Girls New and Old
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"Bring your chair nearer, my dear," she said; "you look, not exactly troubled, but anxious. Now, I don't want my girls to be anxious. What is the matter, Molly? have you anything on your mind?"
"Yes," said Molly; "I have."
Miss Forester was silent for a minute.
"I never force anyone's confidence," she then said slowly, "but I am a middle-aged woman, and you are a young girl. It is just possible that my experience may be of value to you."
"I'd rather tell you than anyone else in the world," replied Molly, with a sudden burst of enthusiasm.
"Then why not, my dear child? you have surely come here for the purpose, have you not? What is worrying you, my dear Molly Lavender?"
"I'll tell you as quickly as I can," said Molly "You remember about Kate, don't you?"
"Kate O'Connor!" said Miss Forester, with a laugh. "I am not likely to forget her, I find her name in everybody's mouth."
"It was the time when Kate was ill," said Molly; "that fearful day when Dr. Groves thought she might never get better. Don't you remember finding Cecil and me by her bedside?"
"I do, and I thought you had no business to be there."
"Perhaps not," said Molly, coloring; "but I was so restless and wretched that I could not keep away. Miss Leicester called me out of the room a moment or two after you went, and told me that a London doctor was coming, and that there was to be an operation, and that Kate's life hung in the balance. I felt nearly wild; I thought that I could not live if Kate died – there had been a horrid cloud between us two, and I had not been able to set matters right with Kate, and I did feel that life would be unendurable if Kate were taken away. I went into the cathedral, and I knelt there and prayed to God. I was in desperation, and I spoke in a desperate way. I asked God to make Kate better, just as if I were demanding something from him, and I said, 'If you will do it, I will do something for you; I will give up my life to you, if you will only do it.' Miss Forester, I spoke in a sort of passion, I felt so fierce and wretched and desperate, then I came away, and in the morning Kate was better, and now she has recovered. But there is my vow to God, I daren't break it, and yet I don't know how to keep it. I promised to give myself to him altogether. I did it, not because I love him, but because I wanted something from him; but now, at any cost, I must keep my bargain. Oh, what am I to do? what am I to do?"
"To live the consecrated life," said Miss Forester slowly.
Molly's head had been lowered, tears were running down her cheeks; she looked up at these words.
"I don't pretend that you did right, Molly," said the principal; "but you did as many another poor tempest-tossed soul has done before you – you struggled to make a bargain with your Maker. Well, child, he was gracious enough to answer your request; now keep your part."
"That is what I want to do," said Molly; "but can I, can I do it without love?"
"Don't you love your Heavenly Father, my dear?"
Molly blushed.
"Not as I love Kate," she said; "nor Cecil; not as I love you."
"Come here, my love, and hold my hand."
Molly went up to Miss Forester's side. Her soft little hand was clasped in the kindly grasp of the older woman.
"I have lived through a great many of these tempests," she said, bending down and looking into Molly's flushed face. "When I was your age, I did not love God best; but now there is no one like him. We were made for God, Molly, as St. Augustine said; we can't be happy apart from him. We don't know that when we are young, but if we use life aright, it teaches us this great lesson. You have made a vow, dear, and you must keep it."
"But ought I to go as a missionary or anything of that sort?" asked Molly.
Miss Forester could scarcely help smiling.
"Missionaries are not the only people who keep a vow of consecration," she said.
"But doesn't it mean that I ought to do something very special?"
"It means," said Miss Forester suddenly, "that you ought to do your school work, and your home work when it comes, from quite a different standpoint from that which influences the girl whose life is not consecrated. You must set God in the middle of your life, and do everything from his point of view. You say you don't love him much now, but love will come very quickly. It is surprising how soon the vain and silly things of life will assume their true proportions, how interesting all your fellow-creatures will be, because you will try to look at them from the point of view from which God regards them. You must make a friend of your Father in heaven; where Christ would have denied himself, you must do the same. My love, it is not an easy life, but it is a very grand one. It need not, in any sense of the word, prevent your enjoying the innocent pleasures of the world; you may be the kindest of friends, the most loving of daughters, the most diligent of pupils, all the more, not the less, because you lead a consecrated life."
"Thank you," said Molly, in a low tone. She soon afterward took her leave.
As she walked back to St. Dorothy's she thought with a feeling of almost rapture of all that Miss Forester had said to her; her spirit was so uplifted that she thought no temptation too strong not to be easily overcome.
"And I can be happy as well as good," thought the young girl, as she skipped lightly over the ground. "What a delightful Christmas we are all going to have! how beautiful the world is! Oh, yes! God is very good, and I ought to love him; I do love him. I wonder if ever a time will come when I shall feel that I love him best of all."
"Hullo! I say, Molly Lavender, won't you stop for a minute?"
The voice was Matilda's, who came hurrying and panting across the quadrangle.
"I saw you ahead of me, and I rushed on," she said. "I want to speak to you very badly; I wonder if you will do something for me. You have professed to be friendly to me since I came to St. Dorothy's; well, now is the time for you to prove your own words."
"I will do what I can for you, of course, Matty," said Molly, in her pleasantest voice. "Now, what is the matter?"
"Matter enough," pouted Matilda; "you don't know what a day I've had! All my Christmas is completely ruined! You can just make it bearable for me, if you like."
"What can I do?" said Molly, but somehow or other the pleasure had gone out of her voice; she had a certain premonition of what was coming.
"I will tell you," said Matilda, slipping her hand through Molly's arm, and swinging along, in her usual ungainly gait, by her slight, young companion's side. "I have just had a letter from mother, and my cousin Bob, who lives with us – bother him! – has gone and taken scarlet fever, and of course he is at home, and of course I can't go back for Christmas, and of course mother wants me to stay at Redgarth, but I won't; so there!"
"Oh, I am really sorry for you!" said Molly. "But what is to be done?"
"Why, this," said Matilda eagerly; "I heard Cecil and Kate talking over that delightful scheme of yours for the seaside, and I want to join you. I know perfectly well that neither Kate nor Cecil can bear me, but you profess to be my friend, and you can manage it for me, Molly. Now, will you say 'yes,' Molly? Say you will be my friend; say you will manage it for me."
"I really can't!" said Molly, in a cross voice. "It is quite impossible."
"There, I knew you were a humbug like the rest of them," said Matilda, removing her hand with such violence from Molly's arm that she almost pushed her down. "I know you got up early last Sunday to go to the communion, but you are like the rest of those stupid folks who profess so much; when it comes to the point you'll do nothing."
"But, but," said Molly, "it is grandmother's party, and she said nothing about you. I can't do it, Matilda – I really can't!"
"You know perfectly well it is your party, and that the old lady will do as you please. Anyhow, you can write and ask her if I may come; you can say I am a plain, good sort of girl – I shan't mind if you run down my appearance a bit. If you just add I am a chum of yours, she'll agree fast enough, and of course mother will manage my expenses. If you don't do it, Molly, I shall go to the Kings' at Brighton, I vow and declare I will! I won't stay here. Mother was in a way when she wrote, and she never thought of the Kings, but I'll remind her of them. You wouldn't much like to be in that house if you knew what it was like – card parties on Sunday, and no end of fun; and as to the flirtations, why, Arabella has had six proposals already, and she's not nineteen! I don't really care for the Kings, they are such a fast lot; but I'll go to them rather than stay here. If I were with you, Molly, perhaps I might be even a little bit good, or perhaps I might try to be good. Well, it is for you to decide."
The girls were passing the cathedral at that moment; the voices of the choir came out on the evening air.
Molly thought, with a sort of shock, of her vow. She was just having a pretty sharp encounter with the enemy. Was she to fall so quickly and so soon? She turned abruptly, and looked full at her companion.
"To tell you the truth, Matilda," she said, "I'd rather not have you."
"Well, that's pretty frank, upon my word!" said Matilda; "and why?"
"Because," said Molly, "you don't care for Cecil and Kate, and because I do; because Cecil, Kate, and I are harmonious in every sense of the word. You have not our tastes, you have not our ideas, your plans for yourself in life are not a bit the same as ours; but rather than – rather than you should be wretched and perhaps do yourself harm, Matty, I – I will talk to the girls about it. There, don't say anything more. I will let you know to-morrow."
Molly dashed away as she spoke, rushed into the cool hall at St. Dorothy's, ran upstairs, and locked herself into her own little room; there she fell on her knees and wept bitterly.
CHAPTER XIX.
CECIL
AT six o'clock Cecil found herself shown into Miss Forester's presence. Miss Forester was sitting just as Molly had left her: she had been thinking of Molly a good deal, and with considerable pleasure.
"Molly Lavender is just the sort of girl who will make a splendid woman by and by," thought the principal. "She is not especially clever, but she is capable and lovable; she is just the sort of womanly girl who will help on the cause of the new woman in the most effective way; she will take up all the best of the movement, and leave the bad alone. Dear child, I hope she will have courage to keep her vow; it was like her to make it in that moment of passion and despair. What a queer, fascinating creature Kate O'Connor is! What a strong influence she has on the other girls! She is evidently meant to be a leader. Ah, here comes my genius: now then for a serious talk with her; whoever loses her chances here, she must not."
"Sit down by me, Cecil; I am very pleased to see you," said Miss Forester. "Have you had tea?"
"Yes, thank you, Miss Forester."
"Well, my dear, I want to talk to you about a great many matters, and first of all, with regard to your studies. You have not been with us a whole term yet, and it is early days to predict anything for you, Cecil; still, the reports from your different mistresses are highly satisfactory I trust you will work very hard next term. You are advanced in every way, and there is nothing whatever to prevent your trying for the governor's scholarship next June."
"It is a very stiff examination, is it not?" asked Cecil.
"Yes; but not for a girl of your abilities. I have heard a little of your story. It is very important for you to get on, and quickly, is it not?"
"Yes, Miss Forester. I have four brothers, all younger than myself. My eldest brother, Maurice, is very clever, very brilliant – a splendid fellow. Whatever happens, he must go to one of the universities."
"I should recommend you to try and get him into a good school, where he can work for a valuable scholarship," said Miss Forester.
"There are several scholarships connected with Hazlewick Grammar School," said Cecil. "Maurice intends to try for one when he is a little older; he could not do it before."
"But, my dear, four brothers to support and start in life means a very heavy burden for such slight shoulders as yours to carry."
"We are not quite without money," said Cecil, blushing as she spoke. "We have a hundred and fifty pounds a year between us, and perhaps you know, Miss Forester, that dear old Mrs. Lavender, Molly's grandmother, is giving me my education here free."
"That is a very sensible way for such a rich woman to spend her money," said Miss Forester. "Well, Cecil, a hundred and fifty yearly is not a large income on which to feed, educate, and start in the world four stalwart young sons of Britain."
"No; and that is the reason why I want to earn money before Maurice is eighteen."
"How old is he now?"
"Just fourteen."
"Then you have four years before you," said Miss Forester. "By the time Maurice is eighteen you ought to be earning something. But have you any special wish with regard to yourself?"
"I should like best to be what I am afraid I cannot – a doctor."
"You will not earn money in that profession for some time, Cecil."
"No; I quite understand that it cannot be," said Cecil, with a sigh.
"And you love it better than anything else?"
"Yes; I have always wished for it, since I was quite a small child. When mother died, however, I tried to put the thought away from me. I should like to try to get a post in a high school where I was offered a good salary – at any rate until the boys are started in life."
"You ought to do well as a classical mistress; I know at first-class high schools the classical mistress is given a very high salary. Your knowledge of Greek and Latin is quite surprising for so young a girl. My dear, I truly sympathize with you in the burden you have got to carry, and in the sacrifice you make when you resign what you feel yourself most fitted for. At present I do not know how you could become a doctor and also help your brothers, but you may be quite certain I will bear your wishes in mind. Work with all your heart and soul next term, Cecil; try for the scholarship, and there is no saying what there may be before you. And now to revert to another matter!"
"Oh, yes! to Kate," said Cecil suddenly.
"Kate has had a very narrow escape," said Miss Forester. "When Sir John Williamson came down to see her six weeks ago, he only performed that critical operation as a dernier ressort. It turned out successful, but she will not be strong enough for real hard work for some time; she is a very brilliant and gifted creature, but she has not got your stamina and working powers; her brain is of the imaginative and creative order. Such brains are delicate, and the nervous systems of persons so endowed are very easily put out of order. Kate ought to take a year's rest, and then come back to us. I don't know well how to propose that, however, because – "
"Because of what?" asked Cecil.
"Because something has happened. Poor Kate's little money has all been swallowed up by one of those rascally lawyers."
Miss Forester said the last words with such sudden vehemence that Cecil could not help laughing.
"The man went bankrupt," she said abruptly. "He had invested poor Kate's money in some scheme of his own, and at the present moment the poor child has not got sixpence."
"Does she know it?" asked Cecil.
"No; and I don't mean her to know it until after the holidays. Have you heard anything about it, Cecil?"
"Yes, from Alice Wright; the lawyer who went bankrupt is a cousin of Kate's. She told me a week ago, but she said she would not breathe it to anyone else."
"I hope she will not; I should be sorry if it got to Kate's ears until she is stronger. She is going to stay here during Christmas. I fear, poor child! she will have a dull time, as I shall be away, and most of the other teachers."
"Oh, I think I may tell you," said Cecil, "that Kate will not have a dull time. Dear Mrs. Lavender has proposed a lovely scheme."
Here Cecil explained in a few words Molly's plan for taking her schoolfellows and Cecil's brothers with her to the seaside.
"Nothing could be more delightful," said Miss Forester, her eyes sparkling; "such a change may set Kate up completely. When the holidays are over I must speak to her. I can partly help her expenses here by means of a fund which enables me to help girls who can't get through the school without such assistance, but I cannot meet all her expenses, and what is to be done at the present moment I am unable to say. I beg of you, Cecil, to ask Molly to be very careful to keep all knowledge of this calamity from Kate's ears for the present. It was arranged, when she came here, that all moneys was to be paid direct to me, and when she goes away with you, I will give her a little sum to put in her pocket. The truth, therefore, need not leak out until she is stronger. She is a proud girl, with a good deal of spirit. I don't think anything would induce her to accept what she would call charity."
"I wish, Miss Forester, you had heard her when she spoke of her old life," said Cecil. "Oh, she is not proud in the wrong way! It was splendid the way she owned up to having been born to poverty and a humble life, and how beautiful she made the thing seem – like a poem."
"Miss Leicester told me about it," said Miss Forester. "Poor Kate herself has just the nature that may be called upon to suffer much in life; but she is full of gifts, and the mere fact of her not having money need not discourage one so beautiful, lovable, and talented."
"Of course it need not," said Cecil, rising as she spoke. "Surely Kate has enough given her to enable her to conquer fate."
"She has, my love, she has. But just at present, she is weak, and might not rise above a blow of this sort. Keep the knowledge from her, Cecil, until she returns; then we will have a grand conference. If only I can conquer that obstinate pride of hers, I know one or two wealthy women here who would, I am sure, subscribe enough money to finish her education; but I should not wish to do that without her knowledge. Now, Cecil, I see you wish to go. We break up on Monday; I shall not see you alone again. God bless you, my love! Remember, I look to girls like you and Molly Lavender and Kate to uphold the honor of this great house of learning, and to show the nation what English girls can achieve."
CHAPTER XX.
A HARD FIGHT
WHEN Molly told Cecil and Kate of Matilda's wish to accompany them to their seaside retreat, she had to encounter a storm, the intensity and bitterness of which rather surprised her. Kate, who had been somewhat apathetic, roused herself for this occasion, and showed much of her former spirit.
"Of course, we cannot say a word," she said; "we are your guests, Molly, and you must ask whom you please; but I can only regard this suggestion as an awful blow."
"It cannot be done," said Cecil, in her decided voice; "it cannot be thought of, even for a moment. Why, Molly, surely you don't wish it; your tastes are not so completely demoralized that you care for the society of a girl like Matilda?"
"I don't care for her society," said Molly, speaking with unexpected passion; "you don't know how I hate and detest her, but oh, Cecil and Kate, if you would only help me instead of hindering me! I want to do right."
"Hear her!" said Kate, with a little laugh. "Why, Molly, you always do right; what in the world are you turning so goody-goody for?"
"Once you thought I did not do right," said Molly, looking steadily at Kate.
Kate's splendid dark eyes were lowered under Molly's direct gaze.
"Now, I want to do right, because – Oh, I can't tell you the reason, but I think Miss Forester understands. You don't suppose I wish to have Matilda with us, but it seems wrong – "
"Yes, it seems wrong," suddenly interrupted Cecil; "it seems extremely wrong to make four boys and two girls utterly and completely miserable for the sake of a low sort of girl like Matilda."
"But you needn't be!" said Molly. "If nice people shun Matilda, how is she to get nice?"
"She never will, my dear; rest assured of that," said Kate. "Oh, give it up, Molly! tell Matilda that you did your best for her, but that we simply would not consent."
"But I want you to consent," said Molly.
"What a persistent child you are! now you most explain yourself fully. Why should we be sacrificed to Matilda?"
"You won't be sacrificed if you make her better; you don't suppose she is going to influence any of us to do wrong?"
"Oh, that is too silly an idea!"
"If we don't take her with us, and if afterward we hear that she has been with people who have helped her to get a little lower, and a little meaner, a little more despicable than she is now – well, we'll be sorry."
"I declare I don't think I shall!" said Kate. "I have such a contempt for that young person that I don't believe anything will reform her. She is made like that, you see; she is made small both in mind and body. You know that new theory about men's and women's brains: they say that the average woman's brain weighs forty-two ounces, and the average man's forty-eight, but, of course, there are exceptions on both sides of the scale. I should say that Matilda's brain weighed about half that of the ordinary intelligent woman."
"You are begging the question when you talk like that," said Molly. "I hate her coming, but I want her to come. I won't have her if you and Cecil steadily set your faces against it; but if you would let her come, I am sure it would be happiest for us in the end."
"If you speak like that," said Cecil, "of course she must come. It is your party, and we are your guests, and what you wish must be done. It seemed all too perfect yesterday, so I suppose Matilda is to be the little fret and the little cloud – the thorn in the rose, and the rumple under the sheet. But there, don't look so miserable, Molly; we'd put up with more than this for your sake. Wouldn't we, Kate?"
"Yes; that we would," said Kate. "But now, do listen to me, girls. I believe that I have known Matilda Matthews longer than either of you. I have been longer at St. Dorothy's. I have heard all about her; I wouldn't mind a bit if Matilda were rough and quarrelsome and coarse; but what I do loathe are her underhand ways. She's not square; she's not straight; you can never manage a person of that sort. Now, if she's to come, do let us make a bargain with her beforehand."
"Oh, I'm sure she'll consent to anything!" said Molly. "Shall I run and fetch her now?"
"Yes, do; we may as well get the thing settled out of hand."
Molly ran quickly out of the room, returning in a few minutes with Matilda in her train.
"They consent," she said, as she hurried her companion down the corridor; "but you will have to do what we wish, and you've got to hear about it now."
"I'll do anything," said Matilda, in a humble tone. "I'm heartily glad; I'm awfully obliged. When the alternative is staying in this house with the cook and housemaid, you can imagine that I shall be easily molded, even into the goody-goody shape. Fancy me turned goody-goody! Fancy me cultivating all the virtues! But I'll do it while I'm at the seaside. You won't know me; I'll be such a model that you'll all begin to copy me."
"Oh, do stop chattering!" said Molly. "Here we are. Now, girls," she continued, as she ushered her companion into the room, "here's Matilda, and I think she'll do what you wish."
"It is very inconsiderate of you to force yourself upon us," said Kate; "but as you are determined to come, and as Molly is more of an angel than a human being, Cecil and I see nothing for it but to submit; but we only do it on certain conditions."
"It is very kind of you to have me," said Matilda. "I am quite willing to agree to conditions. What are they?"
"The principal one is this," said Kate, giving a quick glance at Cecil as she spoke, "that you don't eavesdrop."
Matilda's ugly face glowed under these words to a dull crimson, her little eyes flashed an angry fire, her lips twitched. She tried to return Kate's glance with a look of equal scorn, but, failing utterly, looked down, and twirled the frill of a pretty silk apron which she was wearing.