sight of the fact that my father and his wife might enter the room at any time, and they had actually overheard me speak in tones of contempt of the one woman on earth whom I wished to propitiate. I turned hurriedly round, and saw my father looking very irate, Lady Elizabeth looking coldly critical, and Belle looking ill-naturedly triumphant. I beg your pardon, Papa. I did not mean it, I stammered. No, I do not suppose you did mean us to overhear you, he replied sternly. But I have no doubt that you had resolved to be intensely disagreeable, and I tell you plainly that I will not have it. You see my love, he said, turning to his wife. You will have a little temper and self-will to deal with, but I am sure you will know how to compel it to keep within due bounds. What could I do or say after that? Nothing, of course, and I sat miserably through the whole meal, while all but Jerry laughed and talked as if quite unconscious of my presence. I would feign have escaped to my own room when the dinner was over, but my father had taken it into his head that I merely wanted to be obstinate and disagreeable, and suggested that I should spend an hour in the drawing-room. I accordingly took refuge at the piano, but my music was so melancholy that I am not surprised that I was asked to desist. For, when you come to think of it, Kiligrew's lament and the dead march and sol haven't a very bridal sound about them. So far Lady Elizabeth had not spoken directly to me, and whenever my eyes wandered in her direction I could see that her glance was very critical, but I could not be sure that it was quite so disapproving as I had expected. Yet, although I neither spoke nor was spoken to, there was no constraint between the others, for my father and Lady Courtney were both good conversationalists, and Bell could chatter by the hour provided the talk was kept at a suitably frivolous level. Jerry, after being petted and praised a little, had been sent to bed primed with a quartet of kisses, and jubilant in the possession of a bright sovereign which Papa had given to him in honour of the advent of a new mistress at Courtney Grange. Bell, dear, suppose you place one of your pretty pieces, said my father, whereupon I vacated the music-stool, and took refuge near the big orial window which overlooked the orchard, and which was my especial delight. For it was like a small room in itself, and I did not feel quite so lost among its cozy faded draperies, as I did in any other part of our drawing-room, which always seemed to me to be much too large for the furniture that was in it. Bell, after a great deal of fidgeting and looking round at herself, to make sure that her dress was falling in graceful folds, struck a few chords on what had been a very fine piano in its day, but which even I, who was partial to all that had belonged to my mother, was compelled to admit was getting out of date. I really don't like to let you hear me for the first time on an old instrument like this, Lady Elizabeth, said Bell. If my music strikes you disagreeably, pray, make all due allowance for the difficulties under which I labour. Pray don't apologise, my dear," answered Lady Elizabeth. I know how to separate the faults of the instrument from those of the player, and the quality of the piano need not trouble you long, as in all probability a grand of my own will be here in a day or two. How delightful! exclaimed Bell, and then she proceeded to give us a specimen of the skill which, times without number, I had been advised to emulate. She played the rippling cascade in a style that was faultless as regards time and precision, following it up with the musical box. But her playing was utterly devoid of expression. Pathos, tenderness, power, fire were all unknown musical quantities to her, as they are, alas, to numbers of other conventional players, and whether it was Homesweet Home or the Soldier's Chorus, each and everything was played with the same clockwork and sensibility to all the laws of expression. I watched Lady Elizabeth narrowly as she listened to Bell's efforts in the musical line, and, shall I own it, I was maliciously glad to notice a distinctly bored expression steal across her features. There was one thing in which I could excel my usually all-conquering sister, of which the lady whom we both desired to please was evidently a judge, and I could not help rejoicing in the fact that I was not quite weaponless in the fight for favour, though I had certainly done anything but shine so far. What do you think of Bell's performance? asked my father, either forgetful of my presence or not caring whether I overheard the conversation or not. Lady Elizabeth's reply, though given in a low tone and under cover of the music, reached my ears quite distinctly. She is just a trifle disappointing there, Gerald. I should imagine your younger daughter Dora to be much the better artist of the two. She seems to be a trifle wild and ungovernable, but would, I think, be amenable to reason with judicious handling. My dear Elizabeth, you don't know her yet. Wait until you have seen more of her, and then you will agree with me that she is more than trying. Indeed, she is positively exasperating at times. Bell always has some complaint to make of her, and I am not surprised that this should be so, for it is a matter of impossibility to make her either look or act like a lady. No one would dream that she was a courtney. Often and often I had felt my heart ache at the neglect and carelessness with which my father had always treated me, and I had grieved bitterly at the lack of outward comeliness, which seemed to be the passport to his affection, but that he was actually so devoid of parental feeling as to show himself positively antipathetic to me had never occurred to me. Now as I heard him saying things which must make me almost hateful in Lady Elizabeth's eyes, I felt myself hardened toward him, and the love which I had hitherto cherished for him fell from me like a worn-out mantle. What? Oh, what had I ever done that he should do that which presumably only my bitterest enemy would do to me? Why should he try to prejudice me in the eyes of his wife? Had he no remembrance of the mother who loved me with a love equal to that, which she bore for himself and his happier children? Was he quite forgetful of all the little efforts I had always made to increase his comfort? Did he really regard me as quite removed from the sphere of a lady, because I had worked hard and made my hands red and unsightly, since I had realized how difficult it was for Martha and John to manage our big house efficiently without assistance? I, in my blindness, had hoped that he would commend me for my industrious habits, and it was a bitter awakening to discover that he only rated me on a par with, perhaps, a scullery maid. I could feel my eyes begin to gain the fire they usually lacked, and the hot blood suffused my cheeks as I sat trembling with anger and fighting madly to prevent myself from uttering the reproaches that forced themselves to my lips. It would be well, I thought, to keep quiet until the end of the play, and hear the verdict which Lady Elizabeth would pronounce upon me. I therefore listened for her answer with tightly clasped hands, and motionless form, but with my attention strained to the utmost, Belle, having meanwhile, reached the most flourishy part of household harmonies. Do you think it quite fair to the child, said my stepmother, to give implicit credence to what one sister says to the detriment of the other without giving the latter a chance to defend herself? Do not imagine, for a moment, I have a thought of reproaching you. But I cannot help contrasting the love and admiration you so openly display for Belle with the coldness and actual displeasure with which you look at Dora. May not this have much to do with the girl's presumably bad temper and go-shay manners? You see, I want to make the best of all belonging to you, Gerald, and I am inclined to think that there is more in your younger daughter than you have given her credit for. I should be only too glad to discover a single good quality in Dora, replied my affectionate father. But I repeat that she is really hopeless, and assure you, for your own future guidance, that her disposition is on a par with her looks, than which nothing could very well be more disappointing, considering the fact that she is the offspring of a house which for generations has been famous for its beauty. But a beautiful body does not invariably hold a beautiful mind, and of course the obverse rule holds good. The fact is, I am not sure that I have not taken a fancy to Dora. I have an idea that she is a girl of great possibilities, under judicious management. Certainly appearances are against her at present, but appearances are but very circumstantial evidence at best. And how do you get over her rudeness to you on your arrival? You mean her failure to meet me at the door? Yes. Well, I rather fancy that if I had been in her place I should have done the same. It is bad enough to be such a contrast in looks to her handsome sister, without having her plainness accentuated and aggravated by the most unbecoming attire that could possibly have been procured for her. Belle is beautifully dressed, and Dora's frock is simply hideous. Her hair, too, is plastered down in as ugly a fashion as possible. I mean to alter all that, and the result will astonish you, I am sure. By this time Belle had noticed that she had an unappreciative audience, and was closing the piano, contriving to display, as she did so, a certain amount of well-bred annoyance, as I knew instinctively, without looking at her, so well was I used to her little ways. Lady Elizabeth smiled pleasantly, and said, My father, considerably to Belle's own wonderment, appeared quite oblivious of her beautiful presence, a thing she had never had to complain of before. He looked like a man suddenly confronted with a new and mysterious riddle, and as if he were not sure whether he ought not to doubt the sanity of anyone who could deliberately say anything in favour of me. True, old Martha and her husband were sometimes quite ungrudging of their commendation, after I had been specially useful to them, but they were only servants, and it was perhaps natural that they should judge things in a different way to more educated people. As for me, I sat like one in ecstasy, for I had at last found someone who was not only willing, but actually determined to see that I was treated in a manner equal to the other daughter of the house and not relegated to the position of a menial. My father had evidently forgotten that I was in the room. Lady Elizabeth thought I had left it, as was evidenced by her parting words to Belle, as the latter was going up to her own bedroom. Good night, Belle, she said. Tomorrow we will have a talk about what we will do together in future, eh? And tell your sister that I hope she will be well enough to go on an exploring expedition with me. I'm sure she has a pretty garden and other interesting things of her own to show me. She looks like a real lover of nature. Had my heart not been so full of conflicting emotion, I could have laughed at Belle's stare of surprise. But laughter would have been horrible to me just then, and would have seemed a desecration of the purer sounds that rose to my lips. Does the reader know how it feels to be in a state of joy so exquisite that it is difficult to restrain the voice from shrieking aloud and the limbs from dancing in wild abandonment? Even so did I feel when I rose from my chair as Belle left the room. But my excitement ran into the channels of gratitude and love, and I soon found myself kneeling at Lady Elizabeth's feet, sobs shaking my frame, tears streaming down my cheeks, and broken words of feeling issuing from my lips. Dear, dear lady, I cried. Oh, how I bless you for your kind words. You don't know how I have hungered for love. You don't know what a grief it was to me to seem rude to you. You don't know how grateful I can be. I will do anything for you. I will work my fingers to the bone if you wish it. I will lay my life down for you if you will only give me just a little corner of your heart, just a little of the sympathy for which my heart has been aching. My dear child, said my stepmother, as she clasped me warmly to her breast while genuine tears of sympathy actually rolled down her cheeks. My poor Dora, of course I mean to love you, and I want you to remember that I am your mother to whom you must come in all your troubles. Then, with an affectionate kiss, she released me, and I fled to my bedroom, sobbing still with excitement, but proud, happy, and exultant as I had never been in my life. She is an angel, I thought rapturously. Oh, how happy we shall be now! Alas, poor mortal! It is well for thee that the portals of the future are impervious to thy gaze, and that it is forbidden thee to know how small is perhaps thy destined share of happiness, the true elixir of life. End of Chapter 1. Recording by Zarena Silverman, Los Angeles, California Chapter 2 of The Adventures of Nuggetly Girl This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the Puppet Domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Adventures of Nuggetly Girl by Elizabeth Burgoyne Corbett, Chapter 2 In the world, there is no duty more important than that of being charming. Victor Hugo On rising next morning, my first thought was that I must dress myself with more care than was usually the case for me before breakfast, not that I was not always neat and tidy as far as my personal toilet went. But the old dresses, which had hitherto been deemed good enough for me to wear in the mornings, would have to be discarded henceforth, and I thought quite proud of the suddenly accentuated importance of my personal appearance as I rummaged my wardrobe in search of something that would be fit to wear in the presence of Lady Elizabeth Courtney. But I was not very successful in my search and was obliged to content myself with a somewhat shabby green striped stuff that had been bought for Belle, but was made up for me because she took a dislike to it on seeing it at home. I remember the remark Lady Elizabeth had made about my hair and tried with very indifferent success to remove the objectionable sleekness which was his distinguishing feature. When quite ready to go downstairs, I surveyed myself in the glass, but cannot say that I was delighted with the reflection which confronted me for a moment. It was only seven o'clock and I went to the staple-air going elsewhere to see after the ones of Bobby and my dear old Teddy. Teddy was a shaggy pony whose looks were anything but handsome, but in whose society I had hitherto spent my happiest hours. That I should be a proud possessor for pony often struck me with surprise, but it was an established fact nevertheless. My uncle Graham, protesting that no one could buy such an ugly animal, had given him to me, and as Belle would not have been seen on the back of such an inelegant steed, there was no attempt to subvert him for other uses than the donor intended. Sometimes Jerry and I would wander for miles with him, taking turns at having a ride on his broad back over the wide expanse of more land in which our country rejoices. Bobby too always went with us, and next to Teddy perhaps was the dearest animal alive. I had bought him for sixpence from some boys who had been paid a shilling to drown him because he had mange. He wasn't handsome then, but he improved in looks when he recovered from his illness, and he was so loving, so merry, so clever, and such a jolly companion altogether that it would have been a terrible grief to me to part with him. Then both Bobby and Teddy were such splendid confidants. To them I poured out all my sorrows, and I always felt better after we had talked things over. They would both look at me so earnestly and lovingly with their beautiful eyes while I told them whatever I had to tell. And then, to prove that they understood me, Teddy would rub me with his head and Bobby would first lick my fingers and then give a short, sharp bark and look defiantly round him as if to challenge my enemies. Both animals were nearly as fond as Jerry as they were of me, but he was only nine years old and did not understand them quite as well as I did. Whenever we were bent upon a long excursion on the moors, we would take a basket of provisions with us. Then, when we got to a suitable spot, we would prepare to enjoy our picnic. Teddy and Bobby would lie down for a while, or they would amuse themselves in their own ways, the one by nibbling at such eatables as he might find, and the other by excursionizing in search of rats. But they knew what a certain whistle meant and returned promptly to our side as soon as they heard it. Then, having unpacked our basket, we would distribute the luncheon. There was always a goodly bone for Bobby and some apples and a few carrots for Teddy. And though we were no doubt a curious quartet, we were a very happy one, for I had no regrets when in the unrestrained company of my three chums. After lunch we sometimes had a game at hide and seek among the stones and the hillocks. Teddy, in particular, being very difficult to see. It was such fun to see his dear old nose come poking around a corner and to witness him nay and prance in his joy at having unearthed us, while Bobby complimented him on his skill by barking his admiration. It seemed a pity that such beautiful days should have to have an end, and we were all sorry when it was time to go home again. As for me, I used to feel my spirit to leave me as being near home, for I was always sure to be in some scrape or other on my return. It was very easy for me to get into trouble at any time, but the head in front of my offending in connection with our picnics was my inability to distinguish between scraps and bones to which Bobby was welcome since no one else could eat them, and the remains of a joint which Martha had intended to convert into Rosolies. Teddy's apples, too, had a knack of being of the choicest flavors, whereas the green, wind-strewn ones were supposed to be good enough for a pony. As I now went to the stable, I could not help wondering how Lady Elizabeth would regard my pets, but I thought more assured about the matter than I would have done had I thought about it yesterday. For if my stepmother could actually take a fancy to me, she was not likely to take exception to the ugliness of Teddy and Bobby. Hello, Dory! I suddenly heard a voice exclaim, and I looked towards the kitchen garden whence the sound proceeded. I saw Jerry, hand in hand with Lady Elizabeth, to whom he was doing the honors of the place thus early. We've been getting some strawberries for breakfast, smilingly said my stepmother, or rather we were going to get some, but either Gerald or I ate all be gathered. Well, it wasn't me, said Jerry. I gathered them, and you ate them. But I can soon pull some more after you've looked at my white rats and my rabbits. And my pony, I put in, adding with no shade of reserve or shyness about me. Do you always get up so early, Lady Elizabeth? Not always, especially if I am in town. But I am fond of rising early in the country. Besides, I wanted to explore the Grange thoroughly today. I have been here before, but it is so long since I have quite forgotten what it is like. Do you know, put in Jerry, that I fancied yesterday you did not like the place? And Dora thought I must be a heathen not to do so. Oh, I beg your pardon, I exclaim hurriedly. It was very presumptuous of me, but I have lived here all my life, and to me no place can be nicer than Courtney Grange. That remains to be proved, said my stepmother with a smile. I have an idea that the sanitary arrangements of this place are bad. Should this really prove the case, we shall vacate the Grange in favor of a pretty place of my own. Leave the Grange, I cried aghast, why that would be awful. I should look uglier than ever anywhere else. On the contrary, it is just possible Dora that this place is to blame for your unsatisfactory complexion. Perhaps your bedroom is especially unhealthy one. Your father has promised to employ some sanitary engineers at once to examine the place. Meanwhile, I have left my maid at Sunny Knoe, and we are all going next week to pay a visit to that place. Your father is quite willing that you should all three accompany us, and I am sure you will enjoy your visit. But I have no pretty clothes to be seen elsewhere in. We will soon alter that. I am very glad that Ernestine did not come with me. I can manage very well for a week without her, and it is just as well that neither she nor any other servant of mine should criticize you at present. You will show to much better advantage in new clothes, and may as well create as good an impression as possible, even among the servants, who can be very neglectful of people who do not strike them as important. I intend you to be considered as important as your sister, who is very lovely, but who must not monopolize all the attention due to you. Indeed, I do not want attention or assistance. I am quite used to looking after both myself and others and cannot expect the same politeness as Belle. See, these are my pets, and I love them dearly, for they both love me. Bobby always slept with Teddy, and it was no unusual thing to see the two friends come to meet me as I did on this particular morning. Teddy, brushing my arm by way of salute and uttering a delightful neigh, while Bobby barked his good morning quite plainly. They have brought you to see some lovely animals, said a voice in this juncture. It was my father who had joined us preparatory to going in to breakfast, and who gazed at me with manifest displeasure. I'm afraid, my dear, he continued, that you will be somewhat disgusted at being taken the rounds of the stable yards and back premises, but I should have warned you as to what you might expect from Dora. Her tastes are inveterately low. Then I'm afraid I am low too, laughed Lady Elizabeth, for I have actually been enjoying myself. I was always worried that I had no children of my own, and a few fresh young spirits around me would complete my happiness in marrying you. Come along, children, we mustn't keep your father waiting for his breakfast. My father was not severe or ill-natured, except when irritated by the sight of the child who was inheritable, I assorted him, and he would have had to be a surel indeed to resist his wife's sunny ways. He was smiling pleasantly at her, and had turned to walk toward the house, having offered her his arm, when I hastily whispered to her, I excused Jerry and me for a moment while we gathered those strawberries, and then off I ran, followed by Jerry, and knowing full well that my desire to procure Lady Elizabeth a plentiful supply of her fruit, of which she seemed fond, would provoke my father's displeasure again, simply because it would strike him as another undesirable exhibition of my notoriously independent manners. But I no longer felt any particular desire to please him, and only cared to be of service to the dear Lady, who would permit no prejudice to influence her treatment of me. As far as she was concerned, I meant to follow Victor Hugo's advice and be as charming and helpful as I could. If I could not make my parents charming, I would charm her by a solicitous and persistent attention to her pleasures and comforts. It did not take the two of us long to gather a good supply of the Queens and the Presidents, and reach the morning room before the others had sat down to breakfast. Though I was there, I tired in a pretty pale blue print, and was admirably foiled by my altogether unprepossessing appearance. As I saw Lady Elizabeth's glance wander from Belle to myself, I knew that she was wondering what I could possibly wear to make me look pretty, and though I could never really hope to embody such a pleasant adjective as pretty, I was happy in the knowledge that Belle's unpleasant theories were upset, and that I might possibly show a marked improvement in my parents' era long. The rest of the day was chiefly taken up with explorations and consultations, and a good many new arrangements were made. Jerry, I was sorry to hear, was to be sent off to a French boarding school at the beginning of the next term. But when I heard that he was to spend all his holidays at home, just as if he were in an English school, I felt reconciled to the temporary absence of the bright, clever child who liked his ugly sister best. Jerry himself was quite overjoyed at the program cut out for him, and promised riders each and all a French letter from the first week of his residence in France. Belle, who is now twenty, was enraptured by the promise of the next season in town, while I was so delighted to hear that I was to have efficient instruction on my favorite instrument, the violin, that I burst into tears and ran hastily up to my own room, where I might vent my emotion unrestrainedly. You see, my tastes had met with so little sympathy heretofore that I required some time to get used to unwanted indulgences. I was not sure that my happiness would not yet take unto itself wings and fly away, or that I was not dreaming, for I had never heard of the arrival of a stepmother being so conducive to the welfare of the junior branches of the family as promised to be the case with us. My father, I noticed during the next few days, was so supremely contented and so happy in the society of his wife, that I contrasted the coley conventional manner in which he had always comported himself in my poor mother's presence, and was able to see that the feeling that he had borne for her was but poor stuff compared to the love he thought for Lady Elizabeth. I remember also having heard that these two were lovers in their youth, and it amazed me to think that they could have deliberately thrown aside the heart's most sacred feelings in order to make a worldly marriage. I have since then become thoroughly conversant with the fact that Mammon was infinitely the more powerful god of the two when it comes to a tussle with Cupid, and that even very estimable people lose their judgment when called upon to choose between them, and yet how can they honestly utter their marriage vows when the heart is given away from the one they were marrying? Truly, life has many mysteries which it were unprofitable work to attempt to resolve. In a day or two, quite an assortment of new clothes came for me, and it was astonishing to see how different I looked in the reds and yellows which I now wore. I was still the ugly girl of the family, but it was quite possible for strangers to overlook the unpleasant fact for a while, and I even caught myself hoping that I looked rather nice than otherwise, especially when callers began to pay their respects to the newly married couple. Both Belle and I were introduced to nearly all our visitors, among the first of them being the Earl of Greatlands. I was rather disposed to like him until I put his eyeglass up, quizzed me tentatively, and remarked, You are unfortunately very like your mother, Miss Dora, though I believe she had much finer hair and eyes than you have. But everybody improves in the hands of my daughter, and I have no doubt you will be as handsome as your sister by the time you are her age. I am only just twenty, said Belle stiffly. So I suppose my dear rejoined the Earl, but you will find in a year or two that even the slight margin of age there is between the two of you will land you considerably on the weather side and other people's opinion. Belle flashed an angry glance from her beautiful eyes, being careful, however, not to let the Earl see it, for did she not desire an invitation to the Greatlands castle? As for me, I felt nothing less than enraged, although I could not quite decide whether the old gentleman was deliberately rude, only gifted with an unfortunate knack for making mella proso speeches. But he did not notice they had hurt the feelings of either of us, having turned his attention to Jerry, who faultlessly dressed in a new black velvet suit, was being introduced to a stepmother's father. Ah, a very pretty boy, he said. But a perfect imp of mischief, I know. Boys who look like him always are. How many times have you gone out ratting? Not so often as I would like, sir. Dory can't always get away. And does Dory go rat hunting? Of course she does. She has a splendid dog. Teddy is hers, too, and he's just a brick. Teddy's a brick? But of what use is a brick on hunting expeditions? Oh, you know what I mean. Teddy is the jelliest little pony in the world. You seem fond of Teddy. Rather. And of Bobby? I wonder who wouldn't be. And of Dory? Why, of course. And of Belle? Belle? Well, yes, I daresay I am when she doesn't sneak on Dory. Gerald, I think you're forgetting yourself, interrupts my father angrily. That girl has made you worse than herself. It is just as well that you're going to be parted. For the present, you have been long enough in the drawing room. Very well, sir, said Jerry, and turned to leave the room at once. Lady Elizabeth, I could see, was more amused than vexed. Belle looked both at Jerry and me with angry disdain, and the Earl just laughed as if Jerry had uttered a very good joke. Wait a bit, Jerry, he said. If the others will excuse me for a few minutes, I would like you to show me this wonderful dog and pony. And as they are Dory's property, she will perhaps be good enough to come with us. As no one entered any objection to the Earl's proposal, I accompanied him from the room, and five minutes later, he and Jerry and I were interviewing Teddy and Bobby, who had been having a gamble at the foot of the orchard. The orchard was not a place they were supposed to frisk about in. But somebody had carelessly left the wicket open, and it was not their fault, poor things, that a choice young ribstone pippin had been snapped in two during their follicks. The Earl was certainly a funny man. He was as different from what I had always supposed an Earl to be as was possible. In fact, he was more like a jolly old farmer than anything else. But what a gossip he seemed to be, and how inquisitive he was. He laughed and moderately at the sight of my pets, but immediately soothed my wounded feelings by stroking and patting them, and I could see that they both took a fancy to him at once. It wasn't everybody that Teddy would sidle up to in the deer-winning way that he had, or to whom Bobby would wag his approval. But perhaps they were both in a better humor than usual. Bobby had uncovered one of the mushroom beds, and had helped himself to a few of the fungi, of which he was inordinately fond. While naughty Teddy, as several broken branches testified, had been feasting on an unripe Dutch mignons, or duke of Oldenburgs. Nice animals, said the Earl, just the sort I would have expected for property to be a Dory. My name is Dora, but Jerry calls you Dory. He is privileged. He likes me. And how do you know that I don't like you? You? I don't see how you can. Very few people do. Perhaps I'm one of the few. At any rate, I mean to call you Dory. It sounds nicer between friends than Miss Dora, doesn't it? Now you're making fun of me, and you would have made even more fun of me if I were to believe that the Earl of Greatlands wanted to be friendly with an ugly, uninteresting girl like me. Isn't Lady Elizabeth friendly with you? Oh, she is an angel. Well, please to remember that I am that angel's father, and of the same species. Don't you see my wings? At this we all three laughed, and we enjoyed each other's society very well for about a half an hour, during which time we had shown our visitor all sorts of things that I had never dreamed would interest an Earl. Suddenly he exclaimed, and now I must go back to the house, or I shall get into hot water with the old people, eh? But look here Jerry, what has Bill got to sneak about? Now Jerry, don't you turn sneak, I warned. You don't need to be afraid, but Belle is horrid after that. She always said that Dory's ugly, and I'm sure she isn't really ugly, is she? The latter question was addressed to the Earl, but I did not wait to hear his answer, for I was thoroughly angry with Jerry for once and returned to the house unceremoniously leaving them to go back when they liked. Of course I was not behaving politely, but I am afraid that very polished manners were really a little out of my line at that time, and after all it was too bad of Jerry to turn the conversation on to my unfortunate ugliness just when we were having such a nice time of it. Instead of going back to the drawing room, I went straight to the kitchen where I was busily occupied for the next two hours in helping Martha to shell marrow fats, to prepare salads, to making pudding, and some cheesecakes, and in other ways to do my best towards making dinner a success. Belle never condescended to enter the kitchen at any time, or would my father have liked her to risk spoiling the perfect loveliness of her hands. But Martha and John had never suffered from lack of work, and some help was absolutely needed by them. True, a strong girl from the village of Morby had been engaged now to the refer part of the housework, but even then there was plenty of room for my assistance. That evening the Earl of Greatlands dined with us, as did also Lord Agroville, his son, who had written over to pay his respects to his sister and her husband. He was a widower, and resided with his father at Greatlands Castle, his two sons being at Oxford. I did not like him at all, and he took no pain to conceal the fact that he considered me a very small fry indeed. But he was quite fascinated by Belle's beauty, and flirted desperately with her. She seemed perfectly willing to receive his attentions, and certain amused glances I saw exchanged between Lady Elizabeth, the Earl, and my father set my thoughts working in an odd direction. What a queer thing it would be, I amused, if this Lord Agroville and Belle were to fall in love with each other and make a match of it. How would it complicate relationships? Why let me see? Belle would become her father's sister-in-law, and would be sort of aunt to Jerry and myself, while the old Earl could call himself either her father-in-law or her grandfather-in-law if he liked. The situation presented so many funny aspects that I felt it necessary to relinquish my dessert spoon while I abandoned myself to a fit of laughter that obstinately refused to be repressed. As there was apparently nothing to laugh at, my manners were again called into question, chiefly by the innocent and unconscious cause of my amusement. A few days after this, the sanitary engineers were at work at Courtney Grange, and we were all domiciled pro-tim at Sunny Knoe, a lovely place in its way, but not nearly equal to what Courtney Grange would be when thoroughly restored. Oddly enough, a distant relation, from whom my father had never expected anything, dieted this juncture and bequeathed him several thousand pounds. His income had never been large enough to keep the place up as it ought to have been kept, and the Grange had therefore fallen considerably out of repair. Now that he was married to a lady of ample income, he could spare his newly acquired fortune for repairing purposes, and resolve to spend nearly the whole of it on that object. Under the circumstances, we were not likely to return to the Grange much before Christmas. But we did not trouble about that, as the Knoe was a very pleasant place to live. I had, very much to my sorrow, left Teddy under John Page's care, for Lady Elizabeth desired me to ride a more presentable steed while at the Knoe. I was provided with a well-made habit and had the use of a handsome horse. But the decorous ride, as I now took, in the company of Bell, and with the room following closely, were not to be compared with the delightful excursions Teddy and I had had together, though Bell enjoyed them and the altered state of things was evidently regarded by her as a great improvement. Now, as it had been necessary to leave Teddy behind, I could not be cool enough to bring Bobby away and leave him without a friend to talk to. John had promised to look well after them both, but I knew that they would miss me sadly, and longs the time when I could comfort them again with my presence. Lady Elizabeth was very good to me, but at times I was not sure that I did not regret the old spells of unconventional freedom. So true is it that we are prone to lose sight of the privileges and blessings of the present and the vain longing after a vanished past in which we could find little to be joyful at when it was with us. In my case, I was ready to let the memory of our halogen days on the moors outweigh that of all the days of neglect and misery during which I had craved for the mother's love which had once blessed me. The Earl of Greatlands and his son spent a great deal of time at the know, and we in our turn saw much of the castle which had been thoroughly rehabilitated since Lady Elizabeth's first husband had been good enough to furnish the money wherewith to do it. It was a fine old place, and it was pleasant to see what pride its owner took and all connected with it. Lord Egerville was very attentive to Belle, but it was difficult to decide how far the element of seriousness entered into the behavior of either of them. There was a prudent residence in the part of Lord Egerville at times that annoyed Belle very much because it argued that he was not quite so infatuated with her as she would have liked him to be. And yet, I do not believe she cared for him one atom, although she gave him more than sufficient encouragement to proceed with his attentions, up to a certain point. Once, when in a very gracious mood, she became quite confidential with me. It would be a very good match, even for me, who have always meant to do well for myself, she said. The state is quite unencumbered and in first class order. Lord Egerville is not very good looking, but I would tolerate his looks if I cannot do better for myself, though certainly it would be a great thing to become an English Countess. But Lord Egerville will not be an Earl until his father dies. His father, as you seem to forget, is close upon seventy and cannot live forever. How horrid it seems to count upon dead men's shoes like that. Don't excite yourself, my dear. If Lord Egerville were to propose to me tomorrow, I would not give him a decided answer. I must see what my coming season in town brings forth. I might captivate a much richer nobleman, or even a millionaire pill, or a soap manufacturer. At any rate, I'm not going to throw myself away in too great a hurry. I've heard in the hand, you know the rest. Yes, I know the rest, but my motto is, look before you leap. Well, I hope you won't leap into a big bog hole, that's all. Well, no, I will leave that suicidal performance for those who can never hope to leap any higher. How do you like this brooch, Lord Egerville sent it this morning? If I were you, I would tell him to keep his dead wife's jewelry a little longer. He might require it for someone else if you pick up a duke or a millionaire. Having had my parting shot, I judged it was wise to leave Belle to her own devices and went off to my little room where I practiced industriously on my fiddle for an hour and a half. There were plenty of servants here and I had no excuse for offering to help with the cooking, though I would have liked nothing better. Indeed, I had often thought that if I had not belonged to a family in which it was necessary to keep up appearances, I would have become a professional cook, but I still had a little congenial employment to turn to. Jerry was going off to school this week and I had undertaken to mark all his things myself besides making him sundry little knick-knacks that would prove useful to him. I found it very hard to part with Jerry when the time came for him to go. I was rather hurt to find that he cared less about leaving us behind than he did about the delights of travel and school life to which he was looking forward. I did think he would be sorry to leave me, I murmured, reproachfully, just as he was being resigned as a charge of the tutor who was going to accompany him to the school and afterward take part in teaching the boys. Well, what's the fellow to do? Jerry rejoined. You wouldn't have me to cry and look like a muff, would you? It isn't the same as if I was a girl. It wouldn't matter then if I cried my eyes red. No more at wood, Jerry. Goodbye, dear. And you'll be sure to write often to me. Quite sure. Goodbye, Dory. Goodbye, Pa. And, oh, Dory, I've forgotten my bag of marbles and my new top. Will you send them to me? There was barely time to answer in the affirmative, and then the child was off. Then my father, having seen me comfortably seated in the wagonette in which we had driven to the station, flipped his whip and off we started on a return drive. Little dreaming of the terrible events which were to come to pass, ere the dear boy from whom we had just parted came back to the home he left so blithely. This is the end of Chapter 2. CHAPTER 3 OF THE ADVENTURES OF AN UGLY GIRL This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Sarah Hyde. The Adventures of an Ugly Girl. By Elizabeth Borgoyne Corbett. CHAPTER 3. Tis the unlikely that always happens. My life seemed strangely quiet without Jerry for the next few days, and I longed all the more to console myself with Bobby and Teddy. But one gets used to the absence of anybody in time. And Lady Elizabeth's arrangements were so promotive of the comfort and pleasure of all with whom she lived that it would have seemed ungrateful of me to suggest that I should be glad when the time came to go back to the Grange. Still, it was true that, apart from the loss of Jerry's companionship, I had conceived a desire to leave, sunny know. The Earl of Greatlands had become unpleasantly effusive to me. He was constantly paying me compliments, which were all the more galling as they were made with a perfectly grave mean. Had Belle been the recipient, there would have been nothing objectionable about them, as she could have received them in the full conviction that they were honestly meant. But for me, whose ugliness was proverbial, to be addressed as pretty dear and dainty dove was very bitter indeed. For it was bad enough to be fully conscious of a total absence of all that was dainty and pretty without being publicly satirized and held up to the unfeeling laughter of Belle and her admirer, Lord Egreville. One afternoon, my temper, which of late had lain in abeyance, reasserted itself in a startling manner. We were all in the drawing-room, with several of the neighbouring gentry, who had come over to confabulate about some tableau vivant that there had been some talk of getting up. Several satisfactory groups had been decided upon. But, apparently by common consent, nobody had suggested that I should take apart in the performances, until the Earl remarked, Look here, there seems to be a strange want of judgment among you. You have left the flower of the flock out of your calculations, and I propose that she and I represent beauty and the beast. I can soon dress up as the beast, and she can fill her part satisfactorily. And pray who is the flower of the flock, said Belle, who was to represent Guinevere. Who else but Winsome Dora, retorted the Earl, where there was an undisguised laugh on the part of Belle and a few more of her calibre, while the rest smiled in good-natured toleration of so palpable an absurdity. Just for one instant I turned sick with humiliation. Then I walked up to the Earl, and with my eyes flashing angrily hissed rather than said, You are an old man, my lord, I am but a young girl. You think that you may hold me up to ridicule and laughter with impunity, but I vow you shall do so no longer. Shall I tell you what I will do if you dare to insult me in that manner again? Dora, how dare you, exclaimed my father angrily. If you have forgotten how to behave yourself, I must request you to go to your own room at once. I told you how it would be, he remarked to Lady Elizabeth. Top, top, put in the Earl, let the girl alone, Courtney. This little bit of an outburst is my especial prerogative, and I would like to hear the whole of it. What will you do if I repeat the kind of conversation which seems to rouse your ire? Why shouldn't I call you a beauty? Because I have the right to demand that you should cease to satirize my unfortunate appearance, and because I will no longer submit quietly to listen to compliments which become insults when applied to me. But you have not yet told me how you will prevent me from saying just what I please. If you are so little of a gentleman as to repeat your conduct, I will, I will slap your face. This is too disgraceful, interposed my father again. Once more, Dora, I have to beg you once more to permit me to finish this little affair in my own way, said the Earl, who was actually laughing so utterly insignificant and childish that he deemed my anger. So you would slap my face, eh? Well, there's nothing would please me better. I like a girl with some go in her. Even though you really are the nicest, bonniest, five minutes later I was in my own room, feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself. I had not permitted the Earl of Greatlands to finish his preposterous compliment. But certainly I had disgraced myself in the eyes of my father, of Lady Elizabeth, and of sundry other people who witnessed my exit from the drawing room and its predisposing cause. For I had really slapped the old Earl's face, even as I had threatened to do. He would probably not annoy me in the same way again. Indeed, it was problematical if he would ever speak to me again, for, after all, my conduct must seem inexcusable in the opinion of all but myself. For how could I expect anyone else to understand how bitter it was to me to have my lack of comeliness held up to the laughter and contumely of more favored mortals? Next morning, when I came down to breakfast, I found my father awaiting my advent in the morning room and braced myself for the reprimand which I knew to be inevitable. Said reprimand was even more severe than I had anticipated. But my affectionate parent displayed such a total lack of the consideration which I felt was the due of my own wounded feelings that somehow I no longer felt sorry for what I had done, but maliciously resolved to adopt equally drastic measures if ever I should be insulted in like manner again. I was never so ashamed in my life, supplemented Bell, who had come in while my father was talking and had listened with a smile to his lecture. I am glad to hear you say so, said the voice of Lady Elizabeth. It really was a shame to laugh when you saw how Dory was being tormented. Indeed, it is Dora I was ashamed of, not myself. It is not likely that I shall ever disgrace myself in like manner. So said Bell, and then the very absurdity of the suggestion that she would ever be tormented for the same reason that I had been, provoked the girl to irresistible laughter and served to prove how utterly heartless she could really be where my feelings were concerned. That afternoon, the Earl rode over to Sunny Knoe and surprised me by greeting me even more cordially than ever. Evidently, he thought me too insignificant and childish to be offended with, while I considered that the best thing I could do would be to make no further allusion to yesterday's contraitem. He did not seem inclined to tease me any more, and the remainder of that day passed pleasantly, as did many more ere we returned to the Grange. When at last we were installed in our old home again, we were astonished at the wonderful improvements that money and taste had been able to affect in and around it. It was now a grand old place, worthy of the imposing view it commended, and the fine trees by which its grounds were dotted. My father both looked and felt like a rich-lended proprietor, as he surveyed the realm which, thanks to Lady Elizabeth's income, he would be able to support in a style becoming the dignity of the courtes, who had once owned all the land for miles around. A new wing had been added for the comfort of Lady Elizabeth, whose rooms were situated here, and who had brought such a quantity of beautiful new furniture with her, that the Grange was a veritable palace of delight to Bell and myself, who had never known anything but shabby surroundings. My bedroom was now of my own choosing, and had been furnished exactly like Bell's. I wrote glowing accounts to Jerry of all that was being done, and was especially careful to give him full details concerning Bobby and Teddy and the rats and rabbits. Poor Jerry, he was to have come home for the Christmas holidays, and they were close at hand when a serious accident befell him. He had been too venturesome in some of the school sports, with the result that he had a severe fall and fractured his right leg. His father was telegraphed for it once, and lost no time in reaching him. Meanwhile, the boy had been treated by a skillful surgeon, and there was every prospect of his progressing satisfactorily toward recovery. But it was deemed inadvisable to move him at present, so poor Jerry had to forego his anticipated holiday at home. I felt awfully sorry for Kendall, he wrote in his weekly letter home, because his father and mother were dead, and he would have to spend his holidays at school. Now I am jolly well glad, for he will be company for me. It must not be imagined that Jerry was particularly selfish in expressing himself thus. It was only his youthful vagueness that was at fault. The writing, under the circumstances, was hardly legible, but I thought it very brave of the child to write it all. Meanwhile Christmas approached and passed with comparative uneventfulness. True, Lord Agriville had proposed to Bell, but she had declined to give him a definite answer, on the plea that she was too young to be engaged just now. The truth being that she was determined not to labour under the disadvantage of being already out of the running when she went to London for the season. A house in town had been rented for us, and in new course we all migrated thither. I had hardly expected to be introduced to London society yet, and Bell openly grumbled at the idea. But Lady Elizabeth generally got her own way in everything, and when she intimated that there was no reason why I should not enjoy myself like the rest, there was no opposition from my father. Arrived in London, however, I found that people were by no means inclined to make a fuss over me, while the beautiful Miss Courtney was fated and courted to her heart's content. Still, the proposals she had confidently expected were somewhat cherry in realising themselves, and when they did come they were not as superlatively tempting as they might have been. The fact was, it was pretty generally known that Bell wouldn't have no dowry to speak of, but plenty of young aristocrats admired her immensely. They deemed it advisable to offer their affections in society at the Shrine of Mammon. There were a couple of millionaires in the market, but incredible as it seemed to Bell, there were other girls in London whose physical charms equaled her own, and to these other girls the millionaires succumbed. Bell fumed. Bell raged. Bell almost anathematised. Bell hated her victorious rivals, but Bell was wily and presented an unruffled front in the presence of Lady Elizabeth and her relatives. She made the most of the proposals she did get, but professed her inability to love the proposers. Love indeed. Could such a beautiful sentiment find an entrance into her cold breast? Impossible. What she coveted was wealth and station, and when, toward the end of the season, Lord Egreville's proved to be the most eligible offer, she accepted him and had the felicity of seeing her engagement recorded in all the society papers. I had an idea that the Earl of Greatlands did not care much for Bell, but had never presumed to give utterance to my suspicion. Lady Elizabeth, however, was not quite so reticent. I wish you every happiness, dear, she said to Bell, kissing her warmly. And I think that you and Cyril will prove very congenial companions. But I am not sure that my father will like to see any mistress at the castle, other than his own wife, so long as he lives. But your father has not got a wife, exclaimed Bell, with rising resentment at what she considered Lady Elizabeth's presumption, for by her engagement to her brother, she was prospectively lifted to the same plane of relationship. And but for the favors which her stepmother could bestow upon her, she would at once have merged the respect due to a mother in the aggressive equality which she deemed a sister-in-law's mead. Lady Elizabeth's reply startled us all. He has no wife at present, she said. But I have good reason for asserting that he contemplates marriage at an early date, and provided the lady of his choice condescends to accept him. Condescends to accept him? I know very well what was the gist of Bell's thoughts, as she sat with a sullen and dismayed face, without making even a pretense of eating the dainty fare which lay on her breakfast plate. Who wouldn't condescend to accept him? Wasn't he nearly seventy years old? And wasn't he likely to die ere many years were over, leaving his widow in the untrammeled possession of a title that would give her the entree to any society? He was sure to, to scrape and save all he could to provide for his widow after his death. And that would mean a considerable containment of the allowance which Lady Egreville looked for on his marriage. Besides, if the earl brought a countess to the castle, and Lord Egreville was asked to retire to the Dower House with his bride, her position would be by no means so imposing as she had expected it to be. Residents at the castle, as its nominal mistress, had been one of Lord Egreville's special pleas when urging his suit. And next to the acquisition of the secondary title, with the prospect of a succession to the primary one, had been one of her chief reasons for considering him much more of an eligible party than her other suitors. And then, oh horror, suppose the earl's new wife should be young. Suppose there should actually be a child born. Why, Cyril would be still further dispoiled to provide for the bringing up of the little brat. True, he could not be robbed of his prospective right to the earldom as he was the eldest son. But an act of fancy could easily picture no end of humiliations for him and his wife if the foolish old earl were permitted to bring his infatuation for some pretty face into fruition. That these thoughts flew through Belle's brain in the sequence in which I have recorded them is more than I am able to vouch for. But I know her temperament and disposition so well that I had no hesitation in guessing the direction of her reflections. I believe you are just saying all this to try me, she said at last, looking up at Lady Elizabeth with a face from which she was trying to banish some of the shadows. Now I come to think of it, he spends the greater part of his time with us, and if he were attracted by anybody in London he would be more likely to seek her society than ours. Lady Elizabeth smiled very mysteriously but did not vouchsafe a more explicit reply. Papa said Belle impatiently, suppose you look up from that stupid paper and take a little intelligent interest in what is going on around you. It's perfectly exasperating to see you absorbed in an account of a shooting or fishing expedition when the future of your eldest daughter is being discussed. My eldest daughter, eh? To be sure I have two daughters but the future of one of them is considerably an embryo yet I should imagine. And what do you wish me particularly to say? Have you known anything of the Earl's intention to get married? Well, really, now you mention it. I did hear some time ago that he was on the lookout for a suitable spouse but I fancy the old party hasn't turned up yet. Just what I think. Lady Elizabeth has simply been teasing me. Why, my dear, do you happen to know anything definite about the matter? Appealed to thus directly, Lady Elizabeth replied guardedly, I have really been given to understand that my father would like to get married but I am not at liberty to disclose the name of the lady whom he would like to marry. At least tell me whether she is older young, appealed Belle anxiously. Oh, she is several years younger than my father, I believe. With this answer Belle was forced to be satisfied and shortly afterward we all left the breakfast room. As for me, I had listened to the foregoing conversation with considerable interest but not with the absorbed attention which might perhaps have been aroused in me if I had had the least idea that the doings of the Earl of Greatlands could possibly affect myself. After all, I was really sorry for Belle but perhaps the Earl's marriage might not affect her so adversely as she feared. At eleven o'clock Lord Egreville came to see Belle. I do not know the exact purport of their conversation with each other but I do know that when Belle's fiance left the drawing-room he looked much less pleasant than when he entered it and hardly seemed to have time to speak to the Earl who was announced at this juncture. Thinking I would have an hour's uninterrupted practice on my violin, I went up to my own room but was summoned then spy and by. Please, Miss Dora, said Elizabeth's maid, you are wanted in the library. I am wanted in the library? I echoed in surprise. Why, who can possibly want me? I do not know. It was my lady who sent me to ask you to go down to the library. Is Lady Elizabeth there? No, she is in her boudoir. Mr. Courtney is with her. At first it struck me as very singular that there should be a caller who wished to see me alone and then I reflected that my music master had perhaps found it inconvenient to give me my music lesson at the usual hour and had come to ask me to change the time. Full of this thought I hurried downstairs but was very much surprised to be confronted not by Senor Tringini but by the Earl of Greatlands. My dear child, how astonished you look, he said, as coming forward and taking my hand he conducted me courteously to a seat. Well, I replied, I cannot conceive what can be your object in desiring an interview with me, but perhaps there has been a mistake and it is bell you want. Indeed, it is not bell I want but your very own self. I hope I have not been doing anything to call forth your particular displeasure. I have really tried to be on my best behaviour with everybody since I came to London. You have not displeased me yet but you will displease me very much if you refuse to grant the request I have come to make of you. Then I will do the best I can to avert your threatened displeasure by promising to grant your request beforehand. Ah, my dear, if I were inclined to take an unfair advantage I would rejoice exceedingly over that promise. As it is, I am terribly afraid that you may retract it. Do you happen to have heard of my intention to get married if I can persuade a certain lady to accept me? Yes, Lady Elizabeth spoke of it this morning but she would not give us any clue to the lady's identity and I at least am very curious about her. I hope she is a nice old lady and that she will like me. You see, she will be a sort of grandmother-in-law to me with your permission. Grandmother fiddlesticks. She isn't old enough to be anybody's grandmother. Can't you guess who it is? Why, no, how should I? I do not know so very many of your friends and I really do not know anybody that would seem to be a suitable Countess of Greatlands. Well, it seems to me that for all round obtuseness you beat everything. Do you think it likely that I would seek a private interview with you in order to tell you of my intention to ask someone else to marry me? Then why have you come to see me? Why, only to ask you to take pity on a lonely old man and marry him? Look here, child, don't jump up and look angry for I really mean it. You are the only woman I would care to marry. And if you refuse to marry me I will have nobody else. Good gracious, how can a girl marry her grandfather? Do you forget that you are my stepmother's father? And what of that? We are not really related. Now don't be hasty, my dear. Think of all I can do for you and of all you can do for me. You shall have anything and everything you want and be presented at court. As the Countess of Greatlands you will be courted and sought after. But you can do much more for me than that. You can make the short span of life which yet remains to me perfectly happy. Say yes, my dear, and my love and gratitude will know no bounds. But I could not say yes for a while. Yet neither could I say no. My astonishment was almost too great for words. Still, I was not displeased at the dazzling prospect held out to me. Reflect, dear reader, before you blame, that I had always been told that I need never hope to win the affection of any man. And that, while those around me bask in the sunshine of family joys, the man did not exist who would care to cast in his lot with mine. True, this man was old and he was almost decrepit. But he had singled me out from the many others who would gladly have become Countess of Greatlands. In doing so he had done me an honour of which I was fully sensible. And it was such a joy to me to have become the best beloved of even an old man that my heart prompted me to say yes as he desired. Still, certain scruples would obtrude themselves upon my notice and counseled a little hesitation. Bell, I faltered at last, I cannot, it would make such a difference to Bell. It will not make the slightest difference to Bell, I assure you, Dory. She is too vain and frivolous for me to care about living in the same house with her. Whether I marry or not, Cyril and she will have to content themselves with the Dower House during my lifetime. It is the same with the title. They cannot have it until I am gone, and your present possession of it will not keep them out of it one day after it accrues to them. Come, my dear, end my suspense and keep the promise you made me a while ago. My father and Lady Elizabeth have no solid objections to offer. Neither had I after that. But somehow the enraptured kiss with which my old lover sealed our engagement was not the sort of thing I had pictured in my daydreams, and I voluntarily shivered under his caresses. What is it, my little pet? Are you cold?" he asked solicitously. Just a little was my evasive answer. This room always seems chilly. But that does not matter. Tell me, for it seems so strange how it is that you actually want to marry me of all people in the world. Look how ugly I am. You are not ugly to me, my dear. Besides, I am past thinking outward appearance, the sole recommendation and guarantee of a happy life. I need more than mere outward beauty. And you think you have found it? I am sure I have found it. And now, my love, with your permission, I will remain here until your father comes. I shall see you again later in the day. Having thus virtually received my dismissal, I sped up to my own room. Not before my ardent lover had claimed another kiss as his due. Did I feel glad? Or did I feel dismayed? I was really unable to tell myself which sensation predominated. I met Bao on the landing and was conscious of a strange feeling of trepidation which made me slink into my own room like someone guilty of a mean action. Oh, dear, how could I ever face them all, I thought? How could I ever have the presumption to pose as the superior in rank and family prestige to my beloved stepmother? Why, if I married her father, I should be her stepmother and my sister's mother-in-law and my father's mother-in-law, too. And could it be possible my own step-grandmother? There were no end of complications involved in the new arrangement. And as I pondered over them, I began to think that, as I pondered over them, I became more and more doubtful as to the propriety of accepting the grand future held out to me. And yet, if I could do so without repugnance on my part and with an honest determination to prove that the Earl had acted wisely in selecting me as the wife of his old age, why should I not become a great lady? Why, but my conjectures were interrupted at this juncture when I went. Belle had actually come to visit me in my own room. I knew instinctively, however, that her visit boated me no good. And when I looked up into her face, I saw that she was in a demoniacal temper. Is it true, she cried as she flung herself on a chair just in front of me? Is it true that you have actually diluted that old imbecile into offering marriage to you? Father has just told me that you are to become the Countess of Greatlands at a very early date. But the news is too monstrous for belief. A hideous little reptile like you to lord it over me? A shrimp of a girl whose goshery and ill-manners are proverbial to dare to assume heirs of superiority over me? I tell you, it shall not be. I will not have it. Sooner than endure such a humiliation I would, I would and pray what would you do? I asked, not with the compunction I had fought a while ago at the idea of relegating my beautiful sister to a secondary position nor yet with the anger which had blazed up in me on hearing the commencement of her Virago-like harangue but with the cool contempt of one who feels that her position is impregnable and that her assailant is beneath consideration and how will you prevent an arrangement with which you are not of sufficient importance to be permitted to interfere? Perhaps it was astonishment at the unwanted courage with which I met her assault. Perhaps it was a sudden access of prudence. But whatever the cause, the effect was the same. Bell declined to tell me how she would prevent my marriage with the earl. But she continued to revile me for a minute as treacherous deceitful and scheming and wound up by saying that I need not congratulate myself upon my seeming triumph as Lord Egreville would certainly not permit his father to perpetrate the folly he contemplated even if he had to swear that he was no longer responsible for his actions. To all this I steadfastly refused any further reply and becoming tired of levelling abuse which seemed to make no impression. Bell left the room as suddenly as she had entered it. Once alone I found that my own feelings with regard to the coming event had undergone a complete revolution. I no longer entertained the slightest doubt as to the propriety of having consented to accept the earl. On the contrary I was strongly determined to fulfill my promise and to remove myself forever from the tyranny of Bell's reproaches and heirs of superiority. Very much to my own surprise, too, I felt very indignant at the slights cast upon the earl and found my heart warm considerably toward him. For when I came to think of it he had always treated me kindly and even when I thought he was deliberately insulting me he must really have meant what he said. That his taste was peculiar to say the least was patent even to myself but that was all the more reason for gratitude and love on my part. Gratitude? Yes, that was undoubted. Love? Why not? Surely it is not so very hard for the one to engender the other. Presently Lady Elizabeth came to my door and asked my permission to enter. This was readily given though I already felt very much overwrought and dreaded the coming interview. But I need not have been uneasy about that for, as usual, my good stepmother had only my welfare at heart. I am afraid Belle has been giving you an uncomfortable time of it, she said, drawing a chair toward me and kissing me affectionately. She is fuming in the drawing room and has sent for Cyril to consult with him as to what is best to be done in this remarkable crisis. And you, I asked beseechingly, do you think I have been a scheming wicked girl and that I have done wrong in accepting the Earl? Certainly not, my child. I have known for some time that my father wished to make you his wife. Indeed, he consulted me as to the wisdom of doing so and I gave my unqualified approval to his project. Seeing that he had set his heart on having a young wife, I preferred to see you in that capacity rather than anyone else. But I hope that you are fully alive to the duties that will be expected of you. Indeed, yes, I answered soberly. I mean to do all in my power to make the Earl happy. That is right. If you think only of promoting his happiness your own will come as a matter of course. But tell me, have you any idea that the ceremony is expected to take place almost immediately? Oh no, how can it? I am too young yet to marry. My dear, in a case like this the bride's youth counts for nothing and the bridegroom's age carries all other considerations before it. Your father also agrees that it is best to make immediate arrangements and there is really no reason why you should not be married next week and somehow it was all decided almost without referring again to me that on the following Wednesday I should be transformed into the Countess of Greatlands. I have no doubt that society partially echoed Bell's sneers and voted the Earl half-crazy. But if it did its criticisms did not trouble me. And I was supremely happy as I reveled in the lavish preparations that were being made for the great event. Bell's wedding was indefinitely postponed although it had first been spoken of as an almost immediate event. So far as I could judge Lord Egreville was as bitterly opposed to the Earl's wedding as Bell was. He was just distantly civil to me and I took no trouble to ingratiate myself with him. Sometimes when the couple sat whispering in a corner I surprised an occasional glance that was positively malignant in its intensity of hatred. But even twice I remembered my sister's assertion that she would prevent my marriage and wondered vaguely if she were really hatching some plot against me. Then a certainty that it was out of her power to harm me consoled me once more and I pursued the happy tenor of my way all my time occupied either by the Earl's visits or by my initiation into further gayities of attire. The wedding itself was to be a very rare and as soon as it was over my husband was going to take me into Derbyshire for a week. Then we were to go to the castle which was being rapidly prepared for my reception and so the time flew on until Tuesday came round once more. Tomorrow was to be my wedding day. Tomorrow, oh, that dreadful tomorrow. Shall I ever forget it as long as I live? End of Chapter 3 Recording by Sarah Haidt.