Читать книгу Turquoise and Ruby - Meade L. T. - Страница 4

“If there ever was an extraordinary thing – ” began Mary.

“Preposterous!” echoed Cara.

“Impossible!” said Annie.

“Five pounds, indeed, from me because she gets the very best part in the tableaux!” exclaimed Susanna. “Well, girls: this ought to settle us. We had best give up ‘A Dream of Fair Women’ on the spot.”

Each girl looked at the other. Then, arm in arm, they began slowly to pace the wood.

Give it up? That meant a good deal. For had not Cara written home about it and told her father and mother what a delightful and original part she was taking? And had not Mary L’Estrange delighted her mother with the story? that she was to be – she – Mary – Jephtha’s daughter? that noblest maid of ancient story. And had not Cara’s brothers and sisters and father and mother and grandfather and grandmother and great-grandfather and great-grandmother all been interested at the thought of the girl appearing as Iphigenia in the play? For the thing had been settled, and nobody for a single moment had supposed that the ideal Helen of Troy would refuse to take her part.

Now, with great difficulty, they had found a possible Helen; but, lo – and behold! the little cat that she was – she meant to blackmail them! They must pay her for it. They must do it secretly; then she would act. All the rest of her life she would be a sort of little reptile, not worth touching. But, if they wanted her to help them on that crucial evening, they must each hand her a five-pound note. Oh, well – they could get it. Susanna’s mother had never yet refused her darling anything in the way of money; and Cara’s great-grandfather was rather pleased than otherwise when his favourite great-grandchild approached him on the subject of gold. And Mary L’Estrange was rich, too, and so was Annie Leicester. It was but to write a note each to that member of the family who was most easily gulled, and the money would be in Penelope’s possession.

But then it was such a horrid thing to do! and they had to keep it a secret from Mrs Hazlitt; for Mrs Hazlitt would be furious, if she thought any girl in her school could act like Penelope, or could have confederates like Mary and Cara and Annie and Susanna.

“I, for one, will have nothing to do with it,” repeated Cara, many times.

At first, as she uttered these words, her companions agreed with her, and considered that they, too, could not and would not speak on the subject to any of their relations. But, strange as it may seem, as the swift minutes of recess rolled by, they became silent – for each girl was, in her heart, composing the letter she would write to parent or guardian or great-grandfather, in order to secure the money.

“There is no doubt,” said Susanna, at last, “that she is awfully clever and can throw herself into it, if she pleases. For Nora Beverley might look somewhat like a stick, but no one could ever accuse Penelope of looking like that. She is so awfully wicked, you know – that is the way I should describe her face – so wicked and so untamed, and – oh, there! if we gave her the money, she would do it, but I never did hear of a girl trying to blackmail her companions before.”

The upshot of all this whispering and consultation, of all these pros and cons, was, that that evening, immediately after tea, a note was flung into Penelope Carlton’s lap. It was written in the cipher employed by the school, and was to the effect that, if she chose to present herself as Helen of Troy, and if Mrs Hazlitt was willing to accept her as a substitute for Honora Beverley, she would receive four five-pound notes within a week from the present day.

“Dear old Brenda!” whispered Penelope to herself.

She crushed up the note and tore it into a thousand fragments and wrote a reply to it – also in cipher – in which she employed the one word: “Agreed.” This note found its way to Mary L’Estrange in the course of afternoon school.

In the evening Mrs Hazlitt again entered the arbour in the Elizabethan garden. She had quite given up the idea of Tennyson’s “Dream of Fair Women,” and had thought out two or three insignificant tableaux for her girls to represent. She was surprised, therefore, when the girls who had been already selected for the principal parts in the piece, namely: Mary, Cara, Annie, and Susanna, entered the arbour. They were accompanied by the fifth girl, who was no other than Penelope Carlton.

“Penelope, my dear – what are you doing here?” said Mrs Hazlitt, when she saw her pupil.

She did not like this pupil, although she tried to. But she was systematically just in all she did, and said, and thought; and would not for the world be unkind to the girl.

“But do listen, please, Mrs Hazlitt,” said Mary. “We have found Helen of Troy! Penelope will take the part.”

“Excuse me,” said Mrs Hazlitt. There was a tone of astonishment in her voice. She looked critically at the girl; then, taking her hand, drew her into the light. “You know quite well,” she said, after a pause, “that you are not suited to the part, Penelope Carlton, or, failing Honora, I should have asked you to undertake it.”

Penelope’s eyes had been lowered, but now she raised them and gave Mrs Hazlitt a quick glance. There was something beseeching and quite new in the expression of her light eyes. They seemed, just for the minute, to grow almost dark, and there was a passionate longing in them. Mrs Hazlitt had to confess to herself that she never saw Penelope with that expression before. The other girls stood around in an anxious group.

“We know she is not quite tall enough,” said Mary, then.

“Nor – nor quite beautiful enough,” said Susanna. “But there is rouge, and powder, and – oh, surely, it can be managed!”

“Can you feel within you, even for a minute or two, the true spirit of Helen of Troy?” said Mrs Hazlitt, then – “that divine woman who turned all men’s hearts?”

Penelope fidgeted and sighed. Mrs Hazlitt returned to the bower. She sat down; she was still holding Penelope’s hand, but was unconscious that she was doing so.

“I will speak quite freely to you, girls,” she said. “I should particularly like to present ‘A Dream of Fair Women’ to our audience on the eighth. There is nothing else that would please me quite so well. But I would rather it were not presented at all than that it were presented unworthily. The principal figure, and the most important, is that of Helen of Troy. The candidate who presents herself for the part has neither sufficient height nor beauty to undertake it. But what you say, Susanna, is quite true – that a great deal can be done by external aids, and, although I dislike artificial aids to beauty, yet on the stage they are necessary. We shall have our stage and our audience. Perhaps, Penelope, if you will come to me to-morrow, and will allow me to experiment a little on your face and figure, and put you into a suitable dress, I may be able to decide whether it will be worth while to go on with these tableaux. More I cannot say. I had intended to propose other tableaux, but, as you have appeared on the scene and offered yourself most unexpectedly, I will give you a chance. Girls, what do you say?”

“We can only say that we are delighted!” replied all four in a breath.

Mrs Hazlitt immediately afterwards left the arbour. Mary went up, and whispered in Penelope’s ears: “You mustn’t expect us to write for the money until it is decided whether you are to be Helen of Troy or not; but when once that is settled we will write immediately and get it for you.”

“And,” said Penelope, trembling a little – “you will let me feel assured that this transaction never transpires – never gets beyond ourselves. I am a poor girl, and I should be ruined, if it did.”

“We do it for ourselves as much as you. It would disgrace us as much as you,” said Mary. “Yes; I think you may rest quite assured.”