Beryl's Triumph by Eglanton Thorne

"DO make haste, Lucy; how slow you are! " exclaimed Beryl Hollys, as she impatiently shook the long, silken tresses, which her maid was carefully brushing. "Papa will be here before you have done my hair, I do believe."

"You need not be afraid of that, Miss Beryl," answered the maid quietly; "for Andrew has only just driven out of the yard, and it's a good three miles to the station. Master can't possibly be here yet awhile."

"Well, do make haste, anyhow! " returned Beryl, giving her head another toss; "there are ever so many things I want to do before papa comes."

"I am as quick as I can be," replied Lucy, in an aggrieved tone; "but your hair is in such a tangle with tossing in the wind, that there is no doing anything with it."

"My hair is a bother," said Beryl. "I wish I could wear it quite short like a boy. It kept blowing in my eyes and teasing me so when I was on the beach. I should have enjoyed the wind but for that. I think it is good fun when the wind blows as it has been blowing this afternoon."

"The wind still seems to be rising," said Lucy, as an angry gust beat against the house; "I am afraid there will be a storm to-night."

"Oh, I am so glad! " cried Beryl gleefully. "I love to hear the wind roaring after I am in bed. It seems to make the bed feel so much more cosy and comfortable."

"Oh, Miss Beryl, how can you say you are glad! " said Lucy reproachfully; for, being a fisherman's daughter, she knew the perils of the deep, and to her a storm was an event to be dreaded. "Think of the poor sailors who may be drowned whilst you are enjoying your warm bed."

"Oh, well, Lucy, you know I did not mean that I was glad that sailors should be drowned," replied Beryl, in a tone of annoyance; "I'm sure I don't wish any one to come to harm; but I do like to hear the wind roar."

By this time Beryl's hair was in order, and Lucy proceeded to array her in a white dress, with blue sash and ribbons. As soon as she was released from her maid's hands, Beryl, regardless of Lucy's warning that she would tumble her dress, scrambled up into the high window-seat, and took a good look at the prospect it commanded. The nursery window was at the side of Egloshayle House, and looked over the garden wall into the narrow, hilly street which led from the village to the shore.

A corner of the beach, too, was visible, with a row of fishermen's boats drawn up high and dry on the stones, and some nets spread over them. Several men were moving about on the beach, gathering up the nets, and making the boats more secure, in expectation of a stormy night. The gloomy sky, the angry roll of the waves, and the increasing bluster of the March wind, seemed to show that their prognostications would soon be verified.

"How the wind does blow, to be sure! " said Beryl; "and now it is beginning to rain. I hope papa will not get wet."

"The rain is not enough to hurt any one at present," said Lucy, looking out; "and I dare say Andrew took wraps. Oh, Miss Beryl, do look at your dress. It will not be fit to be seen if you kneel on it like that."

Beryl disdained to reply to Lucy's words, but, springing lightly from the window-seat, hastened out of the room.

A delicious smell of cooking came to her nostrils as she ran down the wide staircase. Beryl observed it with satisfaction, for she would have dinner with her father to-night in honour of his return, and she had a keen appetite for the dainties which cook was sure to send up on this occasion.

Beryl was the only child in that large, old house, and as such she had many indulgences; but she had never known a mother's love and care. Nearly twelve years had passed since the summer day when Mr. Hollys brought his pretty young bride to her Cornish home. Egloshayle House looked a bright and pleasant abode then, when newly painted and adorned in honour of her coming, and the quiet life of the little seaside village seemed sweet and peaceful to the hearts which clung together so fondly, and made the happiness of each other's life.

The joy had lasted but a short time. Only one year of happy wedded life, and then came death and change.

At Beryl's birth her mother passed from earth, and to the desolate husband the young helpless life seemed a poor exchange for that of which it robbed him.

He went abroad for some years, leaving his babe in the care of servants, who were faithful to their charge, and lovingly tended the child. When at length he returned home, Guy Hollys was very pleased with his tiny daughter, and learned to love her tenderly, though, perhaps, his love was not the wisest, most unselfish form of parental affection. He liked to pet and fondle his little Beryl, showering upon her gifts and indulgences; but his kindness was of a sort that gave him little trouble, and his fondness for her did not incline him to settle down and make his home at Egloshayle again. Since his wife's death, he had returned to the habits of his former bachelor life, and usually lived in London, contenting himself with paying brief visits to his Cornish property, to see that all was going on as it should there, and that the child was well and happy.

In order that Beryl might not be entirely left to servants, he persuaded his sister, an unmarried lady of but small property, to live at Egloshayle House, and take the oversight of the household. Having made this arrangement, he felt fully persuaded that he had done all that could be required of him as a father.