CHAPTER VIII

THE FIRST QUARREL

A FORTNIGHT after Mrs. Despard's death, Mr. Hollys went to London. The children seemed already to have forgotten their experience of earth's darkest shadow. May dawned so fresh and beautiful, that it was impossible for thoughts of sorrow to dwell in their childish hearts.

It was delightful to pass the sunny mornings on the beach, hunting for shells and seaweed, or raising with their spades castles or embankments, which the incoming tide always swept away. It was warm enough now for Beryl to commence the bathing which she so thoroughly enjoyed. Beryl's swimming seemed to Coral a wonderful performance. She did not soon forget the fright Beryl gave her on the morning on which they first ventured into the water.

"Look, Coral; see what I am going to do!" exclaimed Beryl, as she waded through the shallow waves towards a rock, which rose high out of the water.

On the other side of the rock, the waves were running high. Coral watched Beryl wonderingly as she scrambled up the great rocks, and stood on the top, looking a strange little figure in her pretty scarlet bathing-dress. Coral laughed and clapped her hands to see her perched there; but her laugh changed to a cry of horror, as she saw Beryl suddenly raise her hands high above her head, and, springing forward, plunge headlong into the waves surging around the rock.

Coral screamed with fear, as her friend disappeared from view. She felt certain that Beryl would be drowned.

"Don't be frightened, my dear," cried Lucy's voice from the shore; "that's only one of Miss Beryl's venturesome tricks. She's safe enough, for she can swim like a fish. Master had her taught when she was quite a little girl. Look! There she is again."

And Coral's fears were allayed by seeing Beryl's head appear above the water, and hearing her laugh merrily as she shook the water from her eyes and head.

"You little goose! Did you think I was drowned?" she cried. "Look how well I can swim. Come, Coral, I will teach you to swim."

But Coral was cold and nervous, and felt no desire for a swimming lesson.

"I don't want to learn," she said. "I am tired of being in the water; I shall go in."

"Oh, you can't think of going in yet," cried Beryl, who was warmed and exhilarated by her exercise; "you have been in the water no time. Come, let me dip you."

But Coral screamed and drew back as Beryl laid rather rough hands on her. Beryl, little used to having her will opposed, lost her temper at this, and the children, who up to this time had agreed most charmingly, now began to quarrel.

"You silly little thing," said Beryl, in a tone of contempt, "I do believe you are frightened. I would not be such a coward for something. There, go along with you; I don't want your company."

Coral ran sobbing to Lucy, and Beryl swam leisurely round the rock, and tried to believe that she was enjoying herself very much. But in truth she was feeling too angry with Coral to be very happy.

"Coral was a silly, cross, disagreeable little thing," she said to herself again and again, not being at all willing to acknowledge that she too had been cross and disagreeable.

"How could you be so unkind to Miss Coral?" said Lucy, when Beryl at length came out of the water, and went into the garden-house to be dressed. "The poor child has been sobbing like to break her heart. I wonder at you, Miss Beryl, treating a poor little motherless girl like that!"

Now, Beryl was already beginning to feel ashamed of herself, but she was not willing to acknowledge this to Lucy. At her nurse's words her heart grew hard again.

"I don't care," she said defiantly. "Coral was much more cross than I was. She is a horrid little thing."

"Well, I never! Miss Beryl!" exclaimed Lucy, lifting up her hands in astonishment. "And to think how anxious you were to have her for a little sister. No one would have thought, to hear you talk of her then, that you would so soon behave badly to her."

Beryl made no reply; her face wore a sullen, proud look, which it was not pleasant to see. When she was dressed, she went down to the beach again. Coral had ceased to cry, and was playing there very contentedly.

Beryl passed her without vouchsafing her even a look, and went to some rocks at a little distance, where she sat down and stared sulkily at the sea. Beryl was quite conscious of her own naughtiness, but felt disposed to encourage it and prolong it as much as possible.

Presently Coral, finding it dull to play alone, came timidly to the place where Beryl sat.

"Beryl," she said, trying to appear oblivious of past occurrences, "won't you come and play with me?"

For a moment Beryl felt inclined to dismiss her vexation and yield to Coral's wish, but pride and ill-temper reasserted themselves.

"No," she said crossly; "I don't care to play with a stupid little thing like you. You can go away."

"You ought not to call me stupid," replied Coral, her dark eyes flashing angrily; "you are a bad girl."

And she raised her hand and struck Beryl.

The blow did not hurt Beryl in the least, but in her present mood it was more than her pride could endure.

"How dare you!" she cried, turning upon Coral, with her face aglow with passion, and giving the child such a violent push as made her fall with her face on the rough stones.

Beryl did not wait to see if Coral were hurt, but ran off at full speed along the beach, as if anxious to get as far away as possible. But run as fast as she might, Beryl could not escape from the evil self which was the source of her unhappiness. She came to a sudden halt as she caught sight of a distant figure seated in a quiet nook amongst the rocks, with easel and paint-box at hand. She had no inclination now to bound forward to greet the artist. She fancied that Mr. Gilbank would be able to read in her face the secret of her naughtiness. The very sight of him had the force of a silent reproach.

Hoping that he had not seen her, Beryl turned back, and began slowly to climb one of the many zigzag paths leading to the top of the cliff. Half-way up, she paused, and stood looking down on the beach. She was anxious to see Coral, but the child was not in sight.

It was lovely to watch the blue, foam-crested waves breaking on the stones, to gaze across the beautiful bay, or at the pure white clouds sailing slowly overhead; but these things were lost upon Beryl. Conscience was awake now, and her unhappiness had taken a new and better shape.

The sight of Mr. Gilbank had reminded her of her resolve to be a child of the kingdom, and she felt that she had miserably failed. She saw her conduct in its true light, and wondered to think how easily she had given way to bad temper. How could she behave so crossly to poor little Coral, who had lost both her father and mother, and had no one else to love her! She had meant to be so tender and loving, and to act the part of a good, wise, elder sister to the child. Beryl really loved Coral, and she now felt heartily sorry and ashamed to think how she had treated her. She began to fear that Coral must have been very much hurt by that fall on the sharp stones.

She longed to go in search of her and ask her forgiveness, yet she shrank from doing so. How could she bear it if she found Coral suffering greatly from the effects of her violence?

The more Beryl thought of all that had happened, the more uneasy she became. At last she turned to the best source of comfort for our troubles, whether they spring from sin or not. There is but one voice that can absolve from sin, and one Friend whose sympathy can reach every sorrow. When Beryl had told her sin and sorrow in the ear of that Friend, she felt calmer, and started off, determined to lose no time in finding Coral and telling her how sorry she was that she had been so cross.

She ran down to the beach, and hastened in the direction of home, looking everywhere for Coral; but the child was not to be seen. Once or twice Beryl called her name, thinking that Coral might be hiding amongst the rocks; but no answer came, and she hurried on with a vague sense of fear. Coral was not at the end of the beach, where she had left her, and Beryl ran up the steps into the garden, hoping to find her there. But no; the garden paths were quiet and deserted; and, feeling more and more frightened, Beryl hastened into the house, and ran upstairs to the nursery, meeting no one by the way.

The nursery was empty, but the door of the adjoining room, in which the children slept, stood ajar, and something prompted Beryl to peep inside. She started and trembled greatly to see Coral lying on her little bed, looking very pale, with closed eyes, and a white bandage on her forehead. For a few moments Beryl scarcely dared to move, so alarmed was she. Then she ventured to creep nearer; but as she did so, Beryl saw to her horror that there was blood upon the handkerchief which bound Coral's forehead. The sight was too much for Beryl's self-control, and she uttered a sharp cry of distress. At the sound Coral's eyes opened, and she looked up at Beryl with a dazed, bewildered glance.

"Oh, Coral, Coral!" sobbed Beryl, quite overcome by emotion. "I thought I had killed you! What is the matter with your forehead? Is it very bad?"

"The stones cut it," said Coral, "and it bled so, and I was frightened, and cried, so Lucy carried me in and put me to bed. She said I had better try and go to sleep, and I think I have been asleep."

"Oh, I am so sorry, Coral," said Beryl; "I can't think how I could be so horrid to you. I can never forgive myself for knocking you down and hurting you so."

"Don't cry, Beryl; it is better now," said the child; "it only smarts a little."

"I was a cross, bad thing," said Beryl; "can you forgive me, Coral?"

"Oh yes, of course I forgive you," said Coral readily; "please do not cry any more."

But Beryl's tears burst forth anew as she stooped to kiss Coral. She hardly left Coral's side for the rest of the day, and tried by loving words and actions to atone for her previous unkindness.

Beryl did not soon forget the lesson she had learned. Though the cut on Coral's forehead soon began to heal, its scar lingered for many a day to remind Beryl of her ill-temper and its consequences. This, their first quarrel, was also the last serious disagreement which the children had.

When Beryl was tempted to give way to passion and pride, she remembered the misery she had endured that day on the beach, and tried to check her anger, and show the loving, forgiving spirit of a true child of the kingdom.

After this, the days passed very pleasantly with the two little people. As spring grew into summer they took long walks and rides along the shore, or they explored the beautiful woods lying beyond the village.

Andrew was very pleased when he could find leisure to accompany the young ladies, and lead the pony whilst they rode by turns. In this way, they were able to go a good distance, and they generally came back from these excursions laden with ferns and wild flowers.

Sometimes Lucy would get her brother to take them for a row in his boat, a treat which the children thoroughly enjoyed. Beryl planned how, when she was a little older, she would get her father to give her a boat of her own, which she would learn to row her very self.

Once Mr. Gilbank joined them in one of their boating excursions, and his presence added greatly to the children's pleasure, for he talked to them and told them stories as they sailed over the bright rippling water.

The children saw a good deal of the artist in those days; they often sat by his side on the beach whilst he painted. Their presence did not disturb him, and he was never too busy to answer the questions they asked.

The only drawback to Beryl's happiness at this time was the thought of the governess, of whom mention had been made. Beryl fancied that a governess must of necessity be a disagreeable, cross-looking individual, who would feel it to be her duty to restrict their pleasures, and scold and punish them as much as possible. She disliked the thought of her coming. Beryl was beginning to be sensible of her need of instruction, for she had discovered that Coral, though two years younger, could read and write better, and knew a great deal more than herself; but she could not regard a governess otherwise than as a necessary evil.

It was a relief to her to find that her father's letters contained no allusion to his purpose of seeking a governess, and she began to hope that he had forgotten all about it, and for the present, they might enjoy unrestrainedly the delights of life at Egloshayle.