A Plucky Girl Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  THE VERDICT

  The first thing I noticed when I entered the large room where MessrsMacalister & Co. carried on their business, was a young man, tall andvery well set up, who stood with his back to us. He was talkingearnestly to one of Macalister's clerks, and there was something abouthis figure which caused me to look at him attentively. His hair was ofa light shade of brown, and was closely cropped to his well-shapedhead, and his shoulders were very broad and square. He was dressedwell, and had altogether that man-of-the-world, well bred sort oflook, which is impossible to acquire by any amount of outward veneer.The man who stood with his back to us, and did not even glance roundas we came into the agent's office, was beyond doubt a gentleman. Ifelt curiously anxious to see his face, for I was certain it must be apleasant one, but in this particular fate did not favour me. I heardhim say to the clerk in a hurried tone--

  "I will come back again presently," and then he disappeared by anotherdoor, and I heard him walking rapidly away. Mother had doubtless notnoticed the man at all. She was seated near a table, and when theclerk in question came up to her, seemed indisposed to speak. I gaveher a silent nudge.

  "We want--ahem," said my mother--she cleared her throat, "we areanxious to look at some houses."

  "Fourteen to fifteen bedrooms in each," I interrupted.

  "Fourteen to fifteen bedrooms," repeated mother. "How many sittingrooms, Westenra?"

  "Four, five, or six," was my answer.

  "Oh, you require a mansion," said the agent. "Where do you propose tolook for your house, madam?"

  He addressed mother with great respect. Mother again glanced at me.

  "We thought somewhere north," she said; "or north-west," she added.

  "W.C.," I interrupted; "Bloomsbury, we wish to settle in Bloomsbury."

  "Perhaps, Westenra," said my mother, "you had better describe thehouse. My daughter takes a great interest in houses," she added in anapologetic tone to the clerk. The face of the clerk presented a blankappearance, he showed neither elation nor the reverse at having ayoung lady to deal with instead of an old lady. He began to trot outhis different houses, to explain their advantages, their aristocraticpositions.

  "Aristocratic houses in Bloomsbury--aristocratic!" said mother, andthere was a tone of almost scorn in her voice.

  "I assure you it is the case, madam. Russell Square is becoming quitethe fashion again, and so is"--he paused--"Would Tavistock Square suityou?" he said, glancing at me.

  "I do not know," I answered. "I seem to be better acquainted with thenames of Russell Square or Bloomsbury Square. After all, if we can geta large enough house it does not greatly matter, provided it is inBloomsbury. We wish to see several houses, for we cannot decidewithout a large choice."

  "You would not be induced, ladies, to think of a flat?" queried theagent.

  Mother glanced at me; there was almost an appeal in her eyes. If Icould only be induced to allow her to live in a tiny, tiny flat--sheand I alone on our one hundred and fifty a year--but my eyes werebright with determination, and I said firmly--

  "We wish to look at houses, we do not want a flat."

  Accordingly, after a little more argument, we were supplied withorders to view, and returning to the carriage I gave brief directionsto Jenkins.

  During the rest of the morning we had a busy time. We went from onehouse to another. Most were large; some had handsome halls and widestaircases, and double doors, and other relics of past grandeur, butall were gloomy and dirty, and mother became more and more depressed,and more and more hopeless, as she entered each one in turn.

  "Really, Westenra," she said, "we cannot do it. No, my darling, it ishopeless. Think of the staff of servants we should require. Do look atthese stairs, it is quite worth counting them. My dear child, such alife would kill me."

  But I was young and buoyant, and did not feel the stairs, and mydreams seemed to become more rosy as obstacles appeared in view. I wasdetermined to conquer, I had made up my mind to succeed.

  "Whatever happens you shall not have a tiring time," I saidaffectionately to my dear mother, and then I asked one of thecaretakers to give her a chair, and she sat in the great wide desolatedrawing-room while I ran up and down stairs, and peeped intocupboards, and looked all over the house, and calculated, as fast asmy ignorant brain would allow me, the amount of furniture which wouldbe necessary to start the mansion I had in view.

  For one reason or another most of the houses on the agent's list wereabsolutely impossible for our purpose, but at last we came to onewhich seemed to be the exact thing we required. It was a corner housein a square called Graham Square, and was not so old by fifty years asthe houses surrounding it. In height also it was a storey lower, butbeing a corner house it had a double frontage, and was in consequencevery large and roomy. There were quite six or seven sitting rooms, andI think there were up to twenty bedrooms in the house, and it had amost cheerful aspect, with balconies round the drawing-room windows,and balconies to the windows of the bedrooms on the first floor. Imade up my mind on the spot that the inmates of these special roomsshould pay extra for the privilege of such delightful balconies. Andthe windows of the house were large, and when it was all re-paperedand re-painted according to my modern ideas, I knew that we couldsecure a great deal of light in the rooms; and then besides, one wholeside faced south-east, and would scarcely ever be cold in winter,whereas in summer it would be possible to render it cool by sun-blindsand other contrivances. Yes, the house would do exactly.

  I ran downstairs to mother, who had by this time given up climbingthose many, many stairs, and told her that I had found the exact housefor our purpose.

  "Seventeen Graham Square is magnificent," I said. "My dearest, darlingmother, in ten years time we shall be rich women if we can only securethis splendid house for our purpose."

  "We do not even know the rent," said mother.

  "Oh, the rent," I cried. "I forgot about that. I will look on theorder to view."

  I held it in my hand and glanced at it. Just for a moment my heartstood still, for the corner house commanded a rental of two hundredand eighty pounds a year. Not at all dear for so big a mansion, butwith rates and taxes and all the other etceteras it certainly was aserious item for us to meet, and would be considered even by the mostsanguine people as a most risky speculation.

  "Never mind, never mind," I cried eagerly, "we will secure this house;I do not think we need look at any of the others."

  I crumpled up the remaining orders. Mother stepped into the carriage,and Jenkins took us back to the agent's.

  "You must speak this time, Westenra," said mother. "Remember it isyour scheme, darling; I am not at all accustomed to this sort ofbusiness; it will be necessary for you to take the initiative."

  "Very well, mother, I will; and suppose you stay in the carriage." Iuttered these last words in a coaxing tone, for the tired look on herface almost frightened me, and I did not want her to take any of theworry of what I already called to myself "Westenra's grand scheme."

  I entered the office, and the man who had attended to us in themorning came forward. I told him briefly that of the many houses whichwe had looked over, the only one which would suit our purpose was No.17 Graham Square.

  "Ah," he answered, "quite the handsomest house on our list. Do youwant it for your own occupation, Miss--Miss----"

  "Wickham," I said. "Yes, of course we want the house forourselves--that is, mother would like to rent it."

  "It is a high rent," said the man, "not of course high for such a finemansion, but higher than the rest of the houses in the Square. Itcontains a great many rooms." He glanced at me as though he meant tosay something impertinent, but, reading an expression of determinationon my face, he refrained.

  "How soon can we take possession of the house?" I asked. "It would ofcourse be papered and painted for us?"

  "If you take a lease, not otherwise," answered Macalister's clerk.

  "I think we would take a lease," I replied. "What
is the usuallength?"

  "Seven, fourteen, twenty-one years," he answered glibly; "but I do notthink the landlords round here would grant a longer lease thanfourteen years."

  "Oh, that would be quite long enough," I answered emphatically. "Weshould like to arrange the matter as soon as possible, we are greatlypleased with the house. Of course the drains must be carefully tested,and the entire place would have to be re-decorated from cellar toattic."

  "For a fourteen years' lease I doubt not this would be done," said theman, "but of course there are several matters to be gone into. Youwant the house for a private residence, do you not?"

  "Yes, and no," I said faintly. There was a room just beyond where Iwas seated, and at that moment I heard a book fall heavily to theground. It startled me. Was any one in there listening to what we weresaying?

  The clerk stepped forward and quietly closed the door.

  "To be frank with you," I said, "we wish to secure 17 Graham Square inorder to start a boarding-house there."

  The man immediately laid down the large book in which he had beentaking my orders.

  "That will never do," he said. "We cannot allow business of any sortto be carried on in the house, it would destroy all the rest of theproperty. It is far too aristocratic for anything of the kind."

  "But our house would be practically private," I said; "I mean," Icontinued, stammering and blushing, and feeling ready to sink throughthe floor, "that our guests would be extremely nice and well-behavedpeople."

  "Oh, I have no doubt whatever of that," replied the clerk, "but thereis a condition in every lease in that special Square, that money isnot to be earned on the premises. I presume your guests would notcome to you for nothing?"

  "Certainly not," I replied. I felt myself turning cold and stiff. Allthe angry blood of my noble ancestors stirred in my veins. I said afew more words and left the shop.

  "Well?" asked mother. She was looking dreary and terribly huddled upin the carriage. It was a warm day, but I think going through thoseempty houses had chilled her. "Well, Westenra, have you taken No. 17?"

  "Alas! no," I answered in some heat; "would you believe it, mother,the agent says the landlord will not let us the house if we make moneyin it."

  "If we make money in it? I do not understand," answered mother. Herblue eyes were fixed on my face in an anxious way.

  "Why, mother, darling, don't you know we meant to fill the house withpaying guests."

  "Oh, I forgot," said mother. "Home, Jenkins, as fast as possible."

  Jenkins whipped up the horses, and we trotted home. Mother lookeddistinctly relieved.

  "So you have not taken the house?" she said.

  "I cannot get it," I answered. "It is more than provoking. What are weto do? I had taken such a fancy to the place."

  "It did seem, for that benighted place, fairly cheerful," said mymother, "but, Westenra, there is a Providence guiding our paths.Doubtless Providence does not intend you to wreck your young lifeattending to lodgers."

  "But, mother dear, don't you understand that we must do something forour living? It is disappointing, but we shall get over it somehow."

  During the rest of that day mother refused even to discuss theboarding-house scheme. She seemed to think that because we could notget 17 Graham Square, there was no other house available for ourpurpose.

  The next day I went out without mother. I did not visit the sameagent. After finding myself in Bloomsbury I repaired to a post-office,and, taking down the big Directory, secured the names of severalagents in the neighbourhood. These I visited in turn. I had dressedmyself very plainly; I had travelled to my destination by 'bus. Ithought that I looked exactly what I felt--a very business-like youngwoman. Already the gulf was widening between my old and my new life.Already I was enjoying my freedom.

  Once more I was supplied with a list of houses, and once again Itrotted round to see them. Alack and alas! how ugly empty houses didlook; how dilapidated and dirty were the walls without the picturesand bookcases! How dreary were those countless flights of stairs,those long narrow windows, those hopelessly narrow halls; and then,the neighbourhood of these so-called mansions was so sordid. Could weby any possible means brighten such dwellings? Could we make them fitto live in? I visited them all, and finally selected three of these.Two had a clause forbidding the letting out of apartments, but thethird and least desirable of the houses was to be the absoluteproperty of the tenant to do what he liked with.

  "That mansion," said the obliging agent, "you can sublet to yourheart's content, madam. It is a very fine house, only one hundred andeighty pounds a year. There are ten bedrooms and five sitting-rooms.You had better close with it at once."

  But this I could not do. The outlook from this house was so hideous;the only way to it was through an ugly, not to say hideous,thoroughfare. I thought of my delicate, aristocratic mother here. Ithought of the friends whom I used to know visiting us in 14 ClevelandStreet, and felt my castle in the clouds tumbling about my ears. Whatwas to be done!

  "I cannot decide to-day," I said; "I will let you know."

  "You will lose it, madam," said the agent.

  "Nevertheless, I cannot decide so soon; I must consult my mother."

  "Very well, madam," said the man, in a tone of disappointment.

  I left his office and returned home.

  For the next few days I scarcely spoke at all about my project. I wasstruggling to make up my mind to the life which lay before us if wetook 14 Cleveland Street. The street itself was somewhat narrow; theopposite houses seemed to bow at their neighbours; the rooms, althoughmany, were comparatively small; and last, but by no means least, thelandlord would do very little in the way of decoration.

  "We can let houses of this kind over and over again," said the agent,"I don't say that Mr. Mason won't have the ceilings whitened for you,but as to papering, no; the house don't require it. It was done up forthe last tenant four years ago."

  "And why has the last tenant left?" I asked.

  "Owing to insolvency, madam," was the quick reply, and the man darteda keen glance into my face.

  Insolvency! I knew what that meant. It was another word for ruin, forbankruptcy. In all probability, if we took that detestable house, wealso would have to leave on account of insolvency, for what nice,cheerful, paying guests would care to live with us there? I shook myhead. Surely there must be somewhere other houses to let.

  During the next few days I spent all my time searching for houses. Igot quite independent, and, I think, a little roughened. I was morebrusque than usual in my manners. I became quite an adept at jumpingin and out of omnibuses. I could get off omnibuses quite neatly whenthey were going at a fairly good pace, and the conductors, I am sure,blessed me in their hearts for my agile movements. Then the agents allround Bloomsbury began to know me. Finally, one of them said, on theevent of my fourth visit--

  "Had you not better try further afield, Miss? There are larger,brighter, and newer houses in the neighbourhood of Highbury, forinstance."

  "No," I said, "we must live in Bloomsbury." Then I noticed that theman examined me all over in quite a disagreeable fashion, and then hesaid slowly--

  "14 Cleveland Street is still to be had, Miss, but of course youunderstand that the landlord will want the usual references."

  "References!" I cried. "He shall certainly have them if he requiresthem." And then I wondered vaguely, with a queer sinking at my heart,to whom of all our grand friends I might apply who would vouch for usthat we would not run away without paying the rent. Altogether, I feltmost uncomfortable.

  The days passed. No more likely houses appeared on the horizon, and atlast the afternoon came when our friends were to visit us, when I,Westenra, was to break to these fashionable society people my wildproject. But I had passed through a good deal of the hardening processlately, and was not at all alarmed when the important day dawned. Thiswas to be our very last entertainment. After that we would step down.

  Mother, exquisitely dressed in dove-coloured sa
tin, waited for herguests in the drawing-room. I was in white. I had given up wearingwhite when I was going about in omnibuses, but I had several charmingcostumes for afternoon and evening wear still quite fresh, and Idonned my prettiest dress now, and looked at my face in the glass witha certain amount of solicitude. I saw before me a very tall, slendergirl; my eyes were grey. I had a creamy, pale complexion, andindifferently good features. There were some people who thought mepretty, but I never did think anything of my looks myself. I gave myown image a careless nod now, and ran briskly downstairs.

  "You'll be very careful what you say to our guests, Westenra?" queriedmother. "This whole scheme of yours is by no means to my liking. Ifeel certain that the dear Duchess and Lady Thesiger will feel thatthey have been brought here unfairly. It would have been far frankerand better to tell them that something singularly unpleasant was aboutto occur."

  "But, dearest mother, why should it be unpleasant? and it is thefashion of the day to have sensation at any cost. Our guests willalways look back on this afternoon as a sort of red letter day. Justthink for yourself how startled and how interested they will be.Whether they approve, or whether they disapprove, it will be immenselyinteresting and out of the common, mother. O mother! think of it!" Igripped her hand tightly, and she said--

  "Don't squeeze me so hard, Westenra, I shall need all my pluck."

  Well, the hour came and also the guests. They arrived in goodlynumbers. There was the usual fashionable array of carriages outsideour door. There were footmen in livery and coachmen, and stately andmagnificently groomed horses, and the guests poured up the stairs andentered our drawing rooms, and the chatter-chatter and hum-hum ofordinary society conversation began. Everything went as smoothly as italways did, and all the time my mother chatted with that courtly gracewhich made her look quite in the same state of life as the Duchess ofWilmot. In fact the only person in the room who looked at all nervouswas the said Duchess. She had a way of glancing from me to mother, asif she was not quite sure of either of us, and once as I passed her,she stretched out her hand and touched me on my sleeve.

  "Eh, Westenra?" she said.

  "Yes, your Grace," I replied.

  "All that silliness, darling, that you talked to me the other day, isquite knocked on the head, is it not? Oh, I am so relieved."

  "You must wait and find out," was my reply. "I have something to sayto every one soon, and oh please, try not to be too shocked with me."

  "You are an incorrigible girl," she replied, but she shook her headquite gaily at me. She evidently had not the slightest idea of what Iwas going to do.

  As to my special friend Jasmine Thesiger, she was as usual surroundedby an admiring group of men and women, and gave me no particularthought. I looked from one to the other of all our guests: I did notthink any more were likely to come. All those who had been speciallyinvited had arrived. My moment had come. Just then, however, justbefore I rose from my seat to advance into the middle of the room, Inoticed coming up the stairs a tall, broad-shouldered man. He wasaccompanied by a friend of ours, a Mr. Walters, a well-known artist. Ihad never seen this man before, and yet I fancied, in a sort ofintangible way, that his figure was familiar. I just glanced at himfor a moment, and I do not believe he came into the room. He stood alittle behind Mr. Walters, who remained in the doorway. My hour hadcome. I glanced at mother. Poor darling, she turned very white. Ithink she was almost terrified, but as to myself I felt quitecheerful, and not in the least alarmed.

  "I want to say something to all my dear friends," I began. I had aclear voice, and it rose above the babel. There came sudden andprofound silence.

  I saw a lady nudge her neighbour.

  "I did not know," I heard her say, "that Westenra recited," and thenshe settled herself in a comfortable attitude to listen.

  I stood in the middle of the floor, and faced everybody.

  "I have something to say," I began, "and it is not a recitation. Ihave asked you all to come here to-day to listen to me." I paused andlooked round. How nice our guests looked, how kind, how beautifullydressed! What good form the men were in, and how aristocratic were thewomen. How different these men and women were from the people I hadassociated with during the week--the people who took care of thehouses in Bloomsbury, the agents who let the houses, the people whom Ihad met in the busses going to and from the houses. These nice,pleasant, well-bred people belonged to me, they were part and parcelof my own set; I was at home with them.

  I just caught the Duchess's eye for a moment, and I think there wasalarm in those brown depths, but she was too essentially a woman ofthe world to show anything. She just folded her jewelled hands in herlap, leant back in her chair, and prepared to listen. One or two ofthe men, I think, raised their eye-glasses to give me a more criticalglance, but soon even that mark of special attention subsided. Ofcourse it was a recitation. People were beginning to be tired ofrecitations.

  "I want to say something, and I will say it as briefly as possible," Icommenced. "Mother does not approve of it, but she will do it, becauseshe has yielded to me as a dear, good, _modern_ mother ought."

  Here there was a little laugh, and some of the tension was lessened.

  "I want to tell you all," I continued, "for most of you have been ourfriends since I was a child, that mother and I are--poor. There isnothing disgraceful in being poor, is there? but at the same time itis unpleasant, unfortunate. We were fairly well off. Now, through nofault of our own, we have lost our money."

  The visitors looked intensely puzzled, and also uncomfortable, but nowI raised my eyes a little above them. It was necessary that if I wenton putting them to the test, I should not look them full in the face.

  "We are poor," I continued, "therefore we cannot live any longer inthis house. From having a fair competence, not what many of you wouldconsider riches, but from having a fair competence, we have come downto practically nothing. We could live, it is true, in the depths ofthe country, on the very little which has been saved out of the wreck,but I for one do not wish to do that. I dislike what is called decentpoverty, I dislike the narrow life, the stultifying life, the meanlife. I am my father's daughter. You have heard of my father, that ishis picture"--I pointed as I spoke to an oil painting on the wall."You know that he was a man of action, I also will act." I hurried myvoice a trifle here--"So mother and I mean not to accept what manypeople would consider the inevitable; but we mean, to use a vulgarphrase, to better ourselves."

  Now it is certain, our guests were a little surprised. They began tofidget, and one or two men came nearer, and I thought, though I am notsure, that I saw the tall man, with the head of closely cropped hair,push forward to look at me. But I never looked any one full in theeyes; I fixed mine on father's picture. I seemed to hear father'svoice saying to me--

  "Go on, Westenra, that was very good, you and I are people of action,remember."

  So I went on and I explained my scheme. I told it very briefly. Motherand I would in future earn our own living.

  I was educated fairly well, but I had no special gifts, so I would notenter the Arena where teachers struggled and fought and bled, andmany of them fell by the wayside. Nor would I enter the Arena of Art,because in no sense of the word was I an artist, nor would I go on theStage, for my talent did not lie in that direction, but I had certaintalents, and they were of a practical sort. I could keep accountsadmirably; I could, I believed, manage a house. Then I skilfullysketched in that wonderful boarding-house of my dreams, that house indull Bloomsbury, which by my skill and endeavour would be bright andrender an acceptable home for many. Finally, I said that my mother andI had made up our minds to leave the fashionable part of London and toretire to Bloomsbury.

  "We will take our house from September," I said, "and advertise verysoon for paying guests, and we hope the thing will do well, and thatin ten or twelve years we shall have made enough money to keepourselves for the future in comfort. Now," I continued, "I appeal tono one to help us. We do not intend to borrow money from anybody, andthe only
reason I am speaking to you to-day is because I wish, and Iam sure mother agrees with me, to be quite frank with you. Mother andI know quite well that we are doing an absolutely unconventionalthing, and that very likely you, as our friends of the past, willresent it. Those of you who do not feel that you can associate withtwo ladies who keep a boarding-house, need not say so in so manywords, but you can give us to understand, by means known best toyourselves, whether you will know us in the future. If you want to cutus we shall consider it quite right, quite reasonable, quite fair.Then those who do intend to stick to us, even through this greatchange in our lives, may be the greatest possible help by recommendingus and our boarding-house to their friends, that is, if any of youpresent have friends who would live in Bloomsbury.

  "Mother and I thought it quite fair that you should know, and wethought it best that I should tell you quite simply. We are neither ofus ashamed, and mother approves, or at least she will approvepresently, of what I have done."

  There was a dead silence when I ceased speaking, followed by a slightrustling amongst the ladies. The men looked one and all intenselyuncomfortable, and the tall man who had come in with Mr Walters, theartist, disappeared altogether.

  I had not been nervous while I was speaking, but I felt nervous now. Iknew that I was being weighed in the balance, that I and my schemewere being held up before the mental eyes of these people with thekeenest, most scathing criticism. Would one in all that crowdunderstand me? I doubted it. Perhaps in my first sensation of sinkingand almost despair something of my feeling stole into my face, forsuddenly Jasmine sprang to her feet and said in an excited, tremulousvoice--

  "I for one say that Westenra is a very plucky girl. I wish her Godspeed, and I hope her scheme will succeed."

  This was very nice indeed of Jasmine, but I do not know that itrelieved the situation much, for still the others were silent, andthen one lady got up and went over to mother and took her hand andsaid--

  "I am very sorry for you, dear Mrs. Wickham, very sorry indeed. I fearI must say good-bye now; I am very sorry. Good-bye, dear Mrs.Wickham."

  And this lady's example was followed by most of the other ladies,until at last there was no one left in the room but the Duchess ofWilmot and Lady Thesiger and ourselves. Lady Thesiger's cheeks werebrightly flushed.

  "My dear Westenra," she said, "you are one of the most eccentriccreatures in creation. Of course from first to last you are as wrongas you can be. You know nothing about keeping a boarding-house, andyou are bound to fail. I could not say so before all those ridiculouspeople, who would not have understood, but I say so now to you. Mydear girl, your speech was so much Greek to them. You spoke over theirheads or under their feet, just as you please to put it, butcomprehend you they did not. You will be the talk of the hour, andthey will mention you as a girl whom they used to know, but who hasgone a little mad, and then you will be forgotten. You would havedone fifty times better by keeping this thing to yourself."

  "That is precisely what I think," said the Duchess. "My dear Mary,"she added, turning to my mother, "what is the matter with your child?Is she quite _right_?" The Duchess gave an expressive nod, and I sawmother's face turn pale.

  "Oh, do listen to me for a moment," interrupted pretty Lady Thesiger,"what I say is this. Westenra is on the wrong tack. If she wishes toearn money, why must she earn it in this preposterous, impossiblemanner? It would be fifty times better for her to go as a teacher or asecretary, but to keep a boarding-house! You see for yourself, dearMrs. Wickham, that it is impossible. As long as we live in society wemust adhere to its rules, and for West calmly to believe that peopleof position in London will know her and respect her when she is aboarding-house keeper, is to expect a miracle. Now, I for one will notcut you, Westenra."

  "Nor will I cut you, Westenra," said the Duchess, and she gave aprofound sigh and folded her hands in her lap.

  "Two of your friends will not cut you, but I really think all theothers will," said Lady Thesiger. "Then I suppose you expect me torecommend nice Americans to come and stay with you, but it is myopinion that, with your no knowledge at all of this sort of thing, youwill keep a very so-so, harum-scarum sort of house. How can Irecommend my nice American friends to be made thoroughly uncomfortableby you? Oh, I am _very_ sorry for you."

  Lady Thesiger got up as she spoke; she kissed me, squeezed my hand,and said, "Oh child, what a goose you are!" and left the room.

  The Duchess followed more slowly.

  "I don't forget, my child," she said, "that I am your godmother, thatI loved your dear father, that I love your mother, that I also loveyou. Do not be wilful, Westenra; give up this mad scheme. There aresurely other ways open to you in this moment of misfortune. Above allthings, try not to forget that you are your father's daughter."