Two Worlds and Their Ways Page 10

  “So we are under a cloud already,” said Esther. “The storm has rolled up in the first few hours.”

  “That is very graphic, Esther,” said Miss Marathon, in an uncertain tone.

  “I feel I managed to bring it on you all,” said Maud.

  Miss Laurence and Miss Marathon rose and left the room, leaving what was irrepressible to find its outlet.

  “No, Maud, you need not feel that,” said Miss Chancellor. “You spoke the truth simply and sincerely, and no one can be asked to regret that.”

  “I ask Maud to regret it,” said Gwendolen. “She startled us into betraying ourselves. We could have told Miss Firebrace we were glad to languish in exile.”

  “If you did not feel it, Gwendolen, it was better not to say it.”

  “It was probably better not to say that,” said Clemence.

  “It did not seem so much better,” said Gwendolen.

  “We suffered for the faith that was in us,” said Verity.

  “And what faith is that, Verity?” said Lesbia’s voice.

  There was the slightest pause.

  “Faith in the value of freedom, Miss Firebrace.”

  “That was ready, Verity,” said Lesbia, in a tone of giving ungrudging approbation where it was merited. “I do not know how far it was the expression of the truth, but I hold to what I say; it was ready.”

  Verity suppressed a smile.

  “Miss Firebrace felt she had gone rather far,” muttered Esther. “She is trying to retrieve her position.”

  Lesbia turned her eyes on Esther, kept them on her for some seconds, and withdrew them without speaking.

  “Esther, you and I are the only ones who do not attain any credit,” said Gwendolen.

  “Is that so, Gwendolen? Then take some credit for bringing back to us a cheerful face,” said Lesbia, smoothing Gwendolen’s hair, and then turning to Esther with a different expression.

  “Are you very tired after your journey, Esther?”

  “Yes, Miss Firebrace; I cannot endure travelling.”

  “Poor child!” said Lesbia, putting out her hand with a similar purpose, but seeming to reconsider the matter and withdrawing it. “I shall be glad to feel you are in bed. I think you had better go up to Miss Tuke now. Yes, go straight upstairs, Esther. If you are so tired, that is the right course for you.”

  “Good-night, Miss Firebrace.”

  “Good-night, Esther.”

  The girls bade Lesbia a formal good-night, and received each a separate and full response. She stood and watched them as they left the room, and meeting a glance from Miss Chancellor, nodded as though in agreement. As the latter went to the door, there was a sound of Gwendolen’s voice.

  “My movements were stiff and self-conscious under Miss Firebrace’s eyes.”

  Lesbia and Miss Chancellor yielded to amusement, and the latter followed her pupils to the dormitory.

  “I suppose Miss Firebrace is really our second mother,” said Gwendolen. “Anyhow I do not know who is, if she is not. And I think people generally have second mothers. It is second fathers they do not seem to have. I don’t know why.”

  “It is not the term I should apply to her,” said Esther.

  “Now, be careful, Esther,” said Miss Chancellor. “You are over-tired, and may say things you will regret.”

  “I will have Miss Tuke for my second mother. I think her feelings towards us come more from the heart. It is a mistake to come to bed so early. We shall have to cry for so long.”

  “Well, really, Gwendolen, what a very odd compulsion!”

  “You ought not to brush other people’s troubles lightly aside, Miss Chancellor. We have been torn from home and kindred.”

  “Well, so have I, Gwendolen, and I am not going to cry.”

  “Yes, but, Miss Chancellor, you can do as you like,” said Verity. “You are not forced to spend three months away from your natural surroundings.”

  “No, I cannot do as I like, Verity; you are mistaken,” said Miss Chancellor, looking straight at her pupil as she made her admission. “I am also the victim of compulsion, a different one from yours, but quite as binding.”

  “And then people say the age of slavery is past,” said Gwendolen, sitting down on her bed.

  “Slavery, but not service, Gwendolen. I hope we shall never get beyond that.”

  “Gwendolen, your quilt!” said Miss Tuke. “It is fresh today, and the bed has not been turned down.”

  “I knew we had come upstairs too soon.”

  “You are too old for such carelessness, Gwendolen,” said Miss Chancellor.

  “I am too old for the things I do, and not old enough for the things I want to do. Fifteen is an intolerable age.”

  “Indeed it is not, Gwendolen, if you would realise its opportunities. I wish I had realised them at that age and made the most of them.”

  “So do I, Miss Chancellor. I already wish it,” said Maud.

  “Well, I think that is rather premature, Maud. You can put off your regrets a little longer. You have still plenty of time to make up for any you have lost.”

  “Poor Maud! Carrying a load of regret for a wasted youth!” said Verity. “I could see she carried some kind of burden.”

  “What would you have been doing, Miss Chancellor, if you had used your opportunities?” said Esther. “Not what you are doing now?”

  “The same sort of thing, Esther, but on a different plane and in a wider sphere,” said Miss Chancellor, looking fully at the speaker and using her unsparing note.

  “You wish you had not seen any of us, Miss Chancellor. I shall cry longer than I thought.”

  “Now that is not quite a fair way of putting it, Gwendolen. As you will see, if you think.”

  “Of course we are unbearable creatures, and no one can tolerate us,” said Verity, approaching her bed to throw herself upon it, but dragging off the quilt before she did so.

  “Thank you, Verity,” said Miss Tuke.

  “I don’t know if it is very rude to ask you to speak for yourself, Verity,” said Miss Chancellor, laughing.

  “Are those Clemence’s dresses, Miss Tuke?” said Esther.

  “Yes. They are all together in her cupboard. Now no one is to interfere with them.”

  The girls gathered round the wardrobe and handled the garments as if they had received the opposite injunction. Verity lifted herself off the bed and came with a languid stride to join them.

  “What is that dress?” said Esther. “I mean, what kind of a dress is it?”

  “Well, surely you can see that, Esther,” said Miss Chancellor. “A muslin dress meant for rather better occasions. There is no mystery about it.”

  “I think there is one,” said Esther rapidly. “It is not good enough for a party and not much good for anything else. I find it a mystery.”

  “It did for little, garden tea-parties,” said Clemence, just glancing at it.

  “It would be most suitable for those,” said Miss Chancellor.

  “Why did you bring it here?” said Gwendolen. “Did you expect to have garden-parties at school?”

  “Oh, I suppose it was put in.”

  “Don’t you see your own packing done?” said Esther.

  “No, I do not trouble about it. Of course I have never had it done before.”

  “Have you never been away from home?”

  “Not alone, so that my things had to be packed separately.”

  “Do you see your packing done, Maud?” said Verity, in her idle tone.

  “I do it myself, Verity. There is no one to do it for me.”

  “Cannot the servants do it?” said Esther, as though her bluntness were sufficiently established to justify itself.

  “There are only two, Esther, and they have not time. My mother is not strong and needs a good deal of attention.”

  “Could not your mother help you?” said Gwendolen.

  “I should not dream of asking her, Gwendolen. I would rather manage by myself.”

  “H
as your mother a cold heart?”

  “Well, really, Gwendolen! What will Maud think of you?” said Miss Chancellor.

  “No, but she has not a strong one,” said Maud, her gravity unshaken in the face of a sound of mirth. “I feel it is for me to take things off her rather than put them on.”

  “Gwendolen, you do not know the difficulties and demands of other households,” said Miss Chancellor, gravely.

  “No, but I am trying to learn them, and my sympathies are growing wider.”

  “I hope Maud’s are wide enough to embrace your childishness.”

  “Did you bring more than one trunk, Clemence?” said Esther.

  “I do not know. I am not quite sure.”

  “Now I do know, Clemence,” said Miss Chancellor. “You brought one large, interesting one. I saw you and your mother arrive from my window. I happened to be looking out.”

  “And the governess with them,” said Esther. “Clemence travels with an escort.”

  “No, no governess, Esther. Clemence simply came with her mother, as you all did. You let your imagination run away with you.”

  “Mine is not the only imagination that does that,” said Esther, in a light tone, separating the dresses with her hand.

  “Where is your party dress, Clemence?”

  “I expect at home. That kind of thing would be there. Do you have real parties at school?”

  “There is the break-up party at the end of this term. It is regarded as the climax of the year.”

  “Well, twelve weeks will give Clemence plenty of time to send for a dress,” said Miss Chancellor.

  “I believe the muslin is her party dress.”

  “Why, what a tone to use, Esther! You sound as if you were accusing her of a crime.”

  “I should not mind if it was. What is the matter with it?” said Clemence, preparing the way for any eventual climax. “It is only a little, schoolgirl party, I suppose.”

  “Well, that is what it would be, Clemence, in our present situation,” said Maud.

  “What kind of parties did you have at home?” said Gwendolen.

  “I hardly did have them. There were no little, ordinary ones. And I am not old enough for the others.”

  “Don’t you have a Christmas tree and things like that?”

  “Yes, but they are mostly for the villagers. It would not do to dress for those,” said Clemence, giving a little laugh.

  “Clemence’s life has had duties as well as pleasures,” said Miss Chancellor.

  “What is your real party dress like? Describe it to us,” said Esther.

  “I thought you said the muslin was my party dress.”

  “Well, I think you deserved that, Esther. You brought it on yourself,” said Miss Chancellor.

  “Do tell us what it is like, Clemence,” said Gwendolen.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I have hardly seen it. It has been so little good. And I daresay I have grown out of it.”

  “And you do not care if you have, Clemence,” said Miss Chancellor, smiling.

  “Will you have it at the end of the term?” said Verity.

  “I suppose it will be sent, if I ask for it, or one something like it. I don’t much like party dresses. They are too different from the ordinary kind.”

  “That is a reasonable criticism of some of them, Clemence,” said Maud.

  “Maud has never worn one against which the criticism could be brought,” said Verity, in a murmur that seemed designed to escape the general ear, and apparently did escape Maud’s, as she gave every sign of not hearing it.

  “Things that are grown out of, and cannot be seen, might just as well not exist,” said Esther “I daresay they often do not.”

  “Esther, we know you are over-tired,” said Maud. “Otherwise we should not be proud of you.”

  “I hope the same excuse can be made for you, Verity,” said Miss Chancellor, “but you do not look over-tired.”

  Verity moved to her bed and sank down on it, giving colour to another view.

  “Well, I don’t mind if it doesn’t,” said Clemence, with a laugh. “It would be a fussy-looking thing. And I like things that are old and comfortable.” She settled her shoulders in the dress she wore.

  “You said it did exist,” said Esther. “Or you implied it.”

  “Well, it may have found its way to the rag-bag by now.”

  “We could all have plenty of dresses on that understanding.”

  “Or it may be unearthed and lengthened and altered and given to me instead of a new one. Then you will have the pleasure of seeing it. Though I should not think it would be much pleasure.”

  “It is easy to see you have not been to school before, Clemence,” said Miss Chancellor. “But I understand you have done a fair amount of work at home.”

  “Yes, with a governess, and with my brother’s tutor.”

  “You have learned Latin and Greek?”

  “Yes, up to a point. Of course, not very much of them.”

  “Greek?” said Gwendolen. “Then are you going to do something, when you grow up?”

  “Do something? How do you mean?”

  “Well, I hope she will not do nothing, Gwendolen,” said Miss Chancellor.

  “Do some sort of work for a salary,” said Esther.

  “No, I do not suppose so. Why, are the rest of you going to?”

  “No, but we do not learn Greek.”

  “I envy you Clemence,” said Maud.

  “So do I, Maud,” said Miss Chancellor. “I wish I had had such opportunities when I was young. We shall see if Clemence has made the most of them. Or rather Miss Laurence will tell us in her own good time, or will tell herself. What she tells us is her own affair.”

  “I hope she will not tell me,” said Clemence.

  “You need not be afraid, Clemence. There is nothing to fear in Miss Laurence’s teaching, for those who can respond to her influence. That there may be for those who do not, I do not deny. It would be idle to do so.”

  “I do not know what her real influence is,” said Gwendolen. “She rules me by fear.”

  “You are very fond of Miss Laurence, are you not, Miss Chancellor?” said Verity.

  “Yes, very fond, Verity. She taught me when I was your age, and it was an experience not to be forgotten. I certainly shall never forget it.”

  “Being taught by someone does not always make people fond of the person,” said Esther.

  “No, it does not, Esther. I do not flatter myself, for example, that any of you are very fond of me. But I can do my work and find it interesting, in spite of that. Indeed I do not find that that sort of feeling plays much part in my life.”

  “People are supposed to be proud of odd things,” said Verity. “And I suppose a failure to inspire human affection is one of them.”

  “But Miss Laurence is another matter,” went on Miss Chancellor. “She has the gift of inspiring her pupils, or some of them, with a strong feeling.”

  “I do not call it a gift,” said Gwendolen. “It is a vice.”

  “Well, but, Miss Chancellor, you are not very fond of us, are you?” said Verity.

  “No, I am not, Verity,” said Miss Chancellor, with the unsparing note. “As I have said, affection is not necessary, and perhaps not natural, to me in such a relation. I neither inspire it nor feel it. But Miss Laurence often does both. Clemence is fortunate to meet with teaching on that level.”

  “And are not the rest of us fortunate?” said Esther.

  “You can answer that question for yourself, Esther. I cannot do it for you.”

  “I wish you would stop boasting of things you ought to be ashamed of, Miss Chancellor,” said Gwendolen. “You are fond of us, aren’t you, dear Miss Tuke?”

  “Dear, dear! What should I do without you all?” said the latter, continuing her occupations under existing conditions.

  “You are unfeeling, Miss Chancellor,” said Verity. “You make no attempt to come near to us.”

  “No, I do not, Verity. It is
the last thing I should think due from me to you,” said Miss Chancellor, going to the door. “Now, I hope you will all sleep well and appear punctual and bright in my classroom in the morning.”

  “I hope you will sleep, Miss Chancellor,” said Gwendolen, “but I do not see how you can, with such a burden of remorse upon you.”

  “Miss Chancellor has taken a fancy to Clemence,” said Esther.

  “And promised her that Miss Laurence shall do the same,” said Verity.

  “Now how much more time are you going to waste?” said Miss Tuke. “The other girls will wonder what has happened to me.”

  “I wish you would ignore their claims and sit with us until we are asleep,” said Gwendolen. “This harsh bringing-up will make hard women of us. We shall want other people to suffer as we have.”

  “I wonder what you would say, if you had one,” said Miss Tuke, going round the beds and imprinting a kiss on each cheek. “Now no more chatter until the morning. I put you on your honour not to say another word.”

  “Why did you say that your governess came with you to school, when really only your mother did?” said Esther to Clemence, as the door closed.

  “Did I say so? I got so muddled by all your questions. And she did come. She did some shopping while my mother was here, and they were to travel back together.”

  “Then she did not come to the house?”

  “Yes, she came and went away again. They were to meet at the station.”

  “Then she could not have been getting into the cab at the last. You knew it was your mother.”

  “I did not know who it was. She might have come back at any time. She is always here and there and everywhere.”

  “But if she had come back, you would have seen her.”

  “I might not have. I did not stay in the drawing-room all the time. It seemed that my mother and Miss Firebrace wanted to talk without me.”

  “As was to be expected, Clemence,” said Maud.

  “But wouldn’t you have gone back to say goodbye to the governess?” said Esther. “Or is yours an old-fashioned family where she is not treated like other people?”

  “We said goodbye in the morning, before I started.”

  “But you could not have, if you were to travel together.”

  “Oh, indeed we could. You don’t know the Petticoat’s goodbyes. They stretch right over the past and future. Nothing that we could have said here, would have added to them.”