little station, she saw several smart-lookingcarriages waiting to take guests up to The Chase and, going up to thedriver of one, requested him immediately to convey her there. He lookedat the very smart lady, admired her blue eyes and the radiant and trulynatural colour in her cheeks, and signified to her that if she wouldenter the low victoria, he would take her to The Chase. She did so,wrapping her white serge cloak daintily round her, and leaning back inher seat with evident enjoyment.
She was reaching her goal--the goal she had been aspiring to for so manylong weeks now; and that twenty pounds--yes, and a little more besides,some of the Reverend Josiah Amberley's money (that money which he hadgiven her to clothe his own little daughters)--reposed snugly in herpurse at home. Her conscience did not trouble her, for Brenda had nevercultivated that excellent monitor. It lay quiet and asleep within herbreast. Her whole nature was full of anticipation and ripe formischief. She was anxious to see her sister and the school, and to makea first-rate impression there.
As she sat leaning back in the little victoria, her white and daintyparasol unfurled, her white gloves gleaming in the summer sunshine, alady, considerably older than herself, came out of the station and,going up to the driver, asked if she could have a seat also up to TheChase. This lady's name was Mrs Hungerford, and she had two youngdaughters at the school. She was a fashionable woman, beautifullydressed, and when she took her seat by Brenda's side, Brenda felt thatshe could not do better than make her her friend. Accordingly, sheentered into what she considered a very delightful conversation. Shetalked simply, and yet suitably, with regard to herself, and did whatshe could to add to Mrs Hungerford's comfort. For instance, the astuteyoung woman proposed that her white parasol should shade both of themfrom the sun. Mrs Hungerford was a dark-complexioned woman and sheimmediately agreed to the offer. As a matter of fact, she did not muchmind whether the sun's rays fell on her face and neck or not. Shenoticed, although she made no remark at the time, that Brenda did notgreatly care either; for she was absorbed in shading herself from theslightest fleck of undue light.
At last they reached The Chase. The little carriage drew up daintily atthe front door, where a number of pupils were assembled and where MrsHazlitt herself stood to welcome her visitors. The girls in the schoolwere all dressed in white--some in white washing silk, some in whitelace, some only in white muslin. But whatever the dress, they lookedneat and fresh and, in Brenda's eyes, were elegant.
She looked anxiously around for Penelope, who was not immediately insight. Mrs Hungerford got quickly out of the carriage, for she saw herown two little girls, who rushed to her with cries of delight. As shedid so, something glittered at Brenda's feet. She was stepping out whenshe saw it. It was a little gold bangle with a blue turquoise clasp.It was very pretty and dainty, and altogether the sort of thing which agirl like Brenda would covet. She had no immediate idea, however, ofstealing it. She stooped to pick it up immediately, to avoid its beingstepped upon, and was about to give it to Mrs Hungerford, whoseproperty she supposed it to be, when that lady went straight into thehouse, without taking the slightest notice of her. With tremblingfingers, Brenda slipped the gold bangle into her pocket. She longedmost earnestly to be able to wear it. It was of beautiful workmanship,and the turquoise which clasped it together was of unusual size andpurity of colour. It was quite a girlish-looking thing and would be,Brenda felt sure, most unsuitable for dark, stately Mrs Hungerford.
All these thoughts with regard to it rushed through her mind as shestood for a minute, unnoticed, on the green sward which swept up to thehouse at each side of the principal entrance.
Other carriages had immediately followed the little victoria, whichrolled swiftly away out of sight, and, for a minute, no one spoke toBrenda. Then Mrs Hazlitt herself came up to her.
"Ah, how do you do, my dear?" she said. "You are--"
"I am Brenda Carlton," said Brenda, raising those lovely melting blueeyes to the good lady's face. "It is _so_ kind of you to invite mehere. And where is Penelope?"
Mrs Hazlitt looked around. She was annoyed at Penelope not being insight, and immediately called Honora Beverley to take her place.
"Honora," she said--"this is Miss Carlton. I suppose Penelope has notfinished dressing; will you kindly take Miss Carlton to her sister'sroom? I am sorry, my dear, that I have not a corner to offer you tosleep in to-night; but on break-up days we are always overfull."
Brenda made a becoming reply, and followed in the wake of beautiful,fair Honora. Her own dress, it seemed to her, was most stylish--mostabsolutely all that any girl could desire, until she noticed Honora'swhite lace robe. It clung softly to her lissom young figure, and had anindescribable air about it which not even Madame Declasse could achieve.In short, it bore the hall-mark of Paris, for Honora Beverley was oneof the richest girls in the school. She had always been accustomed tobeing well dressed, and had, therefore, never given the matter athought.
She was a most kind-hearted, high-principled girl, and was anxious to dowhat she could for Brenda, whom she, in her heart of hearts, could nothelp dubbing as second-class, notwithstanding the girl's real beauty.
"I am so sorry," she said, "that Penelope was not present when youarrived; but she always does take a long time over her toilette. Wemust all assemble in the hall, however, in a quarter of an hour, so youwill probably find her fully dressed. That is the way to her room.Have you come from a distance, Miss Carlton?"
Brenda mentioned the obscure village where the Reverend Josiah lived.Honora had never heard of it, neither was she deeply interested. Shechatted in a pleasant voice of the different events of the day, and saidhow delightful everything was, and how singularly kind she thought it ofPenelope to take the part of Helen of Troy.
"For I couldn't do it," she said. "It is just a case of conscience."
There was something in her tone and in her gentle look which made Brendagaze at her, not only with envy, but with dislike.
"Why should your conscience be more tender than my sister's?" was heranswer. "And who was Helen of Troy? I never heard of her."
Honora opened her brown eyes. She had not believed that any one existedin the wide world who had not, at one time or another, made theacquaintance of this celebrated woman.
"Penelope will tell you about her," she said gently. "Of course youknow, Miss Carlton, what is wrong for one need not be necessarily wrongfor another. We have each to answer for our own conscience, have wenot? Ah, and this is Penelope's room." She knocked at the door."Penelope, your sister has come."
Hurried steps were heard inside the chamber. The door was flung openand Penelope, all in white and looking almost pretty, stood on thethreshold. Honora immediately withdrew, and the two sisters foundthemselves for a few minutes alone.
"Do take off your cloak and let me look at you," said Penelope. "I havebeen telling the girls so much about you, and most of them are all agogto see you. Dear, dear! pale blue silk! Well, it is rather pretty,only I wish you had been in white; but you look very nice all the same,dear."
"You ate highly dissatisfied, Penelope; and I'm sure I've done all thatmortal could to oblige you," said Brenda.
"And I to oblige you," retorted Penelope. "I can tell you, I hadtrouble about those five-pound notes, but you got them safely, didn'tyou?"
"Yes, of course I did: I only wish you could have managed more. Thisdress is much prettier than your insipid white. White is all very wellfor schoolgirls, but I am grown up, remember."
"Yes, yea--and you look very nice," said Penelope. "It's more than youdo, Penelope; you're not a bit pretty," said frank Brenda.
"I know it--and it seems so highly ridiculous that I should be forced totake the part of Helen of Troy. Of course, Honora was the girlabsolutely made on the very model, but she refused."
"Who is Honora?" asked Brenda.
"Why, that lovely girl in the white lace--(it's all real, I can tellyou, and was sent to her from Paris)--who brought you to my door."
"Oh-
-_that_ girl!" said Brenda. "I don't think her at all remarkable."
"Don't you? Well, most people do--she's quite the belle of the school."
"And what does the belle of the school signify?" said Brenda, who wasfeeling decidedly cross. "If a girl could be called the belle of theseason, that might be something to aspire to--but the belle of a school!Who cares about that?"
"Well, the schoolgirls do, and while we are at school, it is our world,"said Penelope. "But now I must bring you downstairs, and put you intoyour place. You must get a seat on one of the benches near the front,or you won't see one half that is going on. Come along, you may be sureI will fly to you whenever I