BELLE'S NEW FRIEND.
"How soon the bitter follows on the sweet!
Could I not chain your fancy's flying feet?
Could I not hold your soul to make you play
To-morrow in the key of yesterday?"
Isobel found Belle on the Parade next morning in the midst of quite a
group of fashionable strangers. She was wearing one of her smartest
frocks, and was hanging affectionately on the arm of a girl slightly
taller than herself, a showy-looking child, with hazel eyes and a high
colour, dressed in a very fantastic costume of red and white, with a
scarlet fez on her thick frizzy brown hair, and a tall silver-knobbed
cane, ornamented with ribbons, in her hand. Belle appeared to find her
company so entrancing that at first she did not notice Isobel, and it
was only when the latter spoke to her that she seemed to realize her
presence, and said "Good-morning."
"We're just off to the island," said Isobel. "Charlie has got a fresh
coil of rope, and the boys are going to try and make a new raft. The
Rokebys are bringing some eggs, and we mean to fry pancakes and toss
them, as if it were Shrove Tuesday. Are you coming?"
"Well, not this morning, I think," replied Belle. "I've promised Blanche
to show her the old town. She doesn't know Silversands at all."
"Would she like to go with us to the hut?" suggested Isobel, looking
towards the newcomer, who stood playing with the loops of ribbon on her
cane, and humming a tune to herself in a jaunty, self-confident manner.
"Oh, I don't think so," replied Belle. "It's too far. She hasn't seen
the beach or the quay yet. We're going now to buy fruit in the market,
and then we shall have a stroll round the shops. You can take Micky with
you to the island if you like. I'll put on his leash, so that he won't
follow me."
"No, thanks; I should be afraid of losing him," replied Isobel. "I'd
really rather not. Shall I see you this afternoon?"
"Blanche has asked me to play tennis in their garden," said Belle,
drawing Isobel aside. "But I shall be home about six, because the
Oppenheims dine at seven, and Blanche always has to dress. I'll come
for a walk then, if you'll call for me. I must go now; the others are
waiting."
Isobel went away with a rather blank feeling of disappointment. She had
grown so accustomed to Belle that it seemed quite strange to be without
her, and the morning passed slowly, in spite of the pancakes which she
helped Letty and Winnie to mix and toss over the fire. She felt she was
only giving half her attention to the raft that the boys kept calling
her to admire, and that her thoughts were continually with Belle, trying
to imagine what she was doing, and wondering if she were enjoying
herself. Mrs. Stewart had found the walk to the White Coppice such a
strain on her weak ankle that she would not dare to venture any great
exertion for several days, so her intended expedition to the island to
sketch the runic cross had perforce to be put off. She and Isobel
carried their tea to the beach close by that afternoon, and drank it
under the shade of a rock; but though it was pleasant sitting close to
the lapping waves, and Mrs. Stewart had brought a new book to read
aloud, Isobel's mind would wander away to the garden near the woods
where Belle was playing tennis, and she would recall herself with a
start, realizing that she had not taken in a single word of the story.
She went round, according to her promise, soon after six o'clock, to
find Mrs. Stuart and her friend deep in patterns of dress materials,
price lists, catalogues, and copies of the _Queen_, and other ladies'
newspapers.
"The Oppenheims are giving a garden-party next Tuesday," explained
Belle. "They have a great many friends staying in the neighbourhood who
will drive over. They've asked me, and I haven't a thing fit to go in.
My white silk's too short, the pink crape's quite crushed, the blue
muslin won't look nice after it's washed, and my merino's hardly smart
enough. I must have a new dress somehow."
"I don't generally like you in ready-made clothes, Belle," said Mrs.
Stuart, "but really this embroidered silk in the advertisement looks
very pretty, and Peter Robinson's is a good shop. I think I shall risk
it. There will be just time, if I catch this post. Would you rather have
the blue or the pink?"
"The blue," said Belle promptly, "because of my best hat. You'd better
write for some more forget-me-nots at the same time; the ones in the
front are rather dashed. I can wear my blue chain and the turquoise
bracelet, and I have a pair of long white gloves not touched yet. But
oh, mother, my parasol! It's dreadfully bleached with the sun. Do,
please, send for another. There's a picture of one here with little
frills all round, just what I want."
Belle's mind was so absorbed by the arrangement of her costume for the
coming party that, until the letters were written and finally dispatched
to the post, she could give no attention to Isobel, and in the short
walk which they took afterwards on the beach her whole conversation was
of the Oppenheims and the delightful afternoon she had spent at their
house.
"Blanche has five bracelets," she confided, "and four rings, and a
dressing-case full of lockets and chains and brooches. She took me
upstairs and showed them to me. She's brought her pony with her, and
some morning she's promised to borrow her sister's riding-skirt for me,
and the coachman is to take us on to the common to ride in turns. Won't
it be glorious? She's _such_ an amusing girl! She knows all the latest
songs, and you should just hear her take people off: it makes you die
with laughing. She's been a year at a jolly school near London, where
the girls are taken to _matinees_ at the theatre, and have a splendid
time. I mean to ask mother to send me there. It's dreadfully expensive,
but I know she wouldn't mind that."
"We missed you at the island to-day," said Isobel. "The pancakes were
delicious. We ate them with sugar and lemons."
"Did you?" said Belle inattentively. "Perhaps I may come to-morrow, if I
have time."
"To-morrow's the cricket match at the old playground," said Isobel. "We
always have it on Saturday, you know. Had you forgotten?"
"I suppose I had," replied Belle. "I'll bring Blanche, if she cares
about coming. I don't know whether she plays cricket."
On Saturday morning Isobel called early at No. 12, only to find that
Belle had already gone to the Oppenheims, and would not return until
lunch.
"I'm sorry she's not in, dear," said Mrs. Stuart kindly, noticing
Isobel's look of disappointment; "but she expects to see you in the
afternoon, I'm sure. She told me she would be meeting all her friends
upon the shore, so some of the others will no doubt know what has been
arranged, if you ask them. I believe I saw the Rokebys pass a moment
ago; you could soon overtake them if you were to run."
The matches on the small green common which had been their first
playground were still an institution of the Sea Urchins' Club, and
Isobel looked forward to them with considerable pleasure. She had not
sufficient strength of arm to gain credit as a batsman, but she was a
splendid fielder, and Charlie declared that no one made a better
long-stop. This afternoon both boys and girls had assembled in full
force punctually at the appointed time, and the game was nearly halfway
through before Belle and her new friend came sauntering leisurely up to
the pitch.
"Oh! we don't want to play, thank you," said Belle, "only to look on.
Please don't stop on our account. We're just going to sit down and watch
you."
The pair retired to the old boat, where they settled themselves under
the shade of Blanche's parasol, and, to judge from their giggling mirth,
found great entertainment in making merry at the expense of the others.
Isobel, who was fielding, had not a chance to speak to Belle until the
opposite side was out, but Arthur Wright having sent a catch at last,
she was free until her own innings. She ran up with her accustomed
eagerness, expecting her friend to kiss her as usual, and to make room
for her upon the boat. To-day, however, Belle did nothing of the sort.
"That you, Isobel?" she said carelessly. "I should think you're hot. I
don't know how you can tear about so. Blanche said your legs looked
like a pair of compasses when you flew after the ball."
"Aren't you going to play?" asked Isobel. "We want one more on each
side."
"No, thanks. I hate racing up and down in the sun. It takes one's hair
out of curl."
"Oh, I don't think it would," replied Isobel.
"People with rats' tails can't judge," said Blanche, twisting one of
Belle's light locks and her own dark ones together as she spoke, and
looking at the combination with a critical eye. "If my brother were
here, he'd be in fits over this cricket. I never saw such a game. That
big boy holds his bat in the most clumsy way."
"He's a very good player," said Isobel. "He gets more runs than anybody
else, and it's terribly hard to put him out."
"Jermyn would bowl him first ball!" returned Blanche scornfully.
"Perhaps you've never seen Eton boys play? I always go to Lord's to
watch the match with Harrow: it's as different from this as a
first-class theatre is from a troupe of niggers."
"Why, but this is only a children's mixed team," said Isobel. "Of course
some of the little ones scarcely know how to play at all. We just send
them very easy balls, and let them try.--You're surely not going, Belle.
Tea will be ready in a quarter of an hour. Mrs. Rokeby's boiling the
kettle on a spirit lamp over by the rocks."
"We don't want any, thank you," said Belle, rising from the boat and
brushing some sand off her dress. "Mrs. Oppenheim is going to take us to
tea at the new cafe. I hear they've capital ices and a band. The Wilsons
were telling me about it yesterday. They say you meet everybody there
from four to five o'clock."
"Shall I see you on the Parade this evening?" called Isobel, as Belle
strolled away in the direction of Silversands, her arm closely locked in
Blanche's.
"I don't think so," replied Belle, without turning her head, and saying
something in a whisper to Blanche, which evidently caused the latter
much amusement, for she broke into a suppressed peal of laughter, and
glancing round at Isobel, went along shaking her shoulders with mirth.
Isobel stood looking after the retreating couple with a lump in her
throat and a curious sick sensation in her heart. She could not yet
quite realize that Belle did not desire her companionship--only that
somehow Blanche had carried off her friend, and that everything was
completely spoilt. Between Blanche and herself she recognized there was
an instinctive hostility. Blanche had been so openly rude, and had
treated both her and the Sea Urchins with such evident contempt, that
Isobel, not usually a quarrelsome child, had felt all her spirit rise up
within her in passionate indignation.
"Why does she come here to make fun of us?" she asked herself hotly. "We
had such jolly times before. None of the others were ever nasty like
this--not even Aggie Wright or Hugh Rokeby. Why can't she keep with her
own family? And why, oh, why does Belle seem to like her so much?"
Next day being Sunday, Isobel only saw her friend at a distance in
church, Mrs. Stewart, who had a suspicion of what was happening,
suggesting that they should pass the afternoon with their books on the
cliffs, thinking it would be better to leave Belle severely alone, and
give no opportunity for a meeting. On this account she spent Monday in
Ferndale, asking Hilda Chester to accompany them, and taking the two
children to hear the band play on the pier, and to an entertainment
afterwards in the pavilion. The Rokebys came on Tuesday morning,
inviting Isobel to join them in a boating excursion, from which they did
not return until late in the evening, so that for the first time since
the beginning of their acquaintance the namesakes had not spoken to
each other for three whole days. Isobel had borne the separation as well
as she could, but she longed to see Belle again with the full force of
her loving nature. She invented many excuses for the conduct of the
latter, who, she thought, was no doubt regretting her coldness, and
would be as delighted as ever to meet. If only she could get Belle to
herself, without Blanche, all would surely be right between them, and
the friendship as warm as it had been before.
"May I ask her to tea, mother?" she begged, with so wistful a look in
her gray eyes, and such a suspicious little quiver at the corners of her
mouth, that Mrs. Stewart consented, somewhat against her better
judgment.
Finding Belle on the cricket-ground next morning, Isobel broached the
subject of the invitation at once.
"To-day?" said Belle. "I'm going to the Oppenheims'. I haven't told you
yet about their garden-party. It was _such_ a swell affair! They had
waiters from the Belle Vue Hotel at Ferndale, and the Grenadier band
from the pier. I never saw lovelier dresses in my life. My blue silk
came just in time, and it really looked very nice, and the parasol is
sweet. You can't think how much I enjoyed myself."
"Would to-morrow do?" suggested Isobel, "if you can't come to-day?"
"To tea? At your lodgings?" replied Belle, with a rather blank
expression on her face.
"Yes, unless we carry the cups out on to the shore and have a picnic.
Perhaps that would be nicer."
"Mother wants to take me to call on the Wilsons to-morrow."
"Then Friday or Saturday? It doesn't matter which to us."
"Really," said Belle, looking rather embarrassed, "I expect I shall be
going to the Oppenheims both days. Blanche likes me to make up the set
at tennis, and it's so cool and nice in the garden under the trees.
There she is now, coming along the beach and beckoning to me. I wonder
what she wants. I think I shall have to go and see." And Belle ran
quickly off, as if glad to find an excuse for getting away; and meeting
the Oppenheims, she turned back with them towards the Parade.
Left alone, Isobel felt as though some great shock had passed over her.
She saw only too plainly that Belle did not want to come--did not care
for her society or value her friendship; and the bitterness of the
knowledge seemed almost greater than she could bear. She walked slowly
to the cliff, and climbing part of the way up, sat down in a sheltered
nook, hidden from sight of the beach; then putting her head on her
hands, she let loose the flood-gates of her grief. God help us when we
first find out that those we care for no longer respond to our love. The
wound may heal, but it leaves a scar, and remains one of those silent
milestones of the soul to which we look back in after years as having
marked an epoch in our inner lives. At the time it appears as if all our
affection had been wasted; but it is not so, for the very fact of loving
even an unworthy object increases our power to love, and enlarges the
heart, lifting us above self, and, as bread cast upon the waters, will
return to us after many days in a greater capacity for sympathy with
others, and a widening of our spiritual growth.
To Isobel it seemed as if the whole world had somehow changed. She had
had few companions of her own age, and this was her first essay at
friendship. Those who enjoy very keenly suffer, alas! in like
proportion, and hers was not a disposition to take things lightly. She
stayed for a long, long time upon the cliffs, fighting a hard battle
before she could get her tears under sufficient control to walk home
along the shore, as she did not care to face any of the Sea Urchins with
streaming eyes. Perhaps a touch of pride came to her aid. She would, at
any rate, not let Belle know how greatly she cared, and when they met
again she would behave as if she too were not anxious about the
acquaintance. So much she felt she owed to her own self-respect, and she
meant to carry it out, whatever it cost her.
"I wouldn't break my heart, darling," said Mrs. Stewart, who, seeing
Isobel's red eyes, soon discovered the trouble, and offered what comfort
she could. "Belle isn't worth grieving for. I was afraid of this from
the first, but you were so taken with her that it seemed of no use to
warn you. I don't think she was ever half what you believed her to be,
and she has proved herself a very fickle friend. Never mind. We shall be
going home soon, and you will have other interests to turn your
thoughts. We shall see little more of her at Silversands, and the best
thing we can do is to forget her as speedily as we can."