by L. T. Meade
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, notworth touching. But, if they wanted her to help them on that crucialevening, they must each hand her a five-pound note. Oh, well--theycould get it. Susanna's mother had never yet refused her darlinganything in the way of money; and Cara's great-grandfather was ratherpleased than otherwise when his favourite great-grandchild approachedhim on the subject of gold. And Mary L'Estrange was rich, too, and sowas Annie Leicester. It was but to write a note each to that member ofthe family who was most easily gulled, and the money would be inPenelope's possession.
But then it was such a horrid thing to do! and they had to keep it asecret from Mrs Hazlitt; for Mrs Hazlitt would be furious, if shethought any girl in her school could act like Penelope, or could haveconfederates like Mary and Cara and Annie and Susanna.
"I, for one, will have nothing to do with it," repeated Cara, manytimes.
At first, as she uttered these words, her companions agreed with her,and considered that they, too, could not and would not speak on thesubject to any of their relations. But, strange as it may seem, as theswift minutes of recess rolled by, they became silent--for each girlwas, in her heart, composing the letter she would write to parent orguardian or great-grandfather, in order to secure the money.
"There is no doubt," said Susanna, at last, "that she is awfully cleverand can throw herself into it, if she pleases. For Nora Beverley mightlook somewhat like a stick, but no one could ever accuse Penelope oflooking like that. She is so awfully wicked, you know--that is the wayI should describe her face--so wicked and so untamed, and--oh, there! ifwe gave her the money, she would do it, but I never did hear of a girltrying to blackmail her companions before."
The upshot of all this whispering and consultation, of all these prosand cons, was, that that evening, immediately after tea, a note wasflung into Penelope Carlton's lap. It was written in the cipheremployed by the school, and was to the effect that, if she chose topresent herself as Helen of Troy, and if Mrs Hazlitt was willing toaccept her as a substitute for Honora Beverley, she would receive fourfive-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 wrotea 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 ofafternoon school.
In the evening Mrs Hazlitt again entered the arbour in the Elizabethangarden. She had quite given up the idea of Tennyson's "Dream of FairWomen," and had thought out two or three insignificant tableaux for hergirls to represent. She was surprised, therefore, when the girls whohad been already selected for the principal parts in the piece, namely:Mary, Cara, Annie, and Susanna, entered the arbour. They wereaccompanied by the fifth girl, who was no other than Penelope Carlton.
"Penelope, my dear--what are you doing here?" said Mrs Hazlitt, whenshe saw her pupil.
She did not like this pupil, although she tried to. But she wassystematically just in all she did, and said, and thought; and would notfor the world be unkind to the girl.
"But do listen, please, Mrs Hazlitt," said Mary. "We have found Helenof Troy! Penelope will take the part."
"Excuse me," said Mrs Hazlitt. There was a tone of astonishment in hervoice. She looked critically at the girl; then, taking her hand, drewher into the light. "You know quite well," she said, after a pause,"that you are not suited to the part, Penelope Carlton, or, failingHonora, I should have asked you to undertake it."
Penelope's eyes had been lowered, but now she raised them and gave MrsHazlitt a quick glance. There was something beseeching and quite new inthe expression of her light eyes. They seemed, just for the minute, togrow almost dark, and there was a passionate longing in them. MrsHazlitt had to confess to herself that she never saw Penelope with thatexpression 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 ofHelen of Troy?" said Mrs Hazlitt, then--"that divine woman who turnedall men's hearts?"
Penelope fidgeted and sighed. Mrs Hazlitt returned to the bower. Shesat down; she was still holding Penelope's hand, but was unconsciousthat she was doing so.
"I will speak quite freely to you, girls," she said. "I shouldparticularly like to present `A Dream of Fair Women' to our audience onthe 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 werepresented unworthily. The principal figure, and the most important, isthat of Helen of Troy. The candidate who presents herself for the parthas neither sufficient height nor beauty to undertake it. But what yousay, Susanna, is quite true--that a great deal can be done by externalaids, and, although I dislike artificial aids to beauty, yet on thestage they are necessary. We shall have our stage and our audience.Perhaps, Penelope, if you will come to me to-morrow, and will allow meto experiment a little on your face and figure, and put you into asuitable dress, I may be able to decide whether it will be worth whileto go on with these tableaux. More I cannot say. I had intended topropose other tableaux, but, as you have appeared on the scene andoffered 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, andwhispered in Penelope's ears: "You mustn't expect us to write for themoney 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 foryou."
"And," said Penelope, trembling a little--"you will let me feel assuredthat this transaction never transpires--never gets beyond ourselves. Iam 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 asyou," said Mary. "Yes; I think you may rest quite assured."
CHAPTER FIVE.
FIVE IMPORTANT LETTERS.
On the following evening five girls might have been seen all busilyemployed writing to their respective friends. These girls were the fivewho had been elected to take the parts of the heroines in Tennyson's"Dream of Fair Women." Penelope Carlton was writing to her sisterBrenda. She had passed her test sufficiently well to induce MrsHazlitt to alter her resolution and to determine that "A Dream of FairWomen" should be represented on the little stage in the old Elizabethangarden of Hazlitt Chase.
The girl was full of deficiencies, but she was also full ofcapabilities. There was, in short, a soul somewhere within her. Thoselight blue eyes of hers could at will darken and flash fire. Thoseinsipid lips could curve into a smile which was almost dangerous. Therewas an extraordinary witchery about the face, which Mrs Hazlitt felt,although she had never noticed it before. She blamed herself forconsidering--at least for the time being--that in some respects PenelopeCarlton outshone Honora Beverley. Honora, with her stately grace, hermagnificent young physique, could never go down into the very depth ofthings as could this queer, this poor, this despised Penelope. MrsHazlitt decided to give in to the girls, and, that being decided, thenecessary letters were written.
Penelope wrote briefly to her sister, but with decision:
"Dearest Brenda: Don't ask me why I have done it, but accept the fact that your desires are accomplished. I have sunk very low for your sake, and I feel absolutely despicable; but the less you know of the why and the wherefore of my deed, the better. All that really concerns you is this: that within the next week or so you will receive twenty pounds which you can do exactly what you like with. You will owe this gift to your sister, who will have made herself--but no matter. You know, for I have told you already, how truly I love you.
I don't think it would be quite frank not to say that I don't care for any one in all the world like you, Brenda. I am only sixteen, and you twenty-one--or is it twenty-two--and all my life I have adored you from the time when I used to cry because you were so beautiful and I so ugly, and from the time also when you used to take me in your arms and pet me, and kiss me and call me your own little girl.
"It takes a great deal to get me to love anybody, but I do love you, Brenda, and I think I prove my love when I disgrace myself now in the school for your sake and do something which, if it were found out--but there--how nearly I trenched on ground which I must not touch in your presence; for if you knew, and if you were in the least worthy of what I think you,