Ruby's Choice; or, the Brackenhurst Girls ... Illustrated, etc

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RUBY'S CHOICE A 3Bs tbe Same Hutbor. Brave NeUy; or, Weak Hands and a Willing Heart. Illustrated. Price is. 6d. Little Lisette, the Orphan of Alsace. Illustrated. Price is. 6d. Tile Three Wlslies. Illustrated by C O. Murray. Price is. 6d. A Gem of an Aunt, and the Treat She Gave. A Story in Words of one Syllable. Crown 8vo. Gilt Edges. Price 2s. 6d. DoUy, Dear ! Crown 8vo, illustrated. Price 2s. 6d. Nora's Trust ; or, Uncle Ned's Money. Price 2s. 6d. Fearless Frank ; or, The Captain's Children. Illustrated by A. H. Collins. Price 2s. 6d. The Venturesome Twins. Illustrated. Crown 8vo. Cloth. Gilt Edges. Price 2s. 6d. Clement's Trial and Victory; or, Sowing and Reaping. Illustrated. Gilt Edges. Price 3s. 6d. The New Girl ; or, the Rivals : a Tale of School Life. Illustrated by A. M. Dawson. Price 3s. 6d. Stephen the Schoolmaster.

A Story Without Plot. Illustrated. Price 3s. 6d. GRIFFITH FARRAN OKEDEN & WELSH, LONDON AND SYDNEY. " Ruby lingered a minute or two to break ess a branch of honeysuckle that strayed from the hedge."— Page 243. RUBY'S CHOICE; OR, THE BRACKENHURST GIRLS EY MARY E. GELL1E (M. E. B.) AUTHOR OF "STEPHEN THE SCHOOLMASTER," " A GEM OF AN AUNT," F.TC. ILLUSTRATED BY CAROLINE PATERSON LONDON : GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN & WELSH (SUCCESSORS TO NEWBERY AND HARRIS) AND SYDNEY. The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. The Cousins 9 II. The Mothers 17 III. Making Acquaintance .... 24 IV. The Pic-Nic 33 V. Cyril Stanhope 50 VI. Miss Simcoe gives a Tea-Party . 58 VII. Bob Mivart 73 VIII. Lady Singleton's New Lion . . 81 IX. An "Apostle of Unity" ... 90 X. Ruby receives her First Offer . 100 XI.

Cyril's Temptation . . . .111 XII. A Fall on the Ice .... 121 XIII. An Every-Day Young Man . . .130 XIV. At Singleton Manor . . . .138 XV. A Conversation in the Library . 153 XVI. Two Love Scenes CONTFNTS. PAGE CHAP. NVII. Enchantment I73 XVIII. How Cyril received the News . • 183 XIX. How Bob received the News . . 188 XX. Disenchantment J98 XXI. Leo follows his True Vocation . 210 XXII. Mrs Belmont receives a Telegram . 220 XXIII. The New Actor 230 XXIV. At the Nook 236 XXV. Laburnum Villa 251 XXVI. Miss Everington meets with a Rebuff 267 XXVII. Bearding the Lioness .... 278 XXVIII. Bob Mivart goes to the Theatre . 289 XXIX. Till Death us do part . . . 294 XXX. Miss Simcoe is taken by Surprise .

Chapter I. The Cousins

" li^"plll HERE, now, I do think the room looks !p5= g&jgjl really sweet, and if they are not l^1 ©rN pleased, they ought to be," ex- €iS tl§& claimed Amy Belmont, as she surveyed her work with a satisfied smile. " It looks well enough to us," replied her sister Bathia, " but I suppose Ruby and Celia have been accustomed to such grand places on the Continent, that they will think nothing of it." " Well, we have done our little best, and we can do no more," said Amy, as she finished sticking pins into the word welcome on the pin-cushion. " I am sure they will laugh at your pin-cushion, Amy." " I don't think they will, Bathy. I mean wel come with all my heart, and I am going to set the pin-cushion straight up against the looking-glass — so — that it may catch their eyes at once. Now I think everything is quite ready, and I wish they would come."

The two girls took one more look round the pretty apartment, which, to use Amy's favourite expression, really was as sweet as a bedroom was capable of being. It was an attic room with a sloping ceiling, that gave it a character of its own. The gable end was converted into a large bow-window, into which the roses peeped, and which commanded a fine view of the pretty old fashioned garden, some well-wooded country be yond, and in the distance a shining river and a range of low hills. Just a pleasant, green, English landscape that one would not readily tire of. The room inside was simply but tastefully fur nished. The beds and window were draped with dainty hangings, and, besides everything necessary for comfort and convenience, there were two or three cosey easy chairs, a round table in the window, and on the wall some well-chosen photographs and pretty little brackets and other ornaments, with fresh flowers all about.

But the chief charac teristic and the great charm of the whole was its exquisite freshness and purity. As the sisters were making a final round of in spection they heard the sound of wheels on the gravel, and rushed downstairs just in time to be in the porch ready to welcome their cousins. They found their mother there before them. Mr Belmont jumped out of the carriage first, and then helped out two graceful young girls. " I don't know that I need introduce you," he said, with a laugh. " This is Ruby, and this is Celia. That is your aunt, and those two lassies are my girls, Bathia and Amy." Ruby and Celia ran first to their aunt, who put an arm round each in her kind motherly way, while they kissed her on both cheeks. " I am so glad to see you at last, my dear nieces," she said, as she smiled into their faces.

THE COUSINS. 11 " And we are so glad to come, dear auntie ; we thought we should never, never see dear old England, but here we are at last, really and truly," said Ruby. Then they turned to their cousins, whom they embraced in the same fashion on both cheeks, and all went into the pleasant parlour. Amy and Bathia had been in raptures of ex pectation all day, but, now that their visitors had really arrived, they were seized with a sudden fit of shyness and awkwardness. But the foreign-bred cousins were perfectly un embarrassed ; shyness, evidently, was not one of their failings, and they began to chatter as fast as though they were with old and intimate friends. " We were afraid we should not know which was uncle when we left the train," said Ruby, who was the chief speaker, " and we were going to speak to the wrong gentleman when uncle came up.

Directly he spoke, we knew him at once. But only think how frightful it would have been if we really had spoken to the wrong gentleman." " Yes, he might have kidnapped you," laughed the uncle, who was quite captivated already by his wise's nieces. " And fancy ! there was a monster in the train who offered us wine and sandwiches. He saw we were alone, or he would not have dared, I am sure." "And how did you treat the monster?" asked Mrs Belmont, looking amused. " I don't suppose he meant anything but kindness." " Treat him. Why, I gave him my most distant bow — like this," said Ruby. And she bowed her head with an air of disdainful haughtiness befitting a duchess. " I hope we have been better brought up than to speak to a strange man in a railway carriage." " Yes. Nanette warned us over and over again on no account to speak to any one, or to answer them if they dared to address us," put in Celia.

" He did not venture to speak again." " But he kept on looking at us, and was not a bit ashamed either," said Ruby. " He pretended to be reading a great newspaper, and I pretended to be reading, too ; but I saw him for all that, watching us like a cat, with his great brown eyes, and some times I really thought the creature was going to laugh." " Worse and worse ! " said Mr Belmont, with an amused laugh. "I am afraid this old gentle man's impertinence will give you a very bad opinion of the manners of your countrymen." " Oh, uncle, he was not old. He was quite young, and quite comme-il-faut to look at. But we have always heard that John Bull at home is a strange creature." " Well, I know I should have been very glad to take one of his sandwiches if I had dared, for I was dying of hunger," said Celia.

" Then you shall have something to eat directly, my dears," said Mrs Belmont. " Girls, take your cousins up to their room, and see that they have everything they need." So the four girls trooped upstairs, and even Bathia was satisfied by the cousins' exclamation of pleased surprise as they entered their bedroom. "And is this delightful chamber really for us ?" cried Ruby. " Oh, Celia, isn't it too delicious ? I am sure I shall love England. And you are all so nice, so nice ; and uncle is a perfect darling. I thought I should be awfully frightened of him ; I trembled at the very thought of him, but I love him already." " And so do I," chimed in Celia. " And I think THE COUSINS. 13 this is the very prettiest house I have ever seen. Oh, and look there, Ruby," she went on, as she darted at the pin-cushion.

" The very pin-cushion says 'welcome.'" Amyflushed with pleasure, and cast a triumphant glance at Bathia. " Bathy declared you would only laugh at it," she said, flushing. It was the first sentence she had ventured to address to her voluble cousins. Indeed, they chattered so fast that there was not much room for any one else to edge in a word. But while they chattered they had taken off their outer garments, and tidied their hair, and washed their hands and faces, so that when the gong sounded they appeared in the dining-room quite trim and neat, and with none of the ravages of travel visible upon them. The table was bountifully spread with a nonde script meal, a cross between dinner and tea. What ever it might be called, the young strangers did ample justice to it. " This is our first English meal, and I call it perfectly delicious," cried Ruby ; " we have not had a morsel since we were on the steamer, and there everything tasted so of the engine that we could not eat — bah ! — I have hardly got rid of that horrid smell yet."

" And there is no beef-steak on the table," said Celia, looking round at all the dishes. " They told us that when we got to England we should have nothing but raw beef-steak and porter." " I daresay you will soon see some beef-steak, but we will not force you to drink porter. We can offer you a little sour claret if you prefer it," said Mr Belmont. " No, no, we like everything that is English, we are very proud of our country." " That's right, my girls," said their uncle, with an approving nod. " I was afraid you might have a little too much French polish to suit us, and not be able to put up with our homely ways." " Oh, we both adore everything English, don't we, Celia ? " said Ruby, clasping her hands. " We want to learn to be quite, quite English in every thing. Do you know, auntie, we quite danced for joy when your invitation came, and papa said he would accept it for us.

It happened to come so conveniently, you see, just at the very right mo ment, for Nanette wanted to go home to nurse her sick old mother, and of course she could not leave us." " Who is Nanette ? " asked Amy. THE COUSINS. 15 " Oh, she is our dear old bonne — our nurse," explained Celia ; " she has taken care of us ever since we were babies, and she is an old dear." " Yes, and she wanted to go away to Brittany. It happened, too, that a Mr and Mrs Jones, English people, were going to London, and offered to take charge of us. Yes, everything happened just per fectly," added Ruby. " They put us into our train, and told the guard to take care of us till we reached our journey's end." " And he let a monster in upon you ; that was disgraceful neglect of duty," said Mr Belmont, in a grave voice, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

" I do not think it was quite the guard's fault," explained Celia ; "he jumped in in a great hurry, just as the train was moving away from some station." " He — the guard ? " asked her uncle. " No, no, uncle, the — the — gentleman." " Oh, the monster ! perhaps he was an escaped lunatic ? " " Do you really think so, uncle ? I don't think he looked like that," said Ruby. " Your uncle is only joking," put in Mrs Belmont. " You see, my dear, English ways are not quite what you have been accustomed to. I do not suppose the gentleman had any idea that you would imagine he intended to insult you by asking you to share his refreshment. Perhaps he thought you looked tired. And I agree with him, and intend to send you off to bed early. You have had a long journey, and must be in need of a good night's rest."

" Oh, auntie ! we are not a bit tired," protested Ruby ; " we are so accustomed to travelling that it makes little difference to us whether we are in a train, or a boat, or a house. I believe we should even feel quite at home in a balloon ; half our life has been spent packing and unpacking." But in spite of Ruby's protestations, the young travellers' eyes did soon begin to " draw straws," as the children say ; and their aunt insisted on sending them off to bed, where they fell asleep, even before they had time to discuss their new surroundings.

Chapter II. The Mothers

BELMONT and her sister, Mrs q) Ww So St Leger, had married within a year 1 gWD a °^ eacn other. They were warmly- I^^IjOjJ attached sisters, perhaps even more so than most sisters are, for up to the time of their marriages they had seldom been separated, even for a day, and their pains and their pleasures had always been the same. Had the fates so willed it, they would probably have made a very happy pair of old maids. But not long after the death of their father, Mr Noble, the disturbing element appeared in the shape of lovers. They both became engaged about the same time, and in their plans for the future it was settled that they should live near each other, so that even marriage itself should not interfere with their sisterly intimacy. Mr Belmont was the owner of Hillside, a modest little property of a few hundred acres, which had been the home of the Belmonts for many generations.

Mr St Leger had no ties ; he was a man of independent means and without a home, so he quite willingly fell into the sisters' plan, and rented a pretty cottage near Hillside, where he and his B wise lived for the first year or two of their married life, to all appearances contentedly enough. Hillside was a rambling, old-fashioned, country house, with plenty of room for Mrs Noble, a quiet inoffensive elderly lady, and any number of young Belmonts that the years might bring, and Mrs Belmont settled down most comfortably as a country gentleman's wife. It was a position that exactly suited her, for she was no lover of change or excitement. The years of her married life had brought little to her but increased con tent, and had dealt so gently with her that she had merely developed from a blooming English girl into a comely English matron ; scarcely less fair, though a good deal more fat, than when she came as a bride to Hillside.

Mr Belmont might be accurately described as a " good, comfortable husband." He was easy going and good tempered, invariably pleased with himself and his surroundings, and consequently generally pleased with his fellow-creatures. He was proud of his wife and proud of his children, but, perhaps, still more proud of a row of silver prize cups which had been won by Hillside cattle at different shows ; for horses and fat oxen were his delight, and his farm was the chief interest of his life. Mrs Belmont was perfectly contented with her husband, as she had every reason to be, and she was more than contented with her children, who had grown up so far very much to her satisfaction, for they were healthy, good-looking, simple minded, and good-hearted. And what more could any reasonable mother wish ?

Bathia and Amy had lately been released from the governess and the schoolroom, and were now supposed to be finishing their education with the THE MOTHERS. 19 help of masters and classes, under their mother's supervision. So it may be seen that altogether Mrs Belmont's lines had fallen in very pleasant places. Mrs St Leger's fate had been a very different one. The first year or two at the pretty cottage had passed very happily, then Mr St Leger began to show signs of restlessness — the monotony of country life evidently bored him. They went to London for a few months' change ; while there his health gave way, and he was advised to travel. Constant change of air and scene for some in definite time, the doctors said, would probably prevent him from falling into permanent ill health. He took alarm, sent his wife to take a hurried farewell of her friends at Hillside, and in the course of a fortnight Mr and Mrs St Leger, with their baby daughter Ruby, had started for the south of France.

Mrs St Leger never saw her mother or her sister again. The following spring her second child, Celia, was born, and it was not easy to travel with a young baby. The following winter Mr St Leger was advised to try the climate of Algiers, for by that time he had become, or thought he had become, a confirmed invalid. He was selfish, and his wife was self-sacrificing. He became more and more convinced, as the years went by, that he could not live in England, and he demanded his wife's constant attendance. He was not an unkind husband, he was simply exacting. He was constantly proposing that " next spring," or " next autumn," his " dear wife should run across the Channel and see her friends." But when the time arrived for her to pay the pro mised visit, he was invariably more in need of her services than usual.

Either he was seized with one of his attacks of nervous prostration, or he caught a severe cold, which threatened to settle on his lungs, which he had a suspicion had always been delicate, or some other of his hundred and one alarming symptoms appeared, and his wife's visit had to be put off. Mrs St Leger was an enthusiastic woman ; she was deeply in love at the time of her marriage, and she had never fallen out of love with her husband. He was the great object that filled her horizon, she fully believed in his delicacy, and she gave him all her loving service ungrudgingly ; but for all that she pined for her own country and her old friends. Then her mother died, and that was a terrible blow to her, and her sister wrote to her reproach fully, reminding her of their youthful vows of con stancy to each other, and hinting that she thought her sisterly love was dead.

Mrs Belmont did not mean her letters to appear unkind, or to make her exiled sister unhappy. On the contrary, she only intended to express her own unchanged and con stant love ; but these letters worried Mrs St Leger, who was very sensitive and tender-hearted. She never told her husband how this continued exile affected her, but she became a secret victim to home sickness. This malady, and the constant strain of nursing her husband, reduced her to a miser ably low state of health, which Mr St Leger was too much absorbed in watching his own symptoms to observe ; and the end of it was that the cold which had for so long threatened to settle upon his lungs, by mistake settled upon hers — and killed her. After that there was no more talk of going to England. If Mr St Leger was restless before, he was ten THE MOTHERS. 21 times more restless now he had lost his devoted wife; and he dragged his two little motherless girls about from place to place remorselessly.

Fortunately for the children they had a most faithful nurse, Nanette, a native of Brittany. She had been in Mrs St Leger's service from the day of Celia's birth. She had closed her gentle mistress's eyes for the last time, and she loved the little girls left in her charge as though they were her own. If it had not been for this devoted creature the children's lot would indeed have been a pitiable one ; but she was a clever woman as well as a kind one, and she did her utmost to supply their mother's place according to her lights. Mr St Leger was fond of his children in his selfish way : that is to say, he liked to pet and fondle them, and keep them with him as long as they amused him ; but as soon as they became noisy or troublesome they were handed over to Nanette for fear they should give him a headache.

It was a wonder that the little girls did not grow up quite illiterate, but they were quick and intelligent. They learned to speak two or three languages as fluently as their own, much as they learned to eat and drink. And fortunately their father was willing enough to let strangers perform his duties, and readily acquiesced in the arrangements that any kind-hearted English chaplain's or consul's wife might make for his children's welfare, so long as these arrangements did not interfere with his own comfort. And the children them selves were so pretty and winning, that they always gained the hearts of any kind British matrons into whose way they happened to be thrown. But the worst of it was that they never stayed long enough in one place to reap the benefit of any one's friendship. No sooner were they fairly started in a course of instruction, and beginning to take a real interest in their studies, than Mr St Leger was sure to discover that the air of that particular place did not suit him — that he was threatened with a relapse, or with some alarming new malady ; and boxes had to be packed, and off the family had to start, often at a few days' notice, in spite of the remonstrances of either teachers or pupils.

The result of this manner of life may easily be imagined. The girls had grown up into maiden hood, with bright intelligent minds stored with a good deal of knowledge that had come from their lives having been passed in places of historical interest, and their familiarity with the most beautiful works of art and nature, but with very little ordinary school-girl learning. Theywere deeply attached to each other and their good Nanette, but they had no other female friend. At first they used to cry and almost break their little hearts at parting from their young com panions, and the good mothers who had been so kind to them, but by constant repetition they be came so accustomed to the operation that it ended by leaving no wound at all, and they learned to say adieu, au revoir to their very pleasantest acquaintances as smilingly and cheerfully as they said good morning to the next pleasant people that happened to cross their path.

They left the most charming place or society almost without a sigh, and it seemed only too likely that soon nothing would have the power of making a deep impression on their young hearts. Mrs Belmont had often longed to be a friend to her motherless nieces, but there had always been some apparently good reason why her repeated THE MOTHERS. 23 invitations were declined. At last she grew des perate, and announced her intention of going to see them if they could not come to see her ; and this time it happened to suit Mr St Leger particularly well to be relieved of his daughters for a few months, as Ruby had explained. Nanette, for the first time in their lives, had asked for a holiday, and Mr St Leger was staying in a gay pension, where the cooking was excellent, and the company select and amusing, and where altogether he was more than usually comfortable ; but the house was not at all a suitable abode for two young girls with no chaperon but an invalid father, so Mrs Belmont's invitation was accepted.

Chapter III. Making Acquaintance

" (ECIm^M my n'eces>" sa'd -^rs V *\kxi * mont, on the morning after their \ |vwl cjf arrival, " I must have a good look (^y^p^JJ) at you — I hardly know what you are like yet." Then she took Ruby and Celia each by a hand, and placed them before her to be inspected. " Ruby is very like her mother," she said, with a sigh ; " the same eyes, and the same expression about the mouth. I suppose you scarcely re member your mother, my dears ? " "Yes, auntie, I can remember her just a little. I often shut my eyes and try hard, hard to see her face ; sometimes I can't at all, but sometimes it comes for just a minute," answered Ruby, with tears in her eyes. " I am so glad you think me a little bit like her. I am sure she was good." " Good ! She was too good, and that killed her." " I have heard people say so," said Ruby.

" I can remember her better than Celia does, because I am older. She was always sitting by papa's side, and saying, ' Hush, my darlings, you will disturb poor papa,' if we made any noise, and all the time she looked so ill, so ill, and often so sad ; a great deal more ill than papa did. Oh, yes, I remember quite well ; I was only a little child, but I could see things." And as she spoke the girl's cheeks grew red and her eyes flashed with an angry light. Celia looked reproachfully at her sister. " Papa is more ill than people would think," she said, softly; then she turned to her aunt, and taking her hand caressingly, looked at her with an ex pression of intense affection with her great soft brown eyes. " Oh, auntie, dear," she said, " you don't know how nice it is for us to be with you — we have always longed and longed to know someone that belonged to dear mamma, and loved her, and would love us a little for her sake, haven't we, Ruby ?

" " Yes ; often and often," answered Ruby. " And I am sure I shall very soon love you for your own sakes, my dear children," said their aunt; " indeed, I love you already, and I want you to look upon me as a second mother." "Yes, dear auntie, we will," they answered, as they each kissed her affectionately. " I hope, now you are come, your papa will let us keep you with us for a long time," went on Mrs Belmont, " and I want you to feel at home here. I do not intend to treat you like strangers, but as though you were my own children ; and you must try to think that Bathia and Amy are your sisters. Do you agree ? " " Oh, yes, yes, and I am sure we shall be happier here than ever we have been in all our lives be fore," said Ruby, enthusiastically. "And I think Bathia and Amy are sweet ; they are just like the English girls we read about in story books — they look so good and so clean."

Mrs Belmont laughed. " Well, I hope they are clean at any rate." " Ah, you do not understand, dear auntie. I mean clean all over, inside as well as out." Just then Bathia came into the room, and her mother acknowledged mentally that Ruby's de scription of her was not a bad one ; she did look good and clean, like one to whom impurity would be impossible, " unspotted by the world." Bathia felt a little shy of her new cousins. They seemed to her more like fashionable, grown-up ladies, than girls not much older than herself, and she stood looking at them a little awkwardly. " We were just saying to auntie how sweet and pretty you and Amy are, Cousin Bathia," cried Ruby. Upon this Bathia felt even more awkward, but she blushed very prettily, and said, " Nonsense." " But we were, weren't we, auntie ?

" went on Ruby. Mrs Belmont made no answer to this, but said to her blushing daughter, " Perhaps your cousins would like to unpack and put away their things, you can show them their drawers and cupboards." So the three girls went upstairs to the plea sant attic room, where Bathia pointed out the various conveniences, and was then modestly retiring. " You are not going away, are you ? " cried Ruby; " do stay and talk to us while we unpack, if you don't mind." " I should like to, if you don't mind," answered Bathia, who felt a good deal more drawn to her cousins after the compliment she had received. Bathia was not accustomed to be told that she was pretty, and she was pleased. "May I fetch Amy?" she asked; "I am sure she would like to see your pretty things." " Yes, do fetch her, though we have not many pretty things to show.