Chapter XXX: A Real Five-Shilling Book!

GLADYS HEPBURN'S DIARY.

October 6. Tuesday.

THE first copy of my book arrived by this evening's post. Eleven more copies are to follow by rail. We have been looking out for it very anxiously.

October 7. Wednesday.—I think my book looks very nice; so prettily bound: and Mother is so pleased. It seems strange to have written at last a real five-shilling tale,—my childish dream come true. What a long while I have been looking forward to this! I don't know exactly when I first began to expect to publish, though I can remember writing little stories at nine years old,—others say, at seven. But at fourteen, I had quite made up my mind to bring out a five-shilling book some day,—if I could, I mean. And now I am nineteen!

After all, such things don't really affect one's happiness. I am very glad and thankful, but I feel quiet about it,—not as I should have expected.

October 10. Saturday.—Such delightful news! The Romillys are coming home!

Eustace goes to a clergyman in the country, for study; and Mr. and Mrs. Romilly and Nellie travel to Beckdale for just one week, and then the whole party comes south.

Delicious!

Mrs. Romilly seems really stronger, they say,—almost as if the accident and illness had done her good in the end, instead of harm. I suppose troubles often do that. The doctors think she may safely spend the winter at home.

A few words from Nellie tell me this. I am so happy at the thought of seeing Nellie again.

People seem pleased with my book, on the whole. A great many kind things are being said about it,—some of course only out of politeness, but others I fancy are real. Aunt Anne complains that my two stories are exactly alike, because, she says, there are three boys in each, and she is afraid I am "in danger of the usual fault of repetition, common to all young authors." But I don't know what she means, or how she counts, for there really are five boys in one, and six in the other. Ramsay declares that aunt Anne only thinks a little dose of criticism wholesome for me. I don't call that real criticism though; if it were, I should like it, because I do want to be shown real faults in my writing.

October 15. Thursday.—Not a week now before I expect to see Nellie again! I am counting the hours. And that dear Miss Con too! I hope she has quite got over her accident. I am working at a little story for children, which I think of calling "Winnie." When it is done I mean to offer it to the same Society that accepted my first book: and afterwards I shall most likely write another tale for Mr. Willis.

Captain Lenox is actually at The Park again. I do wonder if it means anything. He is to stay till next Wednesday, so he and Miss Con might meet. He called to-day with Sir Keith, but not a word was said about Miss Con. I took very good care not to bring her name forward this time, I was so afraid of making mischief. Mother says I was right. It almost seems to me, from something he said, that he doesn't know yet about the Romillys and Miss Con coming before he leaves.

October 21. Wednesday.—Mother would not let me go to Glynde House this morning. She was sure the Romillys would be too busy: and of course she is right; only I did not know how to keep to my thinking of Nellie being so near. But still I stuck to work; for it does not do to be mastered.

After lunch, in came Lady Denham, for a long talk. She always seems so pleased to see Mother. A good deal was said first about the Romillys: and then she told us that Captain Lenox had left by an early train, directly after breakfast. I felt very disappointed, thinking of Miss Con. Lady Denham laughed a little, and said, "He is a curious man, particularly agreeable, but erratic."

Mother asked, "Would he have objected to meet the Romillys?"

"Why, no, I think not," Lady Denham said. "My son proposed last night that they should call together on Mrs. Romilly to-day, and he seemed to fall in with the proposal; but a letter by this morning's post altered his plans."

Mother said, to my surprise, only I know she and Lady Denham don't mind what each says to the other—"I have sometimes fancied there might be something between him and Miss Conway."

"So I imagined at one time," Lady Denham answered. "But I think it is a mistake. Miss Conway speaks of him with complete indifference; and he never mentions her."

Lady Denham hesitated, and looked at me, before going on—"Gladys is safe, is she not? Between ourselves, the letter this morning was in a lady's hand. He left the envelope on the table, close to my plate, so I could not help seeing it. I know he has no near relatives. One has no business to build on so slight a foundation, but he looked very strange over it,—so strange that I asked if he had had any bad news. He gave an odd short laugh, and said—'Nothing of consequence: only he found it needful to leave by an early train.'"

Lady Denham must feel very friendly towards Mother, to say so much. It is not her way to speak out generally. But I don't think Mother is so sure as she is that we are mistaken about Miss Con and Captain Lenox.

As soon as she was gone, I hurried off to Glynde House. The first person I saw was Mr. Romilly. He was in the hall; and he gave me such a kind welcome, that really I felt ashamed of not liking him more. He smiled at me, and took my hand in his, and he seemed such a pretty little bit of dainty old china! Only I do wish he could be kept under a glass shade, for he is fit for nothing else.

And then I saw Mrs. Romilly. She looks years and years older than before her illness: but she reared up her head and squirmed herself about, just as she always does; and she made me turn so fearfully shy, I had not a single word to say, till Nellie came. And then I forgot Mrs. Romilly's existence, and I was all right.

One very good piece of news I heard the first thing: and that is that Miss Millington has gone home, and is not to return. I don't understand exactly how or why. We shall hear more later. What a relief that she has vanished!

Nellie looks so well: and she is just the same as always, the darling! She has enjoyed being abroad, and now she enjoys coming home. Somehow Nellie always enjoys everything. Mother says it is because she has that rare gift—"a mind at leisure from itself." And I do think Mother is right.

Maggie is exactly what she was before she went away: always flying round after Mrs. Romilly; or if Mrs. Romilly is not within reach, always hanging on to Nellie. Mother says she has grown prettier: but I do not see it. I never cared very much for Maggie.

Thyrza is changed. I never supposed she could grow so handsome! The first moment I saw her, I felt quite startled. Her eyes used to look at every one in a kind of grim way, as if she wanted to fight: and now they are beautifully soft. And when she kissed me, instead of stooping stiffly, like a young fir-tree trying to bend, and giving a poke like a bird's peck, she was gentle and almost affectionate. I always used to think she could not endure me, but perhaps it was shyness and not being happy. I am sure Miss Con has made a great difference in Thyrza's life.

I did not see Miss Con, as I had hoped. Thyrza said she was tired, and had gone to her room to rest. That looks as if she were not strong yet.

October 22. Thursday.—The first notice of my book came this morning: a short one, but good; all praise and no blame.

I have just finished "Winnie." I hope to get it off to-morrow; and to start a new tale next day.

Miss Con came in before lunch, and oh, she is so altered! It has made me really unhappy. She is much thinner, but that is not the worst. It is the look in her eyes that I mind most,—such a sad sweet look, as if she had been through a great stretch of trouble and pain, and were not out of it all yet. And her cheeriness of manner is gone. Mother told her she looked tired, and put her into an easy-chair; and though Miss Con laughed, she did not resist, but sat listening, hardly speaking at first, only giving a little smile, if her eyes met ours.

Presently Mother asked her how she was; and Miss Con smiled again, and said, "Lazy, rather! Beckdale has used up my reserve-powers."

"You will have to get away for a holiday," Mother said.

"At Christmas, perhaps," she answered. "Lessons must go on regularly for a while first."

Then she asked about my writing, and was so kind; not merely polite, but full of real interest. It was the only time she brightened up.

When she was gone, Mother said, "If they do not take care, she will break down altogether. Too much has been put upon her."

I believe Miss Millington has been Miss Con's greatest bother.

Well,—she will not have that bother any longer. A Miss James is coming in Miss Millington's stead; and we have been wondering whether the girls will call her "Jamie." Ramsay declares they will. Miss Conway wanted to undertake the little ones herself, but Mrs. Romilly would not consent,—very right too!

Thyrza means to work hard this winter. She intends to go through a course of Geology, and a course of Political Economy, with Miss Con; and she seems able to talk of nothing else.

When I said something about this at tea-time, Ramsay burst out laughing, and said, "What bosh!" But Ramsay calls everything bosh, except what he does himself.

I must confess that Mother laughed too, and said, "We shall see!" I don't see why. Thyrza is so really fond of study,—not like Maggie.

December 15. Tuesday.—I sent my story "Winnie" to the Society last week; but I expect it will be a good while before I have an answer. Two or three Readers have to go through the MS. first, and then, if they approve, it has to be put in type for others to read. However, I do not feel much afraid about it.

In a few days I hope to begin another, with a heroine named "Selina;" and that will most likely be a five-shilling tale. Just now I am doing a small story of a few chapters, to offer to a child's magazine.

Thyrza and I had a curious talk yesterday with Miss Con; at least they talked, and I listened. Mother had been telling me, only an hour or two before, that I really must try to be less blunt, and to bow more pleasantly to people that I don't like, when I meet them. Of course I promised to try, for one does not wish to be disagreeable; only it is very difficult, when one doesn't care particularly for a person, and, when one is thinking of something else.

I was with Miss Con and Thyrza in Glynde House garden. Nellie and the twins were out, and Maggie had gone for a drive with Mr. and Mrs. Romilly. Thyrza was talking away pleasantly, and looking so bright, when all at once Miss Pursey appeared. She isn't, to be sure, a great favourite with any of us; and Thyrza froze up into an icicle, in one moment. After she had chatted some time, and left a message for Mrs. Romilly and was gone, Miss Con said to Thyrza—

"What made you so curt?"

"Was I curt?" Thyrza asked. "Oh, I don't know. I don't care for Miss Pursey."

"But if you do not, why put the poor lady to pain?" Miss Con inquired.

"You don't suppose she minds!" Thyrza said.

"Yes, I do. All people mind a splash of cold water," said Miss Con.

"Did I administer one? I suppose it is my way," said Thyrza.

"I don't think that excuse will serve," Miss Con said quietly. "It is one person's 'way' to shirk trouble; and another person's 'way' to be idle or untruthful; and another person's 'way' to be a victim to weak fancies. But—"

Miss Con stopped, and Thyrza coloured up, for she was finding fault only the day before, with those very faults in Maggie and Nona and Elfie.

"Of course if one's 'way' is a wrong way, one ought to fight it, Miss Con. Only I can't see that one's manner signifies," Thyrza said. "People in general might like me better, if I put on a softer manner. But if I don't care about being liked except by the few whom I like—?"

"It is no mere question of being liked," Miss Con said. "That would be a base motive. It is a question of right and wrong,—of doing one's duty,—of pleasing God,—of being Christ-like."

Thyrza exclaimed "Oh!"

But Miss Con went on:

"It is a question of giving pain or pleasure; of losing or gaining influence; of helping or repelling others. Of course there are instances in which one has to be cold judicially, to check undue forwardness; and I am not at all advising 'gush' or even universal cordiality. I only advise the cultivation of courtesy, kindness, and gentleness,—not to some only, but to all."

"But one must be natural; one must be true," cried Thyrza. "I can't put on what I don't feel."

"No. There you strike at the root of the matter," Miss Con said seriously.

"But I should not like to be commonplace," Thyrza broke out.

How Miss Con laughed!

"My dear, don't be absurd," she said: and I really expected to see Thyrza offended, only she never seems offended with anything Miss Con says.

"But I don't see any right or wrong in it," persisted Thyrza. "If I can't like people—"

"You are curt to some for whom you do care," Miss Con answered. "But that is not the point. The real question is,—How far are you and I free to indulge in repellent ways to those around us? And this question resolves itself into a second,—How ought we to feel towards those around us?"

Thyrza just looked down and said nothing.

"'Be pitiful, be courteous,' means more, I think, than love and politeness to our particular friends," Miss Con said. "And if we look at Christ, our Example,—that soon settles the matter. I don't think we can picture to ourselves as the barest possibility that He eves indulged in curtness of manner,—that He ever acted bluntly, or put on a repellent air. Stern and displeased He could be,—but not coldly stiff."

I do not know how Thyrza felt, but I know how I did.

"For of course it is self-indulgence,—the indulgence of a mood or humour," Miss Con added. "If we had more of our Master's spirit of love towards all men, I suppose we should not have even the inclination to treat them curtly. Love does not wish to repel."

And then she told us how often she was tempted in this way herself, and how she had to struggle against the tendency. I never should have supposed anything of the kind with Miss Con, but she says so, and I am almost glad, because it makes me hope that perhaps in time I may grow more like her.

It is wonderful how, if any doubtful point comes up, Miss Con seems always to look straight at the Life of our Lord for an answer. And it is still more wonderful how other people don't do so.