The Adventures of an Ugly Girl. Mrs. George Corbett
and, with my eyes flashing angrily, hissed rather than said: ‘You are an old man, my lord. I am but a young girl. You think that you may hold me up to ridicule and laughter with impunity. But I vow you shall do so no longer. Shall I tell you what I will do if you dare to insult me in that manner again?’
“Dora, how dare you!” exclaimed my father angrily. “If you have forgotten how to behave yourself, I must request you to go to your own room at once.—I told you how it would be,” he remarked to Lady Elizabeth.
“Tut, tut!” put in the earl. “Let the girl alone, Courtney. This little bit of an outburst is my especial prerogative, and I would like to hear the whole of it. What will you do if I repeat the kind of conversation which seems to rouse your ire? Why shouldn’t I call you a beauty?”
“Because I have a right to demand that you should cease to satirize my unfortunate appearance, and because I will no longer submit quietly to listen to compliments which become insults when applied to me.”
“But you have not yet told me how you will prevent me from saying just what I please.”
“If you are so little of a gentleman as to repeat your conduct, I will—I will slap your face!”
“This is too disgraceful!” interposed my father again. “Once more, Dora—”
“I have to beg you once more to permit me to finish this little affair in my own way,” said the earl, who was actually laughing, so utterly insignificant and childish did he deem my anger. “So you would slap my face, eh? Well, there’s nothing would please me better. I like a girl with some go in her. And you know you really are the nicest, bonniest—”
Five minutes later I was in my own room, feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself. I had not permitted the Earl of Greatlands to finish his preposterous compliment. But I certainly had disgraced myself in the eyes of my father, of Lady Elizabeth, and of sundry other people who witnessed my exit from the drawing-room and its predisposing cause. For I had really slapped the old earl’s face, even as I had threatened to do. He would probably not annoy me in the same way again. Indeed, it was problematical if he would ever speak to me again; for, after all, my conduct must seem inexcusable in the opinion of all but myself. For how could I expect any one else to understand how bitter it was to me to have my lack of comeliness held up to the laughter and contumely of more favored mortals.
Next morning, when I came down to breakfast, I found my father awaiting my advent in the morning room, and braced myself for the reprimand which I knew to be inevitable. Said reprimand was even more severe than I had anticipated, but my affectionate parent displayed such a total lack of the consideration which I felt was the due of my own wounded feelings, that, somehow, I no longer felt sorry for what I had done, but maliciously resolved to adopt equally drastic measures if ever I should be insulted in like manner again.
“I was never so ashamed in my life,” supplemented Belle, who had come in while my father was talking, and had listened with a smile to his lecture.
“I am glad to hear you say so,” said the voice of Lady Elizabeth. “It really was a shame to laugh when you saw how Dorrie was being tormented.”
“Indeed, it is Dora I was ashamed of, not myself. It is not likely that I shall ever disgrace myself in like manner.” So said Belle, and then the very absurdity of the suggestion that she would ever be tormented for the same reason that I had been provoked the girl to irresistible laughter, and served to prove how utterly heartless she could really be where my feelings were concerned.
That afternoon the earl rode over to Sunny Knowe and surprised me by greeting me even more cordially than ever. Evidently he thought me too insignificant and childish to be offended with, while I considered that the best thing I could do would be to make no further allusion to yesterday’s contretemps. He did not seem inclined to tease me any more, and the remainder of that day passed pleasantly, as did many more ere we returned to the Grange.
When at last we were installed in our old home again, we were astonished at the wonderful improvements that money and taste had been able to effect in and around it. It was now a grand old place, worthy of the imposing view it commanded and the fine trees by which its grounds were dotted. My father both looked and felt like a rich landed proprietor, as he surveyed the realm which, thanks to Lady Elizabeth’s income, he would be able to support in a style becoming the dignity of the Courtneys, who had once owned all the land for miles around. A new wing had been added, for the comfort of Lady Elizabeth, whose rooms were situated here, and who had brought such a quantity of beautiful new furniture with her that the Grange was a veritable palace of delight to Belle and myself, who had never known anything but shabby surroundings. My bedroom was now of my own choosing, and had been furnished exactly like Belle’s.
I wrote glowing accounts to Jerry of all that was being done, and was especially careful to give him full details concerning Bobby and Teddy, and the rats and rabbits. Poor Jerry! he was to have come home for the Christmas holidays, and they were close at hand when a serious accident befell him. He had been too venturesome in some of the school sports, with the result that he had a severe fall and fractured his right leg. His father was telegraphed for at once and lost no time in reaching him. Meanwhile, the boy had been treated by a skillful surgeon, and there was every prospect of his progressing satisfactorily toward recovery. But it was deemed inadvisable to move him at present, so poor Jerry had to forego his anticipated holiday at home.
“I felt awfully sorry for Kendall,” he wrote in his weekly letter home, “because his father and mother were dead, and he would have to spend his holidays at school. Now I am jolly well glad, for he will be company for me.”
It must not be imagined that Jerry was particularly selfish in expressing himself thus. It was only his youthful vagueness that was at fault. The writing, under the circumstances, was hardly legible. But I thought it very brave of the child to write at all.
Meanwhile, Christmas approached and passed with comparative uneventfulness. True, Lord Egreville had proposed to Belle. But she had declined to give him a definite answer, on the plea that she was too young to be engaged just now; the truth being that she was determined not to labor under the disadvantage of being already out of the running when she went to London for the season.
A house in town had been rented for us, and in due course we all migrated thither. I had hardly expected to be introduced to London society yet, and Belle openly grumbled at the idea. But Lady Elizabeth generally got her own way in everything, and when she intimated that there was no reason why I should not enjoy myself like the rest there was no opposition from my father. Arrived in London, however, I found that people were by no means inclined to make a fuss over me, while the “beautiful” Miss Courtney was fêted and courted to her heart’s content.
Still, the proposals she had confidently expected were somewhat chary in realizing themselves, and when they did come they were not as superlatively tempting as they might have been. The fact was, it was pretty generally known that Belle would have no dowry to speak of, and though plenty of young aristocrats admired her immensely, they deemed it advisable to offer their affections and society at the shrine of Mammon. There were a couple of millionaires in the market. But, incredible as it seemed to Belle, there were other girls in London whose physical charms equaled her own, and to these other girls the millionaires succumbed.
Belle fumed. Belle raged. Belle almost anathematized. Belle hated her victorious rivals. But Belle was wily, and presented an unruffled front in the presence of Lady Elizabeth and her relatives. She made the most of the proposals she did get, but professed her inability to love the proposers. Love, indeed! Could such a beautiful sentiment find an entrance into her cold breast? Impossible! What she coveted was wealth and station, and when, toward the end of the season, Lord Egreville’s proved to be the most eligible offer, she accepted him, and had the felicity of seeing her engagement recorded in all the society papers.
I had an idea that the Earl of Greatlands did not care much for Belle, but had never presumed to give utterance to my suspicion. Lady Elizabeth, however, was not quite so reticent.
“I wish you every happiness, dear,” she said to Belle, kissing her warmly, “and I think that you and