Turquoise and Ruby by L. T. Meade
ofHelen of Troy. There was the same rapt gaze, the same expression in hereyes, which seemed to say: "Where'er I came I brought calamity." Brendadid not know why her heart sank so low in her breast, why the petty,trivial things which had been annoying her a moment before sank utterlyout of sight. Penelope looked round at the three girls.
"I want to speak to Brenda," she said. "Brenda, can I see you alone."
"You had better go out, girls, as Penelope chooses to be so mysterious,"said Brenda, recovering herself, and speaking in a sulky tone.
It did not take the girls long to put on their sailor hats, and a momentlater they had left the room. Then Penelope turned the key in the lock.
"It has come, Brenda," she said. "I don't want to reproach you or tosay a cross word; but there's only one thing to be done."
"What in the wide world do you mean?" said Brenda. "What reason haveyou for all these heroics?"
"I know about you," said Penelope then. "It,"--her voice quivered--"hasbroken my heart! But there is only one thing to be done. You must comeback with me to Beverley Castle, and bring the bangle with you."
"The bangle?" said Brenda.
She had been fairly cool until now. But now she trembled exceedingly,and leaned up against the wardrobe. She did not even ask what bangle.
"You stole Nellie Hungerford's bangle on the day of the break-up atHazlitt Chase," pursued Penelope. "You put people on the wrong scentwith regard to it. Where you found it and how--I don't know, but youdid find it."
"How can you possibly, possibly tell?" gasped Brenda then.
"For the beat of all reasons--I have seen it."
"Seen it--seen it? the lost bangle?"
"I saw it last night. Mademoiselle got possession of it--I can'texactly say how--but she managed to get to your drawer and found it."
"I don't believe a word of it!" began Brenda.
"It is true," said Penelope. "There is no way out, Brenda, except bythe one painful way. You and I must see Mrs Hungerford to-day, andreturn the bangle. There is no other possible way out."
"But--but--I didn't do it," began Brenda.
"Oh, poor Brenda!" said Penelope. "Why will you add to all the miseryby telling lies? You know you did it. I will call Mademoiselle."
She turned swiftly and left her sister standing in the middle of theroom. The very instant this happened, Brenda flew up to the littleornament on the shelf on the over-mantel, took out the key, and openedthe drawer. She laid her hand on the box on which she had writtenFanchon's name, opened it, and took out the false bangle. She waslooking at it in a sort of stunned way, when Mademoiselle, accompaniedby Mrs Dawson, came in.
"Ah!" said Mademoiselle, whose face was white with rage; for she neverexpected that Penelope would act as she had done. "You are the thief--convicted in the very act!" and she pointed with a finger of scorn atBrenda.
"You're a nice young woman to have as a visitor in my respectablehouse!" said Mrs Dawson.
"_Pauvre petite_! She looks as if she could faint," said Mademoiselle,who still did not give up hope of obtaining money and having the affairhushed up. "Why, will her own sister ruin her! The thing can be--oh,not spoken of, but put away in the most secret of the heart's recesses--buried there for all time. A leetle--a very leetle money, will dothis."
"No," said Penelope, turning and flashing her eyes upon her. "Youtempted me last night, but I am thankful to say your temptation has notthe smallest attraction for me any longer. I want you, and MrsDawson--if she likes--and Brenda to come back with me immediately to theCastle; and you, Mademoiselle, who so cleverly discovered the bangle,will receive your reward. But the bangle itself must be returned.Fetch it, please; for there is no time to lose."
"Then you will," said Mademoiselle, "with your own hands, send your onlyyoung sister to prison! Oh, the hardness of your heart!"
Penelope made no reply to that, but as she glanced at Brenda, who wasabsolutely silent--all the brilliant colour gone from her pretty face,the hand of age itself seeming to steal over her features--such a sharppain went through the younger girl's heart that, involuntarily, she puther hand to her brow as though to feel the weight of the crown ofthorns. Whatever that actually signified, it seemed to comfort her andsteady her resolves. She turned to Brenda, and said quickly: "Will youget ready at once, dear?" And Mademoiselle, seeing that she wasdefeated, went out of the room, and brought the bangle.
"I myself convey it to the Castle," she said. "I will myself relate thestory, and will claim that shabby reward which has been offered for therecovery of the lost treasure."
"That is exactly as you like. And would Mrs Dawson wish to accompanyyou--"
"No," said Mrs Dawson, "not I. I have had nothing to do with thisthing. I had my suspicions on the night when I saw such an unsuitableornament on Miss Fanchon's wrist. There is nothing whatever for me todo but to request that the Misses Amberley be removed from my house assoon as possible--"
"Oh, that is for afterwards," interrupted Penelope. "Brenda has gotsomething to do first. Come, Brenda, shall I find your hat? The soonerwe get this over, the better."
"But I won't go--I won't!" suddenly shrieked Brenda. "I have notconfessed; I have admitted nothing. Why should I not have a bangle ofmy own. Is Nellie Hungerford's the only one in the world?"
"The queer coincidence of the engraving exactly alike on the banglewhich contains the most precious ruby and on this bangle which holds theturquoise of great beauty makes it scarcely probable, _mon enfant_,"said Mademoiselle. As she spoke, she held up the glittering toy forPenelope to see. "I will go and put on my neat bonnet and be ready toaccompany you, young ladies," she said.
Thus it came to pass that, half an hour later, a miserable,cowed-looking girl entered the phaeton and took her place byMademoiselle's side. Penelope occupied the little seat in front. Noone spoke during that miserable drive, but that aged look was stillperceptible on Brenda's face, and the colour had absolutely left hercheeks. Once Penelope tried to take her sister's hand, but Brendapulled it roughly away.
At last, they all reached Castle Beverley. Mrs Hungerford was therewith her two little girls, and Honora was watching for Penelope withmore anxiety in her heart than she cared to own. When she saw thatPenelope had brought her sister and the French governess back with her,she guessed at once that something important must have occurred. Thethree got out.
"This is for me my hour of triumph," said Mademoiselle. But she utteredthe words without any jauntiness, for the look on Brenda's face appalledeven her gay and wicked spirit.
Penelope went straight up to Nora.
"I have brought my sister and Mademoiselle; and will Mrs Hungerfordcome--and will you come, Honora? The sooner we get this over, thebetter."
"Oh--I can't," murmured Brenda, in a passionate voice under her breath.
"You can--you must. It is the only, only way," whispered Penelope then.
With these words, she determinedly took her sister's hand, and the threewent into the small room opening out of the front hall, while Honora ranto fetch Mrs Hungerford. When that lady appeared, being much amazed atthis hasty summons, she was startled at the aspect of the little groupwho awaited her. There was Penelope, with still that Helen-of-Troyexpression on her face. There was Brenda, aged for the time being, andshrinking; and there was Mademoiselle, with her wicked eyes gleaming.
The moment Mrs Hungerford entered, Mademoiselle marched up to her.
"I claim the so great reward," she said. "You did advertise for thisvery leetle trinket, and behold! I it to you restore. Look at it--itis the one that you have lost. Ponder it--and consider it well.Compare it with the bracelet your little daughter Pauline wears, and seeif it is not, in very truth, the lost bangle."
"It most certainly is," said Mrs Hungerford; "and you have found it?Pardon me--I do not know your name."
"Mademoiselle d'Etienne--at your service. I have had the so highprivilege to teach your young daughters the elegancies of our Frenchtongue at that s
elect seminary, Hazlitt Chase. I know when the banglewas missing, and the sore grief it was to the _chere petite_ who hadlost it. Through a series of adventures I have found it again, and Ilay it on your lap. You can give it to the child for whom it waspurchased."
"But how did you get it?"
"Ah! There I have a _histoire_ the most pathetic, the most wonderful,the most _extra-ordinaire_ to relate."
"No," interrupted Penelope, suddenly, "the time has come for Brenda tospeak. Brenda, tell what you know."
"There's no use in concealing it," said Brenda. "I am not sorry--Imean, I'm only sorry to be found out. Mrs Hungerford, this is whathappened. Do you remember driving up with me to Hazlitt Chase on theday of the prize-giving? You stepped--oh--out of the carriage, and asyou did so you dropped the bangle on the ground, I saw it: I coveted it:I took it: I slipped it into my pocket. I put you off the scent bytelling my sister that doubtless you had dropped it in the train. I amthe thief. I await my punishment: it is prison, it it not? Very well;I have confessed. I think it is most likely that Mr Beverley is amagistrate. He can send for the police, and put me into prison. Istole the bangle: Mademoiselle found it. I am a thief, and Penelope isthe sister of one. That is all."
"Oh, poor girl!" said Mrs Hungerford. She rose slowly from her seatand left the room. In a few minutes she returned. She brought with herthree sovereigns and three shillings.
"These are for you," she said to Mademoiselle. "This is the rewardoffered. You have led to the discovery of the bangle--I don't want toknow how--take your reward, and go."
"Yes, please go at once," said Honora.
There was a quality in her young voice which the Frenchwoman had neverheard before, and there was such a ring of scorn in Mrs Hungerford'stone that it seemed--as Mademoiselle afterwards expressed it--"to withereven the very vitals." She took her money sulkily and, without a word,left the presence of the others, never to be seen by them again.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
What followed can be easily explained. Mrs Hungerford was a goodwoman. Honora had learned some lessons in the higher life. Now MrsHungerford and Honora were certainly not going to punish Penelope, andtheir one earnest desire was to rescue Brenda.
They left the sisters alone for a short time, and talked together.
"That poor, poor, pretty girl!" said Mrs Hungerford. "Oh, of coursewhat she did was dreadful, but we just mustn't let her go under, mustwe, Honora?"
"I knew you would feel like that," said Honora, "I felt certain of it.You can little guess what Penelope has suffered; she is a splendid girl.Her mission at present in life is to help her sister."
"Now listen."
Mrs Hungerford proposed a plan which was eventually carried out. Thiswas no less than, first and foremost, to assure Brenda of her absoluteforgiveness.
"You acted very badly indeed," she said; "but I am not going to call thepolice, nor to put you in prison. Your punishment will be that thosewho know you will have to be acquainted with what has occurred. You hadmuch better not return to the boarding-house, but stay here. Yourlittle pupils must go back to their father, for I do not think it rightthat they should be with you any longer. As to you--I want you andPenelope to do something for me."
"I to do anything for you?" said Brenda, her eyes suddenly growing softand a new expression stealing over her face.
"Yes. My house in the country is empty at present. Will you andPenelope go there to-day and live there quietly until the holidays cometo an end? I can put you on the way. When the holidays are over,Penelope will, of course, return to Hazlitt Chase, and I myself will domy utmost to get you a post which I think you may suit--not as teacherto the young, for you have not the necessary qualifications."
From the thought of prison, the magistrates, the handcuffs, which shemight possibly wear, the public examination, the trial--to going awaywith Penelope to Mrs Hungerford's own house was such a relief to themiserable Brenda that, all of a sudden, she gave way utterly.
"There--now I am sorry really!" she said. "I was not a bit sorry whenevery one was hard to me, but I am bitterly sorry now!"
Mrs Hungerford's arrangements were carried out in full detail. Thelittle Amberleys were invited up to the Castle until the Reverend Josiahcould be summoned. He came on the following morning, and was told infull the sad story about Brenda. He was greatly shocked, but beggedthat the knowledge of what had occurred should be kept from hisdaughters.
"I am afraid they suspect a great deal," said Mrs Beverley, who ofcourse had been taken into confidence.
"Poor children, life is hard on them!" said dear papa, "and I did thinkBrenda such a sweet young creature. How frightfully we were deceived!But I must take them back, and get Miss Juggins to teach them infuture."
"Perhaps you would allow me to recommend a particularly nice girl to betheir governess," here interposed Mrs Beverley.
"Oh, Madam, do you know of one?"
"I do--I have known her since she was a child. I think she would go toyou, and help your little girls. Her name is Lydia Hamburg. You cansee her if you like, for she lives close by."
Lydia Hamburg, who was all that Brenda Carlton was not, did eventuallyfind herself installed as governess to the little Amberleys; and as shewas faithful and true, the wheels of life ran smoothly at the rectory,and the girls turned out, on the whole, better than might have beenexpected.
As to Brenda, hers was a difficult and--it must be owned--a worthlesscharacter. Not all Penelope's earnestness and faithful love would makeher really see the enormity of her crime in its full light. But,nevertheless, even she had learned a lesson and, in future, would notlend herself to such open sin as heretofore. Mrs Hungerford arrangedthat she was to leave England, with a party who were going to Canada;for in a fresh land, she might do better.
These things have all happened, and the characters in this story havemoved on a little way in life's journey. To each has been meted out adue share of cloud and sunshine, and those who have done wrong have eachin their turn suffered.
But Penelope has never forgotten her dream, nor the feeling of thatblessed crown of thorns, and she and Honora Beverley are the best andtruest of friends.
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"I want to speak to Brenda," she said. "Brenda, can I see you alone."
"You had better go out, girls, as Penelope chooses to be so mysterious,"said Brenda, recovering herself, and speaking in a sulky tone.
It did not take the girls long to put on their sailor hats, and a momentlater they had left the room. Then Penelope turned the key in the lock.
"It has come, Brenda," she said. "I don't want to reproach you or tosay a cross word; but there's only one thing to be done."
"What in the wide world do you mean?" said Brenda. "What reason haveyou for all these heroics?"
"I know about you," said Penelope then. "It,"--her voice quivered--"hasbroken my heart! But there is only one thing to be done. You must comeback with me to Beverley Castle, and bring the bangle with you."
"The bangle?" said Brenda.
She had been fairly cool until now. But now she trembled exceedingly,and leaned up against the wardrobe. She did not even ask what bangle.
"You stole Nellie Hungerford's bangle on the day of the break-up atHazlitt Chase," pursued Penelope. "You put people on the wrong scentwith regard to it. Where you found it and how--I don't know, but youdid find it."
"How can you possibly, possibly tell?" gasped Brenda then.
"For the beat of all reasons--I have seen it."
"Seen it--seen it? the lost bangle?"
"I saw it last night. Mademoiselle got possession of it--I can'texactly say how--but she managed to get to your drawer and found it."
"I don't believe a word of it!" began Brenda.
"It is true," said Penelope. "There is no way out, Brenda, except bythe one painful way. You and I must see Mrs Hungerford to-day, andreturn the bangle. There is no other possible way out."
"But--but--I didn't do it," began Brenda.
"Oh, poor Brenda!" said Penelope. "Why will you add to all the miseryby telling lies? You know you did it. I will call Mademoiselle."
She turned swiftly and left her sister standing in the middle of theroom. The very instant this happened, Brenda flew up to the littleornament on the shelf on the over-mantel, took out the key, and openedthe drawer. She laid her hand on the box on which she had writtenFanchon's name, opened it, and took out the false bangle. She waslooking at it in a sort of stunned way, when Mademoiselle, accompaniedby Mrs Dawson, came in.
"Ah!" said Mademoiselle, whose face was white with rage; for she neverexpected that Penelope would act as she had done. "You are the thief--convicted in the very act!" and she pointed with a finger of scorn atBrenda.
"You're a nice young woman to have as a visitor in my respectablehouse!" said Mrs Dawson.
"_Pauvre petite_! She looks as if she could faint," said Mademoiselle,who still did not give up hope of obtaining money and having the affairhushed up. "Why, will her own sister ruin her! The thing can be--oh,not spoken of, but put away in the most secret of the heart's recesses--buried there for all time. A leetle--a very leetle money, will dothis."
"No," said Penelope, turning and flashing her eyes upon her. "Youtempted me last night, but I am thankful to say your temptation has notthe smallest attraction for me any longer. I want you, and MrsDawson--if she likes--and Brenda to come back with me immediately to theCastle; and you, Mademoiselle, who so cleverly discovered the bangle,will receive your reward. But the bangle itself must be returned.Fetch it, please; for there is no time to lose."
"Then you will," said Mademoiselle, "with your own hands, send your onlyyoung sister to prison! Oh, the hardness of your heart!"
Penelope made no reply to that, but as she glanced at Brenda, who wasabsolutely silent--all the brilliant colour gone from her pretty face,the hand of age itself seeming to steal over her features--such a sharppain went through the younger girl's heart that, involuntarily, she puther hand to her brow as though to feel the weight of the crown ofthorns. Whatever that actually signified, it seemed to comfort her andsteady her resolves. She turned to Brenda, and said quickly: "Will youget ready at once, dear?" And Mademoiselle, seeing that she wasdefeated, went out of the room, and brought the bangle.
"I myself convey it to the Castle," she said. "I will myself relate thestory, and will claim that shabby reward which has been offered for therecovery of the lost treasure."
"That is exactly as you like. And would Mrs Dawson wish to accompanyyou--"
"No," said Mrs Dawson, "not I. I have had nothing to do with thisthing. I had my suspicions on the night when I saw such an unsuitableornament on Miss Fanchon's wrist. There is nothing whatever for me todo but to request that the Misses Amberley be removed from my house assoon as possible--"
"Oh, that is for afterwards," interrupted Penelope. "Brenda has gotsomething to do first. Come, Brenda, shall I find your hat? The soonerwe get this over, the better."
"But I won't go--I won't!" suddenly shrieked Brenda. "I have notconfessed; I have admitted nothing. Why should I not have a bangle ofmy own. Is Nellie Hungerford's the only one in the world?"
"The queer coincidence of the engraving exactly alike on the banglewhich contains the most precious ruby and on this bangle which holds theturquoise of great beauty makes it scarcely probable, _mon enfant_,"said Mademoiselle. As she spoke, she held up the glittering toy forPenelope to see. "I will go and put on my neat bonnet and be ready toaccompany you, young ladies," she said.
Thus it came to pass that, half an hour later, a miserable,cowed-looking girl entered the phaeton and took her place byMademoiselle's side. Penelope occupied the little seat in front. Noone spoke during that miserable drive, but that aged look was stillperceptible on Brenda's face, and the colour had absolutely left hercheeks. Once Penelope tried to take her sister's hand, but Brendapulled it roughly away.
At last, they all reached Castle Beverley. Mrs Hungerford was therewith her two little girls, and Honora was watching for Penelope withmore anxiety in her heart than she cared to own. When she saw thatPenelope had brought her sister and the French governess back with her,she guessed at once that something important must have occurred. Thethree got out.
"This is for me my hour of triumph," said Mademoiselle. But she utteredthe words without any jauntiness, for the look on Brenda's face appalledeven her gay and wicked spirit.
Penelope went straight up to Nora.
"I have brought my sister and Mademoiselle; and will Mrs Hungerfordcome--and will you come, Honora? The sooner we get this over, thebetter."
"Oh--I can't," murmured Brenda, in a passionate voice under her breath.
"You can--you must. It is the only, only way," whispered Penelope then.
With these words, she determinedly took her sister's hand, and the threewent into the small room opening out of the front hall, while Honora ranto fetch Mrs Hungerford. When that lady appeared, being much amazed atthis hasty summons, she was startled at the aspect of the little groupwho awaited her. There was Penelope, with still that Helen-of-Troyexpression on her face. There was Brenda, aged for the time being, andshrinking; and there was Mademoiselle, with her wicked eyes gleaming.
The moment Mrs Hungerford entered, Mademoiselle marched up to her.
"I claim the so great reward," she said. "You did advertise for thisvery leetle trinket, and behold! I it to you restore. Look at it--itis the one that you have lost. Ponder it--and consider it well.Compare it with the bracelet your little daughter Pauline wears, and seeif it is not, in very truth, the lost bangle."
"It most certainly is," said Mrs Hungerford; "and you have found it?Pardon me--I do not know your name."
"Mademoiselle d'Etienne--at your service. I have had the so highprivilege to teach your young daughters the elegancies of our Frenchtongue at that s
"But how did you get it?"
"Ah! There I have a _histoire_ the most pathetic, the most wonderful,the most _extra-ordinaire_ to relate."
"No," interrupted Penelope, suddenly, "the time has come for Brenda tospeak. Brenda, tell what you know."
"There's no use in concealing it," said Brenda. "I am not sorry--Imean, I'm only sorry to be found out. Mrs Hungerford, this is whathappened. Do you remember driving up with me to Hazlitt Chase on theday of the prize-giving? You stepped--oh--out of the carriage, and asyou did so you dropped the bangle on the ground, I saw it: I coveted it:I took it: I slipped it into my pocket. I put you off the scent bytelling my sister that doubtless you had dropped it in the train. I amthe thief. I await my punishment: it is prison, it it not? Very well;I have confessed. I think it is most likely that Mr Beverley is amagistrate. He can send for the police, and put me into prison. Istole the bangle: Mademoiselle found it. I am a thief, and Penelope isthe sister of one. That is all."
"Oh, poor girl!" said Mrs Hungerford. She rose slowly from her seatand left the room. In a few minutes she returned. She brought with herthree sovereigns and three shillings.
"These are for you," she said to Mademoiselle. "This is the rewardoffered. You have led to the discovery of the bangle--I don't want toknow how--take your reward, and go."
"Yes, please go at once," said Honora.
There was a quality in her young voice which the Frenchwoman had neverheard before, and there was such a ring of scorn in Mrs Hungerford'stone that it seemed--as Mademoiselle afterwards expressed it--"to withereven the very vitals." She took her money sulkily and, without a word,left the presence of the others, never to be seen by them again.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
What followed can be easily explained. Mrs Hungerford was a goodwoman. Honora had learned some lessons in the higher life. Now MrsHungerford and Honora were certainly not going to punish Penelope, andtheir one earnest desire was to rescue Brenda.
They left the sisters alone for a short time, and talked together.
"That poor, poor, pretty girl!" said Mrs Hungerford. "Oh, of coursewhat she did was dreadful, but we just mustn't let her go under, mustwe, Honora?"
"I knew you would feel like that," said Honora, "I felt certain of it.You can little guess what Penelope has suffered; she is a splendid girl.Her mission at present in life is to help her sister."
"Now listen."
Mrs Hungerford proposed a plan which was eventually carried out. Thiswas no less than, first and foremost, to assure Brenda of her absoluteforgiveness.
"You acted very badly indeed," she said; "but I am not going to call thepolice, nor to put you in prison. Your punishment will be that thosewho know you will have to be acquainted with what has occurred. You hadmuch better not return to the boarding-house, but stay here. Yourlittle pupils must go back to their father, for I do not think it rightthat they should be with you any longer. As to you--I want you andPenelope to do something for me."
"I to do anything for you?" said Brenda, her eyes suddenly growing softand a new expression stealing over her face.
"Yes. My house in the country is empty at present. Will you andPenelope go there to-day and live there quietly until the holidays cometo an end? I can put you on the way. When the holidays are over,Penelope will, of course, return to Hazlitt Chase, and I myself will domy utmost to get you a post which I think you may suit--not as teacherto the young, for you have not the necessary qualifications."
From the thought of prison, the magistrates, the handcuffs, which shemight possibly wear, the public examination, the trial--to going awaywith Penelope to Mrs Hungerford's own house was such a relief to themiserable Brenda that, all of a sudden, she gave way utterly.
"There--now I am sorry really!" she said. "I was not a bit sorry whenevery one was hard to me, but I am bitterly sorry now!"
Mrs Hungerford's arrangements were carried out in full detail. Thelittle Amberleys were invited up to the Castle until the Reverend Josiahcould be summoned. He came on the following morning, and was told infull the sad story about Brenda. He was greatly shocked, but beggedthat the knowledge of what had occurred should be kept from hisdaughters.
"I am afraid they suspect a great deal," said Mrs Beverley, who ofcourse had been taken into confidence.
"Poor children, life is hard on them!" said dear papa, "and I did thinkBrenda such a sweet young creature. How frightfully we were deceived!But I must take them back, and get Miss Juggins to teach them infuture."
"Perhaps you would allow me to recommend a particularly nice girl to betheir governess," here interposed Mrs Beverley.
"Oh, Madam, do you know of one?"
"I do--I have known her since she was a child. I think she would go toyou, and help your little girls. Her name is Lydia Hamburg. You cansee her if you like, for she lives close by."
Lydia Hamburg, who was all that Brenda Carlton was not, did eventuallyfind herself installed as governess to the little Amberleys; and as shewas faithful and true, the wheels of life ran smoothly at the rectory,and the girls turned out, on the whole, better than might have beenexpected.
As to Brenda, hers was a difficult and--it must be owned--a worthlesscharacter. Not all Penelope's earnestness and faithful love would makeher really see the enormity of her crime in its full light. But,nevertheless, even she had learned a lesson and, in future, would notlend herself to such open sin as heretofore. Mrs Hungerford arrangedthat she was to leave England, with a party who were going to Canada;for in a fresh land, she might do better.
These things have all happened, and the characters in this story havemoved on a little way in life's journey. To each has been meted out adue share of cloud and sunshine, and those who have done wrong have eachin their turn suffered.
But Penelope has never forgotten her dream, nor the feeling of thatblessed crown of thorns, and she and Honora Beverley are the best andtruest of friends.