 CHAPTER 1 OF MISS CREPANY These love stories were written for and printed in Peterson's Ladies' Magazine. Owing to the fact that this magazine was not copyrighted, a number of them have been issued in book form without my consent, and representing the sketches to be my latest work. If these youthful stories are to be read in book form, it is my desire that my friends should see the present edition, which I have revised for the purpose, and which is brought out by my own publishers. Francis Hodgson Burnett. October 1878. CHAPTER I. LISPETH. Another party, said Mrs. Desperd. Oh yes, said Lispeth. And of course a little music, and then a little supper, and a little dancing, and all that sort of thing. And she frowned impatiently. Mrs. Desperd looked at her in some displeasure. You are in one of your humours again, Lispeth, she said sharply. Why shouldn't I be? answered Miss Crepani, not a wit odd by her patroness. People's humours are their privileges. I would not help mine if I could. I like them because they are my own private property, and no one else can claim them. I should hardly think anyone would want to claim yours, said Mrs. Desperd dryly, but at the same time regarding the girl with a sort of curiosity. Lispeth Crepani shrugged her shoulders, those expressive shoulders of hers. A peculiar girl, even the mildest of people, called her. And as to her enemies, what did they not say of her? And her enemies were not in the minority. But peculiar was not a non-natural term to apply to her. She was peculiar. Seeing her kneeling close before the fender this winter evening, one's first thought would have been that she stood apart from other girls. Her very type was her own. And no one had ever been heard to say of any other woman. She is like Lispeth Crepani. She was rather small of figure. She had magnificent hair. Her black brows and lashes were a wonder of beauty. Her eyes were dark, mysterious, supercilious. She often frightened people. She frightened modest people with her nerve and coolness. Bold people with her savage sarcasms. Quiet people with her moods. She had alarmed Mrs. Desperd occasionally when she had first come to live with her. But after three years Mrs. Desperd, who was strong of nerve herself, had become used to her caprices, though she had not got over being curious and interested in spite of herself. She was a widow this Mrs. Desperd. She had been an ambitious nobody in her youth, and having had the luck to marry a reasonable rich man, her ambition had increased with her good fortune. She was keen, like Lispeth. Widded and restless. She had no children, no cares, and thus having no particular object in life formed one for herself in making herself pleasingly conspicuous in society. It was her whim to be conspicuous. Not in a vulgar way, however, she was far too clever for that. She wished to have a little social court of her own and to reign supreme in it. It was not rich people she wanted at her entertainments, nor powerful people. It was talented people. People, shall it be said, who would admire her aesthetic soirees, and talk about her a little while afterward, and feel the distinction of being invited to her house. And it was because Lispeth Crepeny was peculiar that she had picked her up during a summer visit to a quaint, picturesque village on the Welsh coast. She had made the acquaintance of the owners of a cottage whose picturesqueness had taken her fancy. Three elderly maiden-ladies were the Mrs. Tragarthen, and Lispeth was their niece, and the apple of each gentle spinster's eye. Poor dear Philip's daughter, and poor dear Philip, who had been their half-brother in the idol of their house, had gone abroad and seen the world, and after marrying a French girl who died young had died himself, and left Lispeth to them as a legacy. And then they had transferred their adoration and allegiance to Lispeth, and Lispeth, as her manner was, had accepted it as her right, and taken it rather coolly. As desperate had found her, at seventeen years old, a rustless, lawless, ambitious young woman, a young woman when any other girl would have been almost a child. She found her shrewd, well-read, daring, and indifferent to audacity, tired of the picturesque little village, secretly a trifle tired of being idolized by the three spinsters, inwardly longing for the chance to try her medal in the great world. Then too she had another reason for wanting to escape from the tame old life. In the dearth of excitement she had been guilty of the weakness of drifting into what she now called an absurd flirtation, which had actually ended in an equally absurd engagement, and of which she now, not absurdly as she thought, was tired. I scarcely know how it happened, she said, with cool scorn to Mrs. Desperde, when they knew each other well enough to be confidential. It was my fault, I suppose, if I had let him alone he would have let me alone. I think I am possessed of a sort of devil sometimes when I have nothing to do. And he is such a boy with a shrug, though he is actually 23. And then my aunt knew his mother when she was a girl, and so when he came to Penelun he must come here and stay with them, and they must encourage him to admire me, and I should like to know what woman is going to stand that. Woman indeed thought Mrs. Desperde. And then, of course, he has some sense of his own, or at least he has what will be sense some day, and he began to be rather entertaining after a while, and we boated and walked and talked and read, and at last I was actually such a little fool as to let it end in a sort of promise, for which I was sorry the minute it was half-made. If he had kept it to himself it would not have been so bad, but, of course, being such a boyish animal he must confide in Aunt Millicent, and Aunt Millicent must tell the others, and then they must all gush and cry and kiss me as if everything was settled, and I was to be married in ten minutes and bid them all an everlasting farewell in fifteen. So I began to snub him that instant and have snubbed him ever since, in hopes he would get as tired of me as I am of him. But he won't. He does nothing but talk rubbish and say he will bear it for my sake. And the fact is I am beginning to hate him, and it serves me right. She had always interested Mrs. Desperde, but she interested her more than ever after this explanation. She positively fascinated her. And the end of it all was that when the lady left Penelun she carried Lispeth with her. The Mrs. Targaryen wept and appealed and only gave in under protest at last because Lispeth was stronger than the whole trio. She wanted to see the world, she said. Mrs. Desperde was fond of her. She had money enough to make her so far independent that she could return when the whim seized her. And she was tired of Penelun. So why should she not go? She might only stay a month or a week, but however that was she had made up her mind to see life. While the four fought their battle out Mrs. Desperde looked on and smiled. She knew Lispeth would win. And of course Lispeth did. She packed her trunk and went her way. But the night before her departure she had an interview with poor Hector Ann Struthers, who came to the garden to speak to her. His boyish face, pale and haggard, his sea-blue eyes wide and hollow with despair. And like the selfish, heartless, cool little wretch that she was, she put an end to his pleadings peremptorily. No, she said, I would rather you would not write to me. I want to be let alone. It is because I want to be let alone that I am going away from Penelun. I never promised one of the things you are always insisting that I promised. You may call me as many hard names as you like, but you can't deny that no burst forth the poor lad in a frenzy. You did not promise, but you let me understand. Understand, echoed his young tyrant. I tried hard enough to make you understand that I wanted to be left alone. If you had been in your right senses you might have seen what I meant. You have driven me almost out of my mind and you must take the consequences. And then she turned away and left him stunned and helpless. Standing, watching her, as she trailed over the grass between the lines of rosebushes, the moonlight falling on her white dress and the little light blue scarf she had thrown over her long, loose, dusky hair. Three years ago all this had happened and she was with Mrs. Desperd still, though, of course, she had visited Penelun occasionally. She had not tired her patroness if patroness she could be called. She was not the sort of girl too tired people of their fancy for her. She was too clever, too cool, too well poised. She interested Mrs. Desperd as much today as she had done in the first week of their acquaintance. She was just as much of a study for her, even in her most vexatious moods. Have you a headache, asked Mrs. Desperd after a while? No, answered Lisbeth. Have you had bad news from Penelun? Lisbeth looked up and answered Mrs. Desperd with sharp curiousness. How did you know I had heard from Penelun, she demanded? Oh! said Mrs. Desperd. I guessed so from the fact that you seemed to have no other reason for being out of humour. And lately that has always been a sufficient one. I cannot see why it should be, said Lisbeth tartly. What can Penelun have to do with my humour? But you have had a letter, said Mrs. Desperd. Yes, from Aunt Clarissa. There is no bad news in it, however. Indeed, no news at all. How did I ever exist there? Her small face, lowering. You would not like to go back, suggested Mrs. Desperd. Lisbeth shrugged her shoulders. Would you like me to go back, she questioned. I, in some impatience, you know as well as I do that I cannot do without you. You would never miss me, Lisbeth, as I should miss you. It is not your way to attach yourself to people. How do you know, interposed Lisbeth? What can you know about me? What can any one man or woman know of another? That is nonsense. It is the truth, nevertheless, was the reply. Whom were you ever fond of? Were you fond of the Mrs. Trigarthan who adored you? Were you fond of the poor boy who was so madly in love with you? Have you been fond of any of the men who made simpletons of themselves because you had fine eyes and a soft voice, and knew better than any other woman in the world how to manage them? No, you know you have not, Lisbeth shrugged her shoulders again. Well, then it is my way, I suppose, she commented, and my ways are like my humours, as you call them. So we may as well let them rest. There was a pause after this. Then Lisbeth rose. And going to the table began to gather together the parcels she had left there when she returned from her shopping expedition. You have not seen the dress, she said? No. It is a work of art. The pansies are as real as any that ever bloomed. They might have been just gathered. How well that woman understands her business. CHAPTER II. ANOTHER GENTLEMAN OF THE SAME NAME. She went upstairs after this to her own room, a comfortable, luxurious little place near Mrs. Desperate's own apartment. A clear bright fire burned in the grate, and her special sleepy hollow chair was drawn before it, and when she had laid aside her hat and disposed of her purchases, she came to this chair and seated herself in it. Then she drew the penile and letter from her pocket and laid it on her lap, and left it there, while she folded her hands and leaned back, looking at the fire dreamily, and thinking to herself. The truth is, that letter, that gentle, sweet-tempered, old-fashioned letter of Miss Clarissa's, stung the girl, worldly and selfish as she was. Three years ago she would not have cared much, but seeing the world. Ah, the world had taught her a lesson. She had seen a great deal of this world under Mrs. Desperate's guidance. She had ripened marvelously. She had grown half a score of years older. She had learned to be bitter and clear-sided, and now a curious mental process was going on with her. We shall never cease to feel your absence, my dear, wrote Mr. Garthen. Indeed, we sometimes say to each other that we feel it more every day. But at the same time we cannot help seeing that our life is not the life one so young and attractive ought to live. It was not a congenial life for our poor dear Philip, and how could it seem congenial to his daughter? And if, by a little sacrifice, we can make our dear Lispeth happy, ought we not to be more than willing to submit to it? We are so proud of you, my dear, and it delights us to hear that you are enjoying yourself, and being so much admired that when we receive your letters we forget everything else. Do you think you can spare us a week in the summer? If you can, you know it will rejoice us to see you, even for that short time, et cetera, et cetera, through a half-dozen pages. And this letter now lay on Lispeth's lap, as we have said, while she pondered over the contents moodily. I do not see, she said at last, I do not see what there is in me for people to be so fond of. A looseened coil of her hair hung over her shoulder and bosom, and she took this soft and thick black tress, and began to twist it round and round her slender might of a wrist with a sort of vindictive force. Where is the fascination in me, she demanded of the fire one might have thought? It is not for my amiability, it is not for my odd fine eyes, an odd soft voice, as Mrs. Desperate puts it, that those three women love me, and lay themselves under my feet. If they were men, with scorn, one could understand it, but women? Is it because they are so much better than I am that they cannot help loving something, even me? Yes, it is, defiantly. Yes, it is. She was angry, and all of her anger was against herself, or at least against the fate which had made her what she was. This bit knew herself better than other people knew her. It was a fate, she told herself. She had been born cold-blooded and immovable, and it was not to be helped. But she never defended herself thus when others accused her. She would have scorned to do it. It was only against her own secret restless inner accusations that she deigned to defend herself. It was characteristic of her that she should brave the opinions of others and feel rebellious under her own. What Lispith Krepany thought in secret of Lispith Krepany must have its weight. At last she remembered the dress lying upon the bed, the dress Lakomtha just sent home. She was passionately fond of dress, especially fond of a certain striking yet artistic style of setting for her own unusually effective face and figure. She turned now to this new dress as a refuge from herself. I may as well put it on now, she said. It is seven o'clock, and it is as well to give oneself plenty of time. So she got up and began her toilet leisurely. She found it by no means unpleasant to watch herself grow out of chrysalis form. She even found a keen pleasure in standing in the brilliant light before the mirror, working patiently at the soft cloud-like masses of her hair, until she had wound and twisted it into some novel graceful fancifulness. And yet even this scarcely arose from a vanity such as the vanity of other women. She went down to the drying room when she was dressed. She knew she was looking her best without being told. The pale gray tissue, pale as a gray sea mist, the golden-hearted purple pansies with which it was lightly sewn and which were in her hair and on her bosom and in her hands, suited her entirely. Her eyes, too, soft, dense, mysterious under their sweeping straight black lashes. Well, lisp with Crepany's eyes and no other creatures. A first glance would tell me who had designed that dress, said Mrs. Desperde. It is not lecompt. It is your very self in every touch and tint. Lisp with smiled and looking down the length of the room where she stood reflected in a mirror at the end of it. Unfurled her fan, a gilded fan, thickly strewn with her purple pansies. But she made no reply. A glass door in the drying room opened into a conservatory, all aglow with light and bloom, and in this conservatory she was standing half an hour later, when the first arrivals came. The door, a double one, was wide open, and she, in the midst of the banks and tiers of flowers, was bending over a vase of heliotrope, singing a low snatch of song. The fairest rose blooms but a day. The fairest spring must end with May, and you and I can only say, Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. She just sang this much and stopped. One of the two people who had arrived was speaking to Mrs. Desperde. She lifted her head and listened. She could not see the speaker's face because a tall, tropical-leaved lily interposed itself. But the voice startled her uncomfortably. Who is that man, she said to herself, who is that man? And then, without waiting another moment, she left the heliotrope and made her way to the glass door. Mrs. Desperde looked first and saw her standing there. Ah, Lisbeth, she said, and then turned with a little smile toward the gentleman who stood near us to her. Here is an old friend, she added, as Lisbeth advanced. You are indebted to Mr. Lyon for the pleasure of seeing Mr. Ann Struthers again. Lisbeth came forward, feeling as if she was on the verge of losing her amiable temper. What was Hector Ann Struthers doing here? What did he want? Had he been insane enough to come with any absurd fancy that—that he could—that—but her irritated hesitance carried her no farther than this. The young man met her halfway, with the greatest self-possession imaginable. This is an unexpected pleasure, he said, holding out his hand, frankly. I was not aware, when Lyon brought me to his friends, that I should find you here. All this, as complacently be it observed as if he had been addressing any other woman in the world, as if that little affair of a few years ago had been too mere a bagatelle to be remembered, as if his boyish passion and misery and despair had faded utterly out of his mind. Mrs. Desperd smiled again and watched her young friend closely. But if Lisbeth was startled and annoyed by the too apparent change she was too clever to betray herself, she was a sharp, secretive young person, and had her emotions well under control. She held out her hand with a smile of her own, a slow, well-bred, not too expressive affair, not an effusive affair by any means. Delighted, I am sure, she said. I have just been reading a letter from Aunt Clarissa, and naturally it has prepared me to be doubly glad to see one of her special favourites. After that the conversation became general, and Struthers somehow managing to take the lead. Lisbeth opened her eyes. Was this the boy she had left in the moonlight at Penelun? The young Simpleton, who had bent at her feet on the sands, spouting poetry and adoring her, and making himself her grateful slave? The impetuous, tiresome lad who had blushed and raved and sighed, and in the end had succeeded in wearing her so completely? Three years had made a difference. Here was a sublime young potentate, wondrously altered, and absolutely wondrously well-looking. The mustache she had secretly sneered at in its budding youth was long, silken, brown. The slight long figure had developed into the fairest of proportions. The guileless freshness of colour had died away and left an interesting, if rather significant, pallor. Having been a boy so long, he seemed to have become a man all at once, and as he stood talking to Mrs. Desperde, and occasionally turning to Lisbeth, his serenity of manner did him credit. Was it possible that he knew what to say? It appeared so. He did not blush. His hands and feet evidently did not incommode him. He was talking vivaciously and with the air of a man of the world. He was making Mrs. Desperde laugh, and there was every now and then a touch of daring, yet well-bred sarcasm in what he was saying. He was as much older as she herself was, and yet, incongruous as the statement may appear, she hardly liked him any the better. How long, she asked abruptly of Bertie Lyon, has Mr. Anstrothers been in London? Lyon, that radiant young dandy, was almost guilty of staring at her amazingly. Beg pardon, he said, did you say how long? Yes. The young man managed to recover himself. Perhaps after all she was as ignorant about Anstrothers as she seemed to be, and it was not one of her confounded significant speeches. They were nice enough people, of course, and Mrs. Desperde was a sort of woman whose parties a fellow always liked to be invited to. But then they were not exactly in the set to which Anstrothers belonged, and of which he himself was a shining member. Well, you see, he said, he has spent the greater part of his life in London. But it was not until about three years ago that he began to care much about society. He came into his money then when young Scarsbrook shot himself accidentally in Scotland, and he has lived pretty rapidly since. With an innocent faith and miscrepeny's ability to comprehend even a modest bit of slang. He is a tremendously talented fellow, Anstrothers, paints and writes and takes a turn at everything. He is the art critic on the cynic, and people talk about what he does, all the more because he has no need to do anything, and it makes him awfully popular. This bit laughed, a rather savage little laugh. What is it that amuses you, asked Lyon? Not Anstrothers, I hope. Oh no, answered the young lady, not this Anstrothers, but another gentleman of the same name, who I knew a long time ago. A long time ago, said the young man gallantly, if not with a wondrous sapience. If it is a long time ago, I should think you must have been so young that your acquaintance would be hardly likely to make any impression upon you, ludicrous or otherwise, for he was one of the victims too, and consequently liked to make even a stupidly polite speech. End of Chapter 2. Recording by Grace Buchanan Chapter 3 of Miss Chris Bigny. 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 Rita Butros. Miss Chris Bigny by Francis Hodgson Burnett. Chapter 3. Pansies for Thought Lizbeth gave him a sweeping little curtsy, and looked at him sweetly, with her immense, dense eyes. That was very nice indeed, in you, she said, with a gravely obliged air. Pray, take one of my pansies. And selecting one from her bouquet, she held it out to him. And Hector Anstrothers, chancing to glance toward them at the moment, had the pleasure of seeing the charming bit of by-play. It was the misfortune of Miss Chris Bigny's admirers, that they were rarely quite sure of her. She had an agreeable way of saying one thing, and meaning another. Of speaking with the greatest gravity, and at the same time making her hearer feel extremely dubious and uncomfortable. She was a brilliant young lady, a sarcastic young lady, and this was her mode of dealing with young men and women, who otherwise might have remained too well satisfied with themselves. Birdie Lyon felt himself somewhat at a loss before her, always. It was not easy to resist her, when she chose to be irresistible. But he invariably grew hot and cold over her confounded significant speeches. And this was one of them. She was making a cut at him for his clumsy compliment, and yet he was compelled to accept her pansy, and fastened it on his coat, as if he was grateful. Mr. Hector Anstrothers had been installed by universal consent that evening as a sort of young lion, whose gentlemanly roar was worth hearing. Young ladies had heard of him from their brothers, and one or two had seen those lovely little pictures of his last season. Matrons had heard their husbands mention him as a remarkable young fellow who had unexpectedly come into a large property, and yet wrote articles for the papers, and painted when the mood seized him for dear life. A really extraordinary young man, and very popular among highly desirable people. Rather reckless they would say, perhaps, and something of a cynic as these young swells are often apt to be. But nevertheless a fine fellow, a fine fellow. And Anstrothers had condescended to make himself very agreeable to the young ladies to whom he was introduced. Had danced a little, had talked with great politeness to the elder matrons, and in short had rendered himself extremely popular. Indeed he was so well employed that until the latter part of the evening Lisbeth saw very little of him. Then he appeared suddenly to remember her existence, and dutifully made his way to her side to ask for a dance, which, invitation being rather indifferently accepted, they walked through a quadril together. I hope, he said, with punctilious politeness, that the Mrs. Trigarthan are well. I am sorry to say, answered Lisbeth staring at her vis-à-vis, that I don't know. Then I must have mistaken you. I understood you to say that you had just received a letter from Ms. Clarissa. It was not a mistake, returned Lisbeth. I had just received one, but unfortunately they don't write about themselves, they write about me. Which must necessarily render their letters interesting, said Anstrothers. Lisbeth barely deigned a slight shrug of her shoulders. Necessarily, she replied, if one is so happily disposed as never to become tired of oneself. It would be rank heresy to suppose, said Anstrothers, that any of Ms. Krasbygni's friends would allow it possible that anyone could become tired of Ms. Krasbygni, even Ms. Krasbygni herself. This is the third figure, I believe, was Lisbeth's soul reply, and the music striking up again, they went on with their dancing. He supposes, said the young lady scornfully to herself, that he can play the grand senior with me, as he does with other women. I daresay he is congratulating himself on the prospect of making me feel sorry someday. Me! Our men always simpletons, it really seems so. And it is the women whom we may blame for it. Bah! He was a great deal more worthy of respect, when he was nothing but a tiresome, amiable young boar. I hate these simpletons who think they have seen the world and used up their experience. She was very hard upon him, as she was rather apt to be hard upon everyone, but Lisbeth Krasbygni. And it is not improbable that she was all the more severe, because he reminded her unpleasantly of things she would have been by no means unwilling to forget. Was she so heartless as not to have a secret remembrance of the flush of his first young passion, of his innocent belief in her girlish goodness, of his generous eagerness to ignore all her selfish caprices, of his tender readiness to bear all her cruelty? For she had been cruel, and wantonly cruel enough, God knows. Was she so utterly heartless as to have no memory of his suffering and struggles with his boyish pain, of his passionate frantic appeal, when she had reached the climax of her selfishness and indifference to the wrong she might do? Surely no woman could be so hard, and I will not say that she was, and that she was not inwardly stung this night, by the thought that if he had hardened and grown careless and unbelieving, the chances were that it was she herself who had helped to bring about the change for the worse. The two young men, Lion and his friend, spending that night together, had a little conversation on the subject of their entertainment, and it came to pass in this wise. Accompanying and struthers to his chambers, Lion, though by no means a sentimental individual, carried Miss Crispigne's gold and purple pansy in his buttonhole, and finding it there when he changed his dress coat for one of his friends' dressing gowns, he took it out and put it in a small slender vase upon the table. And struthers had flung himself into an easy chair, with his shibook and through the wreaths of smoke ascending from the fragrant weed, he saw what the young man was doing. Where did you get that, he demanded abruptly. It is one of those things Miss Crispigne wore was the modestly triumphant reply. You saw them on her dress and in her hair and on her fan. This is a real one, though, out of her bouquet. I believe they call them Hart's Ease. Hart's Ease began and struthers roughly, but he checked himself in time. She is the sort of a woman to wear Hart's Ease, he added with a sardonic laugh. She ought to wear Hart's Ease and violets and lilies and snowdrops, and wild roses in the bud with a more bitter laugh for each flower he named. Such fresh, innocent things suit women of her stamp. I say, said Lion, staring at his sneering face amazingly, what is the matter? You talk as if you had a spite against her, what's up? And struthers sneer only seemed to deepen in its intensity. A spite, he echoed, what is the matter? Oh, nothing, nothing of any consequence. Only I wish she had given her Hart's Ease to me, or I wish you would give it to me, that I might show you what I advise you to do with the pretty things such creatures give you. Toss it into the fire-old fellow and let it scorch and blacken and writhe, as if it were a living thing in torment, or fling it on the ground and set your heel upon it and grind it out of sight. I don't see what good that would do, said Lion, coming to the mantelpiece and taking down his mere sham. You are a queer fellow, and struthers. I did not think you knew the girl. I know her with a fresh sneer. I know her well enough. By Jove, exclaimed Lion suddenly, as if a thought had struck him, then she did mean something. She generally means something, returned the other. Such women invariably do. They mean mischief. She generally does when she laughs in that way, Lion proceeded unconsciously. She is generally laughing at a man, instead of with him as she pretends to be. And when she laughed this evening, and looked in that odd style at you, I thought there was something wrong. And struthers turned white, the dead white of suppressed passion. Laugh, he said, she laughed? You see, explained Lion. She had been asking about you, and when I finished telling her what I knew, she looked at you under her eyelashes as you stood talking to Mrs. Despard. And then she laughed. And when I asked her if she was laughing at you, she said, ah, no, not at you, but at another gentleman of the same name whom she had known a long time ago. It was not the best thing for himself that Hector and Struthers could have heard. He had outlived his boyish passion, but he had not lived down the sting of it. Having had his first young faith broken, he had given faith up as a poor mockery. He had grown cynical and sneering. Bah! Why should he cling to his old ideals of truth and purity? What need that he should strive to be worthy of visions, such as they had proved themselves? What was truth after all? What was purity in the end? What had either done for him when he had striven after and believed in them? The accidental death of his cousin had made him a rich man, and he had given himself up to his own caprices. He had seen the world and lived a lifetime during the last few years. What had there been to hold him back? Not love. He had done with that, he told himself. Not hope of any quiet bliss to come. If he ever married, he should marry some woman who knew what she was taking when she accepted what he had to offer. And then he had gradually drifted into his artistic and literary pursuits, and his success had roused his vanity. He would be something more than the rest, and incited by this noble motive and his real love for the work, he had made himself something more. He had had no higher incentive than this vanity, and a fancy for popularity. It was not unpleasant to be pointed out as a genius, a man who, having no need to labor, had the whim to labor as hard when the mood ceased as the poorest bohemian among them, and who would be paid for his work too. They will give me praise for nothing, he would say sardonically. They won't give me money for nothing. As long as they will pay me, my work means something. When it ceases to be worth a price, it is not worth my time. The experience of this evening had been a bad thing altogether for Ernst Struthers. It had roused in him much of sleeping evil. His meeting with Lisbeth Crisbygny had been, as he told her, wholly unexpected. And because it had been unexpected, its effect had double force. He did not want to see her. If he had been aware of her presence in the house he was going to visit, he would have avoided it, as he would have avoided the plague. The truth was that in these days she had in his mind become the embodiment of all that was unnatural and hard and false. And meeting her suddenly, face to face, every bitter memory of her had come back to him with a fierce shock. When he had turned, as Mrs. Despard spoke, and had seen her standing in the doorway framed in, as it were, with vines and flowers and tropical plants, he had almost felt that he could turn on his heel and walk out of the room without a word of explanation. She would know well enough what it meant. Being the man he was, his eye had taken in at a glance every artistic effect about her. And she was artistic enough. For when Lisbeth Crisbygny was not artistic, she was nothing. He saw that the promise of her own undeveloped girlhood had fulfilled itself after its own rare peculiar fashion, doubly and trebly. He saw in her what other men seldom saw at first sight, but always learned afterward, and his sense of repulsion and anger against her was all the more intense. Having been such a girl, what might she not be as such a woman? Having borne such blossoms, what could the fruit be but hard and bitter at the core? Only his ever-ruling vanity saved him from greeting her with some insane caustic speech. Vanity will serve both men and women a good turn, by chance sometimes, and his saved him from making a blatant idiot of himself barely saved him. And having got through this, it was not soothing to hear that she had stood in her sly way and looked at him under her eyelashes and laughed. He knew how she would laugh. He had heard her laugh at people in that quiet fashion when she was fifteen, and the sound had always hurt him through its suggestion of some un-girlish satire he could not grasp, and which was not worthy of so perfect a being as he deemed her. So he could not help breaking out again in new fury when Bertie Lyon explained himself. It did not matter so much, breaking out before Lyon. Men could keep each other's secrets. He flung his pipe aside with a rough word and began to pace the room. There is more of devil than woman in her, he said. There always was. I'd give a few years of my life, clenching his hand, to be sure that she would find her match some day. I should think you would be match enough for her, remarked Lyon astutely. But what has she done to make you so savage? When were you in love with a woman? Never, bitterly. I was in love with her, and she never belonged to the race, not even at fifteen years old. I was in love with her, and she has been the ruin of me. I should scarcely have thought it, answered Lyon. You are a pretty respectable wreck for your age. The young man was not prone to heroics himself, and not seeing his friend indulge in them often, he did not regard them with enthusiasm. This complacency checked and strutters. What a frantic fool he was to let such a trifle upset his boasted cynicism. He flung out another short laugh of defiant self-ridicule. He came back to his chair as abruptly as he had left it. Bah, he said, so I am. You are a wise boy, Lyon, and I am glad you stopped me. I thought I had lived down all this sort of nonsense, but… But I have seen that girl wear pansies before. Hearts ease, by Jove, and it gave me a twinge to think of it. Keep that one in the glass over there. Keep it as long as you choose, my boy. It will last as long as your fancy for her does, I wager. Women of the Crespigny's stamp don't wear well. Here, hand me that bottle, or stay. I'll ring for my man, and we will have some brandy and soda to cool our heated fancies. We are too young to stay up so late, too young and innocent. We ought to have gone to bed long ago, like good boys. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of Miss Chris Bigny 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 Rita Butros. Miss Chris Bigny by Frances Hodgson Burnett Chapter 4 A Lunch Party The studio of that popular and fortunate young man, Mr. Hector and Struthers, was really a most gorgeous and artistic affair. It was beautifully furnished and wondrously fitted up and displayed in all its arrangements. The fact that its owner was a young man of refined and luxurious taste and was lucky enough to possess the means to gratify them to their utmost. People admired this studio and talked about it almost as much as they talked about and Struthers himself. Indeed, it had become a sort of fashion to visit it. The most exclusive of mamas, ladies who were so secure in their social thrones that they were privileged to dictate to fashion instead of being dictated to by that fickle goddess, ladies who made much of and Struthers and petted him, often stopped their carriages at his door on fine mornings and descended there from with their marriageable girls, went up to the charming room and loitered through half an hour or even more talking to the young potentate, admiring his pictures and picturesque odds and ends and rarities and making themselves very agreeable. He was an extravagant creature and needed someone to control him, these ladies told him, but really it was all very pretty and exquisitely tasteful and upon the whole they could hardly blame him as much as it was their duty to do. And Struthers received these delicate attentions with quite a grace. He listened and smiled amiably, replying with friendly deprecation of their reproaches. Was he not paid a thousandfold by their kind approval of his humble efforts? What more could he ask than they should grace the little place with their presence and condescend to admire his collection? Most men had their hobbies and art was his. Art and the artistic, a harmless if extravagant one. And then he would beg his fair visitors and their escort to honor his small temple by partaking of the luncheon his man would bring in. And then the little luncheon would appear as if by magic, a marvelous collation, as much a work of art as everything else. And this being set out upon some carven wonder of a table, the ladies would deign to partake and would admire more than ever until in course of time to visit Mr. Hector and Struthers among his pictures and carvings and marbles and be invited to enjoy his dantified little feasts became the most fashionable thing the most exclusive of people could do. So it was by no means extraordinary that one sunny morning in April my lord while chatting with his usual condescending amiability to one party of visitors should receive another. There were three in this last party an elderly beau, a young lady of uncertain age, and Mrs. Despard and Struthers who was standing by the side of a pretty girl with bright eyes started a little on the entrance of this lady and the bright eyes observed it. Who is that? asked their owner. She is a very distinct gay sort of person and then she smiled. It was quite certain that he could not be enamored of such mature charms as these distinct gay though they might be. That is Mrs. Despard Ms. Esmond answered and Struthers. Excuse me one moment and then he advanced to meet his guests with the cordiality of the most graceful of hosts. This was indeed a pleasure he said blandly. He had been half afraid that Mrs. Despard had forgotten her kind promise. That lady shook hands with him in a most friendly manner. She rather shared the universal tendency people had to admire the young men were not all young men extravagant and at least this one had money enough to afford to be extravagant honestly and attractions enough to render even conceit a legitimate article. You must thank Mr. Esther Brooke and his sister for bringing me she said. They have been before and knew the way. We met them as they were coming here and they asked us to come with them. Lizbeth would not get out of the carriage. She was either lazy or ill humored. She was driven round to the library and is to call for us in half an hour. Her eyes twinkled a little as she told him this. As I have said before Lizbeth always interested her and she was interested now in her mode of managing this old love affair. It was so plain that it rasped her to be brought in contact with him and that she would have preferred very much to keep out of his way that the fact of her being thrown in his path against her will could not fail to have its spice and afford Mrs. Despard a little malicious amusement. In secret she was obliged to confess that ill-natured as it seemed she would not have been very sorry to see Lizbeth at bay. Of Anne Struthers sentiments she was not quite sure as yet but she was very sure of Lizbeth's. Lizbeth knew that she had acted atrociously in the past and hating herself in private for her weak wickedness hated Anne Struthers too for his share in it. It was not Lizbeth's way to be either very just or very generous. All her pangs of self-reproach were secret ones of which she had taught herself to be ashamed and which she would have died rather than confess. She let her caprices rule her holy and did her best to make them rule the other people. If she was angry she made vicious speeches. If she was pleased she behaved like an angel or an angelic creature without a fault. She did not care enough for other people to mold her moods to their taste. The person of most consequence to her was Lizbeth Crispigny. Mrs. Despard found her visit to her young friend's studio very entertaining. She saw things to admire and things to be amused at. She discovered that his own efforts were really worth looking at and that the fixtures he had collected were both valuable and exquisite. He had bought no costly lots of ugliness. He had bought beauty. As to the appurtenances of the room a woman could not have chosen them better. Most women would not have chosen them so well. Indeed a touch of effeminate fancifulness in the general arrangement of things made her smile more than once. He had arranged a sort of miniature conservatory in a wide deep bay window filled it with tears of flowers growing in fanciful vases and hanging baskets full of delicate long vines and bright bloom. What a dandy we are she said smiling when she drew aside the sweeping lace curtain which cut this pretty corner off from the rest of the apartment and what fine taste we display. And Struthers blushed a little. He had accompanied her on her tour of exploration and had been secretly flattered by her evident admiration and surprise. Is that a compliment or is it not he answered. I like to hear that I have fine taste but I don't like to be called a dandy. Isn't it a trifle dandified to know how to do all these things so well she asked. It is a man's province to be clumsy and ignorant about the small graces. Isn't it better than doing them ill he said. Pray let me give you two or three pale rose buds and a few sweet violets. If you bribe me with violets and rose buds I shall say it is better that you should be aesthetic enough to care to cultivate them than that I should not have the pleasure of receiving them as a gift. It is very pretty of you to do such things. There was no denying that they had become excellent friends. There were not many people to whom his lordship would have offered his rose buds and violets but for some reason or other he had taken a sudden fancy to Mrs. Despard and was anxious to show himself to advantage. He was even ready to answer her questions and once or twice they were somewhat close ones. It must be confessed. Tell me something about that nice girl she said glancing at Miss Esmond who was talking to the rest of the party. What a pretty creature she is and how bright her eyes and her color are. There are very few girls who look like that in these days. Very few answered and strutters that nice girl is Miss Georgie Esmond and she is one of the few really nice girls who have the luck to take public fancy by storm as they ought to. She has not been out long and she is considered a belle and a beauty and yet I assure you Mrs. Despard that I have seen that girl playing with a troop of little brothers and sisters as if she was enjoying herself helping a snuffy old French governess to correct exercises and bringing a light for the old Colonel's pipe as if she had never seen a ballroom in her life. Oh, said Mrs. Despard, then I suppose you have seen her in the bosom of her family, a trifle slyly. I know them very well replied the young man with a grave air. I have known Georgie Esmond since she wore pinafores. My poor cousin who died has played blind men's bluff with us at Skarsbrook Park when we were children many a time. The fact is I believe we are distant relations. I congratulate you on the distance of the relationship, said Mrs. Despard. She is a fresh bright charming girl. She is a good girl, said and strutters, congratulate her on that and congratulate her father and her mother and her brothers and sisters and the snuffy old governess whose life she tries to make less of a burden to her. It was at this moment that the carriage in which Lisbeth had driven away returned. It drove by the window and drew up at the door and Mrs. Despard saw her young friend's face alter its expression when he caught sight of it with its prancing bays and faultless accompaniments and Lisbeth Crispigny leaning back upon the dove-colored cushions with a book in her little dove-colored hand. She saw Mrs. Despard among the flowers but did not see her companion and being in an amiable humor she gave her a smile and a nice little gesture of greeting. Her eyes looked like midnight in the sunshine and with a marvel of a cream-colored rose in her hat and in perfect twilight she was like a bit of a picture dark and delicate and fine. She struck and strutters in an instant just as anything else artistic would have struck him and held his attention. I wonder if she would come up Mrs. Despard said I wish she would she ought to see this it would suit her exactly. Allow me to go down and ask her if she will do us the honor said Anne Struthers. Colonel Esmond and his daughter have promised to take lunch in and I was in hopes that I could persuade your party to join us it will be brought on almost immediately. That is as novel as the rest said Mrs. Despard by no means displeased however if you can induce Lisbeth to come up I am not sure that I shall refuse. I wonder what he will say to her was her mental comment when he left the room and she looked out of her window with no small degree of interest. She saw him standing upon the pavement by the carriage a moment or so later his face slightly upturned as he spoke to the girl the spring wind playing softly with his loose fair hair and the spring sunshine brightening it and something in his manner she scarcely knew what brought back to her a sudden memory of the Frank boyish young fellow he had been when Lisbeth first amused herself with her cool contempt for his youth and impetuousness at Penielan and just as suddenly it occurred to her what a wide difference she found in him now how ready he was to say caustic things to take worldly views and indulge in worldly sneers and she recollected the stories she had drifted upon stories which proved him a life's journey from the boy whose record had been pure whose heart had been fresh whose greatest transgression might have been easily forgiven and remembering all this she felt a sharp anger against Lisbeth an anger sharper than she had ever felt toward her in the whole of her experience when and struthers appeared upon the pavement and advanced toward the carriage side Lisbeth turned toward him with a feeling of no slight displeasure since she had made an effort to keep out of his way must he follow her up is not mrs. despard coming she asked somewhat abruptly mrs. despard was so kind as to say that if i could induce you to leave the carriage and join our little party she would not refuse to take lunch in with us and then he stood and waited for her reply i was not aware that she thought of staying said Lisbeth if i had known then she checked herself if i refuse she said in secret he will think i am afraid of him and she regarded him keenly but he was quite immovable and merely appeared politely interested if you will be so good to let me help you down he said opening the low door himself and extending his hand courteously we shall be delighted to have such an addition to our number he added you are very kind answered Lisbeth rising he should not think his presence could influence her one way or the other she made up her mind to face this position since it was unavoidable as if it had been the most ordinary one in the world she entered the room upstairs as if she had expected to lunch there mrs. Esmond who was always good naturedly ready to be enthusiastic turned to look at her with a smile of pleasure what an unusual type she said to her father to look papa she is actually exquisite and being introduced to her her frank bright eyes became brighter than ever she was one of those lovable trusting young creatures who were ready to fall in love with pleasant people or objects on the shortest notice and she was captivated at once by lisbeth's friendly air her age and lisbeth's were about the same but by nature and experience they were very wide apart miss crespigny being very much the older and more worldly wise of the two if it had come to a matter of combat between them miss georgey would have had no chance whatever end of chapter four chapter five of miss crespigny this is a libra box recording all libra box recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libra box.org recording by Rita butros miss crespigny by francis hudson bernett chapter five georgey esmond it suited lisbeth to be charming this morning and she was really very agreeable indeed she knew enough of art to appear to advantage among pictures and she had with all a certain demure and modest way of admitting her ignorance which was by no means unattractive she was bright amiable and as it seemed in the best of spirits she made friends with miss georgey and delighted colonel esmond she propitiated miss esterbrook and rendered that inflammable elderly bow her brother supremely happy by her friendly condescension she treated and strutters as if there had been no other event in their two lives but this one morning and this one nice little party she made the luncheon even more entertaining than such small feasts usually were in short she was lisbeth crespigny at her best her spiciest and in her most engaging mood oh said that open-hearted georgey when she shook hands with her as they parted oh i have enjoyed myself so much i am so glad to have met you i hope we shall see each other again please ask me to call mrs. despard laughing prettily i should like it so much i do so hate to lose people whom i like does that mean that you are so good as to like me a little said lisbeth in her sweetest tone wondering at the same time how on earth the girl could have lived so long and yet have retained that innocent believing air and impulsive way i hope it does georgey quite blushed with innocent fervor indeed it does she answered i should not say it if it did not and i am sure that if i see you more i shall like you better and better it is so delightful to meet somebody one is sure one can be fond of it was an odd thing but as lisbeth looked at her for a moment she positively felt that she blushed faintly herself blushed with a sense of being a trifle ashamed of lisbeth christbigney it would be dreadful to have such a girl as this find her out see her just as she was read her record just as the past had left it she was half inclined to put such a thing beyond the pale of possibility by drawing back i want mama to know you said georgey mama is so fond of clever people that it makes me wish often enough that i was not such an ordinary sort of girl we shall be delighted to see you my dear said mrs despard you may be sure of that come as soon and as often as possible and so the matter was decided and lisbeth had not the power to draw back if she had determined to do so you must have known miss christbigney quite a long time georgey esmond said cheerfully to anstruthers before she went away with her father mrs despard said something about your having met her at that little welsh place penielan wasn't it and you haven't been at penielan to stay for two or three years you ought not to have kept such a charming creature to yourself for three years my boy said the old colonel i should think not indeed chimed in miss georgey it was selfish and we are never selfish with him are we papa we show him all our nice people don't we but said anstruthers i have not seen miss christbigney once during the three years after leaving penielan we lost sight of each other somehow or other and did not meet again until a short time ago and then it was quite by accident it was very careless of you to lose her then protested miss georgey i would not have lost her for the world gentlemen are so cold in their friendships i don't believe you ever really loved any of your friends in your life mr hektor anstruthers smiled a satirical smile ought i to have loved miss christbigney he demanded ought i to begin to love her now if you think it is my duty i will begin to do it at once georgey the girl shook her pretty head reproachfully oh she said that is always the way you talk you grand young gentleman it is the fashion to be sarcastic and not to admire anybody very much or anything but yourselves saucilly and you would sneer at your best friends rather than not be in the fashion i am sure i don't know what the world is coming to who is sarcastic now i should like to know said anstruthers i think it is miss georgey esmond who out herods herod admire ourselves indeed we only do what we are taught to do what women themselves teach us what exclaimed georgey do we teach you to admire yourselves and nothing else no was his answer you do not teach us that but you do worse not you my kind honest georgey but women who would have us believe they are as honest and tender they teach us that if we cling to our first beliefs we are fools and deserve to be laughed at they teach us to sneer and then scold us prettily for sneering they leave us nothing to believe in and then make sad poetic speeches about our want of faith there are men in the world for whom it would have been better if they had never seen a woman georgey esmond's eyes opened wider and wider she did not understand such bitterness she was a simple healthful minded girl and had seen very little of the world but its pleasant side why she said this is dreadful and you say it as if you actually meant it i shall have to talk to mama about you hector such cases as yours are too much for me to deal with what good is all your money and your genius and your popularity and and good looks making a charming mr. vis bow what pleasure can you derive from your pretty rooms and lovely pictures and fine articles of virtue if you have such wicked thoughts as those somebody ought to take your things from you as we do harry's toys when he is willful and they ought to be locked up in a cupboard until you are in a frame of mind to enjoy them and struthers looked at her sweet bright face with a kind of sad admiration why had he not fallen in love with this girl instead of with the other it was a hard fate which had led or driven him what a different man he might have been if three years ago georgey esmond had stood in lesbeth chris bigney's place you don't quite understand georgey he said in a low rather tender tone you are too good and kind my dear to quite comprehend what makes people hard and bitter and old before their time and colonel esmond coming into the room to take her away at this moment he gave her nice little hand the ghost of an affectionate pressure when she offered it to him in farewell and while mr. hector and struthers was railing in this exalted strain at the falseness of womankind the fair cause of his heresy was driving home in a rather unpleasant frame of mind it is never pleasant to find that one has lost power and it was a specially galling thing to lesbeth chris bigney to find herself at any time losing influence of any kind she did not find it agreeable to confront the fact that one of her slaves had purchased his freedom with his experience petty as the emotion was she had felt something akin to anger this morning when she had been compelled to acknowledge as once or twice she had been that her willow victim could address her calmly meet her glance with polite indifference regard her upon the whole as he would have regarded any far less accomplished woman less than four years ago she said to herself with scorn if i had trampled upon him he would have kissed my feet today he only sees in me an unpleasant young woman whom he overrated and accordingly cherishes a grudge against i have no doubt he looked at that pretty fresh esmond girl as we sat together and drew invidious comparisons between us let us give her credit for one thing however she felt no anger against the girl who she fancied had taken her place somehow george esmond with her bright eyes and her roses and her ready good nature had found a soft spot in lisbeth's rather hard heart miss chris bigney could not have explained why it was but she had taken a fancy to george esmond she liked her and she wanted the feeling to be a mutual one she would have experienced something very like a pang even thus early in their acquaintance if she had thought that the sweet honest young creature would ever see her with hector and struthers eyes men are always disproportionately bitter she said to herself it is their way to make themselves heard when they are hurt they seem to have a kind of pride in their pain any ordinarily clever woman could see that my lord of the studio had a grievance lisbeth said mrs despartre breaking in upon her reverie isn't it rather astonishing how that boy has improved he has improved said lisbeth because he has ceased to be a boy he is a man in these days and a very personable and entertaining man i must say returned mrs despartre nodding her head in approval of him he is positively handsome and that luncheon was a very pretty graceful affair and quite unique i shall pay him a visit again one of these fine days being thus installed as one of mrs despartre's favorites it was not at all singular that they should see a great deal of the young gentleman and they did see him pretty often gradually he forgot his objection to meeting lisbeth and rather sneered in secret at the violence of that first shock of repulsion it was all over now he said and why should such a woman trouble him indeed what greater proof of his security could he give himself than the fact that he could meet her almost daily and still feel indifferent it must be confessed that he rather prided himself upon his indifference he was drawn also into greater familiarity with the household through george esmond for in expressing her wish to make friends with lisbeth george had been sincere as was her habit a very short time after the luncheon her first visit was made and the first visit was the harbinger of many others mama who was her daughter's chief admiration came with her and mama was as much charmed in her way as george had been in hers it was impossible for lisbeth to help pleasing people when she was in the right mood and mrs esmond and george invariably put her in the right mood she could not help showing her best side to these two sweet natures end of chapter five chapter six of miss chris bigney this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libra vox.org recording by rita butros miss chris bigney by francis hodgson bernett chapter six a song thus a friendship arose which in the course of time became a very close one colonel esmond's house was luxurious and pleasant and everybody's heart opened to a favorite of george's accordingly lisbeth's niche in the family was soon found it was rather agreeable to go among people who admired and were ready to love her so she went pretty often in fact george kept firm hold upon her there appeared always some reason why it was specially necessary that lisbeth should be with her she had visitors or she was alone and wanted company she had some new music and wanted lisbeth's help or she had found some old songs lisbeth must try lisbeth whose voice was so exquisite indeed it was lisbeth lisbeth lisbeth from week to week until more than one of miss edmunds admirers wished that there had been no such person as miss chris bigney in the world as and struthers had said miss george esmond was quite a bell in this the first year of her reign and if she had been so inclined it was generally believed that she might have achieved some very brilliant social triumphs indeed but i am afraid that she had the bad taste not to aspire as she might have done i don't want to be uncharitable she had said innocently to her friend and i don't in the least believe the things people often say about society the things hector says for instance but really lisbeth i have sometimes thought that the life behind all the glare and glitter was just the least bit stupid and hollow i know i should get dreadfully tired of it if i had nothing else to satisfy me no real home life and no true single-hearted close friends to love like you and mama it made lisbeth wince this pretty speech george esmond often made her wince and mr hector and struthers discovered this fact before any great length of time had passed and the discovery awakened in him diverse new sensations he had looked on at the growing friendship with a secret sneer but the sneer was not at george honestly he liked the girl something the better for her affectionate credulity nothing could contaminate her not even lisbeth chris bigney but sometimes just now and then he found it a trifle difficult to control himself and resist the impulse to be openly sarcastic he encountered this difficulty in special force one evening about a month after the studio luncheon the girls had spent the afternoon together and dinner being over lisbeth was singing one of george's favorite songs it was a love song too for though miss george had as yet had no practical experience in the matter of love she had some very pretty ideas of that tender passion and was very fond of love songs and poems and love stories such as touched her heart and caused her to shed a few gentle tears and this song was a very pretty one indeed all for love and the world well lost was the burden of its guileless refrain all for love love which is always true and always tender and never deceives us what is the world it demanded what is life what rest can we find if we have not love the world is our garden and love is the queen of roses its fairest bloom let us gather what flowers we may but oh let us gather the rose first and tend it most delicately it will give its higher beauty to our lives it will make us more fit for heaven itself it will shame our selfishness and help us to forget our sordid longings all for love and the world well lost and so on through three or four verses with a very sweet accompaniment which george played with great taste and lisbeth was singing and as she had a trick of doing was quite forgetting herself and her exquisite full tone voice rose and fell with a wondrous fervor and her immense dark eyes glared and her small pale face glowed and a little pathetic shadow seemed to rest upon her so well did she sing indeed that one might have fancied that she had done nothing all her life but sing just such sweetly sentimental songs and believe every word of them implicitly and when she had finished george's eyes were full of tears oh lisbeth she cried looking up at her affectionately you make everything sound so beautiful and and true i could never never sing in that way it must be because you can feel beautiful tender things so deeply so much more deeply than other people do lisbeth awoke from her dream suddenly hector and struthers who had been standing at the other side of the piano looked at her with a significance which would have roused her at any time their eyes met and both pair flashed his with the very intensity of contempt hers with defiance my dear george he said i admire your enthusiasm but scarcely think you quite understand miss chris bigny she is one of those fortunate people who cannot help doing things well it is a habit she has acquired no sentiment would suffer in her hands even a sentiment quite opposite to the one she has just illustrated the force of so artistically george looked a little amazed she did not like to be chilled when all her gentle emotions were in full play and apart from this did not such a speech sound as if it suggested a doubt of the sincerity of her beloved lisbeth people cannot teach themselves to be innocent and loving she said almost indignantly at least they cannot be artistically loving and innocent you cannot make art of truth and faith and you cannot be generous and kind through nothing but habit your heart must be good before you can be good yourself at least that is my belief and i would rather have my beliefs than your cynicism and so would lisbeth i am sure even if they are not so brilliant and popular you are too sarcastic sir and you have quite spoiled our pretty song i did not mean to spoil it he answered forgive me i beg with a satirical bow and pray favor me with another that i may learn to believe perhaps i shall i am inclined to think miss chris bigny could convince a man of anything you don't deserve another said george does he lisbeth hardly said lisbeth who was turning over some music with an indifferent face but she sang again nevertheless and quite as well as she had done before though it must be admitted that she influenced george to a choice of songs of a less arcadian nature the following morning and struthers called to see mrs despard and found that lady absent and miss chris bigny in the drawing room consequently it fell to miss chris bigny's lot to entertain him during his brief visit he made it as brief as possible but when he rose to take his leave to his surprise lisbeth detained him there is something i should like to say to you she began after she had risen with him he paused had in hand it is about george miss esmond she added you were very kind to speak to her of me as you did last night it was very generous i feel that i ought to thank you for trying to make her despise me and her eyes flashed with an expression not easy to face i ask pardon he returned loftily if i had understood that your friendship was of such a nature if its object had been a man instead of an innocent girl you would have understood easily enough i have no doubt she interposed angrily he bowed with the suspicion of a sneer upon his face perhaps he answered thank you said she however since you need the matter explained i will explain it i am fond of george esmond and she is fond of me and i do not choose to lose her affection so i must resort to the poor expedient of asking you to deny yourself the gratification of treating me contemptuously in her presence say what you please when we are alone as we are sometimes forced to be but when we are with your cousin be good enough to remember that she is my friend and trust me it was so like the girl lesbeth this staring summary course this confronting and settling the matter at once without the least sign of hesitation or reluctance that he began to feel very uncomfortable had he really behaved himself so badly indeed was it possible that he had allowed himself to appear such a rampant brute as her words implied he who so prided himself upon his thoroughbred impassibility i treat you contemptuously he exclaimed it is not you i care for she answered him it is george esmond he had no resource left but to accept his position the very humiliating position of a man whose apologies if he offered any would be coolly set aside whose humiliation was of no consequence and who was expected to receive punishment like a culprit whose sensations were not for a moment to be regarded he left the house feeling angry and helpless and returning to his chambers wrote a stinging criticism of a new book poor blank who had written the book received the benefit of the sentiments miss chris bigny had roused on her part lesbeth resorted to one of her humours to use mrs desparz expression she was out of patience with herself she had lost her temper almost as soon as she had spoken her first words and she had been so sure of perfect self-control before she began that was her secret irritant why could she not have managed it better it was not usual with her to give way when she was sure of herself somebody has been here said mrs desparz when she came in and found her sitting alone with her sewing someone you do not like or someone who has said something awkward or unpleasant to you hector and stothers has been here was lesbeth's answer but she deigned no further explanation and did not even lift her eyes as she spoke end of chapter six chapter seven of mrs chris bigny this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libra vox.org recording by linette caulkins monument colorado mrs chris bigny by francis hodgin bernette chapter seven a new experience the next time that georgey found herself alone with mr and struthers she read him a very severe little lecture on the subject of his shortcomings i knew that you liked to be satirical and make fine cutting speeches she said with the prettiest indignation but i did not think you would have gone so far as to be openly rude and to lesbeth of all people lesbeth who is so good and unselfish and kind and who is my dearest friend hector and struthers looked at her sweet face almost mournfully is she good and unselfish and kind he said but the question was not a satire he only asked it in a tender wonder at the girl's innocent faith there is no one like her no one's so good unless it is mama herself exclaimed miss georgey with warmth but lesbeth's is not a common surface goodness and i suppose that is the reason that you cannot see it you too who are so farsighted and clever i for one am glad i am not a genius if to be a genius one must be blind to everything but the failings of one's friends ah hector a sudden pity kindling in her gentle breast as she met his eyes ah hector people often envy you and call you fortunate but there are times when i am sorry for you sorry from my heart georgey answered the young man not quite able to control a tremor in his voice there are more times than you dream of when i am sorry for myself sorry for yourself said georgey softening at once then you must be more unhappy than i thought to be sorry for oneself one must be unhappy indeed but why is it why should you be unhappy after all why should you be cynical and unbelieving hector the world has been very good to you or as i think we ought to say god has been very good to you what have you not got that you can want what is there that you lack not money not health not friends isn't it a little ungrateful to insist on being wretched when you have so much yes answered and struthers gloomily it is very ungrateful indeed ungrateful i should think it was returned georgey with her favorite dubious shake of the head oh poor fellow i am afraid it is a little misfortune that you need and i am very sorry to see it it was no marvel that georgey esmond was popular she was one of those charming girls who invariably have a good effect upon people she was so good herself so innocent so honest so trustful that she actually seemed to create a sweeter atmosphere wherever she went the worst of men while listening to her gentle bright speeches felt that the world was not so bad after all and that there was still sweetness and purity left to render sin the more shameful by their white contrast a fellow wants to forget his worst side when he is with her said one she makes a man feel that he would like to hide his shadiness even from himself her effect upon hector and struthers was a curious and rather a dangerous one she made him ashamed of himself too and she filled his heart with a tender longing and regret had it not been for his experience with lisbeth he would have loved the girl passionately as it was his affection for her would never be more than a brotherly though intensely admiring one he was constantly wishing that fate had given georgey to him georgey who seemed to him the purest and loveliest of young home goddesses georgey who would have made his life happy and pure and peaceful if it had only been georgey instead of lisbeth but it had been lisbeth and his altifiers had burned out and left to him nothing but a waste of cold gray ashes and yet knowing this he could not quite give georgey up the mere sight of her fresh bright-eyed face was a help to him and the sound of her voice a balm he grew fonder of her every day in his way her kindly little girlish homilies touched and warmed him as lisbeth had made him worse so georgey esmond made him better but the danger the danger was not for himself it was for georgey the day was slowly dawning when the girl's innocent friendship and admiration for him would become something else when she began to pity him she began to tread on unsafe ground she had lived through no miserable experience she had felt no desolating passion her heart was all untried and his evident affection stirred it softly even before she understood her own feelings she thought her budding love was pity and her tenderness sympathy he had gone wrong poor fellow somehow and she was sorry for him i am sure he does not mean the hard things he sometimes says she said to lisbeth i think that satirical way of speaking is more a bad habit than anything else mama thinks so too but with a little gaelish blush we are both so fond of him that we cannot help being sorry that he has fallen into it it is a sort of fashion in these days return lisbeth and she longed to add a scorching little sneer to the brief comment but she restrained it for georgey's sake positively such a thing had become possible she who had never restrained her impulses before had gradually learned to control them for this simple girl's sake on the one or two occasions early in their acquaintance when she had let her evil spirit get the better of her the sudden pain and wonder in georgey's face had stung her so quickly that she had resolved to hide her iniquities at least in her presence sometimes she had even wished that she had been softer at heart and less selfish it was so unpleasant to see herself just as she was when she breathed that sweet atmosphere of which i had spoken georgey esmond caused her to lose patience with lisbeth crespini upon more than one occasion i am a hypocrite she said to herself if she knew me as i am what would she think of me what would mrs. esmond say if she knew how cavalierly her dear lisbeth had treated those three loving old souls at penniland i am gaining everything on false pretenses and one night as she sat combing her hair before her mirror she added fiercely i am false and selfish all through and i believe they are teaching me to be ashamed of myself the fact was these two sweet women this sweet mother and daughter were teaching her to be ashamed of herself she quite rived under her conviction for she felt herself convicted her self-love was wounded but the day came when that perfect obstinate self-confidence which was her chief characteristic was not a little shaken i should like to be a better woman she would say in a kind of stubborn anger it has actually come to this that i would like to be a better woman if i could but i cannot it is not in me i was not born to be a good woman the more she saw of the esmond's the more she learned the household was such a pleasant one and was so full of the grace of home and kindly affection how proud the good old colonel was of his pretty daughter how he enjoyed her triumphs and approved of the taste of her many admirers how delighted he was to escort her to evening parties or to the grandest of balls and to spend the night in watching her dance and smile and hold her gay little court entirely ignoring the fact that his gout was apt to be troublesome when he wore tight boots instead of his huge slippers it was quite enough for him that his girl was enjoying herself and that people were admiring her grace and freshness and bloom how fond the half dozen small brothers and sisters were of georgie and what a comfort and pleasure the girl was to her mother it was an education to lisbeth crespini to see them all together it even seemed that in time she fell somewhat into georgie's own way of caring for other people how could she help caring for the kind hearts that beat so warmly toward her then through acquiring as it were a habit of graciousness she remembered things she had almost forgotten if she was not born to be a good woman why not try and smooth the fact over a little was her cynical fancy why not give the three good spinsters at penniland the benefit of her new experience it would be so little trouble to gladden their hearts so with an impatient pity for herself and them she took upon herself the task of writing to them oftener and at greater length and frequently before her letters were completed she found herself touched somewhat and even prompted to be a trifle more affectionate than had been her want a poor little effort to have made but the dear simple souls at penniland greeted the change with tenderest joy and aunt melissant and aunt clarissa and aunt heady each shed tears of ecstasy in secret in secret because to have shed them openly would have been to admit to one another that they had each felt their dear lisbeth's former letters to be cold or at least not absolutely all that could be desired so like dear dear phillips own child said miss clarissa who was generally the family voice you know how often i have remarked sister henrietta that our dear lisbeth was like brother phillip in every respect even though at times she is perhaps a little more a little more reserved as it were her nature i am sure is most affectionate that fortunate and much caressed young man mr hector and struthers not only met miss cuspini frequently but heard much of her imperfect as she may appear to us who sit in judgment upon her the name of her admirers was legion her intimacy with the ezmins led her into very gay and distinguished society far more illustrious society than mrs despards patronage had been able to afford her and having this her little peculiarities did the rest her immense dusky eyes her small pale peaking face her self-possession her wit and her numerous capabilities attracted people wondrously even battered old bows who had outlived two or three generations of beauties and who were fastidious accordingly found an indescribable charm in this caustic clever young person who was really not a beauty at all if measured according to the usual standard she was too small to pale too odd but then where could one find such great changeable dark eyes such artistic taste such masses of fine hair such a voice and apart from that it was said of her there is something else hear her talk by jove see how she can manage a man when she chooses to take the trouble see how little she cares for the fine speeches that would influence other women see her dance hear her sing and you will begin to understand a fellow can never tire of her for she is everything she has the whim to be and she is everything equally well so she is heaven knows Hector and Struthers muttered bitterly looking across the room at her as she stood talking to Colonel Esmond old Denby's laudatory speech fell upon his ears with the significance of its own she could be anything she chose so long as her whim lasted and there was the end of it it all meant nothing she was as false when she played her pretty part for the benefit of the Esmans young and old as when she encouraged those dandies and ensnared them with Georgie she took up the role of ingenue that was all she was bad through and through he felt all this sincerely this night when he heard the men praising her and he was savage accordingly end of chapter seven chapter eight of miss chris beanie 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 Lynette Cochens monument Colorado miss chris beanie by Francis Hodgson Burnett chapter eight i will tell you the truth for once but how was it the very next night when he dropped in to see mrs despard and surprised the siren reading a letter of miss Clarissa's and reading it in the strangest of moods reading it with a pale face and heavy wet lashes she did not pretend to hide the traces of her mental disturbance she did not condescend to take the trouble she evidently resented his appearance as untimely but she greeted him with indifferent composure mrs despard will come down as soon as she hears that you are here she said and then proceeded to fold the letter and replace it in its envelope and thus he saw that it bore the penelin postmark what did such a whim as this mean he asked himself impatiently taking in at a glance the new expression in her face and the heaviness of her gloomy eyes this was not one of her tricks there was no one here to see her and even if there had been what end could she serve by crying over a letter from penelin what on earth had she been crying for he had never seen her shed a tear before in his life he had often thought that such a thing was impossible she was so hard could it be that she was not really so hard after all and that those three innocent old women could reach her heart but the next minute he laughed at the absurdity of the idea and lisbeth chanting to raise her eyes and coolly fixing them on his face at that moment saw his smile what is the matter she asked a demon took possession of him at once what if he should tell her and see how she would answer they knew each other why should they keep up this pretense of being nothing but ordinary acquaintances with no unpleasant little drama behind i was thinking what an amusing blunder i had been on the verge of making he said she did not answer but still kept her eyes fixed upon him i was trying to account for your sadness on the same grounds that i would account for sadness in another woman i was almost inclined to believe that something in your letter had touched your heart as it might have touched george asman's but i checked myself in time you checked yourself in time she said slowly that was a good thing there was a brief silence during which he felt that as usual he had gained nothing by his sarcasm and then suddenly she held out her might of a hand with miss clarissa's letter in it rather taking him aback would you like to read it she said suppose you do Aunt Clarissa is an old friend of yours she speaks of you as affectionately as ever he could not comprehend the look she wore when she said this it was a queer calculating look and had a meaning of its own but it was a riddle he could not read take it she said seeing that he hesitated i mean what i say i want you to read it all it may do you good so feeling uncomfortable enough he took it and before he had read two pages it had affected him just as lisbeth had intended that it should the worst of us must be touched by pure unselfish goodness miss clarissa's simple affectionate outpourings to her dear lisbeth were something pathetic in their way she was so grateful for the tenderness of their dear girl's last letter so sweet tempered were her ready excuses for its rather late arrival her kind old heart was plainly so wholly dedicated to the perfections of the dear girl in question that by the time and Struthers had reached the conclusion of the epistle he found himself indescribably softened in mind though he really could not have told why he did not think that he had softened toward lisbeth herself but it was true nevertheless that he had softened toward her in a secretly puzzled way lisbeth had risen from her seat and was standing before him when he handed back the letter and she met his eyes just as she had done before they are very fond of me you see she said they even believe that i have real affection for them they think i am capable of it just as george esmond does poor george poor aunt clarissa poor aunt millicent poor everybody indeed and she suddenly ended and turned away from him toward the fire but in a minute more she spoke again i wonder if i am capable of it she said i wonder if i am he could only see her side face but something in her tone roused him to a vehement reply god knows he said i do not i do not understand you and never shall she turned to him abruptly then and let him see her whole face pale with a strange excited power her eyes wide and sparkling and wet that is true she said you do not understand i do not understand myself but well i have told you lies enough before when it has suited me now i will tell you the truth for once your blunder was not such a blunder after all my heart has been touched just as a better woman's might have been almost as george's might have been and this letter touched it this effusion of poor aunt clarissa's and that was why i was crying when you came into the room why i am crying now and having made this unlooked for confession she walked out of the room just as mrs despard came in on his next visit to his friends the esmond's mr anstrothers found the pretty head of the lovely miss george full of a new project had he not heard the news she was going to penal in with lisbeth and they were to stay with the mrs tragarthen miss clarissa had written the kindest letter the dearest most affectionate letter as affectionate as if she had known her all her life wasn't it delightful so much nicer you know than going to some stupid fashionable place said miss george with bright eyes and the brightest of fresh roses on her cheeks not that i am so ungrateful as to abuse poor old brighten and the rest but this will be something new and new things are always better than old ones suggested anstrothers some new things always are answered george with spirit new virtues for instance are better than old follies new resolutions to be charitable instead of old tendencies to be harsh new i give it up interposed hector and i will agree with you i always agree with you george in a softer tone the poor pretty face bloomed into blush rose color and the sweet eyes met his with innocent trouble not always said george you don't agree with me when i tell you that you are not as good as you ought to be as you might be if you would try am i such a bad fellow then drawing nearer to her odd george et cetera et cetera until in fact he wandered off in spite of himself into that most dangerous ground of which i have already spoken actually within the last few days the idea had occurred to him that perhaps possibly just possibly he would not be going so far wrong if he let himself drift into a gentle passion for george perhaps after all he could give her a better love than he had ever given to lisbeth crespini it would be a quieter love was not a man's second love always quieter than the first and at the same time was it not always more indurable and deep but perhaps he could make it a love worthy of her mind you he was not shallow or coarse enough to think that anything would do any mock sentiment any semblance of affection it was only that he longed to anchor himself somehow and admired and trusted this warm sold young creature so earnestly that he instinctively turned toward her she was far too good for him he told himself and it was only her goodness that could help her to overlook his many faults but perhaps she would overlook them and perhaps in time out of the ashes of that wretched passion of his youth might arise a phoenix fair enough to be worthy of her womanhood so he was something more tender and so his new tenderness showed itself in his handsome face and in a certain regret that he was to lose what penniline and the mrs tragarthen were to gain will you let me come to see you he asked at last will you but there he stopped remembering lisbeth how would she like such a plan why should you not said georgey with a pleased blush i have heard you say that the mrs tragarthen have asked you again and again and they seem so fond of you and i am sure mama and papa would be quite glad if you would run down and look at us and then run back and tell them all the news and as to lisbeth lisbeth never objects to anything i think she likes you well enough when you are good come by all means and she seemed to regard his proposition as so natural and pleasant that he had no alternative but to profess to regard it as such himself and so it was agreed upon that in course of time he should follow them to penniline end of chapter eight chapter nine of mrs chrispini this is a liber vox recording all liber vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit liber vox dot org recording by lennette caulkens monument colorado mrs chrispini by frances hodgson bernett chapter nine we must always be true indeed he drifted so far this evening that there is no knowing how sad a story this of mine might have been if the fates had not been kinder to pretty georgey esmond than they are to the generality of people surely it must have been because she deserved something better than the fortune of a disappointed woman that chance interposed in her behalf before she went to sleep that night she had enjoyed herself very much during hector's visit she had sung her sweetest songs and had been in the brightest of good spirits indeed she had been very happy and perhaps had felt her innocent warm heart stirred a little once or twice by the young man's tender speeches though she was very far from being in the frame of mind to analyze the reasons for her gentle pleasure when her visitor had taken his departure she came to the colonel's armchair and possibly feeling somewhat conscience-stricken because she had left papa to his own resources for so long a time she applied herself to the task of petting him in her most seductive manner you are very quiet papa she said settling herself upon a footstool at his side i hope you are not going to have the gout again darling mama what shall we do with him if he insists on having the gout when i am going to penniland i shall have to stay at home and so will isbeth he cannot possibly dispense with us when he has the gout but i am not going to have the gout protested the colonel stoutly i am quite well my dear but the fact is the fact is i was thinking of a discovery i made this evening a discovery about an struthers hector exclaimed georgey half unconsciously and then turned her bright eyes upon the shining fender yes proceeded colonel esmond hector himself i believe i have found out what has changed him so so deucidly not to put to find a point upon it during the last four or five years you remember what a frank warmhearted lad he was at twenty and three jenny to mrs edmund papa interposed georgey do you really think he has changed for the worse in his heart i mean he has not changed for the better answered the colonel but his heart is all right my dear i am sure said georgey a little pideously i am sure he is good at heart of course he is said the colonel but he has altered very much in many respects and jenny my dear i have discovered that the trouble was the one you hinted at in the beginning there was a woman in the case a woman who treated him shamefully she must have been very heartless said georgey poor hector the colonel warmed up she was shamefully heartless she was disgracefully unnaturally heartless such cold-blooded selfish cruelty would have been unnatural in a mature woman and she was nothing more than a schoolgirl a mere child i congratulate myself that i did not learn her name the man who told me the story had not heard it if i knew it and should ever chance to meet her by george with virtuous indignation i don't see how a man of honor could remain in the same room with such a woman and then he poured out what he had heard of the story and an unpleasant enough sound it had when related with all the additional coloring confidential report had given it it was bad enough to begin with but it was worse for having passed through the hands of the men who had gathered it together by scraps and odds and ends and joined it as they thought best and the worst of it is ended colonel esmond that he has not lived it down as he fancies he has done at least there are those who think so it is said the girl is here in town now and though they are not friends and struthers cannot keep away from her altogether and is always most savage and reckless when he has seen her poor fellow said george in a low quiet voice poor hector but she did not look up at anyone as she spoke indeed she had not looked up even once during the time in which this unpleasant story had been told having heard it she confronted it very sensibly when indeed was she not sweet insensible while she listened a hundred past incidents rushed back upon her she remembered things she had heard hector say and things she had seen him do she remembered certain restless moods of his certain desperate whims and fancies and she began to comprehend what their meaning was her vague fancies of his unhappiness found a firm foundation he was wretched and broken in faith because this cruel girl had robbed him of his honest belief in love and truth and goodness ah poor hector she did not say very much while the colonel and mrs edmund discussed the matter but she was thinking very deeply and when she bade them good night and went up to her room there was a sad sort of thoughtfulness in her face she did not begin to undress at once but sat down by her toilet table and rested her fresh cheek on her hand i wonder who it was she said softly who could it be whom did he know when he was three and twenty surely some fate guided her eyes just at that moment guided them to the small half opened note lying at her elbow a note so opened that the signature alone presented itself to her glance your affectionate lisbeth she gave a little start and then flushed up with a queer agitation lisbeth she said lisbeth and then with quite a self-reproach in her tone oh no not lisbeth how could i say it not lisbeth she put out her hand and took up the note protestingly i could not bear to think it she said it might be anyone else but not lisbeth and yet the next minute a new thought forced itself upon her a memory of some words of lisbeth's own we were nothing but a couple of children when we met at penelin that young lady had said a few days before a trifle cavalier lee he was only three and twenty and as for me what was i but a child a schoolgirl not much more than sixteen but protested georgey her eyes shining piteously and the moisture forcing itself into them but it might not have been she and if it was lisbeth he loved the story may have been exaggerated such stories always are and if any part of it is true she was so young and did not know what she was doing it was not half so wrong in lisbeth as it would have been in me who have had mama all my life to teach me the difference between right and wrong she had nobody but the mrs tragarthen and people who are good are not always wise she was not very wise herself poor loving little soul at least she was not worldly wise she could not bear the thought of connecting that cruel story with her most precious lisbeth in whom she had never yet found a fault and if it must be connected with her what excuses might there not be oh she was so sure that it was an exaggerated story and that if the truth were known lisbeth's fault had only risen out of lisbeth's youth and innocence she was so disturbed about her friend that it was quite a long time before she remembered that she had a quiet little pain of her own to contend with only the ghost of a pain as yet but a ghost which but for this timely check might have been very much harder to deal with than it was i think she said at last blushing a little at the sound of her own words i think that perhaps i was beginning to care for hector more than for anyone else and i am glad that papa told me this before before it was too late i think i should have been more sorry after a little time than i am now and i ought to be thankful if i did not mean to be sensible instead of sentimental perhaps i should try to believe that what is said is not true and that he has really lived his trouble down but i would rather be sensible and believe that he only means to think of me as his friend as he has done all his life i must think that she thought eagerly i must remember it always when he is with me it would be best and if it is lisbeth he has loved and he loves her yet i i must try to help them to forgive each other and here she bent her face and as she touched the note lightly with her lips a bright drop like a jewel fell upon the paper we must always be true to each other she whispered tremulously this would be a sad world if people were not true to each other and ready to make little sacrifices for the sake of those they love and thus it was that the innocent white rows of love just turning to the sun folded its fresh petals and became a bud again it was better as it was much better that it should be a bud for a longer time than that it should bloom too early and lose its too lavish beauty before the perfect summer came end of chapter nine