After a storm comes a calm. Compared with the struggle and anxiety of
the summer term, the one which followed seemed stagnation itself. The
arrival of the report had been an excitement, it is true; but when that
was over the days passed by in uneventful fashion, until autumn waned
and winter came back, with the attendant discomforts of dark mornings,
draughty corridors, and coatings of ice on the water in the ewers; for
this was a good, old-fashioned winter, when Jack Frost made his
appearance in the beginning of December, and settled down with a
solidity which meant that he had come to stay. The hardy girls declared
that it was "ripping," and laughed at the shivery subjects who hobbled
about on chilblained feet, and showed faces mottled blue and red, like
the imitation marble in lodging-house-parlours; the shivery girls
huddled in corners, and wished they could go to bed and hug hot bottles
until May came back and it was fit for human creatures to go about
again! People who possess brisk circulations can never understand the
sufferings of those whom no amount of clothing will keep warm, and who
perform their duties for four months in the year feeling as though icy
water were streaming down their backs. Human sympathy is an elastic
virtue, but it seems powerless to reach so far as that!
Poor Miss Everett belonged to this latter unhappy class, and perhaps the
hardest duty which she had to perform at Hurst Manor was the spending of
two hours daily in the grounds with her pupils, be the weather warm or
cold. To be sure, they always moved about briskly, playing hockey and
lacrosse so long as the weather allowed, and then turning to skating and
tobogganing, but there were moments of waiting and hanging about, when
the wind cut through her like a knife, and made her pretty face look
pinched to half its size. Rhoda, brisk and glowing, would look at her
with affectionate superiority, call her a "poor, dear, little frog," and
insist upon running races to restore circulation. Evie would declare
that she felt warmer after these exertions, but when at the expiration
of ten minutes she was found to be shivering and chattering as much as
ever, Rhoda would grow anxious, and consequently more flattering in her
similes.
"You are a hot-house flower, and not fit to rough it like this! It
makes me cold to look at you. I have a great mind to tell Miss Bruce
how you suffer, and ask her to forbid you to come out to games in this
weather!"
But at this Miss Everett protested in genuine alarm.
"Rhoda, you must do nothing of the kind! Don't you see that it would be
as much as saying that I am unfit for my work? Miss Bruce thinks it
quite as important that I should be with you for games as for work;
perhaps more so, for there is more likelihood of your getting into
mischief. I don't like feeling cold, but after all it is only for a few
weeks in the year, and as I thoroughly enjoy being out of doors for the
rest of the time there is not much to grumble about. It won't kill me
to shiver a little bit."
"Cold, cough, consumption, coffin!" quoted Rhoda cheerfully. "I hate to
see you with a blue nose, when I am tingling all over with heat, and
feeling so fit and jolly. It's unsociable--and unbecoming! Now just
skate once more round the field with me, and I won't worry you any
more!"
Miss Everett sighed, and consented. Her feet were so numbed that she
had believed them incapable of any feeling, but now the straps of her
skates were beginning to cut into her like so many sharp-edged knives.
She longed to take them off, but did not like to refuse the girl's
kindly invitation, while, unselfishly speaking, it was a pleasure to see
the graceful figure skimming along by her side, with such healthful
enjoyment in the exercise.
The pupils at Hurst Manor were seldom, if ever, allowed to skate on the
lake, for it was deep, and the Principal preferred to have one of the
fields flooded in its stead, where the girls could disport themselves
with that sense of security which comes from seeing little tufts of
grass showing beneath the surface of the ice. Even nervous subjects
grew bold under such conditions, and while the more advanced skaters cut
figures, or even essayed a game of hockey, the spectators circled round
and round, looking admiringly at their exploits. At one end of the
field was a slight ditch, or rather undulation in the ground, which when
frozen over afforded a source of unending amusement, being as good as a
switchback itself. Daring skaters went at it with a dash which brought
them safely up the incline on the further side, but by far the greater
number collapsed helplessly at the bottom, or, rising half-way up the
ascent, staggered back with waving arms and gasping cries, vastly
entertaining to the spectators. Evie would never be induced to make
this experiment, having, as she said, "too much respect for her ankles"
to subject them to so severe a trial, and having also passed that age
when to tumble down in an icy ditch twenty times over in the course of
an afternoon seems the height of mortal bliss.
The hardihood of the vast majority of the girls, the imperturbable good
nature with which they picked themselves up from their recumbent
position and hobbled up the banks on the edge of their skates, spoke
volumes for the success of the system on which they were educated. They
returned to the house glowing and panting, and surged up the staircase--
a stream of buoyant young life which seemed to warm the draughty
corridors and bring sunshine into the colourless rooms. The piles of
"bread and scrape" which disappeared at tea after such an afternoon as
this would have amazed the parents of the daughters whose appetites at
home had been so captious as to excite anxiety in the maternal heart!
"Of course," as the croakers had it, as soon as a week's consecutive
skating had made everyone proficient enough to enjoy the pastime, the
snow descended, and fell in a persistent shower which made the ice
impossibly rough. The girls looked out from their windows on a
wonderful white world, whose beauty was for the time hidden from them by
disappointment, but, in the end, even snow seemed to bring with it its
own peculiar excitements. Relief gangs of pupils were organised to
sweep the principal paths in the grounds, while those not so employed
set to work to manufacture "snow men." Not the ordinary common, or
garden snow man, be it understood--that disreputable, shapeless
individual with his pipe in his mouth, and his hat perched on the back
of his head, with whom we are all familiar--the Hurst Manor girls would
have none of him; but, superintended by the "Modelling Mistress," set to
work with no smaller ambition than to erect a gallery of classic
figures. Some wise virgins chose to manufacture recumbent figures,
which, if a somewhat back-breaking process, was at least free from the
perils which attended the labours of their companions. What could be
more annoying than to have two outstretched arms drop suddenly, at the
very moment when the bystanders were exclaiming with admiration, and to
be obliged to convert a flying god into a Venus de Milo as the only
escape from the difficulty? Or, again, how was it possible to achieve a
classic outline when a nose absolutely refused to adhere to a face for
more than two minutes together? The recumbent figures lay meekly on
their beds and allowed themselves to be rolled, and patted, and pinched
into shape, until at a distance, they presented quite a life, or rather
deathlike, effect. The girls declared that the sight gave them the
"creeps," whatever that mysterious malady might be, and snowballed the
effigies vigorously before returning to the house, so that no straggler
through the grounds might be scared by their appearance.
All this time an eager outlook was kept on a sloping bank at the end of
the cricket ground, where the snow lay first in patches and then by
degrees in an unbroken mass. When it grew deep enough tobogganing would
begin, and that was a sport held in dearest estimation. The course was
dubbed "Klosters," after the famous run at Davos, for the school-girl of
to-day is not happy unless she can give a nickname to her haunts, and it
was sufficiently steep to be exciting, though not dangerous.
Rhoda had been accustomed from childhood to practise this sport at home,
and had brought to school her beautiful American toboggan, with the
stars and stripes emblazoned on polished wood, ready for use if
opportunity should occur. She knew that her experience would stand her
in good stead, and was now, as ever, on the outlook for a chance of
distinguishing herself in the eyes of her companions. One may be
naturally clever and athletic, but it is astonishing how many others,
equal, and even superior to oneself, can be found in an assembly of over
two hundred girls. Do what you would, a dozen others appeared to
compete with you, and it was ten to one that you came off second best.
"But wait till we can toboggan!" said Rhoda to herself. "They will see
_then_ who has the most nerve! I'll astonish them before I have done!"
And she did.
Following a fall of snow came a frost, which pressed down and hardened
the soft surface until it was in perfect condition for the desired
sport. The games captains surveyed the course, and pronounced it ready,
and directly after lunch a procession of girls might have been seen
wending their way from the house, dragging toboggans in their wake, and
chattering merrily together. The wind blew sharp and keen, and many of
the number looked quite Arctic, waddling along in snow shoes, reefer
coats, and furry caps with warm straps tied over the ears. It was _de
rigueur_ to address such personages as "Nansen"; but Rhoda gained for
herself the more picturesque title of "Hail Columbia" as she strode
along, straight and alert, her tawny curls peeping from beneath a
sealskin cap, her stars and stripes toboggan making a spot of colour in
the midst of the universal whiteness. No one thought of addressing her
except in a more or less successful imitation of an American twang, or
without including the words "I guess" in every sentence, and she smiled
in response, well satisfied to represent so honoured a nation.
The progress of dragging toboggans to the top of an incline is always
uninteresting, and never takes place without an accompaniment of
grumbling, in which, we may be sure, the Hurst Manor girls were in no
way behind. They groaned, and sighed, and lamented, as in duty bound,
while Dorothy went a step further and improved the occasion by moral
reflections.
"If I were a man I could preach a splendid sermon on tobogganing. All
about sliding down hill, you know, and how easy it is, and how quickly
done, and how jolly and lively it feels, and then the long, long drag
back when you want to get to the top again. It is a splendid
illustration; for, of course, sliding down would mean doing wrong things
that are nice and easy, and the climb back the bad time you would have
pulling yourself together again and starting afresh... It's really a
splendid idea. I wonder no--" But at this moment it occurred to Dorothy
to wonder at something else, namely, how it was that her toboggan had
grown suddenly so light, and turning round to discover the reason, she
found it rapidly sliding downhill. The girl immediately behind had
nipped out her knife and deftly cut the leading string, as a practical
demonstration of the favour in which "sermonising" was held at Hurst,
and the whole band stood and screamed with laughter as the would-be
preacher retraced her steps to the bottom of the hill, and started
afresh on her symbolic climb!
Five minutes later, with a rush and a whoop the first toboggans came
flying down the slope. Their course was, perhaps, a trifle erratic, and
apt to be followed by a spill at the bottom, but these were unimportant
details only to be expected in the first run of the season, and the
style improved with every fresh start. One girl after another came
flying down, drew her toboggan up a little slope facing the run, and sat
down upon it to recover breath and watch the exploits of her companions.
Experience had proved that, however rapid the descent, a toboggan
invariably stopped short before this edge was reached, so that it was
accepted as a retreat of absolute safety, and, as a rule, there were as
many girls resting there as starting from the brow of the hill. All
went on merrily, then, until in the very height of the fun Dorothy was
seized with an attack of her usual sickness. It was not a very deadly
complaint--nothing more serious than haemorrhage from the nose, but it
was astonishing how much trouble it seemed able to give her! To the
gaze of the world that nose was both a pretty and innocent-looking
feature, but it must surely have been possessed with an evil spirit,
since there was no end to the plights in which it landed the unhappy
owner! It disdained to bleed in a cubicle, or any such convenient
place, but delighted in taking advantage of the most awkward and
humiliating opportunities. It bled regularly at Frolics, when she wore
her best clothes, and wished to be merry; it bled in the ante-room of
the Examination Hall, so that she went in to tackle the mathematical
paper with three pennies and two separate keys poked down her back; it
bled at the critical part of a game or when she went out to tea, or
forgot to put a handkerchief in her pocket. "It is my cross!" she would
sigh sadly, and to-day she was inclined to say so more than ever, since
the attack was so severe, that she must needs go indoors, and leave her
favourite sport on the very first day when it had been possible to enjoy
it.
Miss Everett walked with her across the field, cheering and encouraging,
and directing her to go straight to Nurse when she reached the house,
then retraced her own steps and hurried back to her charges. She had
been away only five minutes, barely five minutes, but in that short time
something had happened which was destined to bring about life-long
consequences to more than one member of the party, for it chanced that
just as she turned away Rhoda Chester reached the top of the run, on the
lookout for fresh opportunities. It was absurd to go over the same
course, with no change, no excitement--to do what thirty other girls
could do as well as herself! She must try to discover some variety this
time, and so she gazed about with critical eyes, and suddenly had an
inspiration, for why not drag the toboggan a yard or two further up the
steep bank beyond the path which made the present start? It was a tree-
crowned bank, forming the very crest of the hill, so short that it
measured at the most six or seven yards, but of a steepness far
eclipsing any other portion of the run. If she could start from this
higher point she would accomplish a feat unattempted by any of her
companions, and descend at a velocity hitherto unknown!
No sooner thought than done, and she began to climb the bank, dragging
the toboggan behind her, while the onlookers stared aghast.
"In the name of everything that is crazy, Rhoda Chester, what are you
doing up there?"
"Rhoda, come _down_! Don't be absurd! You can't possibly start from
there!"
"Why not, pray? I can, if I choose. I'm tired of ambling down that
baby-run. I want a little variety!"
"You will have it with a vengeance, if you start from there. It's far
too steep. Don't be obstinate now, and get into trouble. Evie will be
furious with you."
"Why should she be? There's no rule against it. I'm not doing anything
wrong... Get out of the way, please. I'm coming!"
"No, no; wait, wait! Wait until Evie comes back, and says you may. She
will be here in a moment. _Do_ wait, Rhoda, just one minute!"
But Rhoda would not wait. Although, as she had argued, there was no
rule forbidding what she was about to do, she had an instinctive feeling
that Evie was too anxious about the safety of her charges to give
consent to anything that involved unnecessary risk. Evie's absence was
her opportunity, and she must act now or never; so, seating herself
firmly on her toboggan, she called out the last word of warning; "I'm
coming, I tell you! Stand back!"
"You will break your neck! You will kill yourself, if you are so mad!"
"Oh, bother my neck! I'll risk it! I'll not blame you if it _is_
broken!" cried Rhoda, recklessly; and even as she spoke the last word
the toboggan shot forward and bounded over the edge. _Bounded_ is the
right word to use, for it did not seem to glide, but to leap from top to
bottom with a lightning-like speed which took away breath, sight, and
hearing. That first moment was a terrible blank and then she shot over
the path itself, and was flying down, down the slope, drawing her breath
in painful gasps, and staring before her with distended eyes.
The girls on the bank were craning forward to watch her approach. She
saw the blur of their whitened faces, and behind them a little figure
running wildly forward, waving its arms and crying aloud:
"Girls, girls! Jump! _Run_! Get away, get away!"
The words rang meaningless in her ears, for she was dazed beyond the
power of thought. The running figure drew nearer and nearer, still
waving its hands, still calling out that agonised cry. The girls
disappeared to right and left, but the figure itself was close at hand--
closer--closer--at her very side. Then came a shock, a jar. Evie's
tottering figure fell forward over her own; Evie's shriek of anguish
rang in her ears, and then came blackness--a blackness as of death!