Brenda

Front matter

BRENDA Digby's Popular Novel Series. Crown Bvo, handsome cloth, price 2s. 6d. per Vol. Each Book contains 320 //., and is printed on superior paper from new type. THE MYSTERY OF CLEMENT DUNRAVEN. By JEAN MIDDLEMASS. Author of 'A Girl in a Thousand,' &c. {Third Edition A HIDDEN CHAIN. By DORA RUSSELL. Author of 'The Other Bond,' ' Footprints in the Snow,' &c. [Third Edition. DR JANET OF HARLEY STREET. By Dr ARABELLA KENEALY. Author of ' Some Men are such Gentlemen,' &c [Sixth Edition with Portrait. THE JOLLY ROGER. By HUME NISBET. Author of ' Her Loving Slave,' ' Bail Up,' &c. With Illustrations by the Author. [Fifth Edition. ■** Other Works in same Series in due course. DIGBY, LONG & CO., LONDON BRENDA BY A. S. HEAWOOD PARABO ME LONDON DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS 18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.C. BRENDA 0

Chapter I

" A brave old house : a garden full of bees, Large dropping poppies and queen hollyhocks, With butterflies for crowns, tree peonies, And pinks and goldilocks." — Jean Ingelow. " Parabo me," our family motto, said Brenda, as she spread out before her a letter written on several sheets of thin paper, with rather an elaborate crest at the top of it. " Indeed, I have need to prepare myself," she thought, " for such a change in my life." Tears filled her eyes as she looked round the lovely and quaint old garden in which she was seated, and she thought of the happy life she had led in her country home, and yet it was not all sorrow, for young people like to spread their wings and try something new, to see how the world looks elsewhere, to get new ideas ; A Brenda. 2 and, truth to tell, Cretinghurst was very quiet and out of the way, and, dearly as she loved her grand mother and gentle Aunt Minna, not to mention her rather noisy, but kind, good-hearted Uncle Christopher, Brenda had sometimes felt she should really like something in life a little more exciting than an occasional party, a drive to the market town for shopping, and a few formal calls, or visiting about in the parish, or examining some classes in the village school, — not that she was not interested in the work among the poor they all loved her, and thought Miss Brenda was simply perfect, that no one could be compared to her.

Nor was it to be wondered at, for Brenda was indeed a very pretty and a very pleasant girl, and that latter expression comprehends much that is charming. Many girls are pretty, graceful and accomplished, without being pleasant, very often because they will not take the trouble to make themselves agreeable, unless it suits their fancy, or unless they consider it worth while ; thus they get out of the habit of exerting themselves ; it does not come naturally to them, and they have a put-on manner. But Brenda 1 she was so sweet in every way, with such a kind heart, so full of real sympathy, that she liked to make everyone happy, and also she liked to be loved and admired, for she was no perfect maiden without any faults, but she Brenda. 3 was very true, and, even to give pleasure, she never said what she did not think, neither did she con sider it necessary to make unkind remarks to prove herself frank and truthful, which some people take a pride in doing, perhaps the real reason being that they too surely experience " the dear delight of giving pain."

To make others happy was as natural to Brenda as it was natural for her pretty brown hair to curl and wave about in bright and soft abundance. Her eyes were real hazel, but so changing, they never seemed to remain the same colour long together ; her nose very delicate and slightly retrousse ; pretty mouth and good teeth. Her complexion very fair, pink and white, like many another Suffolk maiden. She had beautiful hands — a fact which gave great satisfaction to Uncle Christopher, as he called them tbe family hands, and declared he remembered his grandmother and great aunts had the very same ; indeed, he was very proud of his own hands, and Brenda often laughed at him about that small weakness. She said she wondered how a country gentleman, and a sports man, could contrive to have such dandy-looking hands, and declared she was quite ashamed of them.

Those two were great friends, and no wonder, for Brenda was a niece to be proud of and to love. She gave one the idea of a fresh rose, and, common as the simile is, it really suits very few, Brenda. 4 although pretty girls are not scarce in this land of ours. Mrs Barwell, the grandmother, had but one son, Christopher, and two daughters, Minna and Brenda, named in the days when everyone was devoted to Walter Scott, and those who have a pure taste still love the dear old books ; they will bear reading again and again, which is a test of their worth. Minna Barwell had never married. She remained true in heart to her one love, but she refused to be his wife, as he had wild theories about religious matters, striving to understand what no man can understand, or it would have been explained long ago.

Minna was a good woman, with entire trust and faith in God. She knew what an evil thing it would be to be unequally yoked with an un believer, and, although her decision almost broke her heart, she chose the painful path of duty. Everard Hanbury left her in anger as well as in deep grief, and they never met again. Minna was brave, and, after the first deep pain had passed, she determined that her home should not be made sad because of the grief of one, and well she carried out her resolution. Yet another sorrow was in store for her ; her sweet sister Brenda married, and after one short year she died, leaving one little girl, the Brenda of our tale. Mr Meredith, her father, unable to bear his lonely life, had given up Brenda. 5 his English home, and wandered in foreign lands, until he finally settled in Paris.

He left his child entirely to the care of her grandmother and aunt and it is easy to imagine how well they cared for her, and what happiness and interest she brought into the country house. When four years had passed, Mr Meredith married again, and, as his wife was French, he seemed more than ever to belong to his adopted country. Then little Josephine came to add to their happiness ; Marcelline was devoted to her handsome and clever English husband, and it seemed as if Brenda, in her grandmother's home, was almost forgotten. Once only had she seen her little sister ; Mr and Mrs Meredith had brought her on a visit to Cretinofhurst. Brenda was devoted to the pretty child, who seemed to love her and cling to her at once. The stepmother she could not care for, and perhaps she did not try, for, like most girls, she was not free from prejudice.

The fact was, poor Mrs Meredith was so entirely out of her element in an English country house ; she could not speak any language but French, nor would she make the least effort to learn any English, even the most common words ; she said she hated it, and would not speak it if she could. Having lived all her life in Paris, it was impossible for her to be happy among such strange surroundings. Poor Marcelline ! she lost her vivacity, was dull and miser- Brenda. able, and her peevishness and discontent made her husband anxious to return to Paris. The ill success of this visit made Mr Meredith unwilling to come again, and so years passed without any renewal of intimacy. This was very unfortunate for Brenda, as it made her feel still more that her father had no love for her, and yet she was pleased with the letter she was just now pondering over, and had a yearning to see her father and little sister again ; but then, the French wife !

Poor Brenda ! she was torn by contending emotions. Mr Meredith wrote very earnestly ; he acknow ledged that he had forfeited his claim upon her by his neglect. Time had passed on, and he had let matters remain as they had gone on so long. It was his fault, his indolent nature, but now he begged his dear Brenda to accede to his request, and to come to him as soon as possible. He was anxious to have her with him. He wished his little Josephine to know and love her sister ; his own health was failing, and he hoped the dear grandmother would spare her at least for a time. Brenda was deeply touched by this latter clause, and her sweet nature soon forgot what had for some time caused her much pain. This letter had already been discussed. Mrs Barwell, with tears in her eyes, acknowledged it was right for Brenda Brenda. 7 to go to her father.

Uncle Christopher was loud in his protests against it. What, to leave the child for years, until she had grown up into a charming woman, and then to take her away — preposterous, selfish. And Brenda ! did she wish to leave them for the gay city of Paris ? Brenda did not mind this. She knew, and knew that he knew also, that it was not for the gay city of Paris she was leaving her happy home ; but Uncle Christopher was angry and unhappy at losing his darling, and he was obliged to let off the steam in every way. She loved her uncle dearly, and they were firm friends, and had plenty of fun together. He was an old-fashioned country gentleman, more given to field sports than books, a good landlord and magistrate, ready to promote any thing for the benefit of the neighbourhood. He had never cared much for Mr Meredith, and always resented the indifference with which he gave up Brenda to her relations, glad as he was to have her in the English home.

It seemed hard to lose her now, and he had been so glad when her education was finished, and he could ride with her and take her wherever she wished to go. No wonder poor Uncle Christopher felt aggrieved. For Minna Barwell it was still harder, she had found in Brenda such love and comfort after her own deep sorrow. She had been devoted to her Brenda. 8 niece, and the two were such companions, and really friends, full of sympathy for each other. Aunt Minna kept a youthful heart, and she was so good and true. She made home so bright, loved everything to be artistic and pretty, always dressed well and tastefully, and was careful that Brenda should be so too, in every day life, as well as when a party or company of any kind was in prospect. Minna somehow managed that everything in a room should look charming without having the ap pearance of being " tidied " up.

Nothing offended the eye, nothing ever looked prim or had the air of " touch me not " in her surroundings. She was very popular all round, beloved in the parish, a favourite with the servants, always ready to pro mote anything reasonable for the amusement and pleasure of the young people, and she enjoyed society herself. She never pretended that she went here and there only for Brenda's sake, although she very often did go, when she would have preferred being at home, without making a martyr of herself. Minna Barwell was one of those kind aunts who seem to have been left single by fate for the happiness of others, one of those of whom we seem inclined to exclaim, " What a wife and mother lost ! " Well, to return to Brenda, she was sitting, still meditating over Brenda. 9 her father's letter, when she was joined by her aunt, who had been vainly trying to hide all trace of her tears.

" Oh, darling auntie," cried Brenda, " I have been so wanting you to come and talk to me. My head aches, and my heart aches, grannie cries, Uncle Christopher storms, and now you must tell me what to do." " I have tried to put off the responsibility of deciding, dear, but that is a kind of moral cowardice." " I cannot bear going away, auntie ; I shall hate living in Paris, and Mrs Meredith is so frivolous and silly." " Hush, darling, you know very little of her ; besides, think of your father and little sister. Your mother's first thought was the happiness of the husband she loved so dearly, and he loved her truly." " Ah ! but he married again, auntie." " Quite right, too, Brenda. Your mother would have wished it. She would not have liked him to live a long and lonely life. He is a man who can not love much those who do not belong to him.

I always knew him to be reserved and self-contained. He was passionately attached to your mother. He is kind and good to Marcelline ; but I feel sure his heart is buried with my beloved sister. He told this to Brenda. 10 Marcelline, but she did not, or would not, quite com prehend the romance of the feeling. Indeed, she would have married him at any price, and her father so arranged it. He wanted Marcelline to have some one to take good care of her ; she is a person without any strength of character. I believe, Brenda, if you try and overcome the prejudice you feel against her, she will look up to you, and you will help her, and make your father happy, besides having a good influence over Josephine. Do try, my darling ; brace yourself up for the serious duties of life. Remember the family motto you are so fond of quoting, ' Parabo me.' " Brenda meditated for a few minutes, and then she said — "I will try with all my heart, dearest auntie.

You are right, and you always are right." They talked long and earnestly together, and there was no doubt that the parting must come, much as Brenda grieved at leaving home. Her aunt was the most to be pitied ; but Miss Barwell was one who never wavered if a course of action was right; it must be taken, however much her own happiness might suffer.

Chapter II

" Sweet, thou hast trod on a heart. Pass ! There's a world full of men And women as fair as thou art Must do such things now and then. Thou only hast stepped unaware — Malice, not one can impute ; And why should a heart have been there In the way of a fair woman's foot ? " E. B. Browning. All was now arranged. Aunt Minna's decision was final ; she was so steadfast, and Mrs Barwell and Uncle Christopher always relied upon her, although the latter would sometimes talk as if he were a martyr. He knew very well in his own heart, and he had felt from the first, that Brenda ought to go to her father. Grandmamma consoled herself by making great preparations, consulting about dresses, etc. She was determined that her dear girl should make a good appearance, besides having every comfort that she could possibly require, though Brenda herself thought such an outfit quite unnecessary.

Many were the journeys taken Brenda. 12 to the town of Westbridge, and twice Aunt Minna went with her niece to London. Photographs were taken all round, to prevent any chance of forget ting each other. Brenda wrote cheerfully to Mr Meredith, and fixed to start for Paris in about a month. There was to be no difficulty about the journey, as Uncle Christopher immediately decided to escort her there, and he said he would remain a few weeks. He wished to see her future home, for he thought to himself, if his Brenda was not likely to be happy there, he would not let her stay very long. A few miles from Cretinghurst Rookery was Merton Hall, where a family lived of the name of Hawtrey. They were great friends of the Bar wells, and many were the lamentations of Edith and Jessie Hawtrey when the startling news came that they were so soon to lose their dear friend Brenda.

She went to pay them a farewell visit, and to have a last game of croquet. The two brothers were at home — Bazil and Edgar, the latter a young Oxonian. None of them were so gay as usual. The inevitable separation cast a shadow over them all, and the parting had no definite promise of a fixed end. The favourite game seemed to have lost its interest. Edith threw down her mallet, saying — " Do not let us attempt to play any more ; we are Brenda. 13 none of us thinking about it ; there is no fun in it to-day. Let us all sit down and have a good grumble." To this they all agreed. But it was even diffi cult to talk, and they wandered about rather aimlessly. " Ah, Brenda," said Edith, " you will soon forget us, and our pleasant days together, when you are amusing yourself in Paris." " No, Edith," replied Brenda ; " I am only afraid my thoughts will be here too much."

" At first, perhaps," returned the other ; " but soon you will fall in love with some charming Monsieur, and marry him most likely." Edgar gave a start, and looked hastily at Brenda. She was not attending to him, but laughed as she made answer, — " How can you talk such nonsense, Edith ? As if / should marry a Frenchman — a foolish, frivolous, skipping Frenchman I Never ! no, never ! " " It is delightful to hear you say that, Brenda,' cried Edgar, and Brenda blushed at his tender look, wishing she had not said it. She wished many things, poor girl, for in her heart she felt she had been too careless in her friendship with Edgar. And our Brenda was not perfect ; she loved fun, and, I fear, she rather loved flirting. She forgot that, what was only a Brenda. 14 passing amusement to one, might be no play to the other; and Brenda was of such a loving nature, she would not willingly have given pain to anyone.

Bazil broke the rather awkward silence by saying — " I have no doubt there are as fine fellows among the French as among the English, if we could but think so." " That is just like a speech of yours, Bazil," said Jessie. ' I honour you for it, and you shall start a series of lectures against prejudice." He smiled good-humouredly, and said, — " I would, perhaps, under other circumstances ; but it is no use attempting anything intellectual or otherwise now Brenda is going to leave us." " I must leave you now, at all events," she said, for here is Uncle Christopher coming to tell me I shall be late for dinner." Besides all other friends, there were many poor people to be taken leave of, and Brenda determined not to leave out one. At the end of the village was a neat little cottage inhabited by a very old and respectable person, Mrs Scarnell by name.

She had a very small income from an annuity left to her by an old lady, whose housekeeper she had formerly been. Her daughter, a very small, prim little body, resided with her. Maria was the picture Brenda. 15 of neatness. She added to her mother's scanty means by doing clear starching, mending lace, knitting, etc. Mrs Barwell had always been very kind to her, and sent them fruit and vegetables, and always carefully avoided giving anything as if it were just a charity and no more. Brenda paid them many visits, which brightened their little home. She read to them, and amused them with her merry chat. Mrs Scarnell dressed in a neat, old-fashioned manner — a black gown, a spotless white apron, a large white handkerchief crossed over her chest, and a cap with frills, beautifully quilted, completed her costume.

One peculiarity in her appearance was a little silver knob near the corner of her eye, placed there after an operation. This, in Brenda's childish days, gave rise to much speculation. She used to think that some wicked man had put a nail in, and that it could never be pulled out. The old lady often related how the little girl used to say, — " When I get big, I will put that naughty man in prison ; " and it was some time before they discovered what she meant. It was beautiful to see the devotion of Maria Scarnell to her old mother. She was so wrinkled and pinched, she looked almost as old herself, except that her little figure was so trim, and her bony hands were so quick and clever. Brenda. 16 When Brenda went to say "good-bye," both mother and daughter were overwhelmed with grief. The old lady said it was not likely she would ever see her again, and she had one favour to ask her.

She could offer no valuable gift, but would she make her happy by accepting some bottles of her valuable peppermint cordial, and promising to take them with her ? " Pray do, Miss Brenda," whispered Maria, " mother is so set upon it — she can't bear the French, and I believe thinks ' old Boney ' is still there, ready to put all the English into prison. Years ago she used to make this cordial in the still-room of the castle, and there is nothing so good for faintness or any thing bad." Brenda could not refuse to promise to take the cordial with her, although she was secretly horrified at the burden of some large bottles to add to all her luggage ; but she knew it would pain them to refuse. She herself could never realise the happiness such a trifle gave in the quiet un eventful lives of people like Mrs Scarnell and Maria.

However contented they may be, still they have little to brighten them. If young people like Brenda would sometimes give them a little time and attention, it would be quite as useful as going among the very poor, although that must not be left undone. Minds require food Brenda. 17 as much as the body, and to shed happiness around us, whether it is in our own home, or in the homes of others, is surely as acceptable to God as gifts of food and clothing. When Brenda left the cottage it was only four o'clock, and she thought she would take a long ramble. She had been so busy, and had had so little time alone, there was much she wanted to think about. The weather was calm and bright ; a few fleecy clouds floated above, and now and again the birds gave forth a chorus of song, and then stopped as suddenly as if at a given signal.

The hum of insects, the murmuring of a little bubbling stream in the distance, all combined to lend a fascination to everything, such as makes one indulge in a kind of sweet melancholy and meditation. Feeling thus, and longing to enjoy her solitude, she passed by the end of the wood, instead of taking the path through it, and, as she turned the corner, she was more vexed than pleased at seeing Edgar Hawtrey coming towards her. " Ah ! " she thought, " here is an end of my medi tations. If only I had plunged into the wood ! " However, she greeted him kindly ; but his manner was so peculiar, he was so constrained and silent, that Brenda was quite embarrassed, and anxious to begin a conversation. She laughingly told him of her visit to Mrs Scarnell, and her gift ; B Brenda. and she said he had better go back and fetch the bottles for her.

He smiled faintly, but scarcely seemed to hear what she said. Poor Brenda ! her heart sunk, for she felt something was coming she did not wish for ; but there was no escape for her, and she thought, if it must come, it was better to have it over. Edgar looked at her almost reproachfully, and said, — " You can be merry, Brenda, but that cannot I, for I love you passionately, and I do not know how to bear to lose you ; and the hardest part is, that you do not seem to care about it, and I had fondly hoped my love was not quite without return. Oh, do not, do not say it is all in vain ! " The ready tears came to her eyes, as she answered, — " You pain me very much, Edgar. I have never thought of loving you ; we have been such friends since we were little children, all of us, you and Bazil, as well as Edith and Jessie."

" Bazil ! " he cried. " Did you care for me no more than for Bazil ? It cannot be." " I liked you the best, Edgar ; but I never thought of loving either of you. Pray say no more about it ; it makes me miserable. I cannot bear to give you pain. I want to keep up my spirits, for it is so trying to leave home ; and you could help me if you would, instead of — instead of — ' Brenda. 19 And here poor Brenda broke down, and burst into a fit of weeping. " Pray do not cry, Brenda, unless, indeed, your tears are for me, for I feel as if my heart would break." He walked on with such an expression of pain that she felt very much for him, yet knew not what to say to comfort him. And now she felt a misgiving that perhaps she had been more kind to him than was quite consistent with utter indifference. It is always pleasant to a girl to feel all important to one she really likes very much.

And where can the line be drawn ? Are men themselves given to think they may win the heart of some inno cent, thoughtless maiden, and therefore to hedge themselves about with careful indifference ? It is not so. We must forgive Brenda. Her childhood lasted longer than usual ; her grandmother never seemed to believe she was grown up, and being the only young one in the house, everyone made such a pet of her. Poor girl ! her troubles seemed in creasing. First, the projected journey, and then this tiresome declaration of love. Far from being proud of it, she began to wish she were a child again, without care or anxiety. After a long silence, Edgar began, — " Now you know all, Brenda, do not hastily reject my love. Tell me you will give me a little hope." Brenda. 20 She reflected a few minutes before answering, but she felt it would be useless to think of it.

What was there in Edgar to induce her to spend all her life with him ? " Men forget how much they ask," she thought, " and ought not to be hurt when such a great change in every way is refused." To be always with Edgar ! Much as she liked him, it was a dreary prospect. He was pleasant and amusing sometimes, but often wearied her with the kind of chaffing conversation he indulged in. Hitherto his great aim seemed to have been to convince people in general that he did not care much for anything, taking the tone of nil admirari, so popular among young men of this generation ; and Brenda, who looked at everything with eyes of truth and sincerity, had taken him at his own valuation, and really had never discovered that there was much sterling worth beneath the surface. Perhaps there might be ; but that would be for another to discover.

Her fear just now was that she might not make her answer sufficiently decided. She was grieved to see him look so miserable, but nerved herself to the task. " Edgar," she said, " it cannot be ; and if you love me so much, it would be cruel kindness to give you any hope. For the first time, I feel glad that I am going away, and it is for your sake. It will be long before we meet again, and when I Brenda. 21 return you will have quite got over this passing fancy. It grieves me deeply to give you pain: you will believe this, will you not, Edgar ? We will now say good-bye. Do not come and see me again ; it will spare much pain to both of us." She held out her hand. He pressed it fervently, and turned away, feeling, poor fellow, as if the world were a blank for him. And for a time doubtless it would be so — " Weary is love unre quited."

Brenda, too, was very unhappy, her heart was so tender; and to her there could be nothing more trying than to give pain to such an old friend as Edgar. Besides, love in itself is so valuable that it is a hard task to cast it away.