^, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGr (MT-3) 1.0 1.1 11.25 Ui|2£ |2£ itt Itt i2.2 Photographic SoHices Corporation 4\ ^ •S? v c\ \ ^ rk\ ?? 23 WIST MAW STHIT W^ Wf.'jwf'lf';*^ i A TRUE FRIESTD. CHAPTER I. AN UNSUITABLE FRIENDSHIP. Janbtta was the music governess-^-a brown little thing of no particular importance ; and Margar^'t Adair was a beauty and an heiress, and the only daughter of people who thought themselves very distinguished indeed ; so that the two had not, you might' think, very much in common, and were not likely to be attracted one to the other. Yet, in spite of diflfering circumstances, they jre close friends and allies; and had been such ever since they were together at the same fashionable school where Miss Adair was the petted favorite of all, and Janeita Colwyn was the pupil-teacher in the shabbiest of frocks, who got snubbing and did most of the haji LjgQrlcI "A^ great S Bbiiue WM ' glvfflln SevtfAl d iirecUons^ Miss Adair's attachment to poor little Tanetta. ** It is an unsuitable friendship," Miss Folehampton, the principal of the schbolV observed on more than one occasion, ** and I am sure hfio not know how Lady Caro- line will like it." Lady Caroline was, of course^ifar^aret Adair's mamma. Miss Pblehampton felt her responsibility so keenly in the matter that at last she resolved to speak " very seriously " to her dear Margaret. She always talked of " her dear Margaret," Janetta used to say, when she was going to make herself particularly disagreeable. For ** her dear Margaret " was the pet pupil, the show pupil of the establishment: her air of perfect breeding gave distinction, Miss Fole- hampton thought, to the whole school; and her refine- ment, her exemplary behavior, her industry, and her talent formed the theme of many a lecture to less accoro- - ■% f ^' «•-• A TRUE FRIEND, plished and Icm decorous pupils. For, contrary to aU conventional expectations, Margaret Adair was not stupid, although she was beautiful and well-behaved. She was an exceedingly intelligent girl ; she had an aptitude for several arts and accomplishments, and she was remarkable for the ' delicacy of her taste and the exquisite discrimination of which she sometimes showed herself capable. At the same time she was not as clever — ('' not as glaringlv clever," a friend of hers once expressed it) — as little Janetta Colwyn, whose nimble wits gathe red knowledg e as a bee collects honey under the most unfavorable circum- stances. Janetta had to learn her lessons when the other girls had gone to bed, in a little room under the roof ; a room which was like an ice-house in winter and an oven in summer ; she was never able to be in time for her classes, and she often missed them altogether; biit, in spite of these disadvantages, she generally proved herself the most advanced pupil m her division, and if pupil-teachers had been allowed to take prizes, would have carried off every first prize in the school. This, to be sure, was not allowed. It would not have been '< the thing " for the little governess-pupil to take away the prizes from the girls whose parents paid between two and three hundred a year for their tuition (the fees were high, because Miss Pole- hampton's school was so exceedingly fashionable) ; there- fore, Janetta's marks were not co untgd, and her exercises were put aside and dia not come into competition with those of the Other girls, and it was generally understood amongst the teachers that, if you wished to stand well with Miss Polehampton, it would be better not to praise Miss Colwyn, but rather to put forward the ments of some charming Lady Mary or Honorable Adeliza, and leave Janetta in the obscurity from which (according to Miss Polehampton) she v/as fated never to emerge. Unfortunately for the purposes of the mistress of the school, Janetta was rather a favorite with the girls. She was not adored, like Margaret ; she was not looked up to and respected, as was the Honorable Edith Gore ; she was nobody's pet, as the little Ladies Blanche and Rose Amberley had been ever since they set foot in the school ; but she was everybody's friend and comrade, the recipient of everybody's confidences, the sharer in everybody's joys or woes. The fact was that Janetta had the inestimable - 'h' ( , ■ / t-. v.; •^ / A nUE PniEND, % ^ of sympftthy ; she understood the difficulties of people around her better than many women of twice her age would have done; and sh^ was bo bright and sunny-tempered and quick-wilted that her very presence in a room was enougti to dispel gloom and ill-temper. She was, there- fore, deservedly popular, and did more to keep up the character of Miss Polehampton's school for comfort and cheerfulness than Miss Polehampton herself was ever likely to be aware. And the girl most devoted to Janetta was Marmret Adair. <' Remain for a few moments, Margaret ; I wish to speak to you,*' said Miss Polehampton, majestically, when one evening, directly after prayers, the show pupil advanced to bid her teachers good-nisht. The girls all sat round the room on wooden chairs, and Miss Polehampton occupied a high-backed, cushioned seat at a centre table while she read the portion of Scripture with which the da^'s work concluded. Near her sat the governesses, English, French and German, with little Janetta bringing up the rear in the draughtiest place and the most uncomfortable chair. After prayers, Miss Pole- hampton and the teachers rose, and their pupils came to bid them good-night, offering hand and cheek to each in turn. There was always a great deal of kissing to be got through on thieve occasions. Miss Polehampton blandly insisted on ^kl^sing all her thirty pupils every evening ; it made them feel more as if they were at home, she used to say; and her example was, of course, followed by the teachers and the girls. Margaret Adair, as one of the oldest and tallest girls in the school, generally came forward first for that evening salute. When Miss Polehampton made, the observation just recorded, she stepped back to a position beside her teacher's chair in the demure attitude of a well-behaved school-girl — ^hands crossed over the wrists, feet in position, head and shoulders carefully erect, and eyes gently lowered towards the carpet. Thus standing, she was yet perfectly well aware that Janetta Colwyn gave her an odd, impisn little look of mingled fun and anxiety behind Miss Pole- hampton's back ; for it was generally known that a lecture was impending when one of the girls was detained after grayers, and it was very unusual for Margaret to be ictured! Miss Adair did not, howerer, look discom- 'M A nUE J^MEfTD. f V. % poMd A momentary tmile flitted across her face u Janetta*! ^\ny grimace, but it was instantly succeeded by the look of simple gravity becoming to the occasion. When the last of the pupils and the last also of the teachers had filed out of the room, Miss Polehampton turned and surveyed the waiting girl with some uncertainty. She was really fond of Marearet Adair. Not onl^ did she bring credit to the school, but she was a good, nice, lady- like girl (such were Miss Polehampton's epithets), and very fair to look upon. Margaret was tall, slender, and exceedingly graceful in her movements ; she was delicately &ir, and had hair of the silkiest texture and palest gold ; her eyes, however, were not blue, as one would have •expected them to be ; they were hazel brown, and veiled by long brown lashes — eyes of melting soilness and dreami- ness, peculiarly sweet in expression. Her features were a very little too long and thin for perfect beauty ; but they gave her a Madonna-like look of peace and calm which many were ready enthusiastically to admire. And there was no want of expression in her face ; its faint rose bloom varied aUnost at a word, and the thin curved lips were as sensitive to feeling as could be desired. What was want- ing in the face was what ^ave it its peculiar maidenly charm — a lack of passion, a little lack, perhaps, of strength. But at seventeen we look less for these 9J^aracteristics than for the sweetness and docility whiqi Margaret certainly possessed. Her dress of soft, white muslin was quite simple — the ideal dress for a young ^irl — and yet it was so beautifully made, so perfectly finished in every detail, that Miss Polehampton never looked at it without an uneasy feeling that she was too well-dressed for a school- girl. Otners wore muslin dresses of apparently the same cut and texture ; but what the casual eye might fail to observe, the schoolmistress was perfectly well aware of, namely, that the tiny frills at neck and wrists were of the costliest Mechlin lace, that the hem of the dress was bordered with the same material, as if it had been the commonest of things ; that the embroidered white ribbons with which it was trimmed had been woven in Frande especially for Miss Adair, and that the little silver buckles at her waist and on her shoes were so ancient and beautiful as to be of almost historic importance. The effect was diat of simplicity ; but it was the costly simplicity of A TKVE Fit t END, absolute perfection. Margaret's mother was nerer conleftt unless her child was clothMl from head to foot in materials of the softest, finest and best. It^was a sort of outward srmbol of what she desired for the girl in all relations of life. This it was tha( disturbed Miss Polehampton's mind as she stood and looked uneasily for a moment at Margaret Adair. Then she took the girl bv the hand. " Sit down, my dear," she said, in a kind voice» " and let me talk to you for a few moments. I hope you are not tired with standing so long." *' Oh, no, thank you ; not at all," Margaret answered, blushing slightly as she took a seat at Miss Polehampton'i left hand. She was more intimidated by this unwonted kindness of address than by any imaginable severity. The schoolmistress was tall and imposing in appearance : her manner was usually a little pompous, and it did not s^em quite natural to Margaret that she should speak to gently. " My dear," said Miss Polehampton, "when your dear mamma gave you into my charge, I am sure she^taisidered me responsible for the influences under which you were brought, and the friendships that you made UL^er my roof." " Mamma knew that I could not be hurt by any friend- ship that I made here^* said Margaret, with the softest flattery. She was quite sincere : it was natural to her to say "pretty things ' to people. " Quite so," the schoolmistress admitted. " Quite so, dear Margaret, if you keep within your own grade in society. There is no pupil in this establishment, I am thankful to say, who is not of suitable family and prospects to become your friend. You are young yet, and do not understand the complications in which people sometimes involve them* selves by making friendships out of their own sphere But / understand, and I wish to caution you." " I am not aware that I have made any unsuitable friend* ships," said Margaret, with a rather proud look in her hazel eyes. « Well— no, I hope not," said Miss Polehampton with a hesitating little cough. "You understend, my dear, that in an establishment like mine, persons must be em- ployed t6 do certain work who are not quite equal ia ^ •if' I; .» ^vua woiu — /vui ciJiiu. xou Will not arive him away. She has left him at our door." Wyvis walked into the room, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. " Upon my word," he said, sarcastically, " you will give this lady — whose name I haven't the pleasure of knowing — a very fine idea of our domestic relations. I am not such a brute, I hope, as to drive away my own child from my door ; but I certainly should like to know first whether it is my child ; and more particularly wbethei h is my son and heir, as I have no doubt that this young gentleman is endeavoring to persuade you. Did j^ou bring the child here ? " he said, turning sharply to Janetta. "I brought him into the house, certainly," she said, rising from her knees and facing him. " I found him out- side your fence ; and he told me that his name was Julian Wyvis Brand." ** Pretty evidence," said Mr. Brand, very rudely, as Janetta thought. " Who can tell whether the child is not some beggar's brat that has nothing to do with me ? " " Don't you know your own little boy when you see him ? " Janetta demanded, indignantly. " Not I. I have not set eyes on him since he was a baby. Turn round, youngster, and let me have a look at yoa." The child faced him instantly, much as Janetta herself had done. There was a fearless look in the baby face, an innocent, guileless courage in the large dark eyes, which must surely, thought Janetta, touch a father's heart. But Wyvis Brand looked as if it would take a great deal to move him. 78 A TRUE FRIEND, " For ten minutes or so, only. They wanted to ask me a question about the healthiness of Brand Hall, drains^^ 4V but he did not take his eyes from his father's face as he replied. " I come with mammy from Paris." " And pray where is your mother ? " "Gone back again. She told me to find my father. Are you my father ? " said the child, with the utmost fear- lessness. " What is your name ? " asked Wy vis, utterly disregard- ing the question. " Julian Wyvis Brand." ** He's got the name pat enough," said Wyvis, with a sardonic laugh. " Well, where did you live in Paris ? What sort of a house had you ? " " It was near the church," said the little boy, gravely. " The church with the big pillars round it. There was a bonnet shop under our rooms, and the rooms were al! pink and white and gold — prettier than this," he said, wistfully surveying the gloomy room in which he stood. " And who took care of you when your mother was out ? " asked Mr. Brand. Even Janetta could see, by the swift, subtle change that had passed over his face, that he recognized the description of the room. " Susan. She was my nurse and mammy's maid as well. She was English." The man nodded and set his lips. " He knows what to say," he remarked. " Oh, Wyvis j " exclaimed his mother, as if she could repress her feelings no longer ; " don't you see how like he is to you ! — don't you //Mif A\^^ T : case into i5iit little Julian was not minded to be treated in this way. TTic laror<» ayrao K«»*l Vr»-~"- ^----^ 'x^t'-i- r.^r • ' puzzled and rather wistful expression. He now suddenly started from his position at Mrs. Brand's knee, and pur- sued his father to the door. " Say good-night, please," he said, pulling at Mr. Brand's coat with a fearlessness which amused Janetta and startled Mrs. Brand. Wyvis looked down at him with a curious and indescrib- able expression. " You're not shy, at any rate," he said, drily. "Well, good-night, voting man. What?" — the boy had held up his face to be kissed. The father hesitated. Then a better and softer feeling seemed to pass over his face. He stooped down and let the child put his arms round his neck, and press a warm kiss on his cheek. A short laugh then escaped his lips, as if he were half-ashamed of his own action. He went out of the room and shut the door behind him without looking round, and little Julian returned to his grandmother's knee, looking well satisfied with himself. Janetta felt that she ought to go, and yet that she hardly liked trusting the child to the sole care of Mrs. Brand, who w:.s evidently so much unnerved as to be of little use in deciding what was to be done with him. And at the first hint of departure grandmother and child both clung to her as if they felt her to be their sheet-anchor in storm. She was not allowed to go until she had inspected the nursery and pronounced it too damp for Julian's use, and seen a little bed made up for the child in Mrs. Brand's own room, where a fire was lighted, and everything looked cosey and bright. Poor little Julian was by this time half-dead with sleep ; and Janetta could not after all make up her mind to leave him until she had seen him tucked up and fast A TRUE FRIEND, g, ?_^L,^i;'- Col^Vn actually Hr.nT. .^^ ^,,^y. > #««^^«4 M^«*« ^««.M .11 1.1.-^ n*' «^q(s »«'»n p-^' w f I V 1' "is has made him seem harder and sterner than he is. I can- not thank you enough for all that you have done to-day." " Oh, Mrs. Brand, I have done nothing," said Janetta, blushing at the elder woman's praise. " But may I come to see you and little Julian again ? I should like so much to know how he gets on." " You may come, dear, if your father will let you," said Mrs. Brand, with rather a troubled look. " It would be a blessing — a charity — to me : but I don't know whether it would be right to let you — your father must decide." And then Janetta took her leave. She was surprised to find that Mr. Brand was lounging about the hall as she came out^ and that he not only opened the door for her but accompanied her to the garden gate. He did not speak for a minute or two, and Janetta, not seeing her way clear to any remarks ot her own, wondered whether they were to walk side by side to the gate in utter silence. Presently, however, he said, abruptly. "I have not yet heard to whom I am :i. lebted tor the appearance of that little boy in my house." " I am not exactly responsible,'* said Janetta, " I only found him outside and brought him in to make inquiries. My name is Janetta Colwyn." " Colwyn ? What ? the doctor's daughter ? " "Yes, the doctor's daughter," said Janetta, smiling frankly at him, ** and your second cousin." Wyvis Brand's hand went up to his hat, which he lifted ceremoniously. " I wish I had had the introduction earlier," he said, in a much pleasanter tone. fa A TRUE FRIEND. Street ; and she had resolutely to drive away unwelcome thoiights before she could resign herself to eniovment nf " >Vhat you could not sec," he said, perhaps more to himself than to her, " was what no one will ever guess. Nobody knows what the last few years have been to me. My mother has seen more of it than any one else, but even to her my life has been something of a mystery — a sealed book. You should remember this — remember all that I have passed through — before you blame me for the way in which I received that child to-day." " I did not blame you," said Janetta, eagerly. " I only felt that th'^'-e was a great deal which I could not under- stand." He turned his gloomy eyes upon her. " Just so," he said. " You cannot understand. And it is useless for you to try." " I am very sdrry," Janetta faltered, scarcely knowing Avhy she said so. Wyvis laughed. " Don't trouble to be sorry over my affairs," he said. " They are not worth sorrow, I assure you. But — if I may make one request — will you kindly keep silence (except, of course, to your parents^ about this episode ? I do not want people to begin gossiping about that unhappy woman who has the right, unfortunately, to call herself my wife." Janetta promised, and with her promise the garden gate was reached, and the interview came to an end. ^ T/^UJS FRIEND, g^ friend's arm caressingly. "I q^ ^ -^ ^ ,^^_ J Jt r , L :■ buried in the contemplation of his difficulties, than any- body knew, and it completely escaped his memory until afterwards that he ought to have offered Miss Colwyn an escort. Janetta, however, was well used to going about the world alone, and she proceeded briskly to the spot where she had left Nora, and was much astonished to find that young person deep in conversation with a strange young man. But the young man had such an attractive face, such pleasant eyes, so courteous a manner, that she melted towards him before he had got through his first sentence. Nora, of course, ought to have introduced him ; but she was by no means well versed in the conventionalities of society, and therefore left him to do what he pleased, and to introduce himself. " I find that I am richer than I thought," said Cuthbert Brand, " in possessing a relative whom I never heard of before ! Miss Colwyn, are we not cousins ? My name is Brand— Cuthbert Brand." Jafietta's face lighted up. ** I have just seen Mrs. Brand and your brother," she said, offering him her hand. " And, oh, Janetta ! " cried Nora at once, " do tell us what happened. Have you left the little boy at Brand Hall? And is it really Mr. Brand's little boy? " " Yes, it is, and I have left him with his father," said Janetta, gravely. "As it is getting late, Nora, we had better make the best of our way home." " Yoii will let me accompany you ? " said Cuthbert, eagerly, while Nora looked a little bit inclined to pout At 84 ^ rjiC/£ FRIEND, "Yes, I like a white dog," said Margaret, tranquilly. " Mamma's poodle snaps at strangers, so Sir Philip thou£M. uscu lu uit^bc wuuus, uiiQ lo iiie roau uciwecn mem ana m»%» «««• ••Ml. i> >, iv.uiijr uu iiui icvjuiic ail cscuri." A compromise was finally effected. Cuthbert walked with them to the end of the wood, and the girls were to be allowed to pursue their way together along the Beaminster road. He made himself very agreeable in thci»" walk through the wood, and did not leave them without a hone that he might be allowed one c'ay to call upon his nev discovered cousins. " He ha« adopted us, apparently, as well as yourself," said Nora, as the two g rls tramped briskly along the Beaminster road. " He seems to forget that we are not his relations." " He is very pleasant and friendly," said Janetta. " But why did you say he might call ? " pursued Nora. *'I thought that you would say that we did not have visitors — or something of that sort." " My dear Nora ! But we do have visitors." " Yes ; but not of that kind." " Don't you want him to come ? " said Janetta, in some wonderment ; for it had struck her that Nora had shown an unusual amount of friendliness to Mr. Cuthbert Brand. " No, I don't," said Nora, almost passionately. " I don'f want to see him down in our shabby, untidy little drawing- room, to hear mamma talk about her expenses and papa's difficulties — to see all that tribe of children in their old frocks — to see the muddle in which we live ! I don't want him there at all." " Dear Nora, I don't think that the Brands have been accustomed to live in any very grand way. I am sure the rooms I went into this evening were quite shabby — ^nearly ^ TRUE FRIEND, "Are you intendin.^ tomv^ on„ .:^^:^.. _ «S II ■ — I » -I T r\r*T" cried Janetta, warmly. " Nobody looks down on father, because he does good, honest work in the world, and every- body respects him ; but I am afraid that a good many people look down on the Brands. You know that as well as I do, Nora ; for you have heard people talk about them. They are not at all well thought of in this ne ighborhood. I don't suppose tfiere ^Tinrch' Honor andglorytobe gained by relationship to them." In which Janetta was quite right, and showed her excel- lent sense. But Nora was not inclined to be influenced by her more sagacious sister. " You may say what you like," she observed ; ** but I know very well that it is a great advantage to be related to 'the County.' Poor papa has no connections worth speaking of^ and mamma's friends are either shopkeepers or farmers ; but your mother was the Brands' cousin, and see how the Adair s took you up ! They would never have made a fuss over me" " What nonsense you talk, Nora ! " said Janetta, in a disgusted tone. " Nonsense or not, it is true," said Nora, doggedly ; " and as long as people look down upon us, I don't want any of your fine friends and relations in Gwynne Street." Janetta did not condescend to argue the point ; she con- tented herself with telling her sister of Wyvis Brand's desire that the story of his wife's separation from him should not be known, and the two girls agreed that it would be better to mention their evening's adventure only to their father. A TRUE FRIEND. x^ ((cucitti iiiciiMawic to uproariousncss prevailed in Mrs. Colwyn's abse. !", a-iJ it must be confessed that neither Janetta nor > a ;ried very hard to repress the little ones' noise. It was a cc iifort to be able, for once, to enjoy themselves v 'hout fear of Mrs. Colwyn's perpetual snarl and grumble. A. most exciting pillow-fight was going on in the upstairs regions, and here Janetta was holding her own a^^ boldly as the boldest, when the sound of an open- ing door made the combatants pause in their mad career. " What's that? The front door ? It's mamma ! " cried Georgie, with conviction. " Get into bed, Tiny I " shouted Joey. Tiny began to cry. " Nonsense, children," said Nora, with an air of author- ity. " You know that it can't be mamma. It is papa, of course, coming in for his supper. And one of us must go down." '' I'll go," said Janetta, hurriedly. " I want a little talk with him, you know." There was a general chorus of ** Oh, don't go, Janetta ! " ** Do stay ! " " It will be no fun when you are gone 1 '* which stimulated Nora to a retort. "Well, I must say you are all very polite," she said. ** One would think that I was not here at all ! " " You are not half such good fun as Janetta," said Joey. "You don't throw yourself into everything as she does." " I must throw myself into giving father his supper, I'm afraid," said Janetta, laughing, " so good-night, children, and do go to bed quietly now, for I don't think father will like such a dreadful noise." * A TRUE FRIEND. g^ . . .*' ^^^' certainly. I am too voung t . . TnoQgmTui oi ner lattier's requirements ; but it was never troublesome to Tnn#»t»a a«*i -- xt_-_ ^i-_,,^t j * .. . . me tears came involuntarily to her eyes. It seemed so easy to Janetta to be good, she thought ! But perhaps it was no easier to Janetta than to other people. Janetta ran down to the dining-room, where she found her father surveying with a rather dissatisfied air the cold and scanty repast which was spread out for him. Mr. Colwyn was so much out that his meals had to be irregular, and he ate them just when he had a spare half hour. On this occasion he had been out since two o'clock in the afternoon, and had not had time even for a cup of tea. He had been attending a hopeless case, moreover, and one about which he had been anxious for some weeks. Fagged, chilled, and dispirited, it was no wonder that he had returned home in not the best of tempers, and that he was a little disposed to find fault when Janetta made her appearance. '* Where is mamma ? " he began. " Out, I suppose, or the children would not be making such a racket over- head." " They are ^oing to be quiet now, dear father," said his daughter, kissing him, '' and mamma has gone out to supper at Mrs. Maitland's. I am going to have mine with you if you will let me." "And is this what you are going to have for your supper? " said Mr. Colwyn, half ruefully, half jestingly, as he glanced again at the table, where some crusts of bread reposed peacefully on one dish, and a scrag of cold mutton on another. " After your sojourn at Miss Polehampton's and among the Adairs, I suppose you don't know how to cook, Jenny?" A TRUE FRIEND. don't you think so ? I have always thought of loving once and once nnlv— HItp Paul and Virgir.io v^mi Vr^r^^xr or ness into the armchair that Janetta had wheeled fnrw«r*i fnr Ki«» uxtT.t* ^^^ • ^^ ^^^^ yourSCIl, Child. I shall be glad of a few minutes' rest before I begin my supper." Janetta in a big white apron, Janetta flitting backwards and forwards between kitchen and dining-room, with flushed checks and brightly shining eyes, was a pretty sight — " a sight to make an old man young," thought Mr. Colwyn, as he watched her furtively from beneath his half-closed eyelids. She looked so trim, so neat, so happy in her work, that he would be hard to satisfy who did not admire her, even though she was not what the world calls strictly beautiful. She succeeded so well in her cooking opera- tions, with which she would not allow the servant to inter- meddle, that in a very short time a couple of dainty dishes and some coffee smoked ui)on the board ; and Janetta bidding her father come to the table, placed herself near him, and smilingly dispensed tlie savory concoction. She would not enter upon any account of her evening's . work until she felt sure that the wants of her father's inner man were satisfied ; but when supper was over, and iiis evening pipe — the one luxury in the day he allowed l.imsclf — alight, she drew up a hassock beside his chair and prepared for what she called "a good long chat." Opportunities for such a chat with her father were rather rare in that household, and Janetta meant to make the most of this one. Nora had good-naturedly volunteered to stay away from the dining-room, so as to give Janetta the chance that she wished for ; and as it was now barely ten o'clock, Janetta knew that she might perhaps have an hour of her father's companionship — if, at least, he were not sent for before eleven o'clock. At eleven he would probably go to Mrs. Maitland's to fetch his wife home. j4 TRVE friend. rather melancholy sort of mai «9 It *• Well, you have put your head into the lion's den ! " he ■aiu «(. laai, iii u iiuii-iiuiiiuruus (UtlC. " What I want to know is," said Janctta, ** why it is thought to be a lion's den 1 I don't mean that I have heard the expression before, but I have jgathered in difTer ent ./ays an utipression that people avoid the house~ ' " The family, not the house, Janet ! " " Of course I wfan the family, father, dear. What have thev done that they should be shunned ? " " There is a good deal against them in the eyes of the world. Your poor mother, Janetta, always stood up for them, and said that they were more sinned against than sinning." . " 7%ey f But these young men were not grown up then ? " " No ; it was their father and " Mr. Colwyn stopped short and seemed as if he did not like to go on. " Tell me, father," said Janetta, coaxingly. " Well, child, I don't know that you ought to hcair old scandals. But you arc too wise to let them haria you. Brand, the father of these two young fellows, married a baflnaid; the daughter of a low publican in the neighbor- hood." ** What I The Mrs. Brand that I saw to-day ? SAg a barmaid — that quiet, pale, subdued-looking woman ? " " She has had trouble enough to make her look sub- dued, poor soul ! She was a handsome girl then ; and I daresay the world would have overlooked the marriage in time if hei character had been untarnished. ' But stories which I need not repeat were afloat* ; and from what I have lately heard they are not yet forgotten." Tn^ounty mean to ' cut ' him." .. «> TVS/ uiiiiiir, surciy." "Yes, it is unfair; but it is the way of the world, Janctta. If a woman's reputation is ever so slightly blackened, she can never get it fair and white again. Hence, my dear, I am a little doubtful as to whether you must go to Brand Hall again, as long as poor Mrs. Brand is there." " Oh, father, and I promised to go 1 " ** You must not make rash prouiises another time, my child." ** But she wants me, father — she is so lonely and so sad ? " " I am sorry, my Janet, but I don't know ** '^0^, do let me, father. I shall not be harmed ; and I don't mind what the world says." ** But perhaps / mind," said Mr. Colwyn, quaintly. CHAPTER X. MARGARET. Janetta looked so rueful at thi;; remark that her father laughed a little and pulled her ear. "I am noi ^'v^*'^ ^o taking m ich notice of what the world says," he told htr, "a'\d if J thought it right for you to go to Brand Hall I should take no notice of town talk ; but I think that I can't decide this matter without seeing Mrs. Brand for myself." " I thought you had seen her, father?" 'vi#^ qpipiliPiiiiiifijiij,i.j>.ii .1 . . J, «. .(,_ WJTT: 91 ? ^ r^C^^ FRIEND, H^ tried his best, and made himself so agreeable and amusing that Janetta lost a good deal of her shyness, and forgot her troubles. She had a quick tongue of her own, as everybody at Miss Poleliampton's was aware ; and she soon found that she had not lost it. She was a good deal surprised to find that not a word was said at the dinner table about the cause of Margaret's return : in her own home it would have been the subject of the evening ; it would have been discussed from every point of view, and she would probably have been reduced to tears before the first hour was over. But here it was evident that the matter was not considered of great importance. Margaret looked serene as ever, and joined quietly in talk which was alarmingly unlike Miss Polehampton's improving conver- sation : talk about county gaieties and county magnates : gossip about neighbors — gossip of a harmless although frivolous type, for Lady Caroline never allowed any talk at her tabic that was anything but harmless, about fashions, about old china, about music and art. Mr. Adair was Sassionately fond of music, and when he found that [iss Colywn really knew something of it he was in his element. They discoursed of fugues, sonatas, concertos, .. quartettes, and trios, until even Lady Caroline raised her eyebrows a little at the very technical nature of the conversation ; and Sir Philip exchanged a congratulatory smile with Margaret over her friend's success. For the delight of finding a congenial spirit had brought the crim- son mto Janetta's olive cheeks and the brilliance to her dark eyes : she had looked insignificant when she went in to dinner ; she was splendidly handsome at dessert. Mr. . Adair noticed her flashing, transitory beauty, and said to himself that Margaret's taste was unimpeachable ; it was just like his own ; he had complete confidence in Marga- ret. When the ladies went back to the drawing-room. Sir Philip turned with a look of only half-disguised curiosity to his host. ** Lady Caroline brought her back then ? " he said, longing to ask questions, yet hardly knowing how to frame them aright. Mr. Adair gave a great laugh. " It's been the oddest thing I ever heard of," he said, in a tone of enjoyment. " Margaret takes a fancy to that little black-eyed girl — a nice little thing, too, don't you think ? — and nothing must S( ai s( fc \A ▼r»?w!?^iifipii« mmmmmmmwiii'^fiKWiKm it A TRUE FRIEND, serve but that her favorite must walk with her, sit by her, and so on — you know the romantic way girls have ? The schoolmistress interfered, said it was not proper, and so on \ forbade it. Miss Colwyn would have obeyed, it seems, but Margaret took the bit in a quiet way between her teeth. Miss Colwyn was ordered to take her meals at a side table : Margaret insisted on taking her meals there too. The school was thrown into confusion. At last Miss Polehamp- ton decided that the best way out of the difficulty was first t(? complain to us, and then to send Miss Colwyn home, straight away. She would not send Margaret home, you know ! " " That was very hard on Miss Colwyn," said Sir Philip, gravely. '* Yes, horribly hard. So Margaret, as you heard, appealed to her mother, and when Lady Caroline arrived, she found that not only were Miss Colv/yn's boxds packed, but Margaret's as well ; and that Margaret had declared that if her friend was sent away for what was after all her fault, she would not stay an hour in the house. Miss Pole- hampton was weeping : the girls were in revolt, the teach- ers in despair, so my wife thought the best way out of the difficulty was to bring both girls away at once, and settle it with Miss Colwyn's relations afterwards. The joke is thar Margaret insists on it that she has been ' expelled.' " "So she told me." " The schoolmistress said something of that kind, you know. Caroline says the woman entirely lost her temper and made an exhibition of herself. Caroline was glad to get our girl away. But, of course, it's all nonsense about being * expelled ' as a punishment ; she was leaving of her own accord." " One could hardly imagine punishment in connection with her," said Sir Philip, warmly. " No, she's a nice-looking girl, isn't she ? and her little friend is a good foil, poor hctle thing." " This affair may prove of some serious inconvenience to Miss Colwyn, I suppose ? " " Oh, you may depend upon it, she won't be the loser," said Mr. Adair, hastily. " We'll see about that. Of course she will not suffer any injury through my daughter's friend- ship for her." Sir Philip was not so sure about it. In spite of hia wpppppp fill. Ill I.IIIJW.^I A TRVE FR1E^W. , intense admiration for Margaret's beauty, it occurred to him that the romantic partisanship of the girl with beauty, position, and wealth for her less fortunate sister had not been attended with very brilliant results. No doubt Miss Adair, reared in luxury and indulgence, did not in the least realize the harm done to the poor governess-pupil's future by her summary dismissal from Miss Polehampton's boarding-school To Margaret, anything that the school- . mistress chose to say or do mattered little ; to Janetta Colwyn, it might some day mean prosperity or adversity of a very serious kind. Sir Philip did not quite believe in the compensation so easily promised by Mr. Adair. He made u mexital note of Miss Colwyn's condition and pros- pects, and said to himself that lie would not forget her. And this meant .a good deal from a busy man like Sir Philip Ashley. Meanwhile there had bfien another conversation going on in the drawing-room between the three la,dies. Mar- garet put her arm affectionately round Janet ta's waist as they stood by the hearthrug, and looked at her mother with a smile. Lady Caroline sank into an easy-chair on the other side of the fireplace, and contemplated the two girls. " This is better tiian Claremont House, is it not, Janet ? " said Margaret. " Indeed it is," Janetta answered, gratefully. ' " You found the way to papa's iieart by your talk about music — did she not, mamma ? And does not this dress suit her beautifully ? " "It wants a little alteration in the sleeve," said Lady Caroline, with the placidity which Janetta had always attributed to Margaret as a special virtue, but which she now found was merely characteristic of the house and family in general, " but Markham can do that to-morrow. There are some people coming in the evening, and the sleeve will look better shortened." The remark sounded a little inconsequent in Janetta's ear, but Margaret understood and assen* ^d. It meant that Lady Caroline was on the whole pleased with Janetta, and did not object to introducing her to her friends. Margaret gave her mother a little smile over Janetta's head, while that yOkUig person was gathering up her cour- age in two hands, so to speak, before addressing Lady Caroline. A TRUE FRIEND, as ** I am very much obliged to you," she said at last, witi a thrill of gratitude in her sweet voice which was very pleasant to the ear. " But — I was thinking— what time would be the most convenient for me to go home to- morrow?" " Home ? To Beaminster ? " said Margaret. " But you need not go, dear ; you can write a note and tell them that you are staying here." ** Yes, my dear ; I am sure Margaret cannot part with you yet," said Lady Caroline, amiably. " Thank you ; it is most kind of you," Janetta answered, her voice shaking. " But I must ask my father whether I can stay — and hear what he says ; Miss Polehampton will have written to him, and " ** And he will be very glad that we have .cscued you from her clutches," said Margaret, with a soft triumphant little laugh. " My poor Janetta ! What we suffered at her hands ! " Lady Caroline lying back in her easy chair, with the candle light gleaming upon her silvery grey and white bro- cade with its touches of soft pink, and the diamonds flash- ing on her white hands, so calmly crossed upon the handle of her ivory fan, did not feel quite so tranquil as she looked. It crossed her mind that Margaret v/as acting inconsiderately. This little Miss Colwyn had her living to earn ; it would be no kindness to unfit her for her pro- fession. So, when she spoke it was with a shade more decision than usual in her tones. " We will drive you over to Beaminster tomorrow, my dear Miss Colwyn, and you can then see your family, and ask your father if you may spend a few days with Margaret. I do not think that Mr. Colwyn will refuse us," she said, graciously. " I wonder when those' men are coming, Margaret. Suppose you open the piano and let us have a little music. You sing, do you not ? " *' Yes, a little," said janetta. " A little ! " exclaimed Margaret, with contempt. " She has a delightful voice, mamma. Come and sing at once, Janetta, darling, and astonish mamma." Lady Caroline smiled. She had heard a great many singers in her day, and did not expect to be astonished. A little governess-pupil, an under-teacher in a boarding- school ! Dear Margaret's enthusiasm certainly carried her away. ffp ^p A TRUE FRIEND, But when Janetta sang, Lady Caroline was, after all, rather surprised. The girl had a remarkably sweet and rich contralto voice, and it had been well trained ; and, moreover, she san^ with feeling and passion which were somewhat unusual m one so young. It seemed as if some hidden power, some latent characteristic came out in her singing because it found no other way of expressing itself. Neither Lady Caroline nor Margaret understood why Janetta's voice moved them so much; Sir Philip,* who came in with his host while the music was going on, heard and was charmed also without quite knowing why ; it was Mr. Adair alone whose musical knowledge and ex- perience of the world enabled him, feather-headed as in some respects he was, to lay his finger directly on the salient features of Janetta's singing. " It's not her voice altogether, you know," he said after- . wards to Philip Ashley, in a moment of confidence ; " it's soul. She's got more of that commodity than is good for a woman. It makes her singing lovely, you know — brings tears into one's eyes, and all that sort of thing — but upon my honor I'm thankful that Margaret hasn't got a voice like that ! It's women of that kind that are either heroines of virtue — or go to the devil. They are always in ex- tremes." " Then we may promise ourselves some excitement in watching Miss ColWyn's career," said Sir Philip, dryly. After Janett.'., Margaret sang ; she had a sweet mezzo- soprano voice, of no great strength or compass, but per- fectly trained and very pleasing to the ear. The sort of voice, Sir Philip thought, that would be soothing to the nerves of a tired man in his own house. Whereas, Janetta's singing had something impassioned in it which disturbed and excited instead of soothing. But he was quite ready to admire when Marg^/et called on him for admiration. They were sitting together on a sofa, and Janetta, who had just finished one of her songs, was talking to, or being talked to, by Mr. Adair. Lady Caroline had taken up a review. " Is not Miss Colwyn's voice perfectly lovely ? " Mar- garet asked, with shining eyes. " It is very sweet." " Don't you think she looks very nice ? " — Margaret was hungering for admiration of her fritnd. A TRUE FRIEND, m ** She is a very pretty girl. You are very fond of each other?" ' " Oh, yes, devoted. I am so glad I succeeded ! " said the girl, with a great sigh. " In getting her away from the school ? *' «*Yes." ** You think it was for her good ? " Margaret opened her lovely eyes. *• For her good ? — to come here instead of staying in that close uncomfortable house to give music lessons, and bear Miss Polehampton's snubs ? " It had evidently neve/ occurred to her that the change could be any- thing but beneficial to Janetta. "It is very pleasant for her, no doubt," said Sir Philip, smiling in spite of his disapproval. **I only wondered whether it was a good preparation for the life of hard work which probably lies before her." He saw that Margaret colored, and wondered whether she would be offended by his suggestion. After a mo- ment's pause, she answered, gravely, but quite gently — • " I never thought of it in that way before, exactly. I want to keep her here, so that she shotid never have to work hard at all." " Would she consent to that ? " " Why not ? " said Margaret. Sir Philip smiled and said no more. It w^s curious, he said to himself, to see how little conception Margaret had of lives unlike and outside her own. And Janetta's brave but sensitive little face, with its resolute brows and lips and brilliant eyes, gave promise of a determination and an originality which, he felt convinced, would never allow her to become a mere plaything or appendage of a wealthy household, as Margaret Adair seemed to expect. But his words had made an impression. At night, when Lady Caroline and her daughter were standing in the charming little room which had always been appropriated to Mar- garet's use, she spoke, with the unconscious habit of saying frankly anything that had occurred to her, of Sir Philip's remarks. " It was so odd," she said ; " Sir Philip seemed to think that it would be bad for Janetta to stay here, mamma. Why should it be bad for her, mamma, dear ? " " I don't think it will be at all bad for her to spend a mmmm. MliP liP aS A TRVE FRIEND, day or two with us, darling," said Lady Caroline, keeping somewhat careful watch on Margaret's face as she spoke. " But perhaps it had better be by-and-bye. You know she wants to go home to-morrow, and we must not keep her away from her duties or her own sphere of life." "No," Margaret answered, "but her duties will not always keep her at home, you know, mamma, dear." " I suppose not, my dearest," said Lady Caroline, vaguely, but in the caressing tone to which Margaret was accustomed. " Go to bed, my sweetest one, and we will talk of all these things to-morrow." Meanwhile Janetta was wondering at the luxury of the room which had been allotted to her, and thinking over the events of the past day. When a tap at the door an- nounced Margaret's appearance to say good-night, Janetta was standing before the long looking-glass, apparently in- specting herself by the light of the rose-tinted wax candles in silver sconces which were fixed on either side of the mirror. She was in her dressing-gown, and her long and abundant hair fell over her shoulder in a great curly mass. " Oh, Miss Vanity ! " cried Margaret, with more gaiety of tone than was usual with her, " are you admiring your pretty hair ? " " I was thinking," said Janetta, with the intensity which often characterized her speech, " that now I understood you — now I know why you were so different from other girls, so sweet, so calm and beautiful ! You have lived in this lovely place all your life ! It is like a fairy palace — a dream-house — to me ; and you are the queen of it, Mar<. garet — a princess of dreams I " " T hope I shall have something more than dreams to reign over some day," said Margaret, putting her arms round her friend's neck. " And whatever I am queen over, you must share my queendom, Janet. You knew how fond I am of you — how I want you to stay with me always and be my friend." " I shall always be your friend — always, to the last day of my life 1 " said Janetta, with fervor. The two made a pretty picture, reflected in the long mirror ; the tall, fair Margaret, still in her soft wliite silk frock, with her arm round the smaller figure of the dark girl whose curly masses of hair half covered her pink cotton dressing-gown, and whose brown face was upturned so lovingly to her fiiend's. A TRUE FRIEND, of the "And i am sure it will be good for you to stay with me," said Margaret, answering an unspoken objection in her mind. *< Good for me ? It is delicious — it is lovely ! " cried Janetta, rapturously. " I have never had anything so nice in my whole life. Doar Margaret, you are so good and so kind — if there were only anything that I could do for you in return ! Perhaps some day I shall have the chance, and if ever I have — then you shall see whether I am true to my friend or not ! " Margaret kissed her, with a little smile at Janetta's enthusiasm, which was so far different from the modes of expression customary at Helmsley Court, as to be almost amusing. -•'&'. CHAPTER IV. ON THE ROAD. Miss Polehampton had, of course, written to Mr. and Mrs. Colwyn when she made up her mind that Janetta was to be removed from school ; and two or three letters had been interchanged before that eventful day on which Margaret declared that if Janetta went ^e should go too. Margaret had been purposely kept in the dark until almost the last moment, for Miss Polehampton did not in the least wish to make a scandal, and annoyed as she was by Miss Adair's avowed preference for Janetta, she had ar- ranged a neat little plan by which Miss Colwyn was to go away " for change of air," and be transferred to a school at Worthing kept by a relation of her own at the beginning of the following term. These plans had been upset by a foolish and ill-judged letter from Mrs. Colwyn to her step- daughter, which Janetta had not been able to keep from Margaret's eyes. . This letter was full of reproaches to Janetta for giving so much trouble to her friends j " for, of course," Mrs. Colwyn wrote, " Miss Polehampton's con- cern for your health is all a blind in order to get you away : and if it hadn't been for Miss Adair taking you up, she would have been only too glad to keep you. But knowing Miss Adair's posrdon, she sees very clearly that ■ If i A TRUE FRIEND. ^: it isn't fit for you to be friends with her, and so she wants to send you away." This was in the main true, but Janetta, in the blithe con- fidence of youth, would never have discovered it but for that letter. Together she and Margaret consulted over it, for when Margaret saw Janetta crying, she almost forced the letter from her hand ; and then it was that Miss Adair vindicated her claim to social superiority. She went straight to Miss Polehampton and demanded that Janetta should remain; and when the schoolmistress refused to alter her decision, she calmly replied that in that case she should go home too. Miss Polehampton was an obstinate woman, and would not concede the point; and Lady Caroline, on learning the state of affairs, at once perceived that it was impossible to leave Margaret at the school where open warfare had been declared. She accordingly brought both girls away with her, arranging to send Janetta to her own home next morning. ** You will stay to luncheon, dear, and I will drive you over to Beaminster at three o'clock," she said to Janetta at breakfast. " No doubt you are anxious to see your own people." Janetta looked as if she might find it difficult to reply, but Margaret interposed a remark — as usual at the right moment. " We will practice our duets this morning — if Janetta likes, that is ; and we can have a w alk in the garden too. Shall we have the landau, mamma ? " "The victoria, I think, dear," said Ladjr Caroline, placidly. " Your father wants you to ride with him this afternoon, so I shall have the pleasure of Miss Colwyn's society in my drive." Margaret assented ; but Janetta became suddenly aware, by a flash of keen feminine intuition, that Lady Caroline had some reason for wishing to go with her alone, and that she had purposely made the arrangement that she spoke of. However, there was nothing to displease her in this, for Lady Caroline had been most kind and considerate to her, so far, and she was innocently disposed to believe in the cordiality and sincerity of every one who behaved with common civility. So she spent a pleasant morning, singing with Margaret, loitering about the garden with Mr Adair, while Margaret A TRUE FRIEND. 3« and Sir Philip gathered roses, and enjoying to the full all the sweet influences of peace, refinement, and prosperity by which she was surrounded. Margaret left her in the afternoon with rather a hasty kiss, and an assurance that she would see her again at dinner. Janetta tried to remind her that by that time she would have left the Court, but Margaret did not or would not hear. The tears came into the girl's eyes as her friend disappeared. " Never mind, dear," said Lady Caroline, who was observing her closely, " Margaret has forgotten at what hour you were going and I would not remind her — it would spoil her pleasure in her ride. We will arrange for you to come to us another day when you have seen your friends at home." " Thank you," said Janetta. " It was only that she did not seem to remember that I was going — I had meant to say good-bye." '' Exactly. She thinks that I am going to bring you back this afternoon. We will talk about it as we go, dear. Suppose you were to put on your hat now. The carriage will be here in ten minutes." Janetta prepared for her departure in a somewhat bewil- dered spirit. She did not know precisely what Lady Caroline meant. She even felt a little nervous as she took her place in the victoria and cast a last look at the stately house in which she had spent soniie nineteen or twenty pleasant hours. It was Lady Caroline who spoke first. " We shall miss your singing to-night," she said, amiably. "Mr. Adair was looking forward to some more duets. Another time, perhaps " " I am always pleased to sing," said Janetta, brightening at this address. "Yes — ye — es," said Lady Caroline, with a doubtful little drawl. " No doubt : one always likes to do what one can do so well ; but — I confess I am not so musical as my husband or my daughter. I must explain why dear Margaret did not say good bye to you. Miss Colwyn. I allowed her to remain in the belief that she was to see you again to-night, in order that she might not be depressed during her ride by the thought of parting with you. It is always my principle to make the lives of those dear to me as happy as possible," said Margaret's mother, piously. iPPIiWPPiw^wpw wft^mmmtm m^rm ^f"^wp-»^"-T" "w-r - 3S ^ TJiC/£ FRIEND. '' And if Margaret had been depressed during her ride> Mr. Adair and Sir Philip might have sufTered some depres- sion also, and that would be a great pity." " Oh, yes," said Janetta. But she felt chilled^ without knowing why. ''I must take you into my confidence," said Lady Caroline, in her softest voice. " Mr. Adair has plans for our dear Margaret. Sir Philip Ashley's property adjoins our own: he is of good principles, kind-hearted, and intellectual : he is well off, nice-looking, and of a suitable age — he admires Margaret very much. I need say no more, I am sure." Again she looked keenly at Janetta's face, but she read there nothing but interest and surprise. " Oh — does Margaret know ? " she asked. *' She feels more than she knows," said Lady Caroline, discreetly. " She is in the first stage of — of— emotion. I did not want th t afternoon's arrangements to be interfered with." '' Oh, no ! especially on my account," said Janetta, sincerely. " When I go home I shall talk quietly to Margaret," pursued Lady Caroline, " and tell her that you will come back another day, that your duties called you home — they do, I am sure, dear Miss Colwyn — and that you could not return with me when you were so much wanted." " I'm afraid I am not much wanted," said Janetta, with a sigh ; ** but I daresay it is my duty to go home " " I am sure it is," Lady Caroline declared ; ** and duty is so high and holy a thing, dear, that you will never regret the performance of it." It occurred dimly to Janetta at that point that Lady Caroline's views of duty might possibly differ from her own ; but she did not venture top say so. " And, of course, you will never repeat to Margaret '* Lady Caroline did not complete her sentence. The coachman suddenly checked the horses' speed : for some unknown reason he actually stopped short in the very middle of the country road between Helmsley Court and Beaminster. His mistress uttered a little cry of alarm. "What is the matter, Steel ?" The footman dismounted and touched his hat. " I'm afraid there has been an accident, my lady/' he A TRUE FRIEND, 33 said, as apologetically, as if he were respoMwble for the accident. '' Oh ! Nothing horrible, I hope t " said Lady Caroline, drawing out her smellins-bottle. " It's a carriage accident, my lady. Leastways, a cab. The 'orse is lying right across the road, my lady." ** Speak to th" people, Steel," said her ladyship, with great dignity. " They must not be allowed to block up the road in this way." " May I get out ? " said Janetta, eagerly. " There is a lady lying on the path, and some people bathing her face. Now they are lifting her up — I am sure they ought nv * to lift her up in that way — oh, please, I must go just for one minute ! " And, without waiting for a reply, she stepped out of the victoria and sped to the side of the woman who had been hurt. ** Very impulsive and undisciplined," said Lady Caroline to herself, as she leaned back and held the smelling-bottle to her own delicate nose. " I am glad I have got her out of the house so soon. Those men were wild about her singing. Sir Philip disapproved of her presence, but he was charmed by her voice, I could see that ; and poor, dear Reginald wad positively absurd about her voice. And dear Margaret does not sing so well — it is no use pretending that she does — and Sir Philip is trembling on the verge — oh, yes, I am sure that I have been very wise. What is that girl doing now ? " The victoria moved forward a little, so that Ladv Caro- line could obtain a clearer view of what was gomg on. The vehicle which caused the obstruction — evidently a hired fly from an inn — was uninjured, but the horse had fallen between the shafts and would never rise again. The occupants of the fly — a lady, and a much younger man, perhaps her son — had got out, and the lady had then turned faint. Lady Caroline heard, but was not in any way hurt. Janetta was kneeling by the side of the lady — kneeling in the dust, without any regard to the freshness of her cotton frock, by the way — and had already placed her in the right position, and was ordering the half-dozen people who had collected to stand back and give her air. Lady Caroline watched her movements and gestures with placid amusement, and went so far as to send Steel with the offer of her smelling salts ; but as this offer was 3 I'-v. f^mmmmmm mtmnmimm ^PPWli^ '^mn^imtinm^m 94 A TRUE FRIEND, I rejected she felt that nothing else could be done. So she sat and looked on critically. The woman — Lady Caroline was hardly inclined to call her a lady, although she did not exactly know why — ^was at present of a ghastly paleness, brt her features were finely cut, and showed traces of former beauty. Her hair was grey, with rebellious waves in it, but her eyebrows were still dark. She was dressed in black, with a good deal of lace about her ; and on her ungloved hand Lady Caroline's keen sight enabled her to distinguish some very handsome diamond rings. The effect of the costume was a little spoiled by a large gaudy fan, of violent rainbow hues, which hung at her side ; and perhaps it was this article of adornment which decided Lady Caroline in her opinion of the woman's social status. But about the man she was equally positive in a different way. He was a gentleman : there could be no doubt of that. She put up her eyeglass and gazed at him with interest. She almost thought that she had seen him somewhere before. A handsome man^ indeed, and a gentleman ; but, oh, what an ill-tempered one, apparently ! He was dark, with fine features, and black hair with a slight inclination to wave or curl (as far at least as could be judged when the extremely well-cropped state of his head was taken into consideration) ; and from these indications Lady Caroline judged him to be " the woman's " son. He was tall, muscular, and active looking ; it was the way in which his ulack eyebrows were bent above his ej^es which made the observer think him ill-tempered, for his manner and his words expressed anxiety, not anger. But that frown, which must have been habitual, gave him a distinctly ill-humored look. ^ At last the lady opened her eyes, and drank a littl water, and sat up. Janetta rose from her knees, and turne to the young man with a smile. " She will soon be bettt now," she said. "I am afraid there is nothing else that j can do — and I think I must go on." " I am very much obliged to you for your kind assist ance," said the gentleman, but without any abatement of the gloom of his expression. He gave Janetta a keen look — almost a bold look — Lady Caroline thought, and then smiled a little, not very pleasantly. " Allow me to take you to your carriage." >'l A TRUE FRIEND, M •e done. So she y inclined to call know why — was er features were sauty. Her hair ut her eyebrows ck, with a good oved hand Lady iguish some very the costume was violent rainbow laps it was this ^ Caroline in her It about the man i^ay. He was a lat. She put up est. She almost before. leman ; but, oh, I [e was dark, with |it inclination to udged when the] was taken into Lady Caroline He was tall. ^ay in which his w^hich made the nanner and his at frown, which z\\y ill-humored drank a littl ees, and turne soon be bettt ling else that j iir kind assist abatement of tta a keen look kht, and then Iw me to tak& Janetta blushed, as if she were minded to say that it was not her carriage ; but returned to the victoria, and was handed to her seat by the young man, who then raised his hat with an elaborate flourish which was not exactly En- glish. Indeed, it occurred to Lady Caroline at once that there was something French about both the travelers. The lady with the frizzled grey hair, the black lace dress and mantel, the gaudy blue and scarlet fan, was quite foreign in appearance ; the young man with the perfectly fitting frock-coat, the tall hat, the flower in his button-hole, was — in spite of his perfectly English accent — foreign too. Lady Caroline was cosmopolitan enough to feel an access of greater interest in the pair in consequence. " They have sent to the nearest inn for a horse," said Janetta, as the carriage moved on ; " and I dare say they will not have long to wait." " Was the lady hurt ? " " No, only shaken. She is subject to fainting fits, and the accident quite upset her nerves, her son said." '' Her son ? " " The gentleman called her mother." " Oh ! You did not hear their name, I suppose ? " " No. There was a big B on their traveling bag." « B— B— ? " said Lady Caroline, thoughtfully. " I don't know any one in this neighborhood whose name begins with B, except the Bevans. They must have been merely passing through; and yet the young man's face seemed familiar to me." Janetta shook her head. " I never saw tht.v before," she said. " He has a very bold and unpleasant expression," Lady Caroline remarked, decidedly. " It Spoils him entirely : otherwise he is a handsome man." The girl made no answer. She knew, as well as Lady aroline, that she had been stared at in a manner that was ot quite agreeable to her, and yet she did not like to en- Morse that lady's condemnation of the stranger. For he ^was certainly very nice-looking — and he had been so kind "^to his mother that he could not be entirely bad — and to her also his face was vaguely familiar. Could he belong to Beaminster? As she sat and meditated, the tall spires of Beaminster Cathedral came into sight, and a few minutes brought the \' ^ A TRUE FRIEND, I* carriage across the grey stone bridge and down the prin- cipal street of the quaint old place which called itself a city, but was really neither more nor less than a quiet country town. Here Lady Caroline turned to her young guest with a question — " You live in Gwynne Street, I believe, my dear ? " " Yes, at number ten, Gwynne Street," said Janetta, suddenly starting and feeling a little uncomfortable. The coachman evidently kr/ew the address already, for at that moment he turned the horse's heads to the left, and the carriage rolled down a narrow side-street, where the tall red brick houses had a mean and shabby aspect, and seemed as if constructed to keep out sun and air as much as possible. Janetta always felt the closeness and the shabbiness a little when she first came home, even from school, but when she came from Helmsley Court they struck her with redoubled force. She had never thought before how dull the street was, nor noticed that the railings were broken down in front of the door with the brass-plate that bore her father's name, nor that the window-curtains were torn and the windows sadly in need of washing. The little flight of stone steps that led from the iron gate to the door was also very dirty ; and the servant girl, whose head appeared against the area railings as the carriage drove up, was more untidy, more unkempt, in appearance than ever Janetta could have expected. " We can't be rich, but we might be clean I " she said to herself in a subdued frenzy of impatience, as she fancied (quite unjustly) that she saw a faint smile pass over Lady Caroline's delicate, impassive face. No wonder she thinks me an unfit friend for dear Margaret. But — oh, there is my dear, darling father! Well, nobody can say anything against him at any rate 1 *' And Janetta's face beamed with sudden joy as she saw Mr. Colwyn coming down the dirty steps to the ricketty little iron gate, and Lady Caroline, who knew the surgeon by sight, :iodded to him with friendly condescension. " How are you, Mr. Colwyn ? " she said, graciously. "I have brought your daughter home, you see, and I hope you will not scold her for what has been my daughter's fault — ^not your's." "I am very glad to see Janetta, under any circum- stances/' said Mr. Colwyn, gravely, as he raised his h.^t. \- A TRUE FRIEND, 3^ He was a tall spare man, in a shabby coat, with a care- worn aspect, and kindly, melancholy eyes. Janetta noticed with a pang that his hair was greyer than it had been when last she went back to school. '* We shall be glad to see her again at Helmsley Court," said Lady Caroline. " No, I won't get out, thank you. I have to get back to tea. Your daughter's box is in front. I was to tell you from Miss Polehampton, Mr. Colwyn, that her friend at Worthing would be glad of Miss Col- wyn's services after the holidays." * I am much obliged to your ladyship," said Mr. Colwyn, with grave formality. *' I am not sure that I shall let my daughter go." " Won't you ? Oh, but she ought to have all possible advantages ! And can you tell me, I.!r. Colwyn, by any chance, who are the people whom we passed on the road to Beaminster — an oldish lady in black and a young man with very dark hair and eyes? They had B on their luggage, I believe." Mr. Colwyn looked surprised. " I think I can tell you," he said, quietly. "They were on their way from Beaminster to Brand Hall. The young man was a cousin of my wife's : his name is Wyvis Brand, and the lady in black was his mother. They have come home after an absence of nearly four-and-twenty years." Lady Caroline was too polite to say what she really felt —that she was sorry to hear it. CHAPTER V. WYVIS BRAND. On the evening of the day on which Lady Caroline drove with janetta Colwyn to Beaminster, the lady who had fainted by the wayside was sitting in a rather gloomy- Jooking room at Brand Hall — a room known in the house- hold as the Blue Drawing-room. It had not the look of a drawing-room exactly : it was paneled in oak, which had grown black with age, as had also the great oak beams that crossed the ceiling and the polished floor. The furniture also was of oak, and the hangings of dark but A TRUE FRIEND. \ .\ ■••-, faded blue, while the blue velvet of the chairs and the square of Oriental carpet, in which blue tints also prepon- derated, did not add cheerfulness to the scene. One or two great blue vases set on the carved oak mantel-piece, and some smaller blue ornaments on a sideboard, matched the furniture in tint ; but it was remarkable that on a day when country gardens v/ere overflowing with blossom, there was not a single flower or green leaf in any of the vases. No smaller and lighter ornaments, no scrap of woman's handiwork — lace or embroidery — enlivened the place : no books were set upon the table. A fire would not have been out of season, for the evenings were chilly, and it would have had a cheery look ; but there was no attempt at cheeriness. The woman who sat in one of the high-backed chairs was pale and sad : her folded hands lay listlessly clasped together on her lap, and the sombre garb that she wore was as unrelieved by any gleam of brightness as the room itself. In the gathering gloom of a chilly summer evening, even the rings upon her fingers could not flash. Her white face, in its setting of rough, wavy grey hair, over which she wore a covering of black lace, looked almost statuesque in its profound tranquillity. But it was not the tranquillity of comfort and prosperity that had settled on that pale, worn, high-feat '•ed face — it was rather the tranquillity that comes of accepted sorrow and inextinguishable despair. She had sat thus for fully half an hour when the door was roughly opened, and the young man whom Mr. Colwyn had named as Wyvis Brand came lounging into the room. He had been dining, but he was not in even- ing dress, and there was something unrestful and reckless in his way of moving round the room and throwing himself in the chair nearest his mother's, which roused Mrs. Brand's attention. She turned slightly towards him, and became conscious at once of the fumes of wine and strong tobacco with which her son had made her only too familiar. She looked at him for a moment, then clasped her hands tightly together and resumed her former position, with her sad face turned to the window. She may have- breathed a sigh as she did so, but Wyvis Brand did not hear it, and if he had heard it, would not perhaps have very greatly cared. " Why do you sit in the dark ? " he said at last, in a vexed tone. -Tgr;T'CT?g?g.-:-- Tr: ::-- g?« t .TTora helped her to take off her hat and cloak, and to unpack her box, insisting meanwhile on a detailed relation of all the events that had led to Janetta's return/ three weeks before the end of the term, and shrieking with laughter over what she called " Miss Foley's defeat." " But, seriously, Nora, what shall I do with myself, if father will not let me go to Worthing? ** 50 A TRUE FRIEND, W- l)-. "Teach the children at home," said. Nora, briskly; " and save mt the trouble of looking after them. I should like that. Or get some pupils in the town. Surely the Adairs will recommend you!" This constant reference to possible aid from the Adairs troubled Janetta not a little, and it was with some notion of combatting the idea that she repaired to the surgery after tea, in order to get a few words on the subject with her father. But his first remark was on quite a different matter. *' Here's a pretty kettle of fish, Janet ! The Brands are back again I " " So I heard you say to Lady Caroline." " Mark Brand was a cousin of your mother^s," said Mr. Colwyn, abruptly ; " and a bad lot. As for these sons of his, I know nothing about them — absolutely nothing. But their mother " he shook his head significantly. ** We saw them to day," said Janetta. " Ah, an accident of that kind would be a shock to her : she does not look strong. They wrote to me from the * Clown,* where they had stayed for the last two days; sc^S^^estion relative to the drainage of Brand Hall. I V *<^nh) the * Crown ' and saw them. He's a fine-looking "He has not altogether a pleasant expression," re- marked Janetta, thinking of Lady Caroline's strictures ; "but I— liked— his face." " He looks ill-tempered," said her father. " And I can't say that he showed me much civility. He did not even know that your poor mother was dead. Never asked whether she had left any family or anything." " Did you tell him ? " asked Janetta, after a pause. " No. I did not think it worth while. I am not anxious to cultivate his acquaintance." " After all, what does it matter ? " said the girl coax- ingly, for she thought she saw a shadow of disappointment upon his face. *• No, what does it matter ? " said her father, brighten- ing up at once. " As long as we are happy with each other, these outside people need not disturb us, need they ? " " Not a bit," said Janetta. " And — ^you are not angry with me, are you, father, dear ? " A TRUE FRIEND. " Why should I be, my Janet? You have done nothing wrong that I know of. If there is any blame it attaches to Miss Adair, not to you." " But I do not want you to think so, father. Miss Adair is the greatest friend that I have in all the world." And she found a good many opportunities of repeating/ this conviction of hers during the next few days, for Mrs. Colwyn and Nora were not slow to repeat the sentiment with which they had greeted her — that the Adairs were " stuck-up " fine people, and that they did not mean to take any further notice of her now that they had got what they desired. Janetta stood up gallantly for her friend, but she did feel it a little hard that Margaret had not written or come to see her since her return home. She conjectured — and in the conjecture she wj^s nearly right — ^that Lady Caroline had sacrificed her a !itde in order to smooth over things with her daughter : mat she had represented Janetta as resolved upon going, resolved upon neglecting Margaret and not complying with her requests ; and that Margaret was a little offended with her in conseq^uence. She wrote an affectionate note of excuse to her friend, but Margaret made no reply. In the first ardor of a youthful friendship, Janetta's heart ached over this silence, and she meditated much as she lay nights upon her little white bed in Nora's attic (for she had not time to meditate during the day) upon the smoothness of life which seemed necessary to the Adairs and the means they took for securing it. On the whole, their life seemed to her too artificial, too much like the life of delicate hot-house flowers under glass ; and she came to the conclusion that she preferred her own mode of existence — troublous and hurried and common as it might seem in the eyes of the world to be. After all, was it not pleasant to know that while she was at home, there was a little more comfort than usual for her over-worked, hardly- driven, careworn father ; she could see that his meals were properly cooked and served when he came in from long and weary expeditions into the country or amongst the poor of Beaminster ; she could help Joey and Georgie in the evenings with their respective lessons; she could teach and care for the younger children all day long. To her stepmother she did not feel that she was very useful ; 5« A iRQE FRIEND, but she could at any rate make new caps for her, new lace fichus and bows, which caused Mrs. Colwyn occasionally to remark with some complacency that Janetta h A TRUE FRirND, k ' ,. ■,, himself. A red flush colored his brow as he went on. " My brother's wife," he said formally, " is not — at pre- sent — on very friendly terms with him ; we did not know that she intended to bring the child home in this manner : we thought that she desired to keep it — where is the boy, by the way ? " " My sister has taken him up to the Hall. She said that she would see Mr. Brand." Cuthbert raised his eyebrows. " See my brother ? " he repeated, as if involuntarily. " My brother ! " " She is his second cousin, you know : I suppose that gives her courage,** said Nora smiling at the tone of horror which she fancied must be simulated for the occa- sion. But Cuthbert was in earnest — he knew Wyvis Brand's temper too well to anticipate anything b\it a rough reception for any one who seemed inclined to meddle v/ith his private affairs. And if Nora's sister were like herself I For Nora did not look like a person who would bear roughness or rudeness from any one. " Then are you my cousin, too ? " he asked, suddenly struck by an idea that sent a gleam of pleasure to his eye. " Oh, no," said Nora, demurely. " I'm no relation. It is only Janetta — her mother was Mr. Brand's father's cousin. But that was not my mother — ^Janetta and I are stepsisters." "Surely that makes a relationship, however," said Cuthbert, courageously. " If your stepsister is my second cousin, you must be a sort of step-second-cousin to me. Will you not condescend to acknowledge the connec- tion ? " " Isn't the condescension all on your side ? " said Nora coolly. " It may be a connection, but it certainly isn't a relationship." " I am only too glad to hear you call it a connection," said Cuthbert, with gravity. And then the two laughed — Nora rather against her will — Cuthbert out of amusement at the situation, and both out of sheer light-heartedness. And when they had laughed the ice seemed to be broken, and they felt as if they were old friends. " I did not know that any of our relations were living in Beaminster," he resumed, after a moment's pause. " I suppose you never even heard our name," said Nora, wucily. A TRUE FRIEND, 59 said » '' I don't — ^know " he began, in some confusion. "Of course you don't. Your father had a cousin and she married a doctor — a poor country surgeon, and so of course you forgot all about her existence. She was not my mother, so I can speak out, you know. Your father never spoke to her again after she married my father." ** More shame to him I I remember now. Your father is James Colwyn." Nora nodded. " I think it was a very great shame," she said. " And so do I," said Cuthbert, heartily. " It was all the worse," Nora went on, quite forgetting in her eagerness whom she was talking to, ** because Mr. Brand was not himself so very much thought of, you know — people did not think — oh, I forge , 1 I beg your pardon ! " she suddenly ejaculated, turning crimson as she remem- bered that the man to whom she was speaking was the son of the much-abused Mr. Brand, who had been con- sidered the black sheep of the county. " Don't apologize, pray," said Cuthbert, lightly. " I'm quite accustomed to hearing my relations spoken ill of. What was it that people did not think ? " " Oh," said Nora, now covered with confusion, ** of course I could not tell you." " It was so very bad, was it ? " said the young man, laugh- ing. " You need not be afraid. Really and seriously, I have been told that my poor father was not very popular about here, and I don't much wonder at it, for although he was a good father to us he was rather short in manner, and, perhaps, I may add, in temper. Wyvis is like him exactly, I believe." " And are you ? " asked Nora. Cuthbert raised his hat and gave it a tremendous flourish. " Mademoiselle, I have not that honor," he replied. " I suppose I ought not to have asked," said Nora to herself, but this time she restrained herself and did not say it aloud. " I wonder where Janetta is ? " she mur- mured after a moment's silence. '' I did not think that she would be so long." If Cuthbert thought the remark ungracious, as he might well have done, he made no sign of discomfiture. "Can I do anything?" he asked. "Shall I go to the house and find out whether she has seen my brother ? But then I shall have to leave you." .K' I- '.'• 60 A TRUE FRIEND. ** Oh, that doesn't matter," said Nora, innocently. '* Doesn't it ? But I hardly like the idea of leaving you all alone. There might be tramps about. If you are like all the other young ladies I have known, you will have an objection to tramps." ** I am sure," said Nora, with confidence, ** that I am not at all like the other young ladies you know ; but at the same time I must confess that I don't like tramps." ** I knew it. And I saw a tramp — I am sure I did — a little while ago in this very wood. He was ragged and dirty, but picturesque. I sketched him, but I thmk he would not be a pleasant companion for you." •* Do you sketch ? " said Nora quickly. *' Oh, yes, I sketch a little," he answered in a careless sort of way — for what was the use of telling this little girl that his pictures had been hung in the Salon and the A':a- demy, or that he had hopes of one day rising to fame and fortune in his recently adopted profession ? He was not given to boasting of his own success, and besides, this child — ^with her saucy face and guileless eyes — would not under- stand either his ambitions or his achievements. But Nora's one talent was for drawing, and although the instruction she had received was by no means of the best, she had good taste and a great desire to improve her skill. So Cuthbert's admission excited her interest at •once. " Have you been sketching now ? " she asked. " Oh, do let me see what you have done ? " Cuthbert's portfolio was under his arm. He laughed, hesitated, then dropped on one knee beside her and began to exhibit his sketches. It was thus — side by side, with heads very close together — that Janetta, much to her amazement, found them on her return. i. '■' CHAPTER VIII. FATHER AND CHILD. Janetta had set off on her expedition to Brand Hall otrt of an impulse of mingled pity and indignation — ^pity for the little boy, indignation against the mother who could A TRUE FRIEND. 6i desert him, perhaps against the father too. This feelinp; prevented her from realizing all at once the difficult posi- tion in which she was now placing herself; the awkward- ness in which she would be involved if Mr. Brand declared that he knew nothing of the child, or would have nothing to do with il. "In that case," she said to herself, with an admiring glance at the lovely little boy, *' I shall have to adopt him, I think ! I wonder what poor mamma would say ! " She found her way without difficulty to the front-door of the long, low, rambling red house which was dignified by the name of Brand Hall. The place had a desolate look still, in spite of its being inhabited. Scarcely a win- dow was open, and no white blinds or pretty curtains could be seen a;: the casements. The door was also shut ; and a3 it was one of those wide oaken doors, mantled with creepers, and flanked with seats, .. hich look as if they should always stand hospitably open, it gave the stranger a sense of coldness and aloofness to stand before it. And, also, there was neither bell nor knocker — a fact which showed that few visitors ever made their appearance at Brand Hall. Janetta looked about her in dismay, and then tapped at the door with her fingers, while the child followed her every movement with his great wondering eyes, and finally said, gravely — '^ I think they have all gone to sleep in this house, like the people in the * Sleeping Beauty ' story." " Then you must be the Fairy Prince to wake them all up," said Janetta, laughingly. The boy looked at her as if he understood ; then, sud- denly stooping, he picked up a fallen stick and proceeded to give the door several smart raps upon its oaken panels. This summons procured a response. The door was opened, after a good deal of ineffectual fumbling at bolts and rattling of chains, by an old, white-haired serving man, who looked as if he had stepped out of the story to which Julian ha \ alluded. He was very deaf, and it was some time before Janetta could make him understand that she wanted to see Mrs. Brand. Evidently Mrs. Brand was not in the habit of receiving visitors; At last he conducted lier to the dark little drawing-room where the mistress of the house usually sat, and here Janetta was received by the pale, grey-haired woman whom she had seen fainting -V5a A TRUE fiRIE/^J). I '■■■• '.y ' i. on the Beaminstcr road. It was curious to notice the agitation of this elderly lady on Janetta's appearance. She stood up, crashed hci handkerchief between her trem- bling fingers, took a step towards her visitor, and then stood still, looking at her with such extraordinary anxiety that Janetta was quite confused and puzzled by it. Seeing that her hostess could not in any way assist her out of her difficulty, she faced it boldly by introducing herself. ** My name is Janetta Colwyn," she began. " I believe that mv mother was a relation of Mr. Brand's — a cousm- >t it ** Yes, a first cousin," said Mrs. Brand, nervously, often heard hirn speak of her — I never saw her " She paused, looked suspiciously at Janetta, and colored all over her thin face. Janetta paused also, being taken somewhat by surprise. '* No, I don't suppose you ever saw her," she said, " but then you went abroad, and my dear mother died soon after I was born. Otherwise, I daresay you would have known her." Mrs. Brand gave her a strange look. ** You think so ? " she said. " But no — you are wrong : she always looked down on me. She never would have been friendly with me if she had lived." " Indeed," said Janetta, very much astonished. " I always heard that it was the other way — that Mr. Brand was angry with /ler for marrying a poor country surgeon, and would not speak to her again." " That is what they may have said to you. But you were too young to be told the truth," said the sad-faced woman, beginning to tremble all over as she spoke. " No, your mother would not have been friends with me. I was not her equal — ^^and she knew I was not." " Oh, indeed, you make a mistake : I am sure you do,** cried Janetta, becoming genuinely distressed as this view of her mother's character and conduct was fixed upon her. " My mother was always gentle and kind, they tell me ; I am sure she would have been your friend — as I will be, if you will let me." She held out her hands and drew those of the trembling woman into her warm young clasp. " I am a cousin too," she said, blushing a little as she asserted herself in this way, " and I hopt? you will let me come to see you sometimes and make yo i less lonely." t A TRUE FRIEND, <3 "I '< I am always lonely, and I always shall be lonely to the end of time," said Mrs. Brand, slowly and bitterly. " How- ever" — with an evident attempt to recover her self-posses- sion " — " I shall always be pleased to see you. Pid— did— your father send you here to-night ? " " No," said Janetta, remembering her errand. " He does not know " '' Does not know ? " The pale woman again looked distressed. " Oh," she said, turning away with a sigh and biting her lip, " then I shall not see you again." " Indeed you will," said Janetta, warmly. " My father would never keep me away from any one who wanted me — and one of my mother's relations too. But I came to- night because I found this dear little boy outside your grounds. He tells me that his name is Julian Wyvis Brand, and that he is your son's little boy." For the first time Mrs. Brand turned her eyes upon the child. Hitherto she had not noticed him much, 'idently thinking that he belonged to Janetta, and was also a visitor. But when she saw the boy's sweet little face and large dark eyes, she turned pale, and made a gesture as vof warning or dislike. " Take him away ! take h'm away, ' she said. " Yes, I c^n see that it is her child — ar/^ his child too. She iiust be here too, and she has been the ruin of my boy's life I " And then she sank into a chair and burst into an agony of tears. Janetta felt, with an inexpressible pang, that she had set foot in the midst of some domestic tragedy, the like of which had never come within her ken before. She was conscious of a little recoil from it, such as is natural to a young girl who has not learnt by experience the meaning of sorrow ; but the recoil was followed by a rush of that sympathy for which she had always shown a great capacity. Her instinct led her instantly to comfort and console. She knelt down beside the weeping woman and put one arm round her, drawing the little boy forward with her left hand as she spoke. " Oh, don't cry — don't cry ! " she murmured. " He has come to be a joy and a comfor,, to you, and he wants you to love him too." " Won't you love me, grandmamma ? " said the sweet childish voice. And Julian laid his hand on the poor . woman's shaking knee. ** Don't cry, grandmamma*" -^^i A TRUE FRIEND, % it:\ i \ ';■■ '■: -.. 'if It was this scene which met the eyes of Wyvis Brand when he turned the handle of the drawing-room door and walked into the room. His mother weeping, with a child before her, and a dark-haired girl on her knees with one arm round the weeping woman and one round the lovely child. It was a pretty picture, and Wyvis Brand was not insensible to its beauty. He stood, looking from one to another of the group. " What does all this mean ? " he asked, in somewhat harsh tones. His mother cried aloud and caught the child to her breast. " Oh, Wyvis, be kind — ^be merciful," she gasped. " This is your child — your child. You will not drive him away. She has left him at our door." Wyvis walked into the room, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. " Upon my word," he said, sarcastically, " you will give this lady — whose name I haven't the pleasure of knowing — a very fine idea of our domestic relations. I am not such a brute, I hope, as to drive away my own child from my door ; but I certainly should like to know first whether it is my child ; and more particularly whethei it is my son and heir, as I have no doubt that this young gentleman is endeavoring to persuade you. Did you bring the child here ?" he said, turning sharply to Janetta. "I brought him into the house, certainly," she said, rising from her knees and facing him. " I found him out- side your fence ; and he told me that his name was Julian Wyvis Brand." ** Pretty evidence," said Mr. Brand, very rudely, as Janetta thought. " Who can tell whether th<» child is not some beggar's brat that has nothing to do with me ? " " Don't you know your own little boy when you see him ? " Janetta demanded, indignantly. " Not I. I have not set eyes on him since he was a baby. Turn round, youngster, and let me have a look at you." The child faced him instantly, much as Janetta herself had done. There was a fearless look in the baby face, an innocent, guileless courage in the large dark eyes, which must surely, thought Janetta, touch a father's heart. But Wyvis Brand looked as if it would take a great deal to move hipn. ■"iiijni t- A TRUE FSIEND. A TKUE FRIEND^ !#■ iS'. ; ' :• CHAPTER IX. CONSULTATION. Janetta was rather surprised that Mr.Wyvis Brand did not oflfer to accompany her for at least part of her way home- wards, but she set down his remissness to absorption in his own rather complicated aifairs. In this she was not mis- taken. Wyvis was far more depressed, and far more deeply buried in the contemplation of his difficulties, than any- body knew, and it completely escaped his memory until afterwards that he ought to have offered Miss Colwyn an escort. Janetta, however, was well used to going about the world alone, and she proceeded briskly to the spot where she had left Nora, and was much astonished to find that young person deep in conversation with a strange young man. But the young man had such an attractive face, such pleasant eyes, so courteous a manner, that she melted towards him before he had got through his first sentence. Nora, of course, ought to have introduced him ; but she was by no means well. versed in the conventionalities of society, and therefore left him to do what he pleased, and to introduce himself. " I find that I am richer than I thought," said Cuthbert Brand, " in possessing a relative whom I never heard of before ! Miss Colwyn, are we not cousins ? My name is Brand — Cuthbert Brand." Jafietta's face lighted up. " I have just seen Mrs. Brand and your brother," she said, offering him her hand. " And, oh, Janetta ! " cried Nora at once, " do tell us what happened. Have you left the little boy at Brand Hall? And is it really Mr. Brand's little boy? " " Yes, it is, and I have left him with his father,*' said Janetta, gravely. ** As it is getting late, Nora, we had better make the best of our way home." " YoU will let me accompany you ? " said Cuthbert, eagerly, while Nora looked a little bit inclined to pout at A TRUE FRIEND. 7« her sister's serious tone. '' It is, as you say, rather late ; and you have a long walk before you." " Thank you, but I could not think of troubling you. My sister and I are quite accustomed to going about by ourselves. We escort each other," said Janetta, smiling, so that he should not set her down as utterly ungracious. " I am a good walker," said Cuthbert, coloring a little. He was half afraid that they thought his lameness a dis- qualification for accompanying them. " I do my twenty miles a day quite easily." " Thank you," Janetta said again. " But I could not think of troubling you. Besides, Nora and I are so well used to these woods, and to the road between them and Beaminster, that we really do not require an escort." A compromise was finally effected. Cuthbert walked with them to the end of the wood, and the girls were to be allowed to pursue their way together along the Beaminster road. He made himself very agreeable in their walk through the wood, and did not leave them without a ho»^e that he might be allowed one ('ay to call upon his nev - discovered cousins. " He has adopted us, apparently, as well as yourself," said Nora, as the two grls tramped briskly along the Beaminster road. " He seems to forget that we are not his relations." " He is very pleasant and friendly," said Janetta. " But why did you say he might call ? " pursued Nora. '•I thought that you would say that we did not have visitors — or something of that sort." " My dear Nora ! But we do have visitors." " Yes ; but not of that kind." " Don't you want him to come ? " said Janetta, in some wonderment ; for it had struck her that Nora had shown an unusual amount of friendliness to Mr. Cuthbert Brand. " No, I don't," said Nora, almost passionately. " I don!t want to see him down in our shabby, untidy little drawing- room, to hear mamma talk about her expenses and papa's difficulties — to see all that tribe of children in their old frocks — to see the muddle in which we live ! I don't want him there at all." " Dear Nora, I don't think that the Brands have been accustomed to live in any very grand way. I am sure the rooms I went into this evening were quite shabby — ^nearly -ifc; 1* A TRUE FRIEND, as shabby as ours, and much gloomier. What does it matter?" " It does not, matter to you," said Nora ; " because you are their relation. It is different for us. You belong to them and we don't." ^< I think you are quite wrong to talk in that way. It is nothing so very great and grand to be related to the Brands." " They are * County ' people," said Nora, with a scorn- ful little emphasis on the word. ** They are like your grand Adairs : they would look down on a country doctor and his family, except just now and then when they could make them useful." " Look down on father ? What are you thinking of? *' cried Janetta, warmly. ** Nobody looks down on father, because he does good, honest work in the world, and every- body respects him ; but I am afraid that a good many people look down on the Brands. You know that as well as I do, Nora j for you have heard people talk about them. They are not at all well thought of in this neig hborhood. I don't supposelHere BTtmdrKonor and glorytobe gained by relationship to them." In which Janetta was quite right, and showed her excel- lent sense. But Nora was not inclined to be influenced by her more sagacious sister. " You may say what you like," she observed ; ** but I know very well that it is a great advantage to be related to *the County.' Poor papa has no connections worth speaking of, and mamma's friends are either shopkeepers or farmers ; but your mother was the Brands' cousin, and see how the Adairs took you up ! They would never have made a fuss over me^ " What nonsense you talk, Nora ! " said Janetta, in a disgusted tone. " Nonsense or not, it is true," said Nora, doggedly ; " and as long as people look down upon us, I don't want any of your fine friends and relations in Gwynne Street." Janetta did not condescend to argue the point ; she con- tented herself with telling her sister of Wyvis Brand's desire that the story of his wife's separation from him should not be known, and the two girls agreed that it would be better to mention their evening's adventure only to their father. A TRUE FRIEND, 73 in a It was quite dark when they reached home, and they entered the house in much trepidation, fearing a volley of angry words from Mrs. Colwyn. But > their surprise and relief Mrs. Colwyn was not at hoir '^. The children ex- plained that an invitation to supper had come to her from a neighbor, and that '' after a great deal of luss," as one of them expressed it, she had accepted it and gone, leaving word that she should not be back until eleven o'clock, and that the children were to go to bed at their usual hour. It was past the younger children's hour already, and they of course were jubilant. The elder sisters set to work instantly to get the young ones into their b^ .j, ^'Jt this was a matter of some difficulty. A general incli'iaJc to uproariousness prevailed in Mrs. Colwyn's abse\ !", w.A it must be confessed that neither Janetta nor > a tried very hard to repress the little ones' noise. It was a comfort to be able, for once, to enjoy themselves w '^hout fear of Mrs. Colwyn's perpetual snarl and grumble. \ most exciting pillow-fight was going on in the upstairs regions, and here Janetta was holding her Dwn a:> boldly as the boldest, when the sound of an open- ing door made the combatants pause in their mad career. " What's that? The front door ? It's mamma ! " cried Georgie, with conviction. " Get into bed, Tiny I " shouted Joey. Tiny began to cry. ** Nonsense, children," said Nora, with an air of author- ity. " You know that it can't be mamma. It is papa, of course, coming in for his supper. And one of us must go down." '* I'll go," said Janetta, hurriedly. " I want a little talk with him, you know." There was a general chorus of " Oh, don't go, Janetta ! " " Do stay ! " " It will be no fun when you are gone ! " which stimulated Nora to a retort. "Well, I must say you are all very polite," she said. ** One would think that I was not here at all ! " " You are not half such good fun as Janetta," said Joey. "You don't throw yourself into everything as she does." " I must throw myself into giving father his supper, I'm afraid," said Janetta, laughing, " so good-night, children, and do go to bed quietly now, for I don't think father will like such a dreadful noise." 74 A TRUE FRIEND, ^ She was nearly choked by the fervent embraces they all bestowed upon her before she went downstairs. Nora, who stood by, rolling up the ribbon that she had taken from Tiny's hair, felt a little pang of jealousy. Why was it that everyone loved Janetta and valued her so mnch? Not for what she did, because her share of househola duty was not greater than that of Nora, but for the way in which she did it. It always seemed such a pleasure to her to do anything for any one — to serve another : never a toil, never a hardship, always a deep and lasting pleasure. To Nora it was often a troublesome matter to help her sister or her schoolboy brother, to attend on her mother, or to be thoughtful of her father's requirements ; but it was never troublesome to Janetta. And as Nora thought of all this, the tears came involuntarily to her eyes. It seemed so easy to Janetta to be good, she thought ! But perhaps it was no easier to Janetta than to other people. Janetta ran down to the dining-room, where she found her father surveying with a rather dissatisfied air the cold and scanty repast which was spread out for him. Mr. Colwyn was so much out that his meals had to be irregular, and he ate them just when he had a spare half hour. On this occasion he had been out since two o'clock in the afternoon, and had not had time even for a cup of tea. He had been attending a hopeless case, moreover, and one about which he had been anxious for some weeks. Fagged, chilled, and dispirited, it was no wonder that he had returned home in not the best of tempers, and that he was a little disposed to find fault when Janetta made her appearance. '* Where is mamma ? " he began. " Out, I suppose, or the children would not be making such a racket over- head." " They are going to be quiet now, dear father," said his daughter, kissing him, '' and mamma has gone out to supper at Mrs. Maitland's. I am going to have mine with you if you will let me." " And is this what you are going to have for your supper? " said Mr. Colwyn, half ruefully, half jestingly, as he glanced again at the table, where some crusts of bread reposed peacefully on one dish, and a scrag of cold mutton on another. " After your sojourn at Miss Polehampton's and among the Adairs, I suppose you don't know how to cook^ Jenny ? " A TRUE FRIEND, 7$ his to dth rour |» AS read Itton Ion's to '' Indeed I rio, father, and I'm going to scramble some eggs, and make some coffee this very minute. I am sorry the table is not better arranged, but I have been out, and was just having a little game with the children before they went to bed. If you will sit down by tlic fire, I shall be ready in a very few minutes, and then I can tell you about a wonderful adventure that Nora and I had this evening in the Beaminster wood." " You should not roam about those woods so much by yourselves ; they are too lonely," said Mr. Colwyn ; but he said it very mildly, and dropped with an air of weari- ness into the armchair that Janetta had wheeled forward for him. " Well, well ! don't hurry yourself, child. I shall be glad of a few minutes' rest before I begin my supper." Janetta in a big white apron, Janetta flitting backwards and forwards between kitchen and dining-room, with flushed cheeks and brightly shining eyes, was a pretty sight — " a sight to make an old man young," thought Mr. Golwyn, as he watched her furtively from beneath his half-closed eyelids. She looked so trim, so neat, so happy in her work, that he would be hard to satisfy who did not admire her, even though she was not what the world calls strictly beautiful. She succeeded so well in her cooking opera- tions, with which she would not allow the servant to inter- meddle, that in a very short time a couple of dainty dishes and some coffee smoked upon the board ; and Janetta bidding her father come to the table, placed herself near him, and smilingly dispensed the savory concoction. She would not enter upon any account of her evening's work until she felt sure that the wants of her father's inner man were satisfied ; but when supper was over, and his evening pipe — the one luxury in the day he allowed himself — alight, sl\e drew up a hassock beside his chair and prepared for what she called "a good long chat." Opportunities for such a chat with her father were rather rare in that household, and Janetta meant to make the most of this one. Nora had good-naturedly volunteered to stay away from the dining-room, so as to give Janetta the chance that she wished for ; an^ as it was now barely ten o'clock, Janetta knew that she might perhaps have an hour of her father's companionship — if, at least, he were not sent for before eleven o'clock. At eleven he would probably go to Mrs. Maitland's to fetch his wife home. 7« A THUE FRIEND, »> " Well, Janet, and what have you to tell me ? " he said kindly, as he stretched out his slippered feet to the blaze, and took down his pipe from the mantel-piece. The lines had cleared away from his face as if by magic ; there was a look of rest and peace upon his face that his daughter liked to see. She laid her hand on his knee and kept it there while she told him of her experiences that evening at Brand Hall. Mr. Colwyn's eyebrows went up as he listened. His face expressed astonishment, and something very like per- plexity. But he heard the whole story out before he said a word. " Well, you have put your head into the lion's den ! " he said at last, in a half-humorous tone. " What I want to know is," said Janetta, " why it is thought to be a lion's den ! I don't mean that I have heard the expression before, but I have gathered in differ ent ./ays an impression that people avoid the house— " The family, not the house, Janet ! " " Of course I mean the family, father, dear. What have they done that they should be shunned ? " ** There is a good deal against them in the eyes of the world. Your poor mother, Janetta, always stood up for them, and said that they were more sinned against than sinning." . " They 1 But these young men were not grown up then ? " " No ; it was their father and " Mr. Colwyn stopped short and seemed as if he did not like to go on. " Tell me, father," said Janetta, coaxingly. " Well, child, I don't know that you ought to hear old scandals. But you are too wise to let them hariA you. Brand, the father of these two young fellows, married a bafhiaidy the daughter of a low publican in the neighbor- hood." <* What ! The Mrs. Brand that I saw to-day ? She a barmaid — that quiet, pale, subdued-looking woman ? " " She has had trouble enough to make her look sub- dued, poor soul ! She was a handsome girl then ; and I daresay the world would have overlooked the marriage in time if hei character had been untarnished. " But stories which I need not repeat were afloat*; and from what I have lately heard they are not yet forgotten." A TRUE FRIEND.. 77 " After all these years ! Oh, that does seeni hard," said Janetta, sympathetically. " Well — there are some things that the world does not forgive, Janet. I have no doubt that the poor woman is much more worthy of respect and kindness than her wild sons ; aiid yet the fact remains that if Wyvis Brand had come here with his brother alone, he would have been received everywhere, and entertained and visited and honored like any other yo'.mg man of property and toler- able repute ; but as he has brought his mother with him, I am very much afraid that many of the' nicest people in the county mean to 'cut' him." " It is very unfair, surely." "Yes, it is unfair; but it is the way of the world, Janetta. If a woman's reputation is ever so slightly blackened, she can never get it fair and white again. Hence, my dear, I am a little doubtful as to whether you must go to Brand Hall again, as long as poor Mrs. Brand is there." " Oh, father, and I promised to go I " " You must not make rash promises another time, my child." " But she wants me, father — she is so lonely and so sad ? " " I am sorry, my Janet, but I don't know " '^OJi, do let me, father. I shall not be harmed ; and I don't mind what the world says." " But perhaps / mind," said Mr. Colwyn, quaintly. CHAPTER X. MARGARET. Janetta looked so rueful at this remark that her father laughed a little and pulled her ear. "I am not given to taking m ich notice of what the world says," he told htr, " and ii I thought it right for you to go to Brand Hall I should take no notice of town talk ; but I think that I can't decide this matter without seeing Mrs. Brand for myself." " I thought you had seen her, father?" wmmiimm^ IP 78 A TRUE FRIEND. fe "v " For ten minutes or so, only. They wanted to ask me a question about the healthiness of Brand Hall, drains, and all that kind of thing, That young Brand struck me as a very sullen-looking fellow." " His face lightens up when he talks," said Janet ta, coloring and feeling hurt for a moment, she could not have told why. ** He did not talk to me," said her father, drily. " I am told that the other son has pleasanter manners." " Cuthbert ? Oh, yes," Janetta said, quickly. " He is much more amiable at first sight ; he made himself very agreeable to Nora and me." And forthwith she related how the second son had made acquaintance with her sister and herself. Mr. Colwyn did not look altogether pleased. " H*ra ! — they seem very ready to cultivate us," he said, with a slight contraction of the brow. " Their father used not to know that I existed. Janet, I don't care for Nora to see much of them. You I can trust ; but she is a bit of a featherbrain, and one never knows what may happen. Look to it." " I will, father." "And " will call on Mrs. Brand and have a chat with her. Poor soul ! I daresay she has suffered. Still that does not make her a fit companion for my girls." •" If I could be of any use to her, father " ** I know that's all you think of, Janet. You are a good child — always wanting to help others. But we must not let the spirit of self-sacrifice run away with you, you know." He pinched her cheek softly as he spoke^ and his daugh- ter carried the long supple fingers of his hand to her lips and kissed them tenderly. " Which reminds me," he went on rather inconsequently, ** that I saw another of your friends to-day. A friend whom you have not mentioned for some time, Janetta." "Who was that? " asked Janetta, a little puzzled by his tone. " Another friend whom I don't quite approve of," said her father, in the same half-quizzical way, " though from a different reason. If poor Mrs. Brand is not respectable enough, this friend of yours, Janet, is more than respect- able ; ultra-respectable — aristocratic even^ " A TRUE FRIEND, 79 Us id a le It- " Margaret Adair ! *' cried Janetta, flushing to the very roots of her hair. " Did you see her, father ? Has she quite forgotten me ? " And the tears stood in her ejres. " I did not see Miss Margaret Adair, my dear," said her father kindly. " I saw her mother, Lady Caroline." " Did you speak to her, father ? " " She stopped hef ponies and spoke to me in the High Street, Janet. She certainly has very winning manners." ** Oh, has she not, father ! " Janetta's cheeks glowed. ** She is perfectly charming, I think. I do not believe that she could do anything disagreeable or unkind." Mr. Colwyn shook his head, with a little smile. " I am not so sure of that, Janetta. These fine ladies sometimes do very cold and cruel things with a perfectly gracious manner." "But Lady Caroline would not," said Janetta, coax- ingly. " She was quite kind and sweet to me all the time that I stayed at her house, although " "Although afterwards," said Mr. Colwyn, shrewdly, ** she could let you stay here for weeks without seeming to remember you, or coming near you for an hour ! " Janetta's cheeks crimsoned, but she did not reply. Loyal as she was to her friend, she felt that there was not much to be said for her at that moment. " You are a good friend," said her father, in a half- teasing, half-aflectionate tone. " You don't like me to say anything bad of her, do you ? Well, my dear, for your comfort I must tell you that she did her best to-day to make up for past omissions. She spoke very pleasantly about you." " Did she say why — why " Janetta could not com- plete the sentence. " Why they had not written or called ? Well, she gave some sort of an explanation. Miss Adair had been unwell —she had had a cold or something which looked as if it might turn to fever, and they did not like to write until she was better." " I knew there was some good reason 1 " said Janetta fervently. " It is well to take a charitable view of things," returned her father, rather drily ; but, seeing her look of protest, he changed his tone. " Well, Lady Caroline spoke very kindly, my dear, I must acknowledge that. She wants you to go over to Helmsley Court to-morrow." im m 80 A TRUE PRIEND, your I'm in dis' "Can I go, father?" Mr. Colwyn made a grimace. " Between reputable friends and your aristocratic ones, difficulty, Janet." " Don't say so, father dear ! " " Well, I consented," said Mr. Colwyn, in rather a grudging tone. " She said that she would send her car- riage for you to-morrow at noon, and that she would send you back again between six and seven. Her daughter was most anxious to see you, she said." Janetta lifted up a happy face. " I knew that Margaret would be true to me. I never doubted her." Mr. Colwyn watched her silently for a moment, then he put his hand upon her head, and began smoothing the thick black locks. " You have a very faithful nature, my Janet," he said, tenderly, " and I am afraid that it will suffer a great many shocks in this work-a-day world of ours. Don't let it lead you astray, my child. Remember there is a point at which faithfulness may degenerate into sheer obstinacy." " I don't think it will ever do so with me." " Well, perhaps not, for you have a clear head on those young shoulders of yours. But you must be careful." " And I may go to Lady Caroline's, father ? " " Yes, my dear, you may. And now I must go : my time is up. I have had a very pleasant hour, my Janet." As she raised herself to receive her father's kiss, she felt a glow of pleasure at his words. It was not often that he spoke so warmly. He was a man of little speech on ordinary occasions : only when he was alone with his best- loved daughter, Janetta, did he ever break forth into ex- pressions of affection. His second marriage had been in some respects a failure ; and it did not seem as if he re- garded his younger children" with anything approaching the tenderness which he bestowed upon Janetta. Good- humored tolerance was all that he gave to them : a deep and almost passionate love had descended from her mother to Janetta. He went out to fetch his wife home from her supper- party ; and Janetta hastened up to her room, not being anxious to meet her stepmother on her return, in the state of rampant vani^^v and over-excitement to which an assem- bly of her friends usually brought her. It could not be said A TRUE FRIEND, Si that Mrs. Colwyn actually drank too much wine or beer or whisky ; and yet there was often a sensation abroad that she had taken just a little more than she could bear ; and her stepdaughter was sensitively aware of the fact. From Nora's slighting tone when she had lately spoken of her mother, Janetta conjectured that the sad truth of Mrs. Colwyn's danger had dawned ipon the girl's mind also, and it certainly accounted for some new lines in Mr. Col- wyn's face, and for some addi'aonal streaks of white in his silvering hair. Not a word had been said on the subject amongst the members of the family, but Janetta had an un- easy feeling that there were possibly rocks ahead. At this moment, however, the prospect of seeing her dear Margaret again completely obliterated any thought of her stepmother from Janetta's mind ; and when she was snugly ensconced in her own little, white bed, she could not help shedding a few tears of relief and joy. For Margaret's apparent fickleness had weighed heavily on Janetta's mind ; and she now felt proud of the friend in whom she had believed in spite of appearances, and of whose faithfulness she had steadily refused to hear a doubt. These feelings enabled her to bear with cheerfulness some small unpleasantnesses next morning from her stepmother on the subject of her visit. " Of course you'll be too grand to do a hand's turn about the house when you come back again from Helmsley Court ! " said Mrs. Colwyn, snap- pishly. " Dear mamma, when I am only going for half a day ! " " Oh, I know the ways of girls. Because Miss Adair, your fine friend, does nothing but sit in a drawing-room all day, you'll be sure to think that you must n^.eds follow her example ! " " I hope Margaret will do something beside sit in a drawing-room," said Janetta, with her cheery laugh j "because I am afraid that she might find that a little dull." But in spite of her ch jeriness her spirits were perceptibly lowered when she set foot in the victoria that was sent for her at nooa. Her stepmother's way of begrudging her the friendship which school-life had bestowed upon Janetta was :*s distasteful to her as Miss Polehampton's con vic- tim 1*" its unsuitability had been. And for one moment the C'lfs of vexation gathered in her brown eyes as she was driving away from the shabby little house in Gwynne 6 Sa A TRUE FRIEND, Street ; and she had resolutely to drive away unwelcome thoughts before she could resign herself to enjoyment of h€r visit. The day was hot and close, and the narrow streets of old Beaminster were peculiarly oppressive. It was delight- ful to bowl swiftly along the smooth high road, and to enter the cool green shades of the park round Helmsley Court. " How pleasant for Margaret to live here always ! '* Janetta said to herself with generous satisfaction in her friend's good fortune. " I wonder what she would do in Gwynne Street ! " And then Janetta laughed, and felt that what suited her would be very inappropriate to Margaret Adair. Janetta's unselfish admiration for her friend was as simple as it was true, and it was never alloyed by envy or toady- ism. She would have 1 een just as pleased to see Mar- garet in a garret as in i palace, supposing that Margaret werg pleased witli the gair*^t. And it was with almost passionate delight that she at length flung herself into her friend's arms, and felt Margaret's soft lips pressed to her brown flushed cheeks. " Margaret ! Oh, ir is delightful to see you again ! " she exclaimed. " You poor darling : did you think that we were never c^Ofu: to meet ? " said Margaret. " I have been so sorry, Ileal- " ** i knew that you would come to see me, or send for me as soon as you could," said Janetta quickly. ** I trusted you, Margaret." " I have had such a bad cold," Margaret went on, still excusing herself a little, as it seemed to Janetta. " I have had to stay in two rooms for nearly a fortnight, and I went down to the drawing-room only last night." f* I wish I could have nursed you ! Do^^'t you re- member how I nursed you through one cf your bad colds at school ? " " Yes, indeed. I wish you could have nursed me now ; but mamma was afraid that I had caught measles or scarlet fever or something, and she said it would not be right to send for you." Janetta was almost pained by the accent of continued excuse. " Of course, dear, I understand," she said, pressing her ^ TRUE FRIEND, «3 friend's arm caressingly. '' I am so sorry you have been ill. You look quite pale, Margaret." The two girls were standing in Margaret's sitting-room, adjoining her bedroom. Margaret was dressed completely in white, with long white ribbons floating amongst the dainty folds of her attire ; but the white dress, exquisitely as it was fashioned, was less becoming to her than usual, for her face had lost a little of its shell-like bloom. She turned at Janetta's words and surveyed herself a little anxiously in a long glass at her side. '* 1 do look pale in this dress," sh : said. **-Shall I change it, Janetta ? " "Oh, no, dear," Janetta answered, in some surprise. " It is a charming dress." " But I do not like to look so pale," said Margaret, gravely. " I think I will ring for Villars." " You could not look nicer — to me — in any dress ! " exclaimed her ardent admirer. " You dear — oh, yes ; i:ut there iirny be visitors at luncheon." " I thought you would be alone," faltered Jnnei'.a, with a momentary glance at her o'.vn neat ar i clean, but plain, little cotton frock. " Well, perhaps there will ho only one person beside youiself," said Margaret, tuning aside her long neck to catch a glimpse of the shining coi s behind. And I don't know that it matt s — it is only Sir T'hlip Ashley." " Oh, I remen er him. He was here when we came back from Brighton." "He is often here." " What lovely flowers ! " Janetta exclaimed, rather to break a pause that followed than because she had looked particularly at a bouquet that filled a large white vase on a table. But the flowers really were lovely, and Margaret's face expressed some satisfaction. " Did they come out of your garden ? " " No, Sir Philip sent them." " Oh, how nice ! " said Janetta. But she was a IHtle surprised too. 1 id not the Adairs plenty of flowers with- out receiving contributions from Sir Philip's conservatories ? " And you have a dog, Margaret?" — as a pretty little white Esquimaux dog came trotting into the room. " What a darling ! with a silver collar, too ! " «4 A TRUE FRIEND. I "Yes, I like a white dog," said Margaret, tranquilly. " Mamma's poodle snaps at strangers, so Sir Philip thought that it would be better for me to have a dog of my own." Sir Philip again ! Janetta felt as if she must ask another question or two, especially when she saw that her friend's white eyelids had been lowered, and? that a delicate flush was mantling the whiteness of her cheek ; but she paused, scarcely knowing how to begin ; and in the pause, the gong for luncheon sounded, and she was (somewhat hastily, she fancied) led downstairs. Lady Caroline and Mr. Adair received their visitor with great civility. Sir Philip came forward to give her a very kindly greeting. Their behavior was so cordial that Janetta could hardly believe that she had doubted their liking for her. She was not experienced enough as yet to see that all this apparent friendliness did not mean any- thing but the world's way of making things pleasant all round. She accepted her host's attentions with simple pleasure, and responded to his airy talk so brightly that he lost no time in assuring his wife after luncheon that his daughter's friend was really '* a very nice little girl." After luncheon, Janetta thought at first that she was again going to be defrauded of a talk with her friend. Margaret was taken possession of by Sir Philip, and walked away with him into a conservatory to gather a flower ; Mr. Adair disappeared, and Janetta was left for a few moments' conversation with Lady Caroline. Needless to remark, Lady Caroline had planned this little interview ; she had one or two things that she wanted to say to Miss Colwyn. And she really did feel kindly towards the girl, because — after all — she was Margaret's friend, and the mother was ready to allow Margaret her own way to a very great extent. ** Dear Miss Colwyn," she. began, * I have been so sorry that we could not see more of you while our poor Margaret was ill. JVbw I hope things will be different." Janetta remarked that Lady Caroline was very kind. " I have been thinking of a method by which I hoped to bring you together a little more — after the holidays. Of course we are going away very soon now — to Scotland ; and we shall probably not return until October; but when that time comes — my dear Miss Colwyn ; 1 am sure you will not be offended by the question I am going to ask? " " Oh, no," said Janetta, hastily. A TRUE FRIEND, 85 n I sorry Igaret Id. loped [days. Ilaiid ) Iwhen you Isk?" " Are you intending to give any singing or music lessons in the neighborhood ? " " If I ran get any pupils, I shall be only too glad to do so." " Then wiil you begin with dear Margaret ? " " Margaret^ " said Janetla, in some astonishment. " But Margaret has had the same teaching that I have had, exactly ! " " She needs somebody to help her. She has not your talent or your perseverance. And she would so much enjoy singing with you. I tru^t that you will not refuse us, Miss Colwyn." " I shall be very glad to do anything that I can for Margaret," said Janetta, flushing. " Thank you so much. Once a week then — when we come back again. And about terms " "Oh, Lady Caroline, I shall be only too glad to sing with Margaret at any time without " " Without any talk about terms ? " said Lady Caroline, with a charming smile of comprehension. " But that, my dear, I could not possibly allow. No, we must conduct the matter on strictly business-like principles, or Mr. Adair would be very much displeased with me. Suppose we say " And she went on to suggest terms which Janetta was too much confused to consider very attentively, and agreed to at once. It was only afterwards that she discovered that they were lower than any which she should ever have thought of suggesting for herself, and that she should have to blush for Lady Caroline's meanness in mentioning them to her father ! But at present she saw nothing amiss. Lady Caroline went on smoothly. " I want her to make the most of her time, because she may not be able to study up by-and-bye. She will come out this winter, and I shall take her to town in the spring. I do not suppose that I shall ever have another opportunity — if, at least, she marries as early as she seems likely to do." " Margaret ! Marry I " ejaculated Janetta. She had scarcely thought of such a possibility. ** It is exceedingly probable," said Lady Caroline, rather coldly, " that she will marry Sir Philip Ashley. It is a perfectly suitable alliance." It sounded as if she spoke of a royal marriage ! A TRUE FRIEND, CHAPTER XI. janetta's promises. " But please," Lady Caroline proceeded, " do not mention what I have said to anyone, least of all to Margaret. She is so sensitive that I should not like her to know what I have said." ' " I will not say anything," said Janetta. And then Lady Caroline's desire for conversation seemed to cease. She proposed that they should go in search of her daughter, and Janetta followed her to the conservatory in some trouble and perplexity of mind. It struck her that Margaret was not looking very well pleased when they arrived — perhaps, she thought, because of their appear- ance — and that Sir Philip had a very lover-like air. He was bending forward a little to take a white flower from Ma-garet's hand, and Janetta could not help a momentary dmile when she saw the expression of his face. The ear- nest dark eyes were full of tenderness, which possibly he did not wish to conceal. Janetta could never doubt but that he loved her ** rare pale Margaret " from the very bot- tom of his heart. The two moved apart as Lady Caroline and Janetta came in. Lady Caroline advanced to Sir Philip and walked away with him, while Margaret laid her hand on Janetta's arm and led her oflF to her own sitting-room. She scarcely spoke until they were safely ensconced tliere together, and then, with a half-pouting, mutinous expression on her softly flushed face — " Janetta." she began, '* there is something I must tell you." *'Yes, dear?" " You saw Sir Philip in the conservatory ? " "Yes." ** I can't think why he is so fooHsh," said Mar^ret ; " but actually, Janetta — he wants to marry me." "Am I to call him foolish fox that ? " A TRUE FRIEND, ,nd tly :eU " Yes, certainly. I am too young. I want to see a little more of the world. He is not at all the sort of man that I want to marry." " Why "not ? " said Janetta, after waiting a little while. "Oh," said Margaret, with an intonation that — ^for her — -Wafe almost petulant ; '' he is so absurdly suitable ! " ** Absurdly suitable, dear Margaret ? " " Yes. Everything is so neatly arranged for us. He is the right age, he has the right income, the right views, the right character — he is even " — said Margaret, with increas- ing Indignation — ** even the right height I It is absurd. I am not to have any will of my own in the matter, because it is all so beautifully suitable. I am to be disposed of like a slave ! " Here was indeed a new note of rebellion. " Your father and mother would never make you marry a man whom you did not like," said Janetta, a little doubt- fully. ** I don't know. Papa would not ; but mamma ! 1 am afraid mamma will try. And it is very hard to do what mamma does not like." " But you could explain to her " " I have nothing to explain," said Margaret, arching her delicate brows. '* I like Sir Philip very well. I respect him very much. I think his house and his position would suit me exceedingly well ; and yet I do not want to marry him. It is so unreasonable of me, mamma says. And I feel that it is j and yet — What can I do ? " " There is — ^nobody — else ? " hazarded Janetta. Margaret opened her lovely eyes to their fullest extent. " Dearest Janetta, who else could there be ? Who else have I seen ? I have been kept in the schoolroom until now-^^when I am to be married to this most suitable man ! Now, confess, Janetta, would you like it ? Do your people want to marry you to anybody ? " " No, indeed," said Janetta, smiling. " Nobody has expressed any desire that way. But really I don't know what to say, Margaret ; because Sir Philip does seem so perfectly suitable — and you say you like him ? " " Yes, but I only like him ; I don't love him." Mar- garet leaned back in her chair, crossed her hands behind her golden head, and looked dreamily at the opposite wall. ** You know I think one ought to love the man one marries A TRUE FRIEND. ^-don't you think so ? I have always thought of loving once and once only — like Paul and Virginia, you know, or even Romeo and Juliet — and of giving all for love ! That would be beautiful ! " " Yes, it would. But it would be very hard too," said Janetta, thinking how lovely Margaret looked, and what a heroine of romance — what a princess of dreams — she would surely be some day. And she, poor, plain, brown, little Janetta ! There was probably no romance in store for her at all. But Life holds many secrets in her hand ; and perhaps it was Janetta and not Margaret for whom a romance wat yet in store. " Hard ? Do you call it hard ? " Margaret asked, with a curiously exalted expression, like that of a saint absorbed in mystic joys. " It would be most easy, Janetta, to give up everything for love." ** I don't know," said Janetta — for once unsympathetic. " Giving up everything means a great deal. Would you like to go away from Helmsley Court, for instance, and live in a dingy street with no lady's maid — only a servant of all- work — on three hundred a year ? " " I think I could do anything for a man whom I loved,** sighed Margaret ; " but I cannot feel as if I should ever care enough for Sir Philip Ashley to do it for him.' " What sort of a man would you prefer for a hu&oand, then ? " asked Janetta. '' Oh, a man with a history. A man about whom there hung a melancholy interest — a man like Rochester in *■ Jsokt Eyre ' ' " Not a very good-tempered person, I'm afraid ! " " Oh, who cares about good temper ? " " I do, for one. Really, Margaret, you draw a which is just like my cousin, Wyvis Brand." Janetta was sorry when she had said the words, garet's arms came down from behind her head, and her eyes were turned to her friend's face with an immediate awakening of interest. " Mr. Brand, of Brand Hall, you mean ? I remember you told me that he was your cousin. So you have met him ? And he is like Rochester ? " "I di 1 not say that exactly," said Janetta, becoming provokfd with herself. " I only said that you spoke of a Mar- A TRUE FRIEITD. »9 )er let ling Ua rather melancholy sort of man, with a bad temper, and I thought that the description applied very well to Mr. Brand." " What is he like ? Dark?" « Yes." " Handsome ? " ** I suppose so. I do not like any face, however hand- some, that is disfigured by a scowl." " Oh, Janetta, how charming 1 Tell me some more about him ; I am so much interested." " Margaret, don't be silly 1 Wyvis Brand is a very dis- agreeable man — not a good man either, I believe— and I hope you will never know him." " On the contrary," said Margaret, with a new wilful light in her eyes, " 1 intend mamma to call." ** Lady Caroline will be too wise." " Why should people not call upon the Brands ? I hear the same story everywhere — * Oh, no, we do not intend to call.' Is there really anything wrong about them ? " Janetta felt some embarrassment. Had not she put nearly the same question to her own father the night be- fore ? But she could not tell Margaret Adair what her father had said to her. " If there were — and I do not know that there is— you could hardly expect me to talk about it, Margaret," she said, with some dignity. Margaret's good breeding came to her aid at once. " I beg your pardon, dear Janetta. I was talking carelessly. I will say no more about the Brands. But I must remark that it was you who piqued my curiosity. Otherwise there is nothing extraordinary in the fact of two young men set- tling down with their mother in a country house, is there ? " * Nothing at all." " And I am not likely to see anything of them. But, Janetta," said Margaret, reverting to her own affairs, " you do not sympathize with me as I thought you would. Would not you think it wrong to marry where you did not love ? Seriously, Janetta?" " Yes, seriously, I should," said Janetta, her face growine graver, and her eyes lighting up. " It is a profanation of marriage to take for your husband a man whom you don't love with your whole heart. Oh, yes, Margaret, you are quite, quite right in that — ^but I am sorry too, because Sir Philip seems so nice." m IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1^128 |2^ Hf 1^ 12.0 12.2 L25iJ4 IJA / .^A\? f^j^ > V ^ ^j^ or /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) •73-4503 V w PPPIRpPili" mmw^, wfmmmmmmm 90 A TRUE FRIEND, •"And, Janetta, dear, you will help me, will you not ?** "Whenever I can, Mai^aret? But what can I do for you?" " You can help me in many ways, Janetta. You don't know how hard it is sometimes " — ^and Margaret's face re- rumed a wistful, troubled look. " Marnma is so kind j but she \^nts me sometimes to do things that I do not ll!-e, and she is so surprised yrYitn I do not wish to do them." •* You ^ill make h^r Understand in time," said Janetta, almost reverentially. Her ardent soul was thrilled with the conception of the true state of things as she imagined it ; of Margaret's pure, sweet nature being dragged down to Lady Caroline's level of artificial worldliness. For, not- withstanding all Lady Caroline's gentleness of manner, Janetta was beginning to find her oht. She began to see that this extreme softness and suavity covered a' very p(Jr- sistent will, and that it was Lady Caroline who _ruled- t!:c housej|nd the family with an iron hand in a vglveL-glpve. " I am afraid not," said Margaret, submissively. " She is so much more determined than I am. Neither papa nor I could ever do anything against her. And in most things I like her to manage for me. But not my mar- riage I '* " No, indeed." " Will you stand by me, Janetta, dear ? " " Always, Margaret." " You will always be my friend ?" " Always dear." " You make me feel strong when you say * always ' so earnestly, Janetta." ** Because I believe," said Janetta, quickly, " that friend- shi p is as stro ng-a tie as anyJn-^he world. I don't think, it ought to be any less binding than the tie between sisters, between parents and child, even " — and her voice dropped a little—" even between husband and wife. I have heard it suggested that there should be a ceremony — a sort of form — for the making of a friendship as there is for other relations in life ; a vow of truth and fidelity which two friends could promise to observe. Don't you think that it would be rather a useless thing, even if the thought is a pretty one ? Because we make and keep or break our vows in onr own heart, and no promise would bind us more than our own hearts can A TRUE FRIENJ>, 9« " I hope yours binds you to me, Janetta ? " said Mar- garet, half playfully, half sadly. " It does, indeed." And then the two girls kissed each other after the man- ner of impulsive and affectionate girls, and Margaret wiped away a tear that had gathered in the corner of her eye. Her face soon became as tranquil as ever ; but Janetta's brow remained grave, her lips firmly pressed together long after Margaret seemed to have forgotten what had been said. Things went deeper with Janetta than with Margaret. Girlish and unpractical as some of their speeches may appear, they were spoken or' listened to by Janetta with the utmost seriousness. S he was not of ^ nature to take things -lightly. And during the pause that followed the conversation about friendship, she was mentally register- ing a very serious and earnest resolution, worthy indeed of being ranked as the promise or the vow of which she spoke, that she would always remain Margaret's true and faithful friend, in spite of all the chances and changes of this transitory world. A youthful foolish thing to do, perhaps ; but the world is so constituted that the things done or said by very young and even very foolish persons sometimes dominate the whple lives of much older and wiser persons. And more came out of that silent vow of Janetta's than even she anticipated. The rest of the day was very delightful to her. She and Margaret were left almost entirely to themselves, and they formed a dozen plans for the winter when Margaret should be back again and could resume her musical studies. Ja- netta tried to express her natural reluctance at the thought of giving lessons to her old school-companion, but Mar- garet laughed her to scorn. ** As if you could not teach me ? " she said. " Why, I know nothing about the theory of music — ^nothing at all. And you were far ahead of any- body at Miss Polehampton's ! You will soon have dozens of pupils, Janetta. I expect all Beaminster to be flocking to you before long." She did not say, but it crossed her mind that the fact of her taking lessons from Janetta would probably serve as a very good advertisement. For Miss Adair was herself fairly proficient in the worldly wisdom which did not at all gratify her when exhibited by her mother. mmmmmmmv^ii^mm^ 9fl ^ TRUE FRIEND, Tanetta was sent home m tlie gathering twilight with a delightfully satisfied feeling. She was sure that Margaret's friendship was as faithful as her own. And why should there not be two women as faithful to each other in friendship as ever Damon and Pythias, David and Jonathan, had been of pld ? " Margaret will always be her own sweet, high-souled self," Janetta mused. " It is I who may perhaps fall awny from my ideal— I hope not ; oh, I hope not 1 I hope that I shall always be faithful and true ! " There was a very tender look upon her face as she sat in Lady Caroline's victoria, her hands clasped together upon her lap, her mouth firmly closed, her eyes wistful. The expression was so lovely that it beautified the whole of her face, which was not in itself strictly handsome, but capable of as many changes as an April day. She was so deeply absorbed in thought that she did not see a gentle- man lift his hat to her in passing. It was Cuthbert Brand, and when Ihe carriage had passed him he stood still for a moment and looked back at it. " I should like to paint that girl's face," he si.,id to him- self. " There is soul in it — character — passion. Her sister is prettier by far ; but I doubt whether she is capa- ble of so much." But the exalted beauty had faded away by the time Janetta reached her home, and when she entered the house she was again the bright, sensible, energetic, and affection- ate sister and daughter that they all knew and loved : no great beauty, no genius, no saint, but a generous-hearted English girl, who tried to do her duly arid to love her neighbor as herself. Her father met her in the hall. " Here you are," he said. " I hardly expected you home as yet. Everybody is out, so you must tell me your experiences and adventures if you have any to tell.** "I have not many," said Janetta, brightly. "Only everybody has been very, very kind." " I'm glad to hear of it ; but I should be surprised if people were not kind to my Janet.'* " Nobody is half so kind as you are," said Janetta, fond- ly. " Have you been very busy to-day, father ? " *' Very, dear. And I have been to Brand Hall." He drew her inside his consulting-room as he spoke. It was a little room near the hall-door, opposite the* A TRUE FRIEND, 93 dining-room. Janetta did not often go there, and felt as if some rather serious communication were to be made. " Did you see the little boy, father ? " " Yes — ^and his grandmother." " And may I go to see Mrs. Brand ? " Mr. Colwyn paused for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was broken by some emotion. " If you can do anything to help and comfort that poor woman, my Janet/' he said at length, " God forbid that I should ever hinder you 1 I will not heed what the world says in face of sor- row such as she has known. Do what you can for her." " I will, father ; I promise you I will." " It is the second promise that I have made to-day," said Janetta, rather thoughtfully, as she was undressmg herself that night ; '' and each of^them turns on the same subject — on being a friend to some one who needs friend- ship. The vocation of some women is to be a loving daughter, a true wife, or a good mother ; mine, perhaps, is to be above everything else a true friend. I don't think my promises will be hard to keep ! " But even Janetta, in her wisdom, could not foresee what was yet to come. CHAPTER XII. JANETTA REMONSTRATES. It was with a beating heart that Janetta, a few days later, crossed once more the threshold of her cousin's house. Her father's words about Mrs. Brand had impressed her rather painfully, and she felt some shyness and constraint at the thought of the reason which he had given her for coming. How she was to set about helping or comforting Mrs. Brand she had not the least idea. These thoughts were, however, put to flight by an un- looked-for scene, which broke upon her sight as she entered the hall. This hall had to be crossed before any of the other rooms could be reached \ it was low-ceiled, paneled in oak, and lighted by rather small windows, with stained glass in the lower panes. Like most rooms in the house it had a gloomy look, which was not relieved by the A TRUE FRIEND, IM %t:: ;«^- r f,'- V*' • r- square of faded Turkey carpet in tlie centre of the black polished hoards of the floor, or by the half-dozen dusky portraits in oak frames which garnished the walls. When Janetta was ushered in she found this ante-room, or en- trance chamber occupied by three persons and a child. These, as she speedily found, consisted of Wyvis Brand and his little boy, and two gentlemen, one of whom was laughing immoderately, while the other was leaning over the back of the chair and addressing little Julian. Janetta halted for a moment, for the old servant who had admitted her seemed to think that his work was done when he had uttered her name, and had already retreated ; and his voice being exceedingly feeble, the announcement ha,d passed unnoticed by the majority of the persons pre- sent, if not by all. Wyvis Brand had perhaps seen her, for his eyes were keen, and the shado^v in which she stood was not likely to veil her from his sight ; but he gave no sigB of being conscious of her presence. He was standing with his back to the mantel-piece, his arms crossed behind his head ; there was a curious expression on his face, half- imile, half-sneer, but it was evident that he was merely looking and listening, not interfering with what was going on. It needed only a glance to see that little Julian was in a state of extraordinary excitement. His face was crimson, his eyes were sparkling and yet full of tears ; his legs were planted sturdily apart, and his hands were clenched. His head was drawn back, and his whole body also seemed as if it wanted to recoil, but placed as he was against a strong oaken table he could evidently go back no further. The gentleman on the chair was offering him something — Janetta could not at first see what — and the boy was vehemently resisting. " I won't have it ! I won't have it ! " he was crying, with the whole force of his lungs. " I won't toiiph it I Take the nasty stuff away ! " Janetta wondered whether it were medici^ he was refusing, and why his father did not insist upon obedience. But Wyvis Brand, still standing by the mantel piece, only laughed aloud. ^ No shirking ! Drink it up ! " said the strange gentle- man, in what Janetta thought a curiously unpleasant voice. *' Come, come, it will make a man of you ** A TRUE FRIEND, 95 " I don't want to be made a man of 1 I won't touch it 1 I promised I never would I You can't make me 1 " K You must be taught not to make rash promisesi" laid the man, laughing. " Come now " But little Julian had suddenly caught sight of Janetta's figure at the door, and with a great bound he escaped from his tormentor and flung himself upon her, burying his face in her dress, and clutching its folds as if he would never let them go, ♦* It's the lady 1 the lady 1 " he gasped out. " Oh, please don't let them make me drink it 1 Indeed, I promised not." Janetta came forward a little, and at her appearance every one looked more or less discomfited. The gentle- man on the chair she recognized as a Mr Strangways, a man of notoriously evil life, who had a house near Beaminster, and was generally shunned by respectable people in the neighborhood. He started up, and looked at her with what she felt to be a rather insolent gaze. Wyvis Brand stood erect, and looked sullen. The other gentleman, who was a stranger, rose from his chair in a civiller manner than his friend had done. Janetta put her arms round the little fellow, and turned a rather bewildered face towards Mr. Brand. " Was it — was it — medicine ?." she asked. " Of a kind," said Wyvis, with a lau^h. "It was brandy — eau-de-vie — horrid hot stuff that maman used to drink," said little Julian, with a burst of angry sobs, " and I prom^'<'ed not — I oromised old Susan that I never would I " " It was only a joke," said the master of the house, coming forward now, and anxious perhaps to avert the storm threatened by a sudden indignant flash of Janetta's great dark eyes. " We were not in earnest of course*" (A smothered laugh and ejaculation from Mr. Strangways passed without notice.) " The boy does not know how to take a joke — he's a milksop." " I'm not ! I'm not ! " said little Julian, still struggling with violent sobs. " I'm not a milksop I Oh, say that I'm not ! * Do tell father that I'm not— not " " Certainly you are not. You are a very brave little boy, and know how to keep your word," said Janetta, with de- cision. " And now you must come with me to your ^rand- •*^other j I came to see her this afternoon."' lipiw^iiipiinpiilPMnii^plPnn m^mm Lupippptii iyiiiiiii jwrnm 96 J TRUE FRIEND. ' She gathered him into her strong, young arms as if she would have carried him from the room, but he struggled manfully to keep his feet, although he still held her dress. Without a word, Wyvis strode to the door and held it open for the pair. Janetta forgot to thank him, or to greet him in any way. She swept past him in a transport of silent fury, flashing upon him one look of indignation which Wyvis Brand did not easily forget. It even deafened him for a moment to the sneering comment of Mx. Strang- ways, which fell on Janetta's ears just as she was leaving the room. " That's a regular granny's boy. Well for him if he always gets a pretty girl to help him out of a difficulty." Wyvis, who had stood for a moment as if transfixed by Janetta's glance, hastily shut the door. Janetta paused in the corridor outside. She was flushed and panting ; she felt that she could not present herself to Mrs. Brand in that state. She held the boy close to her, and listened while he poured forth his story in sobbing indistinctness. " Old Susan — she was their English servant — she had been always with maman — she had told him that brandy made people mad and wicked — and he did not want to be mad and wicked — and he had promised Susan never to drink brandy ; and the naughty gentleman wanted him to take it, and he would not — would not — ^would not 1 " " Hush, dear," said Janetta, gently. " There is no need to cry over it. You know you kept your word as a gentle« man should." The boy's eyes flashed through his tears. "Fathei thinks I'm a — I'm a milksop," he faltered. * Show him that you are not," said Janetta. She saw that it was no use to talk to Julian as to a baby. " If you are always brave and manly he won't think so." " I will be always brave," said the little fellow, choking back his sobs and regarding her with the clear, fearless gaze which she had noticed in him from the first. And at this moment a door opened, and Mrs. Brand, who had heard voices, came out in some surorise to see what was the matter. Janetta was glad to see the loving way in which the boy ran into his grandmother's arms, and the tenderness with which she received him, Mrs. ^cand courteously invited A TRUE PRIB17D, 97 u h{n: IsfQetft into the drawing-room, but her attention was given far more to little Julian than to Janetta, and in two minutes he had poured the whole story into her ear. Mrs* Brand did not say much ; she sat with him in her lap look- ing excessively pained and grieved ; and that frozen look of pain upon her face made Janetta long — but long in vain — to comfort her. Tea was brought in by-and-bye, and then Julian was dismissed to his nursery — ^whither he went reluctantly; holding his face up to be kissed by Janetta, and asking her to " come back soon." And when he was gone, Mrs. Brand seemed unable to contain herself any longer, and broke forth passionately. ** A curse is on us all — I am sure of that. The boy will be ruined, and by his father too." " Oh, no," Janetta said, earnestly. " His father would not really hurt him, I feel sure." '' You do not know my son. He is like his own father, my husband — and that is the way my husband began witV Wyvis." " But — he did not succeed ? " " Not altogether, because Wyvis had a strong head, and drew back in time ; but his father did him harm — untold harm. His father was a bad man. I do not scruple to say so, although he was my husband ; and there is a taint, a sort of wild strain, in the blood. Even the boy inherits it ; I see that too clearly. And Wyvis — ^Wyvis will not hold himself in for long. He is falling amongst those racing and betting men again — the Strangrvays were always to be feared — and before long he will tread in his father's steps and break my heart, and bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. She burst into a passion of tears as she spoke. Janetta felt inexpressibly shocked and startled. This revelation of a dark side of life was new and appalling to here She could hardly understand Mrs. Brand's dark anticipations. She took the mother's hand and held it gently between her own, uttering some few soothing sentences a? she did so. Presently the poor woman's sobs grew quieter, and she returned the pressure of Janetta's hand. " Thank you, my dear," she said at last. " You have a very kind heart. But it is no use telling me to be com- forted. I understand my sons, as I understood my hus- 7 ■ ^ ■ K<\ ■^1 liPPWPiHf! wmmm mmmmmmmm^ 98 A TRUE FRIEND, band before ttiem. They cannot help it. What is in the blood will come out." " Surely," said Janetta, in a very low tone, " there is always the might and the mercy of God to fall back upon — to help us when we cannot help ourselves." *^ Ah, my dear, if I could believe in that I should be a happier woman," said Mrs. Brand, sorrowfully. tanetta stayed a little longer, and when she went the elder woman allowed herself to be kissed affectionately, and asked in a wistful tone, as Julian had done, when she would come again. The girl was glad to find that the hall was empty when she crossed it again. She had no fancy for encountering the insolent looks (as she phrased it to herself) of Wyvis Brand and his hateful friends. But she had reckoned without her host. For when she reached the gate into the high-road, she found Mr. Brand leaning against it with his elbows resting on the topmost bar, and his eyes gloomily fixed on the distant landscape. He started when he saw her, raised his hat and opened the gate with punctilious politeness. Janetta bowed her thanks, but without any smile ; she was not at all in charity with her cousin, Wyvis Brand. He allowed her to pass him, but before she had gone half a dozen yards, he strode after her and caught her up. " Will you let me have a few words with you ? " he said, rather hoarsely. " Certainly, Mr. Brand." Janetta turned and faced him, still with the disapproving gravity upon her brow. " Can't we walk on for a few paces ? " said Wyvis, with evident embarrassment. " I can say what I want to say better while we are walking. Besides, they can see us from the house if we stand here." Privately Janetta thought that this would be no draw- back, but she did not care to make objections, so turned once more and walked on silently. " I want to speak to you," said the man, presently, with something of a shamefaced air, " about the little scene you came upon this afternoon " "Yes," said Janetta. She did not know how con- temptuously het- lips curled as she said the word. "You came at an unfortunate moment," he went on, awkwardly enough. ".I was about to interpose ; I should A TRUE FRIEND, W the is >on e a the :ely, she irhen jring ^yvis oned othe thhis omily e saw ;ilious t any ^Vyvis lehalf :r up. said, him, L with jo say from Idraw- irned I, with leyou con- It on, Ihould not have allowed Jack Strangways to go too far. Of course you thought that I did not care." " Yes,' said Janetta, straightforwardly. Wyvis bit his lip. " I am not quite so thoughtless of my son's welfare," he said, in a firmer tone. " There was enough in that glass to madden a child — almost to kill him. You don't suppose I would have let him take that ? " " I don't know. You were offering no objection to it when I came in." " Do you doubt my word ? " said Wyvis, fiercely. " No. I believe you, if you mean really to say that you were not going to allow your little boy to drink what Mr. Strangways offered him." " I do mean to say it " — in a tone of hot anger. Janetta was silent. * Have you nothin^; to say, Miss Colwyn ? " ** I have no right to express any opinion, Mr. Brand." " But I wish for it ! " " I do not see why you should wish for it," said Janetta, coldly, " especially when it may not be very agreeable to you to hear." ** Will you kindly tell me what you mean ? " The words were civil, but the tone was imperious in the extreme. "I mean that whether you were going to make Julian drink that poisonous stuff or not, you were inflicting a horrible torture upon him," said Janetta, as hotly as Wyvis himself could have spoken. " And I cannot understand how you could allow your own child to be treated in that cruel way. I call it wicked to make a child suffer." Had she looked at her companion, she would have seen that his face had grown a little whiter than usual, and that he had the pinched look about his nostrils which — as his mother would have known — ^betokened rage. But she did not look ; and, although he paused for a moment before replying, his voice was quite calm when he spoke again. " Torture ? Suffering ? These are very strong words when applied to a little harmless teasing." " I do not call it harmless teasing when you are trying to make a child break a promise that he holds sacred." " A very foolish promise ! " " I am not so sure of that." » " Do you mean to insult me ? " said Wyvis, flushing to the roots of his hair. * rmiff v^^m^fif^p A TRUE PRIRlfD. ** Insult you ? No ; certainly not. I don't know why you should say so 1 " " Then I need not explain/' he answered drily, though still with that flush of annoyance on his face. ** Perhaps if you think over what you have heard of that boy's ante- cedents, you will know what I mean." It was Janetta's turn to flush now. She remembered the stories current respecting old Mr. Brand's drinking habits, and the rumors about Mrs. Wy vis Brand's reasons for living away from her husband. She saw that her words had struck home in a manner which she had not intended. " I beg your pardon/' she said involuntarily ; " I never meant — I never thought — anything — I ought not to have spoken as I did." , "You had much better say what you mean," was the answe**, spoken with bitter brevity. " Well, then, I will." Janetta raised her eyes and looked at him bravely. " After all, I am a kinswoman of yours, Mr. Brand, and little Julian is my cousin too ; so I Aave some sort of a right to speak. I never thought of his antecedents, as you call them, and I do not know much about them ; but if they were — if they had been not altogether what you wish them to be — don't you see that this very promise which you tried to make him break was one of his best safeguards ? " " The promise made by a child is no safeguard," said Wyvis, doggedly. ** Not if he is forced to break it ) " exclaimed Janetta, with a touch of fire. They walked on in silence for a minute or two, and then Wyvis said, ** Do you believe in a promise made by a child of that age?*' " Little Julian has made me believe in it. He was so thoroughly in earnest. Oh, Mr. Brand, do you think that it was ri^ht to force him to do a thing against his con- science m that way ? '* " You use hard words for a very simple thing. Miss Colwyn," said Wyvis, in a rather angry tone. " The boy was not forced — I had no intention of letting him drink the brandy." " No," said Janetta, indignantly. " You only let him think that he was to be forced to do it — ^you only made him A TRUE FMISND, tot .«j faith in you as his natural protector, and believe that you wished him to do what he thought wrong ! And you say there was no cruelty in that ? " Wyvis Brand kept silence for some minutes. He was impressed in spite of himself by Janetta's fervor. ** I suppose," he said, at last, " that the fact is — I don't know what to do with a child. I never had any terching or training when I was a child, and I don't know how to ffive it. I know I'm a sort of heathen and savage, and the boy must grow up like me — that is all." *' It is often said to be a heathen virtue to keep one's word," said Janetta, with a half smile. " Therefore one that I can practice,* you mean ? Do you always keep your word when you give it ? " " I try to." " I wish I could get you to give your word to do one thing." " What is that ? " Wyvis spoke slowly. " You see how unfit I am to bring up a child — I acknowledge the unfitness — and yet to send him away from us would almost break my mother's heart — you see that." "Yes." " Will not you sometimes look in on us and give us a word of advice or — or — rebuke ? You are a cousin, as you reminded me, and you have the right. Will you help us a little now and then ? " " You would not like it if I did." " Was I so very savage ? I have an awful temper, I know. But I am not quite so black as I'm painted. Miss Colwyn. I do want to do the best for that boy — if I knew how " "Witness this aft rnoon," said Janetta, with good- humored satire. " Well, that shows that I don*t know how. Seriously, I am sorry — I can't say more. Won't you stand our friend, Cousin Janetta ? " It was the first time he had addressed her in that way. " How often am I to be asked to be somebody's friend, I wonder 1 " said Janetta to herself, with a touch of humor. But she answered, quite gravely, " I should like to do what I can — ^but I'm afraid there is nothing that I can do, especially " — with a sudden flush — " if your friends — the I09 A TRUE FRIEND. I people who come to your house — are men like Mr. Strang- ways." Wyvis looked at her sideways, with a curious look upon his face. " You object to Mr. Strangways ? " " He is a man whom most people object to." " Well — if I give up Mr. Strangways and his kind " " Oh, will you. Cousin Wyvis ? " Sh(» turned an eager, sparkling face upon him. It oc- currc^d to him, almost for the first time, to admire her. With that light in her eye, that color in her cheek, Janetta was almost beautiful. He smiled. " I shall be only too glad of an excuse," he said, with more simplicity and earnestness than she had as yet distinguished in his voice. " And then — you will come again ? " I will— gladly." Shake hands on it after your English fashion," he said, stopping short; and holding out his own hand. " I have been so long abroad that I almost forget the way. But it is a sign of friendliness, is it not? " Janetta turned and laid her hand in his with a look of bright and trustful confidence. Somehow it made Wyvis Brand feel himself unworthy. He said almost nothing more until they parted at Mr. Colwyn's door. u It CHAPTER XIII. ..c SHADOWS. But Janetta 'lad not much chance of keeping her promise for some time to come. She was alarmed to find, on her return home that evening, that her father had come in sick and shivering, with all the symptoms of a violent cold, followed shortly by high fever. He had caught a chill during a long drive undertaken in order to see a -lotherless child who had been suddenly taken ill, and in whose case he took a great interest. The child rapidly recovered, but Mr. Colwyn's illness had a serious termination. Pleurisy came on, and made such rapid in- roads upon his strength that in a very few days his recov- A TRUE FRIEND, 103 ery was pronounced impossible. Gradually growing weaker and weaker, he was not able even to give couisel or direc- tion to his family, and could only whisper to Janetta, who was his devoted nurse, a few words about " taking care " of the rest. " I wi'il always do my very best for them, father ; you may be sure of that," said Janetta, earnestly. The look of anxious pain in his eyes gave her the strength to speak firmly — she must set his mind at ease at any cost. " My faithful Janet," she heard him whisper ; and then he spoke no more. With his hand still clasped in hers he died in the early morning of a chill October day, and the world of Beaminster knew him no more. The world seemed sadly changed for Janetta when her father had gone forth from it ; and yet it was not she who made the greatest demonstration of mourning. Mrs. Col- wyn passed from one hysterical fit into another, and Nora sobbed herself ill ; but Janetta went about her duties with a calm and settled gravity, a sober tearlessness, which caused her stepmother to dub her cold and heartless half a dozen times a day. As a matter of fact the girl felt as if her heart were breaking, but there was no one but herself to bear any of the commonplace little burdens of daily life which are so hard to carry in the time of trouble ; and but for her thoughtful presence of mind the whole house would have degenerated into a state of chaos. She wrote neces- sary letters, made arrangements for the sad offices which were all that could be rendered to her father now, inter- viewed the dressmaker, and ordered meals for the children. It was to her that the servants and tradespeople came for orders ; it was she who kept her mother's room quiet, and nursed Nora, and provided necessary occupation for the awed and bewildered children. ** You c'on't seem to feel it a bit, Janetta," Mrs. Colwyn said to her on the day before the funeral. " And I'm sure you were always your father's favorite. He never cared half so munh for any of the children as he did for you, and now you can't even give him a tributary tear." Mrs. Colwyn was fond of stilted expressions, and the thought of " a tributary tear " seemed so incongruous to Janetta when compared with her own deep grief, that — much to Mrs. Colwyn's horror — she burst into an agitated little laugh, as nervous people sometimes do on the most solemn occasions. 104 A TRUE FRIEND, ** To laugh when your father is lying dead in the house 1 " ejaculated Mrs. Colwyn, with awful emj basis. " And you that he thought so loving and dutiful 1 " Then poor Janetta collapsed. She was worn out with watching and working, and from nervous laughter she passed to tears so heart-broken and so exhausting that Mrs. Colwyn never again dared to accuse her openly of insensibility. And perhaps it was a good thing for Janetta that she did break down in this way. The doctor who had attended her father was growing very uneasy about her. He had not been deceived by her apparent calmness. Her white face and dark-ringed eyes had told him all that Janetta could not say. " A good thing too ! " he muttered when, on a subsequent call, Tiny told him, with rather a look of consternation, that her sister " had been crying." " A good thing too ! If she had not cried she would have had a nervous fever before long, and then what would be- come of you all ? " During these dark days Janetta was inexpressibly touched by the marks of sympathy that reached her from all sides. Country people trudged long distances into town that they might gaze once more on the worn face of the man who had often assuaged not only physical but mental pain, and had been as ready to help and comfort as to prescribe. Towns- folk sent flowers for the dead and dainties for the living ; but better than all their gifts was the regret that they expressed for the death of a man whom everyone liked and respected. Mr. Colwyn's practice, though never very lucra- tive, had been an exceedingly large one ; and only when he had passed away did his townsfolk seem to appreciate him at his true worth. In the sad absorption of mind which followed upon his death, Janetta almost forgot her cousins, the Brands. But when the funeral took place, and she went with her brother Joe to the grave, as she insisted upon doing in spite of her , stepmother's tearful remonstrances, it was a sort of relief and satisfaction to her to see that both W} vis and Cuthbert Brand were present. They were her kinsmen, after all, and it was right for them to be there. It made her feel momen- tarily stronger to know of their presence in the church. But at t'le grave she forgot them utterly The beautiful and consoling words of the Burial Service fell almost un- heeded on her ear. She could only think of the blank A TRUE FRIEND, 105. a jey ind ate that was made in her life by the absence of that loving voice, that tender sympathy, which had never failed her once. " My faithful Janet ! " he had called her. There was no one to call her " my faithful Janet " now. She was shaken by a storm of silent sobs as these thoughts came over her. She made scarcely a sound, but her figure was swayed by the tempest as if it would have fallen. Joe, the young brother, who could as yet scarcely realize the magnitude of the loss which he had sustained, glanced at her uneasily ; but it was not he, but Wyvis Brand, who suddenly made a step forward and gave her — ^just in time — the support of his strong arm. The movement checked her and recalled her to herself. Her weeping grew less violent, and although strong shudders still shook her frame, she was able to walk quietly from the grave to the carriage-door, and to shake hands with Wyvis Brand with some attempt at calmness of demeanor. He came to the house a few days after the funeral, but Janetta happened to be out, and Mrs. Colwyn refused to see him. Possibly he thought that some slight lurked within this refusal, for he did not come again, and a visit at a later date from Mrs. Brand was so entirely embarrass- ing and unsatisfactory that Janetta could hardly wish for its repetition. Mrs. Colwyn, in the deepest of widow's weeds, with a white handkerchief in her hand, was yet not too much overcome by grief to show that she esteemed herself far more respectable than Mrs. Brand, and could " set her down," if necessary ; while poor Mrs. Brand, evidently comprehending the reason of Mrs. Colwyn's bridlings and tossings, was nervous and flurried, sat on the edge of a chair, and looked — poor, helpless, elderly woman — as if she had never entered a drawing-room before. The only comfort Janetta had out of the visit was a moment's conversation in the hall when Mrs. Brand took her leave. " My dear — my dear," said Mrs. Brand, taking the girl's- hand in hers, *' I am so sorry, and I can't do anything to comfort you. Your father was very kind to me when I was in great trouble, years ago. I shall never forget his goodness. If there is anything I can ever do for you, you must let me do it for his sake." Janetta put up her face and kissed the woman to whom her father had been " very kind." It comforted her to .1?^ io6 A TRUE FRIEND. hear of his goodnens once again. She loved Mrs. Brand for appreciating it. That little sentence or two did her more good than the long letters which she was receiving every few days from Margaret, her chosen friend. Margaret was sincerely grieved for Janetta's loss, and said many consoling things in her sweet, tranquil, rather devotional way ; but she had not known Mr. Colwyn, and she could not say the words that Janetta's heart was aching for — the words of praise and admiration of a nobly unselfish life which alone could do Janetta any good. Yes, Margaret's letters were dis- tinctly unsatisfactory — not from want of feeling, but from want of experience of life. Graver necessities soon arose, however, than those of consolation in grief. Mr. Colwyn had always been a poor man, and the sum for v/hich he had insured his life was only sufficient to pay his debts and funeral expenses, and to leave a very small balance at his banker's. He had bought the house in Gwynne Street in which he lived, and there was no need, therefore, to seek for another home ; and Mrs. Colwyn had fifty pounds a year of her own, but of course it was necessary that the two elder girls should do something for themselves. Nora obtained almost immediately a post as under-teacher in a school not far from Beaminster, and Georgie was taken in as a sort of governess-pupil, while Joe was offered — chiefly out of con- sideration for his father's memory — a clerkship in a mer- cantile house in the town, and was considered to be well provided for. Curly, one of the younger boys, obtained a nomination to a naval school in London. Thus only Mrs. Colwyn, Tiny, and " Jinks " remained at home — with Janetta. With Janetta! — That was the difficulty. What was Janetta to do? She might probably with considerable ease have obtained a position as resident governess in a family, but then she would have to be absent from home altogether. And of late the Colwyns had found it best to dispense with the maid-servant who had hitherto done the work of the household — a fact which meant that Jan- etta, with the help of a charity orphan of thirteen, did it nearly all herself. " I might seni home enough money for you to keep an efficient servant, mamma," she said one day, " if I could go away and find a good situation." A TRUE FRIEND. 107 It never occurred either to her or to her stepmother that any of her earnings were to belong to Janetta, or be used for her behoof. " It would have to be a very good situation indeed, then," said Mrs. Colwyn, with sharpness. " I don't sup- pose you could get more than fifty pounds a year — ^if so much. And fifty pounds would not go far if we had a woman in the house to feed and pay wages to. No, you had better stay at home and get some daily teaching in the neighborhood. With your recommendations it ought to be easy enough for you to do so." ** I am afraid not," said Janetta, with a little sigh. " Nonsense ! You could get some if you tried — if you had any energy, any spirit. I suppose you would like to sit with your hands before you, doing nothing, while I slaved my fingers to the bone for you," said Mrs. Colwyn, who never got up till noon, or did anything but gossip and read novels when she was up ; " but I would be ashamed to do that if I were a well-educated girl, whose father spent I don't know how much on her voice, and expected her to make a living for herself by the time she was one-and- twenty ! I must say, Janetta, that I think it very wrong of you to be so slack in trying to earn a little money, when Nora and Georgie and Joey are all out in the world doing for themselves, and you sitting here at home doing nothing at all." "Ian sorry, mamma," said Janetta, meekly. "I will try to get something to do at once." ' She did not think of reminding Mrs. Colwyn that she had been up since six o'clock that morning helping the charity orphan to scrub and scour, cooking, making beds, sewing, teaching Tiny between whiles, and scarcely get- ting five minutes' rest until dinner-time. She only began to wonder how she could manage to get all her tasks into the day if she had lefisons to give as well. " I suppose I must sit up at night and get up earlier in the morning," she thought to herself. " It is a pity I am such a sleepy person. But use reconciles one to all things." Mrs. Colwyn meanwhile went on lecturing. " And above all things, Janetta, remember that you ask high terms and get the money always in advance. You are just like your poor father in the way you have about money; I never saw anyone so unpractical as he was. xo8 A TRUE FRIEND, I'm sure half his bills are unpaid yet, and never will be paid. I hope you won't be like him, I'm sure " " I hope I shall be like him in every possible respect," said Janetta, with compressed lips. She rose as she spoke and caught up the basket of socks that she was mending. ** I don't know how you can bear to speak of him in that slighting manner," she went on, almost passionately. " He was the best, the kindest of men, and I cannot bear to hear it." And then she hurriedly left the room and went into her father's little surgery — as it had once been called — to relieve her overcharged heart with a burst of weeping. It was not often that Janetta lost patience, but a word against her father was sufficient to upset her self- command nowadays. She rested her head against the well-worn arm-chair where he used to sit, and kissed the back of it, and bedewed it with her tears. " Poor father ! dear father ! " she murmured. " Oh, if only you were here, I could bear anything ! Or if she had loved you as you deserved, I could bear with her and work for her willingly — cheerfully. But when she speaks against you, father dear, how can I live with her? And yet he told me to take care of her, and I said I would. He called me * his faithful Janet.' I do not want to be unfaithful, but — oh father, father, it is hard to live without you 1 " The gathering shades of the wintry day began to gather round her ; but Janetta, her face buried in the depths of the arm-chair, was oblivious of time.* It was almost dark before little Tiny came running in with cries of terror to summon her sister to Mrs. Colwyn's help. " Mamma's ill — I think she's dying. Come, Janet, come," cried the child. And Janetta hurried back to the dining- room. She found Mrs. Colwyn on the sofa in a state of" apparent stupor. For this at first Janetta saw no reason, and was on the point of sending for a doctor, when her eye fell upon a black object which had rolled from the sofa to the ground. Janetta. looked at it and stood transfixed. There was no need to send for a doctor. And Janetta saw at once that she could not be spared from home. The wretched woman had found a solace from her woes, real and imaginary, in the brandy bottle. A TRUE FRIENIK CHAPTER XIV. janetta's failure. The terrible certainty that Janetta had now acquired of Mrs. Colwyn's inability to control herself decided her in the choice of an occupation. Sh^ knew that she must, if possible, earn something ; but it was equally impossible for her to leave home entirely, or even for many hours at a stretch ; she was quite convmced that constant watching, and even gentle restraint, could alone prevail in checking the tendency which her stepmother evinced. She under- stood now better than she had ever done why her father's brow had been so early wrinkled and his hair grey before its time. Doubts ls, he had discovered his wife's unfor- tunate tendency, and, while carefully concealing it or keeping it within bounds, had allowed it often to weigh heavily upon hii3 mind, "^anetta realized with a great shock that she could not hope to exert the influence or the authority of her father, that all her efforts might possibly be unavailing unless they were seconded by Mrs. Colwyri herself, and that public disgrace might yet be added to the troubles and anxieties of their lives. There is something so particularly revolting in the spectacle of this kind of degradation in a woman, that Janetta felt as if the discovery that she had made turned her positively ill. She had much ado to behave to the children and the servant as if nothing were amiss ; she got her stepmother to bed, and kept Tiny out of the room, but the effort was almost more than she knew how to bear. She passed a melancholy evening with the children — melancholy in spite of herself, for she did her best to be cheerful — and spent a sleepless night, rising in the morning with a bad headache and a conviction as of the worthless- ness of all things which she did not very often experience. She shrank sensitively from going to Mrs. Colwyn's room. Surely the poor woman would be overcome with pain and shame ; surely she would understand how terrible f.. ;'« no A TRUE FRIEND, the exposure of her disgrace had been to Janetta. Biit at last Mrs. Colwyn's bell sounded sharply, and continued to ring, and the girl was obliged to run upstairs and enter her stepmother's room. Mrs. Colwyn was sitting up in bed, with the bell-rope in her hand, an aggrieved expression upon her face. " Well, I'm sure ! Nine o'clock and no breakfast ready for me ! I suppose I may wait until everybody else in the house is served first ; I must say, Janetta, that you are very thoughtless of my comfort." Contrary to her usual custom Janetta offered no word of excuse or apology. She was too much taken aback to speak. She stood and looked at her stepmother with slightly dilated eyes, and neither moved nor spoke. " What are you staring at ? " said Mrs. Colwyn, sinking back on her pillows with a faint — very faint — touch of uneasiness in her tones. ** If you are in a sulky mood, Janetta, I wish you would go away, and send my breakfast up by Phcebe and Tiny. I have a wretched headache this morning and can't be bothered." " What would you like ? " said Janetta, with an effort. " Oh, anything. Some coffee and toast, perhaps. I dare say you won't believe it — you are so unsympathetic — but I was frightfully ill last night. I don't know how I got to bed ; I was quite insensible for a time — all from a narcotic that I had t^ken for neuralgia " "I'll go an(i get ypur breakfast ready," said J^inetta abruptly. " I will send it up as soon as I can." She left the room, unheeding some murmured grumbling at her selfishness, and shut the door behind her. On the landing it must be confessed that she struck her foot angrily on the floor and clenched her hands,, while the color flushed into her mobile, sensitive little face. There was nothing that Janetta hated more than a lie. And her stepmother was lying to her now. She sent up the breakfast tray, and did not re-enter tne room for some time. When at last she came up, Mrs. Colwyn had had the fire lighted and was sitting beside it in a rocking-chair, with a novel on her lap. She looked up indolently as Janetta entered. " Going out ? " she said, noticing that the girl was in her out-door wraps. *' You are always gadding." " I came to speak to you before I went out," said J A TRUE FRIEND, III Janetta, patiently. " I am going to the stationer's, and to the Beaminster Argus Office. I mean to make it well known in the town that I want to give music and singing- lessons. And, if possible, I shall give them here — at our own house." " You'll do nothing of the sort ! " said Mrs. Colwyn, shrilly. " I'll not have a pack of children about the house playing scales and sin'^ing their Do, Re, Mi, till my head is fit to split. You'll remember, Miss, that this is my house, and that you a ' living on my money, and behave your- self." ** Mamma," said Janetta, steadily, advancing a step nearer, and turning a shade paler . than she had been before, " please think what you are saying. I am willing to work as hard as I can, and earn as much as I can. But I dare not go away from home — at any rate for long-— unless I can feel sure that — that what happened last night — will not occur again." " What happened ! — what happened last night ? — I don't know what you mean." " Don't say that, mamma : you know — ^you know quite well. And think what a grief it would have been to dear father-^— what a disgrace it will be to Joe and Nora and the little ones and all of us — if it ever became known ! Think of yourself, and the shame and the sin of it ! " " I've not the least notion what you are talking about, Janetta, and I beg that you w:ill not address me in that way," said Mrs. Colwyn, with an attempt at dignity. " It is very undutiful indeed, and I hope that I shall hear no more of it." " I'll never speak of it again, mamma, unless you make it necessary. AH I mean is that you must understand — I cannot feel safe now — I must be at home as much as possible to see that Tiny is safe, and that everything is going on well. You must please let me advertise for pupils in our own house." Mrs. Colwyn burst into tears'. ** Oh, well, have your own way ! I knew that you would tyrannize, you always do whenever you get the chance, and very foolish I have been to give you the opportunity. To-spe^k in that way to your father's wife — and all because she had to take a '""ie something for her | nerves, and because of her iralgia ! But I '^am nobody now {'nobojdy, evenjn.my little neui A TRUE FRIEND, own house, where I'm sure I ought to be mistress if any- body isl" Janetta could do or say nothing more. She gave her stepmother a dose of sal volatile, and went away. She had already searched every room and every cupboard in the house, except in Mrs. Colwyn's own domain, and had Cut every bottle that she could find under lock and ke^ ; ut she left the house with a feeling of terrible insecunty upon her, as if the earth might open at any moment beneath her feet. She put advertisements in the local papers and left notices at some of the Beaminster shops, and, when these attempts produced no results, she called systematically on all the people she knew, and did her best — very much against the grain — to ask for pupils. Thanks to her perseverance she soon got three or four children as music pupils, although at a very low rate of remuneration. Also, she gave two singing lessons weekly to the daughter of the grocer with whom the Colwyns dealt. But these were not paid for in money, but in kind. And then for a time she got no more pupils at all. Janetta was somewhat puzzled by her failure. She had fully expected to succeed as a teacher in Beaminster. *' When the Adairs come back it will be better," she said, hopefully, to herself. " They have not written for a long time, but I am sure that they will come home soon. Per- haps Margaret is going to be married and will not want any singing lessons. But I should think that they would recommend me : I should think that I might refer to Lad^ Caroline, and surely people would think more of my abili- ties then." But it was not confidence in her abilities that was lack- ing so much as confidence in her amiability and discre- tion, she soon found. She called one day at the house of a schoolmistress, who was said to want assistance in the musical line, and was received with a stiffness which did not encourage her to make much of her qualifications. " The fact is, Miss Colw)m," said the preceptress at length, '' I have heard of you from Miss Polehampton." Janetta was on her feet in a moment. " I know very well what that means," she said, rather defiantly. << Exactly. I see that Miss Polehampton's opinion of |oa 18 justifiable. You will excuse my mentionii^; to you^ to^ ref mil A TRUE FRIEND, "3 as it is all for your own good, Miss Colwyn, that Miss Polehampton found in you some little weakness of temper, some want of the submissiveness and good sense which ought to characterize an under-teacher's demeanor. I have great confidence in Miss Polehampton's opinion." *' The circumstances under which I left Miss Polehamp- ton's could be easily explained if you would allow me to refer you to Lady Caroline Adair/' said Janetta, with mingled spirit and dignity. "Lady Caroline Adair? Oh, yes, ^ have heard all about that," said the schoolmistress, in a tone of deprecia- tion. ** I do not need to hear any other version of the story. You must excuse my remarking. Miss Colwyn, that temper and sense are qualities as valuable in music- teaching as in any other ; and that your dismissal from Miss Polehampton's will, in my opinion, be very much against you, in a place where ^xiss Polehampton's school is so well known, and she herself is so much respected." " I am sorry to have troubled you," said Janetta, not without stateliness, although her lips trembled a little as she spoke. " I will wish you good-morning." The schoolmistress bowed solemnly, and allowed the girl .to depart. Janetta hastened out of the house — glad to get away before the tears that had gathered in her eyes could fall. At an ordinary time she would have been equally care- ful that they did not fall when she was in the street ; but on this occasion, dazed, wounded, and tormented by an anxiety about the future, which was beginning to take the spring out of her youth, she moved along the side-walk with perfect unconsciousness that her eyes were brim- ming over, and that two great tears were already on her cheeks. It was a quiet road, and there was little likelihood of encountering any one whom she knew. Therefore Janetta was utterly abashed when a gentleman, who had met her, took off his hat, glanced at her curiously, and then turned back as if by a sudden impulse, and addressed her by name. " Miss Colwyn, I think ? " She looked up at him through a blinding haze of tears, and recognized the tall, spare figure, the fine sensitive face, the kind, dark eyes and inteUectual forehead. The 8 tl4 A TRUE FRIEND. m- coal-black beard and moustache nearly hid his mouth, but Janetta felt instinctively that this tell-tale feature would not belie the promise of the others. " Sir Philip Ashley," she murmured, in her surprise. « I beg your pardon," he said, with the courtesy that she so well remembered ; *' I stopped you on impulse, I fear, because I felt a great desire to express to you my deep sympathy with you in your loss. It may seem im- nertinent for me to speak, but I knew your father and re- spected and trusted him. We had some correspondence about sanitary matters, and I was greatly relying on his help in certain reforms that I wish to institute in Beaminsler. He is a great loss to us all." " Thank you," Janetta said unsteadily. " Will you let me ask whether there is anything in which I can help you just now." " Oh, no, nothing, thank you." She had brushed away the involuntary tear, and smiled bravely as she replied. " I did not think that I should meet anybody : it was simply that I wa§ disappointed about — about — some lessons that I hoped to get. Quite a little disappoint- ment, you see." " Was it a little disappointment ? Do you want to give' lessons — singing lessons ? " " Yes ; but nobody will have me to teach them," said Janetta, laughing nervously. Sir Philip looked back at the house which they had just passed. " That is Miss Morrison's school : you came out of it, did you not? Doea she not need your help?" ** I do not suit her." " Why ? Did she try your voice ? " " Oh, no. It was for other reasons. She was pre- judiced against me," said Janetta, with a little gulp. ** Prejudiced ? But why ? — may I ask ? " " Oh, she had heard something she did not like. It does not matter : I shall get other pupils by-and-bye." " Is it important to you to have pupils ? " Sir Philip asked, as seriously and anxiously as if the fate of the empire depended on his reply. " Oh, most important." Janetta's face and voice were more pathetic than she knew. Sir Philip was silent for a moment. " I have heard you sing," he said at length, in his grave, A TRVE FRIEND, "5 y. earnest way. " I am sure that 1 should have no hesita- tion in recommending you — if my recommendation were of any use. My mother may perhaps hear of somebody who wants lessons, if you will allow me to mention the matter to her." " I shall be very much obliged to you," said Janetta, feeling grateful and yet a little startled — it did not seem natural to her in her sweet humility that Sir Philip and his mother should interest themselves in her welfare. JiOh, ver^ much obliged." Sir Philip raised his hat and smiled down kindly upon er as he said good-bye. He had been interested from the very first in Margaret's friend. And he had always been vaguely conscious that Margaret's friendship was not likely to produce any very desirable results. Janetta went on her way, feeling for the moment a little less desolate than she had felt before. Sir Philip turned homewards to seek his mother, who was a woman of whom many people stood in awe, but whose kindness of heart was never known to fail. To her Sir Philip at once poured out his story with the directness and Quixotic ardor which some of his friends found incomprehensible, not to say absurd. But Lady Ashley never thought so. She smiled very kindly as her son finished his little tale. " She is really a good singer, you say ? Mr. Colwyn's daughter. I have seen him once or twice." " He was a good fellow." " Yes, I believe so. Miss Morrison's school, did you mention ? Why, Mabel Hartley is there." Mabel Hart- ley was a distant cousin of the Ashleys. " I will call to- morrow, Philip, and find out what the objection is to Miss Colwyn. If it can be removed I don't see why she should not teach Mabel, who, I remember, has a voice." Lady Ashley carried out her intention, and announced the result to her son the following evening. " I have not succeeded, dear. Miss Morrison has been prejudiced by some report from Miss Polehampton, with whom Miss Colwyn and Margaret Adair were at school. She said that the two girls were expelled together." Sir Philip was silent for a minute or two. His brows contracted. " I was afraid," he said, " that Miss Adair's championship of her friend had not been conducted in the wisest possible manner. She has done Miss Colwyn con- siderable harm." Il6 A TRUE FRIEND, Lady Ashley glanced at him inquiringly. She was particularly anxious that he should marry Margaret Adair. '< Is Lady Caroline at home ? " her son asked, after another and a longer pause. " Yes. She came home yesterday — with dear Margaret. I am sure, Philip, that Margaret does not know it if she has done harm." . " 1 don't suppose she does, mother. I am sure she would not willingly injure any one. But I think that she ought to know the circumstances of the case." And then he opened a book and began to read. Lady Ashley never remonstrated. But she raised her eyebrows a little over this expression of Sir Philip's opinion. If he were going to try to tutor Margaret Adair, whose slightest wish had never yet known contradiction, she thought it probable that the much-wished for marriage would never take place at all. ^ A TRUE FRIEND, 117 CHAPTER XV. A BONE OF CONTENTION. Poor Janetta, plodding away at her music lessons and doing the household work of her family, never guessed that she was about to become a bone of contention. But such she was fated to be, and that between persons no less dis- tinguished than Lady Caroline Adair and Sir Philip Ashley — not to speak of Sir Philip and Margaret ! Two days after Janetta's unexpected meeting with Sir Philip, that gentleman betook himself to Helmsley Court in a somewhat warm and indignant mood. He had seen a good deal of Margaret during the autumn months. They had been members of the same house-party in more than one great Scottish mansion : they had boated together, fished together, driven and ridden and walked together, until more than one of Lady Caroline's acquaintances had asked, with a covert smile, " how soon she might be allowed to congratulate'' . . . The sentence was never quite finished, and Lady Caroline never made any very direct reply. Margaret was too young to think of these things, she said. But other people were very ready to think of them for her. The acquaintance had therefore progressed a long way since the day of Margaret*s return from school. And yet it had not gone quite so far as onlookers surmised, or as Lady Caroline wished. Sir Philip was most friendly, most attentive, but he was also somewhat absurdly unconscious of remark. His character had a simplicity which occasion- ally set people wondering. He was perfectly frank and manly : he spoke without arriere-pensie, he meant what he said, and was ready to believe that other people meant it too. He had a pleasant and courteous manner in society, and liked to be on friendly, terms with every one he met ; but at the same time he was not at all like the ordinary society man, and had not the slightest idea that he differed from any such person — as indeed he did. He had vezy ft'* tl8 A TRUE FRIEND, high aims and ideals, and he took it for granted, w ith a really charming simplicity, that other people had similar aims and similar (if not higher) ideals. Consequently he now and then ran his head against a wall, and was laughed at by commonplace persons ; but those who knew him well loved him all the better for his impracticable schemes and expectations. But to Margaret he seemed rather like a firebrand. He took interest in things of which she had never heard, or which she regarded with a little delicate disdain. A steam- laundry in Beaminster, for example — what had a man like Sir Philip Ashley to do with a steam-laundry ? And yet he was establishing one in the old city, and actually assuring people that it would " pay." He had been exerting him- self about the drainage of the place and the dwellings of the poor. Margaret was sorry in a vague way for the poor, and supposed that drainage had to be " seen to " from time to time, but she did not want to hear anything about it. She liked the pretty little cottages in the village of Helmsley, and she did not mind begging for a holiday for the school children (v/ho adored her) now and then ; and she had heard with pleasure of Lady Ashley's pattern plm- houses and dainty orphanage, where the old women v/ore red cloaks, and the children were exceedingly picturesque ; but as a necessary consequence of her life-training, she did not want to know anything about disease or misery or sin. And Sir Philip could not entirely keep these subjects out of his conversation, although he tried to be very careful not to bring a look that he knew well — a look of shocked repulsion and dislike — to Margaret's tranquil face. She welcomed him with her usual sweetness that after- noon. He thought that she looked lovelier than ever. The day was cold, and she wore a dark-green dress with a good deal of gold embroidery about it, which suited her perfectly. Lady Carolme, too, was graciousness itself. She received him in her own little sitting-room — a gem of a room into which only her intimate friends were admitted, and made him welcome with all the charm of manner for which she was distinguished. And to add to her virtues, she presently found that she had letters to write, and retired into an adjoining library, leaving the door open between the two rooms, so that Margaret might still be considered as under her chaperonage, although conversation could be to A TRUE FRIEND, n^ v/ore conducted without any fear of her overhearing what was said. Lady Caroline knew so exactly what to do and what to leave undone ! As soon as she was gone, Sir Philip put down his tea- cup and turned with an eager movement to Margaret. " I have been wanting to speak to you," he said. " I have something special — something important to say." " Yes ? " said Margaret, sweetly. She flushed a little and looked down. She was not quite ignorant of what every one was expecting Sir Philip Ashley to say. " Can you listen to me for a minute or two ? " he said, with the gentle eagerness of manner, the restrained ardor which he was capable — unfortunately for him — of putting into his most trivial requests. '' You are sure you will not be impatient ? " Margaret smiled. Should she accept him? she was thinking. After all, he was very nice, in spite of his little eccentricities. And really — with his fine features, his tall stature, his dark eyes, and coal-black hair and beard — he was an exceedingly handsome man. " I want you to help me," said Sir Philip, in almost a coaxing tone. " I want you to carry out a design that I have formed. Nobody can do it but you. Will you help me?" " If I can," said Margaret, shyly. " You are always good and kind," said Sir Philip, warmly. *^ Margaret — may I call you Margaret ? I have known you so long." This seemed a little irregular, from Miss Adair's point of view. "I don't know whether mamma " she began, and stopped. " Whether she would like it ? I don't think she would mind : she suggested it the other day, in fact. She always calls me * Philip,' you know : perhaps you would do the same ? " Again Margaret smiled ; but there was a touch of inquiry in her eyes as she glanced at him. She did not know very much about proposals of marriage, but she fancied that Sir Philip's manner of making one was peculiar. And she had had it impressed upon her so often that he was about to make one that it could hardly be considered strange if his manner somewhat bewildered her. 190 A TRUE FRIEND, " I want to speak to you," said the young man, lowering' his earnest voice a little, "about your friend. Miss Colwyn." Now, why did the girl flush scarlet ? Why did her hand tremble a little as she put down her cup ? Philip lost the thread of the conversation for a minute or two, and simply looked at her. Then Margaret quietly took down a screen from the mantel-piece and began to fan her- self. " It is rather hot here, don't you think ? " she said, serenely. "The fire makes one feel quite uncomfortable." "It is a large one," said Sir Philip, with conviction. " Shall I take any of the coal off for you ? No ? Well, as I was saying, I wished to speak to you about your friend, Misa Colwyn." "She has lost her father lately, poor thing," said Mar- garet, conversationally. " She has been very unhappy." " Yes, and for more reasons than one. You have not seen her, I conclude, since his death ? " " No, he died in August or September, did he not ? It is close upon December now — what a long time we have been away ! Poor Janetta ! — how glad she will be to see mel" " I am sure she will. But it would be just as well for you to hear beforehand that her father's death has brought great distress upon the family. I have had some talk with friends of his, and I find that he left very little money behind." " How sad for them ! But — they have not removed ? — they are still at their old house : I thought everything was going on as usual," said Margaret, in a slightly puzzled tone. "The house belongs to them, so they might as well live in it. Two or three of the familly have got situa- tions of some kind — one child is in a charitable institution, I believe." " Oh, how dreadful ! Like Lady Ashley's Orphanage ? " said Margaret, shrinking a little. " No, no ; nothing of that kind — an educational estab- lishment, to which he has got a nomination. But the mother and the two or three children are still at home, and I believe that their income is not more than a hundred a year.'* Sir Philip was considerably above the mark. But the mention of even a hundred a year, though not a large income^ produced little impression upon Margaret A TRUE FRIEND, laz ill la- in. d a le U " That is not very much, is it ? • she said, gently. " Much ! I should think not," said Sir Philip, driven almost to discourtesy by the difficulty of making her under- stand. " Four or five people to live upon it and keep up a position 1 It is semi-starvation and misery." " But, Sir Philip, does not Janetta give lessons ? I should have thought she could make a perfect fortune by her music alone. Hasn't she tried to get something to do?" " Yes, indeed, poor girl, she has. My mother has been making inquiries, and she finds that Miss Colwyn has ad- vertised and done everything she could think of — with very little result. I myself met her three or lour days ago, coming away from, Miss Morrison's, with tears in her eyes. She had failed to get the post of music-teacher there." ** But why had she failed ? She can sing and play beau- tifully ! " " Ah, I wanted you to ask me that 1 She failed — because Miss Morrison was a friend of Miss Polehampton's, and she had heard some garbled and distorted account of Pvliss Colwyn's dismissal from that school." Sir Philip did not look at her as he spoke : he fancied that she would be at once struck with horror and even with shame, and he preferred to avert his eyes during the moment's silence that followed upon his account of Janetta's failure to get work. But, when Margaret spoke, a very slight tone of vexation was the only discoverable trace of any such emotion. " Why did not Janetta explain ? " Sir Philip's lips moved, but he said nothing. " That affair cannot be the reason why she has obtained so little work, of course ? " " I am afraid that to some extent it is." ** Janetta could so easily have explained it ! " '* May I ask how she could explain it ? Write a letter to the local paper, or pay a series of calls to declare that she had not been to blame ? Do you think that any one would have believed her? Besides — you call her your friend : could she exculpate herself without blaming you ; and dp you think that she would do that ? " " Without blaming me ? " repeated Margaret. She rose to her full height, letting the fan fall between her hands, anu stood silently confronting him. " But," she said, slow- ly—" T — I was not to blame," laa A TRUE FRIEND. Sir Philip bowed.* *' You think that I was to blame ? " ^ " I think that you acted on impulse, without much con- sideration for Miss Cohvyn's future. I think that you have done her an injury — which I am sure you will be only too willing to repair." He began rather sternly, he ended almost tenderly — moved as he could not fail to be by the soft reproach of Margaret's eyes. ** I cannot see that I have done her any injury at all ; and I really do not know how I can repair it," said the girl, with a cold stateliness which ought to have warned Sir Philip that he was in danger of offending. But Philip was rash and warm-hearted, and he had taken up Janetta's cause. "Your best way of repairing it," he said, earnestly, " would be to call on Miss Morrison yourself and explain the matter to her, as Miss Colwyn cannot possibly do — unless she is a very different person from the one I take her for. And if that did not avail, go to Miss Polehamp- ton and persuade her to write a letter " He stopped somewhat abruptly. The look of profound astonishment oii Margaret's face recalled him to a sense of limitations. " Margaret ! " he said, pleadingly, " won't you be generous ? You can afford to do this thing for your friend ! " " Go to Miss Morrison and explain ! Persuade Miss Polehampton ! — after the way she treated us 1 But really it is too ridiculous. Sir Philip. You do not know my friend, Miss Colwyn. She would be the last person to wish me to humiliate myself to Miss Polehampton 1 " " I do not see that what she wishes has much to do with it," said Sir PhiHp, very stiffly. " Miss Colwyn is suffer- ing under an injustice. I ask you to repair that injustice. I really do not see how you can refuse." Margaret looked as if she were about to make some mutinous reply ; then she compressed her lips and lowered her eyes for a few seconds. " I will ask mamma what she thinks," she said at last, in her usual even tones. " Why should you ask her? " said Sir Philip, impetuous- ly. " What consultation is needed, when I simply beg you to be your own true self — that noble, generous self that I am sure you ar^ ! Margaret, don't disappoint me I " Phi < Ma one to iicii A TRUE FRIEND, M3 " I didn't know," said tlie girl, with proud deliberateness, '*that you had any special interest in the matter, Sir Philip/' ** I have this interest — that I love you with all my heart, Margaret, and hope that you will let me call you my wife one day. It is this love, this hope, which makes me lon^ to think of you as perfect — always noble and self-sacri- ficing and just ! Margaret, you will not forbid me to hope?" He had chosen a bad time for his declaration of love. He saw this, and his accent grew more and more suppli- cating, for he perceived that the look of repulsion, which he knew and hated, was already stealing into Margaret's lovely eyes. She stood as if turned into stone, and did not answer a word. And it was on tnis scene that Lady Caro- line broke at that moment — a scene which, at first sight, gave the mother keen pleasure, for it had all the orthodox appearance of love-making : the girl, silent, downcast, em- barrassed ; the man passionate and earnest, with head bent towards her fair face, and hands outstretched in en- treaty. But poor Lady Caroline was soon to be undeceived, and her castle in the air to come tumbling down about her ears. Miss really friend, sh me with iuffer- istice. It last. luous- Ig you Ihat I CHAPTER XVL SIR PHILIP'S OPINION. " Is anything the matter ? " said Lady Caroline, suavely. She haa been undecided for a minute as to whether she had not better withdraw unseen, but the distressed expres- sion on her daughter's face decided her to speak. She might at least prevent Margaret from saying anything foolish. Sir Philip drew back a little. Margaret went — almost hurriedly — up to her mother, and put her hand into Lady Caroline's. " Will you tell him ? will you explain to him, please ? " she said. " I do not want to hear any more : I would rather not. We could never understand each other, and I should be very unhappy." 'H A TRUE FRIEND, ■ Sir Philip made an eager gesture, but Lady Caroline silenced him by an entreating glance and then looked straight into her daughter's eyes. Their limpid hazel depths were troubled now : tears were evidently very near, and Lady Caroline detested tears. " My darling child," she said, " you must not agitate yourself. You shall hear nothing that you do not want to hear. Sir Philip would never say anything that would pain you." " I have asked her to be my wife," said Sir Philip, very quietly, ** and I hope that she will not refuse to hear me say that, at least." " But that was not all," said Margaret, suddenly turning on him her grieving e>es — eyes that always looked so much more grieved than their owner felt — and her flushing, quiver ing face : " You told me first that I was wrong — selfish and unjust ; and you want me to humiliate myself — to say that it was my fault " " My dearest Margaret ! " exclaimed Lady Caroline, in amaze, " what can you mean ? Philip, are we dreaming ? — Darling child, come with me to your room : . you had better lie down for a little time while I talk to Sir Philip. Excuse me a moment. Sir Philip — I will come back." Margaret allowed herself to be led from the room. This outbreak of emotion was almost unprecedented in her his- tory ; but then Sir Philip had attacked her on her tendere/t side — that of her personal dignity. Margaret Adair found it very hard to believe that she was as others are, and not made of a different clay from them. Some little time elapsed before Lady Caroline's return. She had made Margaret lie down, administered sal volatile, covered her with an eiderdown quilt, and seen her maid bathing the girl's forehead with eau de Cologne and water before she came back again. And all this took time. She apologized very prettily for her delay, but Sir Philip did not seem to heed her excuses : he was standing beside the fire, meditatively tugging at his black beard, and Lady Caroline had some difficulty in thinking that she could read the expression of his face. " I do not quite understand all this," she said, with her most amiable expression of countenance, as she seated her- self on the other side of the soft white hearthrug. " Mar- A TRUE FRIEND, 185 irn. Itile, laid Iter iShe did the lady >uld garet mentiAied Miss Colwyn's name : I am quite at a loss to imagine how Miss Colwyn comes to be mixed up in the matter." ** I am very sorry," said Sir Philip, ruefully. " I never thought that there would be any difficulty. I seem to have offended Margaret most thoroughly." Lady Caroline smiled. " Girls soon forget a man's offences," she said, consolingly. " What did you say ? " And then Sir Philip, with somehesitption, told the story of his plea for Janetta Colwyn. The smile wa'i frozen on Lady Caroline's lips. She sat up straight, and stared at her visitor. When he had quite ended his explanation, she said, as icily as she knew how to speak — , " And you asked my daughter to justify Miss Colwyn at the cost of her own feelings — I might almost say, of her own social standing in the neighborhood ! " " Isn't that a little' too strong, Lady Caroline ? « Your daughter's social standing would not be touched in the least by an act of common justice. No one who heard of it but would honor her for exculpating her friend ! " " Exculpating ! My dear Philip, you are too Quixo- tic ! Nobody accuses either of the girls of anything but a little thoughtlessness and defiance of authority " ** Exactly," said Philip, with some heat, ** and therefore while the report of it will not injure your daughter, it may do irreparable harm to a girl who has her own way to make in the world. The gossip of Beaminster tea-tables is not to be despised. The old ladies of Beaminster are all turning their backs on Miss Colwyn, because common report declares her to have been expelled — or dismissed — in disgrace from Miss Polehampton's school. The fact that nobody knows exactly why she was dismissed adds weight to the injury. It is so easy to say, * They don't tell why she was sent away — something too dreadful to be talked about,' and so on. My mother tells me that there is a general feeling abroad that Miss Colwyn is not a person to be trusted with young girls. Now that is a terrible slur upon an innocent woman who has to earn her own living, Liady Caroline ; and I really must beg that you and Mar- garet will set yourselves to remov^e it." ** Really, Philip I Quite a tirade ! " Lady Caroline laughed delicately as she spoke, and ia6 A TRUE FRIEND, passed a lace handkerchief across her lips as though to brush away a smile. She was a little puzzled and rather vexed, but she did not wish to show her true opinion of Sir Philip and his views. " And so," she went on, " you said all this to my poor child ; harrowed her feelings and wounded her self-resjject, and insisted on it that she should go round Beaminster explaining that it was her fault and not Janetta Colwyn's that Miss Polehampton acted in so absurdly arbitrary a manner ! " " You choose to put it in that way," said Sir Philip, drawing down his brows, " and I cannot very well contra- dict you ; but I venture to think, Lady Caroline, that you know quite well what I mean." ** I should be glad if you would put it into plain words. You wish Margaret — to do — what ? " " I very much wish that she would ;o to Miss Morrison and explain to her why Miss Colwyi. left school. There IS no need that she should take any blame upon herself. You must confess that it was she who took the law into her own hands, Lady Caroline ; Miss Colwyn was perfect- ly ready to submit. And I think that as this occurrence has been made the ground for refusing to give Miss Colwyn the work that she urgently needs, it is Miss Adair's plain duty to try at least to set the matter right. I do not see why she should refuse." " You have no pride yourself, I suppose ? Do you sup- pose th^t Mr. Adair would allow it ? " " Then you might do it for her. Lady Caroline," said Sir Philip, turning round on. her, with his winning, persua- sive manner, of which even at that moment she felt the charm. " It would be so easy for you to explain it quietly to Miss Morrison, and ask her to give that poor girl a place in her school ! Who else could do it better? If Mar- garet is not — not quite strong enough for the task, then will you not help us out of our difficulty, and do it for her?" " Certainly not. Sir Philip. Your request seems to me exceedingly unreasonable. I do not in the least believe that Miss Morrison has refused to take her for that reason only. There is some other, you may depend upon it. I shall not interfere." " You could at least give her a strong recommenda- tion." A TRUE FRIEND. \vi ** I know nothing about the girl except that she sings fairly well," said Lady Caroline, in a hard, determined Voice. " I do not want to know anything about her — she has done nothing but make mischief and cause contention ever since I heard her name. I begin to agree with Miss Polehampton — it was a most unsuitable friendship." " It has been a disastrous friendship for Miss Colwyn, I fear. You must excuse me if I say that it is hardly generous — after having been the means of the loss of her first situation — to refuse to help her in obtaining another." " I think I am the best judge of that. If you mean to insinuate, Sir Philip, that your proposal for Margaret's hand which we have talked over before, hinges on her com- pliance with your wishes in this instance, you had better withdraw it at once." " You must be aware that I have no such meaning," said Sir Philip, in a tone that showed him to be much wounded. " I am glad — for your own sake — to hear it. Neither Mr. Adair nor myself could permit Margaret to lower her- self by going to explain her past conduct to a second-rate fieaminster schoolmistress." Sir Philip stood silent, downcast, his eyebrows contract- ing over his eyes until — as Lady Caroline afterwards expressed it — he positively scowled. " You disagree with me, I presume ? " she inquired, with some irony in her tone. " Yes, Lady Caroline, I do disagree with you. I thought that you — and Margaret — would be more generous towards a fatherless girl." " You must excuse me if I say that your interest in * a fatherless girl ' is somewhat out of place, Sir Philip. You are a young man, and it is not quite seemly for you to make such a point of befriending a little music governess. I am sorry to have to speak so plainly, but I must say that I do not think such interest befits a gentleman, and especially one who has been asking us for our daughter." " My love for Margaret," said Sir Philip, gravely, " can- not blind me to other duties." " There are duties in the world," rejoined Lady Caroline, " between which we sometimes have to choose. It seems to me that you may have to choose between your love for Margaret and your * interest ' in Janetta Colwyn," Ill A TRUE FRIEND, t ** I hardly think," said her guest, ** that I deserve this language, Lady Caroline. However, since these are your opinions, I can but say that I deeply regret them — and take my leave. If you or Miss Adair should wish to recall me you have but to send me a word — a line : I shall be ready to come. Your daughter knows my love for her. I am not yet disposed to give up all hope of a recall." And then he took his leave with a manner of punctilious politeness which, oddly enough, made Lady Caroline feel herself in the wrong more than anything that he had said. She was more ruffled than Margaret had ever seen. her when at last she sought the girl's room shortly before the ringing of the dressing-bell. She found Margaret looking pale and a little frightened, but perfectly composed. She came up to Lady Caroline and put her arms round her mother's neck with a caress- ing movement. " Dear mamma," she said, '* I am afraid I was not quite polite to Sir Philip." " I think, dear, that Sir Philip was scarcely polite to you. I am not at all satisfied with his conduct. He is quite unreasonable." Margaret slowly withdrew her arms from her mother's neck, looked at her uneasily, and looked down again. " He thinks that I ought ^o do something for Janetta — to make people think well o.. *.er, I suppose." " He is utterly preposterous," said Lady Caroline. ** Do you think I ought to go to Miss Moq-ison about Janetta, mamma ? " **No, indeed, my dearest* Your father would never hear of it." " I should like to do all that I could for her. I am very fond of her, indeed I am, although Sir Philip thinks me so selfish." And Margaret's soft hazel eyes filled with tears, which fell gently over her delicate cheeks without distort- ing her features in the least. " Don't cry, my darling ; please don't cry," said her mother, anxiously. **Your eyelids will be red all the evening, and papa will ask what is the matter. Have you any rose water ? — Of course you will do all you can for ypur poor little friend : you are only too fond of her — too generous ! — Sir Philip does not understand you as I do ; be has disappointed me very much this afternoon/' A TRUE FRIEND, 139 " He was very unkind," said Margaret, with the f^ntest possible touch of resentment in her soft tones. " Think no more of him for the present, dear. T Hare say he will be here to-morrow, penitent and abashed. There goes the dressing-bell. Are you ready for Markham now? Put on your pink dress." She spoke pleasantly, and even playfully, but she gave Margaret a searching glance, as though she would have read the girl's heart if she could. But she was reassured. Marsaret was smiling now ; she was as calm as ever ; she had brushed the tears from her eyes with a filmy handker- chief and looked perfectly serene. ** I am rather glad that you have found .Sir Philip unreasonable, mamma," she said, placidly ; "I always thought so, but you did not quite agree with me." " The child's fancy is untouched," said Lady Caroline to herself as she went back to her room, " and I am thank- ful for it. She is quite capable of a little romantic folly if nobody is near to put some common-sense into her some- times. And Philip Ashley has no common-sense at all." She was glad to see that at dinner Margaret's serenity was still unruffled. When Mr. Adair grumbled at the absence of Sir Philip, whom he had expected to see that evening, the girl only looked down at her plate without a blush or a word of explanation. Lady Caroline drew her daugh ter's arm through her own as they left the dining-room with a feeling that she was worthy of the race to which she belonged. But she "Vas not in the least prepared for the first remark made by Margaret when they reached the drawing- room. " Mamma, I must go to see Janetta to-morrow." > " Indeed, dear ? And why ? " ** To find out whether the things that Sir Philip has been saying are true." ** No, Margaret, dear, you really must not do that, dar- ling. It would not be wise. What Sir Philip says does not matter to us. I cannot have you interfering with Miss Colwyn's concerns in that way." Margaret was very docile. She only said, after a mo- ment's pause — " May I not ask her to give me the singing lessons we arranged for me to take ? " 9 130 A TRUE FRIEND. Lady Caroline considered for a minute or two and then said — " Yes, dear, you may ask her about the singing lessons. In doing that you will be benefiting, her, and giving her a practical recommendation that ought to be very valuable to her." " Shall I drive over to-morrow ? " " No, write and ask her to come here to lunch. Then we can arrange about hours. I have not the least objec- tion to your taking lessons from her .... especially as they are so cheap," said Lady Caroline to herself, " but I do not wish you to talk to her about Miss Polehampton's conduct. There is no use in such discussions." *• No, mamma," said the dutiful Margaret. " And Sir Philip will be pleased to hear that his favorite is being benefited," said her mother, with a slightly sar- castic smile. Margaret held up her stately head. " It matters very little to me whether Sir Philip is pleased or not," she said with a somewhat lofty accent, not often heard from the gentle lips of Margaret Adair. CHAPTER XVII. MARGARET'S FRIENDSHIP. Margaret wrote her note to Janetta, and put her friend into something of a dilemma. She always felt it difficult to leave Mrs. Colwyn alone for many hours at a time. She had done her best to pfevent her from obtaining stimulants, but it was no easy thing to make it impossible ; and it was always dangerous to remove a restraining influence. At last she induced an old friend, a Mrs. Maitland, -to spend the day with her stepmother, '"hile she went to Helmsley Court ; and having thus provided against emergencies, she was prepared to spend some pleasant hours with Margaret. The day v/as cold and frosty, with a blue sky overhead, and the ground hard as iron underfoot. A carriage was sent for Janetta, and the girl was almost sorry that she had to be driven to her destination, for a brisk walk would have been more to her taste on this brilliant December day. A TRUE FRIEND, 131 But she was of course bound to mafke use of the carriage that came for her, and so she drove off in state, while Tiny and Jinks danced wildly on the doorstep and waved their hands to her in hilarious farewells. Mrs. Colwyn was se- cluding herself upstairs in high indignation at Janetta's presumption — first, in going to Helmsley Court at all, and, secondly, in having invited Mrs. Maftland to come to dinner — but 7anetta did her best to forget the vexations and anxieties of the day, and to prepare herself as best she might for the serene atmosphere of Helmsley Court. It was more than three months since her father's death, and she had not seen Margaret for what seemed to her like a century. In those three months she had had some new and sad experiences, and. she almost wondered whether Margaret would not think her changed beyond knowledge by the troubles of the past. But in this fancy Janetta only proved herself young at heart ; in later years she found, as we all find, that the outer man is little changed by the most terrible and heart-rending calamities. It was almost a surprise to Janetta that Margaret did not remark on her altered appearance. But Margaret saw nothing very dif- ferent in her friend. Her black mourning garments cer- tainly made her look pale, but Margaret was not a suffi- ciently keen observer to note the additional depth of ex- pression in Janetta's dark eyes, or the slightly pathetic look given to her features by the thinning of her cheeks and the droop of her finely curved mouth. Lady Caroline, however, noticed all these points, and was quite aware that these changes, slight though they were, gave force and refinement to the girl's face. Secretly, she was embittered against Janetta, and this new charm of hers only added to her dislike. But, outwardly. Lady Caroline was sweetness and sympathy personified. " You poor darling," said Margaret, when she stood with Janetta in Miss Adair's own little sitting-room, awaiting the sound of the luncheon bell ; " what you must have suf- fered ! I hn^ w felt for you, Janetta — oh, more than I can tell ! You are quite pale, dear ; I do hope you are better and stronger than you were ? " " I am quite well, thank you," said Janetta. " But you must have had so much to bear ! If Host my friends — my dear father or mother — I know I should be brolien-hearted. You are so brave and good, Janetta, dear." 13* A TRUE FRIEND. w ** I don't feel so," said Janetta, sorrowfully. did. It would be rather a comfort sometimes." "You have a great deal of trouble and " I wish I care. . I am afraid," said Margaret, softly. She was resolved to be staunch to her friend, although Sir Philip had been so dis* agreeable about Janetta. She was going to show him that she could take her own way of showing friendship. " There have been a ^ood many changes in the family, and changes always bnng anxieties with them," said Ja- netta, firmly. She had particularly resolved that she would not complain of her troubles to the Adairs ; it would seem like asking them to help her — ** sponging upon them," as she disdainfully thought. Janetta had a very fair share of sturdy pride and independence with which to make her way through the world. Margaret would have continued the subject, but at that moment the bell rang, and Janetta was glad to go down- stairs. It was curious, as she remembered afterwards, to find that the splendors of the house, the elaboration of service, now produced not the slightest impression upon her. She had grown out of her former girlish feeling of insignificance in the presence of powdered footmen and fashionable ladies' maids. The choice flowers, the silver plate, the dainty furniture and hangings, which had once excited and almost awed her imagination, were perceived by her with comparative indifference. ' She was a woman, not a child, and these things were but as toys to one who had stood so lately face to face with the larger issues of life and death. Mr. Adair and Lady Caroline talked pleasantly to her, utterly ignoring, of course, any change in her circumstances or recent source of trouble, and Janetta did her best to respond. It was by way of trying to introduce a pleasant subject of conversation that she said at length to her hos- tess — " I met Sir Philip Ashley the other day. He is so kind as to say that he will try to find me some pupils." " Indeed," said Lady Caroline, drily. She did not ap- prove of the introduction of Sir Philip's name or of Janetta's professional employment. Margaret flushed a little, and turned aside to give her mother's poodle a sweet biscuit. " Sir Philip is a kind, good fellow," said Mr. Adair, who had not been admitted behind the scenes ; <* and I am sure A TRUE FRIEND, 133 shI am be )di8- him mily, d Ja- ^ould seem I," as are of e her t that down- find jrvice, •. She icance )nable , the dand r with child, )od so death. her, "tances :st to :asant Ir hos- kind )t ap- ktta's , and :uit. r,who sure that he will do what he can. Do you know .lis mother yet ? No ? Ah, she's like an antique chatelaine : one of the stateliest, handsomest old ladies of the day. Is she not, Caroline ? " ** She is very handsome," said Lady Caroline, quietly, " but difficult to get on with. She is the proudest woman I ever knew." The servants were out of the room, or she would not have said so much. But it was just as well to let this pre- suming girl know what she might expect from Sir Philip's mother if she had any designs upon him. Uiifortunately her intended warning fell unheeded upon Janetta's ear. " Is she, indeed ? " said Mr. Adair, with interest. He was the greatest gossip of the neighborhood. '* She is one of the Beauchamps, and of course she has some pride of family. But otherwise — I never noticed much pride about her. Now, how does it manifest itself, do you think ? " " Really, Reginald," said Lady Caroline, with her little smile ; " how can I tell you ? You must surely have no- ticed it for yourself With her equals she is exceedingly pleasant ; but I never knew anyone who could repress in- solence or presumption with a firmer hand." " What a pleasant person ! " said Mr. Adair, laughing and looking mirthfully at Margaret. " We shall have to be on our good behavior when we see her, shall we not, my Pearl ? " This turn of conversation seemed to Lady Caroline so unfortunate that she rose from the table as soon as possible, and adjourned further discussion of the Ashleys to another period. And it was after luncheon that she found occasion to say to Janetta, in her softiest, silkiest tones — " Perhaps it would be better, dear Miss Colwyn, if you would be so very kind as not to mention Sir Philip Ashley to Margaret unless she speaks of him to you. There is some slight misunderstanding between them, and Sir Philip has not been here for a day or two ; but that it will be all cleared up very shortly, I have not the slightest doubt." " Oh, I am sure I hope so ! I am very sorry." - " There is scarcely any occasion to be sorry ; it is quite a temporary estrangement, I am sure." Janetta looked at Margaret with some concern when she had an opportunity of seeing her closely and alone, but she could distinguish no shade upon the girl's fair brow, no