Once a Week

  THE SEASIDE NOVELETTE

  [MAY BE READ ON THE PIER]

  No. XCVIII--A SIMPLE ENGLISH GIRL

  CHAPTER I

  PRIMROSE FARM

  Primrose Farm stood slumbering in the sunlight of an early summer morn.Save for the gentle breeze which played in the tops of the two tall elmsall Nature seemed at rest. Chanticleer had ceased his song; the pigswere asleep; in the barn the cow lay thinking. A deep peace brooded overthe rural scene, the peace of centuries. Terrible to think that in a fewshort hours ... but perhaps it won't. The truth is I have not quitedecided whether to have the murder in this story or in No. XCIX.--_TheSevered Thumb_. We shall see.

  As her alarum clock (a birthday present) struck five, Gwendolen Frenchsprang out of bed and plunged her face into the clump of nettles whichgrew outside her lattice window. For some minutes she stood there,breathing in the incense of the day; then dressing quickly she went downinto the great oak-beamed kitchen to prepare breakfast for her fatherand the pigs. As she went about her simple duties she sang softly toherself, a song of love and knightly deeds. Little did she think that alover, even at that moment, stood outside her door.

  "Heigh-ho!" sighed Gwendolen, and she poured the bran-mash into a bowland took it up to her father's room.

  For eighteen years Gwendolen French had been the daughter of John Frenchof Primrose Farm. Endowed by Nature with a beauty that is seldom seenoutside this sort of story, she was yet as modest and as good a girl aswas to be found in the county. Many a fine lady would have given all herParisian diamonds for the peach-like complexion which bloomed on thefair face of Gwendolen. But the gifts of Nature are not to be bought andsold.

  There was a sudden knock at the door.

  "Come in," cried Gwendolen in surprise. Unless it was the cow, it was anentirely unexpected visitor.

  A tall and handsome young man entered, striking his head violentlyagainst a beam as he stepped into the low-ceilinged kitchen.

  "Good morning," he said, repressing the remark which came more readilyto his lips. "Pray forgive this intrusion. The fact is I have lost myway, and I wondered whether you would be kind enough to inform me as tomy whereabouts."

  Recognizing from his conversation that she was being addressed by agentleman, Gwendolen curtsied.

  "This is Primrose Farm, sir," she said.

  "I fear," he replied with a smile, "it has been my misfortune never tohave heard so charming a name before. I am Lord Beltravers, ofBeltravers Castle, Beltravers. Having returned last night from India Icame out for an early stroll this morning, and I fear that I havewandered out of my direction."

  "Why," cried Gwendolen, "your lordship is miles from Beltravers Castle.How tired and hungry you must be." She removed a lettuce from thekitchen chair, dusted it, and offered it to him. (That is to say, thechair, not the lettuce.) "Let me get you some milk," she added. Pickingup a pail, she went out to inspect the cow.

  "Gad," said Lord Beltravers as soon as he was alone. He paced rapidlyup and down the tiled kitchen. "Deuce take it," he added recklessly,"she's a lovely girl." The Beltraverses were noted in two continents fortheir hard swearing.

  "Here you are, sir," said Gwendolen, returning with the precious liquid.

  Lord Beltravers seized the pail and drained it at a draught.

  "Heavens, but that was good!" he said. "What was it?"

  "Milk," said Gwendolen.

  "Milk; I must remember. And now may I trespass on your hospitality stillfurther by trespassing on your assistance so far as to solicit your helpin putting me far enough on my path to discover my way back toBeltravers Castle?" (When he was alone he said that sentence again tohimself, and wondered what had happened to it.)

  "I will show you," she said simply.

  They passed out into the sunlit orchard. In an apple tree a thrush wassinging; the gooseberries were over-ripe; beetroots were floweringeverywhere.

  "You are very beautiful," he said.

  "Yes," said Gwendolen.

  "I must see you again. Listen! To-night my mother, Lady Beltravers, isgiving a ball. Do you dance?"

  "Alas, not the tango," she said sadly.

  "The Beltraverses do not tang," he announced with simple dignity. "Youvalse? Good. Then will you come?"

  "Thank you, my lord. Oh, I should love to!"

  "That is excellent. And now I must bid you good-bye. But first, will younot tell me your name?"

  "Gwendolen French, my lord."

  "Ah! One 'f' or two?"

  "Three," said Gwendolen simply.

  CHAPTER II

  BELTRAVERS CASTLE

  Beltravers Castle was a blaze of lights. At the head of the old oakstaircase (a magnificent example of the Selfridge period) the LadyBeltravers stood receiving her guests. Magnificently gowned in one ofSweeting's latest creations, and wearing round her neck the famousBeltravers seed-pearls, she looked the picture of stately magnificence.As each guest was announced by a bevy of footmen, she extended herperfectly gloved hand and spoke a few words of kindly welcome.

  "Good evening, Duchess; so good of you to look in. Ah, Earl, charmed tomeet you; you'll find some sandwiches in the billiard-room. Beltravers,show the Earl some sandwiches. How-do-you-do, Professor? Delighted youcould come. Won't you take off your goloshes?"

  All the county was there.

  Lord Hobble was there wearing a magnificent stud; Erasmus Belt, thefamous author, whose novel, _Bitten: A Romance_, went into two editions;Sir Septimus Root, the inventor of the fire-proof spat; Captain theHonourable Alfred Nibbs, the popular breeder of blood-tortoises--thewhole world and his wife were present. And towering above them all stoodLord Beltravers, of Beltravers Castle, Beltravers.

  Lord Beltravers stood aloof in a corner of the great ball-room. Abovehis head was the proud coat-of-arms of the Beltraverses--a headlesssardine on a field of tomato. As each new arrival entered LordBeltravers scanned his or her countenance eagerly, and then turned awaywith a snarl of disappointment. Would his little country maid nevercome?

  She came at last. Attired in a frock which had obviously been created inLittle Popley, she looked the picture of girlish innocence as she stoodfor a moment hesitating in the doorway. Then her eyes brightened as LordBeltravers came towards her with long swinging strides.

  "You're here!" he exclaimed. "How good of you to come. I have thoughtabout you ever since this morning. There is a valse beginning. Will youvalse it with me?"

  "Thank you," said Gwendolen shyly.

  Lord Beltravers, who valsed divinely, put his arm round her waist andled her into the circle of dancers.

  CHAPTER III

  AFFIANCED

  The ball was at its height. Gwendolen, who had been in to supper eighttimes, placed her hand timidly on the arm of Lord Beltravers, who hadjust begged a polka of her.

  "Let us sit this out," she said. "Not here--in the garden."

  "Yes," said Lord Beltravers gravely. "Let us go. I have something to sayto you."

  Offering her his arm, he led her down the great terrace which ran alongthe back of the house.

  "How wonderful to have your ancestors always around you like this!"cooed Gwendolen, as she gazed with reverence at the two statues whichfronted them.

  "Venus," said Lord Beltravers shortly, "and Samson."

  He led her down the steps and into the ornamental garden, and there theysat down.

  "Miss French," said Lord Beltravers, "or, if I may call you by thatsweet name, Gwendolen, I have brought you here for the purpose of makingan offer to you. Perhaps it would have been more in accordance withetiquette had I approached your mother first."

  "Mother is dead," said the girl simply.

  "I am sorry," said Lord Beltravers, bending his head in courtlysympathy. "In that case I should have asked your father to hear mysuit."

  "Father is deaf," she replied. "He couldn't have heard it."

  "Tut, tut," said Lord Beltravers impatiently. "I beg your pardon," headded at once, "I should have controlled myself. That being so," hewent on,
"I have the honour to make to you, Miss French, an offer ofmarriage. May I hope?"

  Gwendolen put her hand suddenly to her heart. The shock was too much forher fresh young innocence. She was not really engaged to Giles Earwaker,though he, too, was hoping; and the only three times that Thomas Ritsonhad kissed her she had threatened to box his ears.

  "Lord Beltravers," she began----

  "Call me Beltravers," he begged.

  "Beltravers, I love you. I give you a simple maiden's heart."

  "My darling!" he cried, clasping her thumb impulsively. "Then we areaffianced."

  He slipped a ring off his finger and fitted it affectionately on two ofhers.

  "Wear this," he said gravely. "It was my mother's. She was a deDindigul. See, this is their crest--a roe-less herring over the motto_Dans l'huile_." Observing that she looked puzzled he translated thenoble French words to her. "And now let us go in. Another dance isbeginning. May I beg for the honour?"

  "Beltravers," she whispered lovingly.

  CHAPTER IV

  EXPOSURE

  The next dance was at its height. In a dream of happiness Gwendolenrevolved with closed eyes round Lord Beltravers, of Beltravers Castle,Beltravers.

  Suddenly above the music rose a voice, commanding, threatening.

  "Stop!" cried the Lady Beltravers.

  As if by magic the band ceased and all the dancers were still.

  "There is an intruder here," said Lady Beltravers in a cold voice. "Amilkmaid, a common farmer's daughter. Gwendolen French, leave my housethis instant!"

  Dazed, hardly knowing what she did, Gwendolen moved forward. In aninstant Lord Beltravers was after her.

  "No, mother," he said, with the utmost dignity. "Not a common milkmaid,but the future Lady Beltravers."

  An indescribable thrill of emotion ran through the crowded ball-room.Lord Hobble's stud fell out; and Lady Susan Golightly hurried across theroom and fainted in the arms of Sir James Batt.

  "What!" cried the Lady Beltravers. "My son, the last of theBeltraverses, the Beltraverses who came over with Julius Wernher, Ishould say Caesar, marry a milkmaid?"

  "No, mother. He is marrying what any man would be proud to marry--asimple English girl."

  There was a cheer, instantly suppressed, from a Socialist in the band.

  For just a moment words failed the Lady Beltravers. Then she sank into achair, and waved her guests away.

  "The ball is over," she said slowly. "Leave me. My son and I must bealone."

  One by one, with murmured thanks for a delightful evening, the gueststrooped out. Soon mother and son were alone. Lord Beltravers, gazing outof the window, saw the 'cellist laboriously dragging his 'cello acrossthe park.

  CHAPTER V

  THE END

  [And now, dear readers, I am in a difficulty. How shall the story go on?The editor of _The Seaside Library_ asks quite frankly for a murder. Hisidea was that the Lady Beltravers should be found dead in the park nextmorning and that Gwendolen should be arrested. This seems to me bothcrude and vulgar. Besides, I want a murder for No. XCIX. of theseries--_The Severed Thumb_.

  No, I think I know a better way out.]

  . . . . .

  Old John French sat beneath a spreading pear tree, and waited. Earlythat morning a mysterious note had been brought to him, asking for aninterview on a matter of the utmost importance. This was thetrysting-place.

  "I have come," said a voice behind him, "to ask you to beg yourdaughter----

  "I HAVE COME," cried the Lady Beltravers, "TO ASK YOU----

  "I HAVE COME," shouted her ladyship, "TO----"

  John French wheeled round in amazement. With a cry the Lady Beltraversshrank back.

  "Eustace," she gasped--"Eustace, Earl of Turbot!"

  "Eliza!"

  "What are you doing here? I came to see John French."

  "What?" he asked, with his hand to his ear.

  She repeated her remark loudly several times.

  "I _am_ John French," he said at last. "When you refused me and marriedBeltravers I suddenly felt tired of Society; and I changed my name andsettled down here as a simple farmer. My daughter helps me on the farm."

  "Then your daughter is----"

  "Lady Gwendolen Hake."

  . . . . .

  A beautiful double wedding was solemnized at Beltravers in October, theEarl of Turbot leading Eliza, Lady Beltravers to the altar, while LordBeltravers was joined in matrimony to the beautiful Lady Gwendolen Hake.There were many presents on both sides, which partook equally of thebeautiful and the costly.

  Lady Gwendolen Beltravers is now the most popular hostess in the county;but to her husband she always seems the simple English milkmaid that hefirst thought her. Ah!