Her little sister's joyous welcome and loving kiss made Beryl cry again. She felt more humble and sorry than ever, now every one was so kind to her, for even Lucy seemed to feel a little sympathy for her. Coral had picked out the finest and ripest blackberries for her enjoyment; but, fond as she generally was of this fruit, Beryl was indifferent to blackberries now. Her chief thought was that she loved her governess better than before, and she would never, never be naughty to her again.
[CHAPTER XVII]
AN UNWELCOME GUEST
FOR some days Beryl "went softly" in her humiliation and repentance. But sins as well as sorrows are easily forgotten by children, and when Miss Burton had so heartily forgiven her recent outbreak of naughtiness, and was as kind and as loving to her as ever, how could Beryl retain a depressing sense of shame? Yet the thought of that unhappy day was not banished to a land of utter oblivion. Its memory revived again and again to give a timely warning, when Beryl was tempted to fight hard for her own way, or assert her independence by disobeying commands.
The year glided on to that delightful season when summer and autumn join hands and mingle their gifts of warmth and colour. The corn grown on the upland fields were all cut and stored. The woods were mellowing with tokens of summer's waning, and promised a rich harvest to the nutters. But the sun still shed warmth and beauty along the shore, and it was only at evening that the cold breath of autumn was felt. The sound of sportmen's guns re-echoed from the stubble lands, and Egloshayle was at its gayest time, as far as visitors were concerned.
Mr. Hollys did not come home till the day before that fixed for the arrival of the guests he had invited for the shooting. Miss Hollys had returned from her visit a week earlier, and was anticipating with pleasurable excitement the task of entertaining her brother's guests. She was prepared to forget for a time that she had nerves, and make exertions from which she would generally have shrunk.
To Beryl the coming of these visitors was an annoyance. She wanted her father to herself, and it vexed her to think that his time and attention would be monopolised by a number of strangers. She was inclined, moreover, to regard the sport of shooting from the birds' point of view, and denounce it as a very cruel kind of amusement.
To secure at least one quiet talk with her father, Beryl asked permission to drive with Andrew to the station to meet him. Her request was granted without demur.
She could squeeze herself between Mr. Hollys and Andrew, even if her father's luggage should demand the whole of the back seat of the phaeton, and he would certainly be pleased to have her company. Miss Hollys, being in an amiable mood, allowed Beryl to do as she liked.
So Beryl drove off, looking bright and happy. Andrew, being one of the most cautious of servants, had allowed so much time for the drive, that they arrived at the station long before the train was due. Beryl did not mind that. She had a pleasant sense of being a person of importance as she walked up and down the platform, feeling sure that the stationmaster knew who she was, and had communicated this knowledge to the countrywomen who stood by regarding her with glances in which she fancied she read admiration.