help you to purchase these," she said, "and you canhave all your school frocks nicely washed and done up in the schoollaundry. I am afraid I cannot spend more on your dress, Penelope, but Ithink you can manage with the money I send you."
Mademoiselle's cheeks were flushed when she devoured the contents of herown letter; for enclosed in it was a cheque so generous that her eyesblazed with pleasure.
"Madame is of the most mean, and yet of the most generous!" she cried."She allows me to go when you go, _petite_, and she gives me a littlesum to spend on myself, so that I make a holiday the best that I can. Iknew where I will reside. I will go to that place near CastleBeverley--I forget its long name--but it is gay, sad on the sea."
"You're not going to Marshlands?" cried Penelope, in some alarm.
"That is the place that I will go to," said Mademoiselle. "I havelooked it out on the map, and it is far off, but not too far off. ThereI can watch over you, although it is the distant view that I willobtain, and I can, from time to time, see my other most beloved pupil,and perhaps go to Castle Beverley, and wish them adieu before I departto that land of sun--_la belle France_."
Penelope did not at all like the idea of Mademoiselle's going toMarshlands. She hoped she would not come across Brenda, and she trustedsincerely that she would not be invited to Castle Beverley. But, asMademoiselle was determined to have her own way, Penelope resolved totake the good which lay at hand, and not to trouble herself too muchabout the future.
Mademoiselle was now extremely good-natured, and helped Penelope torenovate her very simple wardrobe and, in short, made herself ascharming as a Frenchwoman of her character knew how. All in good time,Honora's delightful letter of invitation arrived, and Mademoiselleresolved to travel with her pupil as far as Marshlands.
"I part from you," she said, "at the railway station where you will meetyour friends so distinguished; and I, the governess, the foreigner, willgo to search for _appartements_ that are cheap. You will bid mefarewell, and permit me to shake the hand once again of my pupil Honora.Ah! but I am kind to you--am I not?"
"Yes," murmured Penelope, feeling all the time that Mademoiselle wasunbearably trying. The joys, however, of going to Castle Beverleyshould not be damped even by this incident.
The girl and the Frenchwoman travelled second-class together, andarrived at the somewhat noisy station of Marshlands-on-the-Sea betweensix and seven o'clock on a glorious evening in August Penelope had notbeheld the blue, blue sea since she was quite a little girl, and hereyes sparkled now with delight. She looked quite different from thelimp and somewhat uninteresting girl she had appeared to every one atHazlitt Chase. The anticipation of happiness was working marvels in hercharacter. Penelope had taken good care not to inform Brenda of the dayof her arrival. She was quite sure she would have to meet her sister;but she would at least give herself a little rest before the encountertook place. She rejoiced, too, in the knowledge that up to the presentMademoiselle d'Etienne and Brenda did not know each other.
As soon as the train drew up to the platform, Mademoiselle poked out herhead and uttered a little shriek when she beheld Pauline and NellieHungerford, as well as Honora herself and a tall footman waiting on theplatform. Mademoiselle rushed up to Honora, taking both her hands andshaking them up and down while she burst into an eager volley of French,in which she informed that "pupil best beloved" that the desire to benear her had brought her to Marshlands-on-the-Sea, and that she was evennow going with her humble belongings to seek apartments appropriate toher means.
"I meet you, my pupil," she said, "with a joy which almost ravishes mybreast, for sincere and true are my feelings towards you. And now Istay not, but perhaps some day you will think of the governess in herhumble _appartements_ by the lone sea, and allow her to pay you a littlevisit."
Honora murmured something which scarcely amounted to an invitation.Mademoiselle turned to the little girls, and Honora ran to Penelope'sside.
"I am so glad to see you! I hope you are not frightfully tired. Oh,you do look hot and dusty, but we shall have a delicious drive up to theCastle. My home is quite outside the town, which is somewhat noisy.Ah, I see Dan has collected your luggage; shall we come at once?Good-bye, Mademoiselle. I hope you will secure nice rooms."
Mademoiselle was flattering, and full of charm to the end. She insistedon marching down the platform with Pauline's hand clasped in one ofhers, and her humble little bag in the other. She did not part from herpupils until she saw them all ensconced in the luxurious carriage whichwas to bear them rapidly into the pleasant country. But, when that samecarriage had turned the corner and she found herself alone, an uglyexpression crossed her face.
"It is not good to have these feelings," she murmured to herself. "Ilike not the jealousies when they come to devour; but why shouldPenelope with her schemes and her behaviour the most strange be taken tothe very heart of the best of all my pupils? I will see into thisby-and-by. Meanwhile--_ma foi_--how hot it is!"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE CASTLE.
Castle Beverley was even a more delightful place than Penelope had theleast idea of before she arrived at it. She had her own vividimagination, and had pictured the old castle, its suites of apartments,its crowds of servants, its stately guests, many and many a time beforethe blissful hour of her arrival. But when she did get to CastleBeverley, she found that all her pictures had been wrong.
It is true, there was an old castle, and a tower at one end of anirregular pile of building; but the modern part of the house, while itwas large, was also unpretentious and simple.
The children who ran to meet the carriage were many of them Penelope'sschoolfellows. Mrs Beverley had a charming and placid face and akindly manner. Mr Beverley was a round-faced, rubicund country squire,who made jokes about every one, and was as little alarming as humanbeing could be. In short, it was impossible for Penelope not to feelherself at home. Her old schoolfellows welcomed her almost withenthusiasm. They had not cared for her greatly when at Hazlitt Chase,but they were just in the mood to be in the best temper with everything,and had been in raptures with her rendering of Helen of Troy. Honora,too, had pictured, very pathetically, the scene of the lonely girlafterwards weeping by herself in the wood, and the delightfulinspiration which had come over her to give her some weeks' holiday atCastle Beverley. Perhaps Cara Burt would have preferred her not beingthere, but Mary L'Estrange, who was also a visitor at the Castle, hadquite forgiven Penelope for her desire to obtain five pounds. She putit down altogether, now, to the poor thing's poverty, and hoped that thetransaction would never be known. Annie Leicester had not yet arrived,but was expected. Susanna, the most to be feared, perhaps, of the fourgirls who had given Penelope the money, had gone abroad for theholidays.
Thus, all was sunshine on this first evening, and when Penelope foundherself joking and repeating little bits of school news and some of thefunny things which had occurred between herself and Mademoiselle, theothers laughed heartily. Yes, that first evening was a golden one, longto be remembered by the somewhat lonely girl.
When she went to bed that night, she was so tired that she slept soundlyuntil the morning. When the morning did arrive, and she was greeted bya smiling housemaid and a delicious cup of tea, she felt that, for thetime at least, she was in the land of luxury.
"I'll enjoy myself for once," she thought, "I'll forget about school andthat I am very poor and that I am disappointed with Brenda, and thatBrenda is staying at Marshlands, and Mademoiselle, too, is staying atMarshlands. I will forget everything but just that it is very, verygood to be here."
So she arose and dressed herself in one of the new white linen dresseswhich Mademoiselle had purchased for her out of Mrs Hazlitt's money,and she came down to breakfast looking fresh and almost pretty.
"You do seem rested--I am so glad!" said Honora. "Oh, no, we are notbreakfasting in that room. Father and mother and the grown-ups use thefront hall for breakfast in the summer, and we children have the big oldschool-room
to ourselves. You didn't see it last night; we had so muchto show you, but it is--oh--such a jolly room. Come now this way, youwill be surprised at such a crowd of us."
As Honora spoke, she took Penelope's hand, and, pushing open a heavy oakdoor, led the way through a sort of ante-chamber and then down acorridor to a long, low room with latticed windows, over which manycreepers cast just now a most grateful shade. There were several boysand girls in the room, and a long table was laid, with all sorts of goodthings for breakfast. Amongst the boys was Fred Hungerford and ayounger brother called Dick, and there were three or four boys, brothersand cousins of Honora herself. There were altogether at least thirteenor fourteen girls. The two little Hungerfords flew up to Penelope whenthey saw her. They seemed to regard her as their special