The Palace Beautiful | Page 2

cheap, rents were low,
and the manners of life deliciously fresh and primitive.
Primrose, Jasmine, and Daisy grew up something like the flowers,
taking no thought for the morrow, and happy in the grand facts that
they were alive, that they were perfectly healthy, and that the sun shone
and the sweet fresh breezes blew for them. They were as primitive as
the little place where they lived, and cared nothing at all for
fashionably-cut dresses; or for what people who think themselves wiser
would have called the necessary enjoyments of life. Mrs. Mainwaring,
who had gone through a terrible trouble before the birth of her eldest
girl, had her nerves shattered a second time by her husband's death;
from that moment she was more ruled by her girls than a ruler to them.
They did pretty much what they pleased, and she was content that they
should make themselves happy in their own way.

It was lucky for the girls that they were amiable, and had strength of
character.
Primrose was delightfully matter-of-fact. When she saw that her mother
allowed them to learn their lessons anyhow she made little rules for
herself and her sisters--the rules were so playful and so light that the
others, for mere fun, followed them--thus they insisted on their mother
hearing them their daily tasks; they insisted on going regularly twice a
week to a certain old Miss Martineau, who gave them lessons on an
antiquated piano, and taught them obsolete French. Primrose was
considered by her sisters very wise indeed but Primrose also thought
Jasmine wise, and wise with a wisdom which she could appreciate
without touching; for Jasmine had got some gifts from a fairy wand,
she was touched with the spirit of Romance, and had a beautiful way of
looking at life which her sisters loved to encourage. Daisy was the
acknowledged baby of the family--she was very pretty, and not very
strong, was everybody's darling, and was, of course, something of a
spoilt child.
Primrose had a face which harmonized very well with her quaint, sweet
name; her hair was soft, straight, and yellow, her eyes were light brown,
her skin was fair, and her expression extremely calm, gentle, and placid.
To look at Primrose was to feel soothed--she had a somewhat slow way
of speaking, and she never wasted her words. Jasmine was in all
particulars her opposite. She was dark, with very bright and lovely eyes;
her movements were quick, her expression full of animation, and when
excited--and she was generally in a state of excitement--her words
tumbled out almost too quickly for coherence. Her cheeks would burn,
and her eyes sparkle, over such trivial circumstances as a walk down a
country lane, as blackberry-hunting, as strawberry-picking--a new
story-book kept her awake half the night--she was, in short, a constant
little volcano in this quiet home, and would have been an intolerable
child but for the great sweetness of her temper, and also for the fact that
every one more or less yielded to her.
Daisy was very pretty and fair--her hair was as yellow as Primrose's,
but it curled, and was more or less always in a state of friz; her eyes
were wide open and blue, and she was just a charming little child,
partaking slightly of the qualities of both her elder sisters.
These girls had never had a care or an anxiety--when they were hungry

they could eat, when they were tired sleep could lull them into
dreamless rest--they had never seen any world but the narrow world of
Rosebury, the name of the village where they lived. Even romantic
Jasmine thought that life at Rosebury, with perhaps a few more books
and a few more adventures must form the sum and substance of her
existence. Of course there was a large world outside, but even Jasmine
had not begun to long for it.
Primrose was sixteen, Jasmine between thirteen and fourteen, and
Daisy ten, when a sudden break came to all this quiet and happy routine.
Mrs. Mainwaring without any warning or any leave-taking, suddenly
died.

CHAPTER II
.
THE FIRST MONTH OF THEIR TROUBLE.
There are mothers and mothers. Mrs. Mainwaring was the kind of
mother who could not possibly say a harsh word to her children--she
could not be severe to them, she could never do anything but consider
them the sweetest and best of human beings. The girls ruled her, and
she liked to be ruled by them. After her husband's death, and after the
first agony of his loss had passed away, she sank into a sort of subdued
state--she began to live in the present, to be content with the little
blessings of each day, to look upon the sunshine as an unmitigated
boon, and on the girls' laughter