Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Heart of Una Sackville
by Mrs George de Horne Vaizey________________________________________________________________This book is not really in the same league as Pixie, but itcertainly is a well-written story about the inner life of ayoung woman in search of a wooer and future husband in themonths and years after she leaves school. All the characters,men and women, boys and girls, are well-drawn, and the book isan enjoyable read, which we would recommend, particularly to thefairer sex. Dated in 1895, it contains contains a good dealof local and historical colour, and is worth reading for theinsight into the social background of girls of the professionalmiddle classes of those days.________________________________________________________________"THE HEART OF UNA SACKVILLE"A TALE OF A YOUNG WOMAN'S SEARCH FOR THE FUTURE LOVE OF HER LIFE
BY MRS. GEORGE DE HORNE VAIZEY
CHAPTER ONE.
_May 13th, 1895_.Lena Streatham gave me this diary. I can't think what possessed her,for she has been simply hateful to me sometimes this last term. Perhapsit was remorse, because it's awfully handsome, with just the sort ofback I like--soft Russia leather, with my initials in the corner, and aclasp with a dear little key, so that you can leave it about withoutother people seeing what is inside. I always intended to keep a diarywhen I left school and things began to happen, and I suppose I must havesaid so some day; I generally do blurt out what is in my mind, and Lenaheard and remembered. She's not a bad girl, except for her temper, butI've noticed the hasty ones are generally the most generous. There arehundreds and hundreds of leaves in it, and I expect it will be yearsbefore it's finished. I'm not going to write things every day--that'ssilly! I'll just keep it for times when I want to talk, and Lorna isnot near to confide in. It's quite exciting to think all that will bewritten in these empty pages! What fun it would be if I could read themnow and see what is going to happen! About half way through I shall beengaged, and in the last page of all I'll scribble a few words in mywedding-dress before I go on to church, for that will be the end of UnaSackville, and there will be nothing more to write after that. It'svery nice to be married, of course, but stodgy--there's no moreexcitement.
There has been plenty of excitement to-day, at any rate. I alwaysthought it would be lovely when the time came for leaving school, andhaving nothing to do but enjoy oneself, but I've cried simplybucketfuls, and my head aches like fury. All the girls were sofearfully nice. I'd no idea they liked me so much. Irene May begancrying at breakfast-time, and one or another of them has been at it thewhole day long. Maddie made me walk with her in the crocodile, andsaid, "Croyez bien, ma cherie, que votre Maddie ne vous oublierajamais." It's all very well, but she's been a perfect pig to me manytimes over about the irregular verbs! She gave me her photograph in agilt frame--not half bad; you would think she was quite nice-looking.
The kiddies joined together and gave me a purse--awfully decent of thepoor little souls--and I've got simply dozens of books and ornaments andlittle picture things for my room. We had cake for tea, but half thegirls wouldn't touch it. Florence said it was sickening to gorge whenyour heart was breaking. She is going to ask her mother to let herleave next term, for she says she simply cannot stand our bedroom afterI'm gone. She and Lorna don't get on a bit, and I was always having tokeep the peace. I promised faithfully I would write sheets upon sheetsto them every single week, because my leaving at half term makes itharder for them than if they were going home too.
"We shall be so flat and dull without you, Circle!" Myra said. Shecalls me "Circle" because I'm fat--not awfully, you know, but just alittle bit, and she's so thin herself. "I think I'll turn over a newleaf and go in for work. I don't seem to have any heart for gettinginto scrapes by myself!"
"Well, we _have_ kept them going, haven't we!" I said. "Do youremember," and then we talked over the hairbreadth escapes we had had,and groaned to think that the good times were passed.
"I will say this for Una," said Florence, "however stupid she may be atlessons, I never met a girl who was cleverer at scenting a joke!"
When Florence says a thing, she _means_ it, so it was an awfulcompliment, and I was just trying to look humble when Mary came in tosay Miss Martin wanted me in the drawing-room. I did feel bad, becauseI knew it would be our last real talk, and she looked simply sweet inher new blue dress and her Sunday afternoon expression. She can look asfierce as anything and snap your head off if you vex her, but she's adarling all the same, and I adore her. She's been perfectly sweet to methese three years, and we have had lovely talks sometimes--serioustalks, I mean--when I was going to be confirmed, and when father wasill, and when I've been homesick. She's so good, but not a bit goody,and she makes you long to be good too. She's just the right person tohave a girls' school, for she understands how girls feel, and that itisn't natural for them to be solemn, unless of course they are prigs,and they don't count.
I sat down beside her and we talked for an hour. I wish I couldremember all the things she said, and put them down here to be my rulesfor life, but it's so difficult to remember.
She said my gaiety and lightness of heart had been a great help to themall, and like sunshine in the school. Of course, it had led me intoscrapes at times, but they had been innocent and kindly, and so she hadnot been hard upon me. But now I was grown up and going out into thebattle of life, and everything was different.
"You know, dear, the gifts which God gives us are our equipments forthat fight, and I feel sure your bright, happy disposition has beengiven to you to help you in some special needs of life."
I didn't quite like her saying that! It made me feel creepy, as ifhorrid things were going to happen, and I should need my spirit to helpme through. I want to be happy and have a good time. I never canunderstand how people can bear troubles, and illnesses, and being poor,and all those awful things. I should die at once if they happened tome.
She went on to say that I must make up my mind from the first not tolive for myself; that it was often a very trying time when a girl firstleft school and found little or nothing to occupy her energies at home,but that there were so many sad and lonely people in the world that noone need ever feel any lack of a purpose in life, and she advised me notto look at charity from a general standpoint, but to narrow it down tillit came within my own grasp.
"Don't think vaguely of the poor all over the world; think of one personat your own gate, and brighten that life. I once heard a very good mansay that the only way he could reconcile himself to the seeminginjustice between the lots of the poor and the rich was by believingthat each of the latter was deputed by God to look after his poorerbrother, and was _responsible_ for his welfare. Find someone whom youcan take to your heart as your poor sister in God's great family, andhelp her in every way you can. It will keep you from growing selfishand worldly. In your parents' position you will, of course, go a greatdeal into society and be admired and made much of, as a bright, prettygirl. It is only natural that you should enjoy the experience, butdon't let it turn your head. Try to keep your frank, unaffectedmanners, and be honest in words and actions. Be especially careful notto be led away by greed of power and admiration. It is the best thingthat can happen to any woman to win the love of a good, true man, but itis cruel to wreck his happiness to gratify a foolish vanity. I hopethat none of my girls may be so forgetful of all that is true andwomanly."
She looked awfully solemn. I wonder if she flirted when she was young,and he was furious and went away and left her! We always wondered whyshe didn't marry. There's a photograph of a man on her writing-table,and Florence said she is sure that was him, for he is in such a lovelyfram
e, and she puts the best flowers beside him like a shrine.
Florence is awfully clever at making up tales. She used to tell us themin bed, (like that creature with the name in the _Arabian Nights_). Weused to say:
"Now then, Florence, go on--tell us Fraulein's love-story!" and shewould clear her throat, and cough, and say--"It was a glorious summerafternoon in the little village of Eisenach, and the sunshine peeringdown through the leaves turned to gold the tresses of young Elsa Behrendas she sat knitting under the trees."
It was just like a book, and so true too, for Fraulein is alwaysknitting! The Romance de Mademoiselle was awfully exciting. There wasa duel in it, and one man was killed and the other had to run away, soshe got neither of them, and it was that that soured her temper.
I really must go to bed--Lorna keeps calling and calling--and Florenceis crying still--I can hear her sniffing beneath the clothes. We shallbe perfect wrecks in the morning, and mother won't like it if I go homea fright. Heigho! the very last night in this dear old room! I hatethe last of anything--even nasty things--and except when we'vequarrelled we've had jolly times. It's awful to think I shall never bea school-girl any more! I don't believe I shall sleep a wink all night.I feel wretched.
PS--Fancy calling me pretty! I'm so pleased. I shall look nicer stillin my new home clothes.
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