HARD TO BEAR.
"Give unto me, made lowly-wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice."
--ODE TO DUTY.
For some weeks things went on very happily. Of course there were
little troubles among the children sometimes, but compared with a
while ago the nursery was now a very comfortable and peaceful place.
Martha was quietly pleased, but she had too much sense to say much
about it. Miss Pink was so delighted, that if Bee had not been a
modest and sensible little girl, Miss Pink's over praise of her, as
the cause of all this improvement, might have undone all the good. Not
that Miss Pink was not ready to praise Rosy too, and in a way that
would have done her no good either, if Rosy had cared enough for her
to think much of her praise or her blame. But one word or look even
from her mother was getting to be more to Rosy than all the
good-natured little governess's chatter; a nice smile from Martha
even, she felt to mean _really_ more, and one of Beata's sweet,
bright kisses would sometimes find its way straight to Rosy's queerly
hidden-away heart.
"You see, Rosy, it _does_ get easier," Bee ventured to say one
day. She looked up a little anxiously to see how Rosy would take it,
for since the night she had found Rosy sobbing in bed they had never
again talked together quite so openly. Indeed, Rosy was not a person
whose confidence was easy to gain. But she was honest--that was the
best of her.
She looked up quickly when Bee spoke.
"Yes," she said, "I think it's getting easier. But you see, Bee, there
have only been nice things lately. If anything was to come to vex me
very much, I daresay it would be just like it used to be again.
There's not even been Colin to tease me for a long time!"
Rosy's way of talking of herself puzzled Bee, though she couldn't
quite explain it. It was right, she knew, for Rosy not to feel too
sure of herself, but still she went too far that way. She almost
talked as if she had nothing to do with her own faults, that they must
come or not come like rainy days.
"What are you thinking, Bee?" she said, as Bee did not answer at once.
"I can't tell you quite how I mean, for I don't know it myself," said
Bee. "Only I think you are a little wrong. You should try to say, 'If
things come to vex me, I'll _try_ not to be vexed.'"
Rosy shook her head.
"No," she said, "I can't say that, for I don't think I should
_want_ to try," and Beata felt she could not say any more, only
she very much hoped that things to vex Rosy would _not_ come!
The first thing at all out of the common that did come was, or was
going to be, perhaps I should say, a very nice thing. A note came one
day to Rosy's mother to say that a lady, a friend of hers living a few
miles off, wanted to see her, to talk over a plan she had in her head
for a birthday treat to her two little daughters. These two children
were twins; they were a little younger than Rosy, and she did not know
them _very_ well, as they lived some way off; but Mrs. Vincent
had often wished they could meet oftener, as they were very nice and
good children.
And when Lady Esther had been, and had had her talk with Rosy's
mother, she looked in at the schoolroom a moment in passing, and
kissed the little girls, smiling, and seeming very pleased, for she
was so kind that nothing pleased her so much as to give pleasure to
others.
"Your mother will tell you what we have been settling," she said,
nodding her head and looking very mysterious.
And that afternoon Mrs. Vincent told the children all about it. Lady
Esther was going to have a fête for the twins' birthday--a
garden-fête, for it was to be hoped by that time the weather could be
counted upon, and all the children were to have fancy dresses! That
was to be the best fun of it all. Not very grand or expensive dresses,
and nothing which would make them uncomfortable, or prevent their
running about freely. Lady Esther's idea was that the children should
be dressed in _sets_, which would look very pretty when they came
into the big hall to dance before leaving. Lady Esther had proposed
that Rosy and Bee should be dressed as the pretty French queen, Marie
Antoinette, whom no doubt you have heard of, and her sister-in-law the
good princess, Madame Elizabeth. Fixie was to be the little prince,
and Lady Esther's youngest little girl the young princess, while the
twins were to be two maids of honour. But Rosy's mother had said she
would like better for her little girls to be the maids of honour, and
the twins to be the queen and princess, which seemed quite right, as
the party was to be in their house. And so it was settled.
A few days later Lady Esther sent over sketches of the dresses she
proposed to have, and the children were greatly pleased and
interested.
"May I wear my beads, mamma?" asked Rosy.
Mrs. Vincent smiled.
"I daresay you can," she said, and Rosy clapped her hands with
delight, and everything seemed as happy as possible.
"But remember," said Mrs. Vincent, "it is still quite a month off. Do
not talk or think about it _too_ much, or you will tire yourselves
out in fancy before the real pleasure comes."
This was good advice. Bee tried to follow it by doing her lessons as
usual, and giving the same attention to them. But Rosy, with some of
her old self-will, would not leave off talking about the promised
treat. She was tiresome and careless at her lessons, and Miss Pink was
not firm enough to check her. Morning, noon, and night, Rosy went on
about the fete, most of all about the dresses, till Bee sometimes
wished the birthday treat had never been thought of, or at least that
Rosy had never been told of it.
One morning when the children came down to see Mr. and Mrs. Vincent at
their breakfast, which they often were allowed to do, though they
still had their own breakfast earlier than the big people, in the
nursery with Martha, Beata noticed that Rosy's mother looked grave and
rather troubled. Bee took no notice of it, however, except that when
she kissed her, she said softly,
"Are you not quite well, auntie?" for so Rosy's mother liked her to
call her.
"Oh yes, dear, I am quite well," she answered, though rather wearily,
and a few minutes after, when Mr. Vincent had gone out to speak to
some of the servants, she called Rosy and Bee to come to her.
"Rosy and Bee," she said kindly but gravely, "do you remember my
advising you not to talk or to think too much about Lady Esther's
treat?"
"Yes," said Bee, and "Yes," said Rosy, though in a rather sulky tone
of voice.
"Well, then, I should not have had to remind you both of my advice. I
am really sorry to have to find fault about anything to do with the
birthday party. I wanted it to have been nothing but pleasure to you.
But Miss Pink has told me she does not know what to do with you--that
you are so careless and inattentive, and constantly chattering about
Lady Esther's plan, and that at last she felt she must tell me."
Bee felt her cheeks grow red. Mrs. Vincent thought she felt ashamed,
but it was not shame. Poor Bee, she had _never_ before felt as
she did just now. It was not true--how could Miss Pink have said so of
her? She knew it was not true, and the words, "I _haven't_ been
careless--I did do just what you said," were bursting out of her lips
when she stopped. What good would it do to defend herself except to
make Mrs. Vincent more vexed with Rosy, and to cause fresh bad
feelings in Rosy's heart? Would it not be better to say nothing, to
bear the blame, rather than lose the kind feelings that Rosy was
getting to have to her? All these thoughts were running through her
mind, making her feel rather puzzled and confused, for Bee did not
always see things very quickly; she needed to think them over, when,
to her surprise, Rosy looked up.
"It isn't true," she said, not very respectfully it must be owned, "it
isn't true that Bee has been careless. If Miss Pink thinks telling
stories about Bee will make me any better, she's very silly, and I
shall just not care what she says about anything."
"Rosy," said Mrs. Vincent sternly, "you shall care what _I_ say.
Go to your room and stay there, and you, Beata, go to yours. I am
surprised that you should encourage Rosy in her naughty contradiction,
for it is nothing else that makes her speak so of what Miss Pink felt
obliged to say of you."
Rosy turned away with the cool sullen manner that had not been seen
for some time. Bee, choking with sobs--never, _never_, she said
to herself, not even when her mother went away, had she felt so
miserable, never had Aunt Lillias spoken to her like that before--poor
Bee rushed off to her room, and shutting the door, threw herself on
the floor and wondered _what_ she should do!
Mrs. Vincent, if she had only known it, was nearly as unhappy as she.
It was not often she allowed herself to feel worried and vexed, as she
had felt that morning, but everything had seemed to go wrong--Miss
Pink's complaints, which were _not_ true, about Bee had really
grieved her. For Miss Pink had managed to make it seem that it was
mostly Bee's fault---and she had said little things which had made
Mrs. Vincent really unhappy about Bee being so very sweet and good
before people, but not _really_ so good when one saw more of her.
Mrs. Vincent would not let Miss Pink see that she minded what she
said; she would hardly own it to herself. But for all that it had left
a sting.
"_Can_ I have been mistaken in Bee?" was the thought that kept
coming into her mind. For Miss Pink had mixed up truth with untruths.
"_Rosy,_" she had said, "whatever her faults, is so very honest,"
which her mother knew to be true, but Mrs. Vincent did not--for she
was too honest herself to doubt other people--see that Miss Pink liked
better to throw the blame on Bee, not out of ill-will to Bee, but
because she was so very afraid that if there was any more trouble
about Rosy, she would have to leave off being her governess.
Then this very morning too had brought a letter from Rosy's aunt,
proposing a visit for the very next week, accompanied, of course, by
the maid who had done Rosy so much harm! Poor Mrs. Vincent--it really
was trying--and she did not even like to tell Rosy's father how much
she dreaded his sister's visit. For Aunt Edith had meant and wished to
be so truly kind to Rosy that it seemed ungrateful not to be glad to
see her.
Rosy and Bee were left in their rooms till some time later than the
usual school-hour, for Mrs. Vincent, wanting them to think over what
she had said, told Miss Pink to give Fixie his lessons first, and
then, before sending for the little girls to come down, she had a talk
with Miss Pink.
"I have spoken to both Rosy and Bee very seriously, and told them of
your complaints," she said.
Miss Pink grew rather red and looked uncomfortable.
"I should be sorry for them to think I complained out of any
unkindness," she said.
"It is not unkindness. It is only telling the truth to answer me when
I ask how they have been getting on," said Mrs. Vincent, rather
coldly. "Besides I myself saw how very badly Rosy's exercises were
written. I am very disappointed about Beata," she added, looking Miss
Pink straight in the face, and it seemed to her that the little
governess grew again red. "I can only hope they will both do better
now."
Then Rosy and Bee were sent for. Rosy came in with a hard look on her
face. Bee's eyes were swollen with crying, and she seemed as if she
dared not look at her aunt, but she said nothing. Mrs. Vincent
repeated to them what she had just said about hoping they would do
better.
"I will do my best," said Beata tremblingly, for she felt as if
another word would make her burst out crying again.
"Oh, I am sure they are both going to be very good little girls now,"
said Miss Pink, in her silly, fussy way, as if she was in a hurry to
change the subject, which indeed she was.
Bee raised her poor red eyes, and looked at her quietly, and Mrs.
Vincent saw the look. Rosy, who had not yet spoken, muttered
something, but so low that nobody could quite hear it; only the words
"stories" and "not true" were heard.
"Rosy," said her mother very severely, "be silent!" and soon after she
left the room.
The schoolroom party was not a very cheerful one this morning, but
things went on quietly. Miss Pink was plainly uncomfortable, and made
several attempts to make friends, as it were, with Bee. Bee answered
gently, but that was all, and as soon as lessons were over she went
quietly upstairs.
Two days after, Miss Vincent arrived. Rosy was delighted to hear she
was coming, and her pleasure in it seemed to make her forget about
Bee's undeserved troubles. So poor Bee had to try to forget them
herself. Her lessons were learnt and written without a fault--it was
impossible for Miss Pink to find anything to blame; and indeed she did
not wish to do so, or to be unkind, to Beata, so long as things went
smoothly with Rosy. And for these two days everything was very smooth.
Rosy did not want to be in disgrace when her aunt came, and she, too,
did her best, so that the morning of the day when Miss Vincent was
expected, Miss Pink told the children, with a most amiable face, that
she would be able to give a very good report of them to Rosy's mother.
Bee said nothing. Rosy, turning round, saw the strange, half-sad look
on Bee's face, and it came back into her mind how unhappy her little
friend had been, and how little she had deserved to be so. And in her
heart, too, Rosy knew that in reality it was owing to _her_ that
Beata had suffered, and a sudden feeling of sorrow rushed over her,
and, to Miss Pink's and Bee's astonishment, she burst out,
"You may say what you like of me to mamma, Miss Pink. It is true I
have done my lessons well for two days, and it is true I did them
badly before. But if you can't tell the truth about Bee, it would be
much better for you to say nothing at all."
Miss Pink grew pinker than usual, and she was opening her lips to
speak, when Beata interrupted her.
"Don't say anything, Miss Pink," she said. "It's no good. _I_
have said nothing, and--and I'll try to forget--you know what. I don't
want there to be any more trouble. It doesn't matter for me. O Rosy
dear," she went on entreatingly, "_don't_ say anything more that
might make more trouble, and vex your mamma with you, just as your
aunt's coming. Oh, _don't_."
She put her arms round Rosy as if she would have held her back, Rosy
only looking half convinced. But in her heart Rosy _was_ very
anxious not to be in any trouble when her aunt came. She didn't quite
explain to herself why. Some of the reasons were good, and some were
not very good. One of the best was, I think, that she didn't want her
mother to be more vexed, or to have the fresh vexation of her aunt
seeming to think--as she very likely would, if there was any excuse
for it--that Rosy was less good under her mother's care than she had
been in Miss Vincent's.
Rosy was learning truly to love, and what, for her nature, was almost
of more consequence, really to _trust_ her mother, and a feeling
of _loyalty_--if you know what that beautiful word means, dear
children,--I hope you do--was beginning for the first time to grow in
her cross-grained, suspicious little heart. Then, again, for her own
sake, Rosy wished all to be smooth when her aunt and Nelson arrived,
which was not a _bad_ feeling, if not a very good or unselfish
one. And then, again, she did not want to have any trouble connected
with Bee. She knew her Aunt Edith had not liked the idea of Bee
coming, and that if she fancied the little stranger was the cause of
any worry to her darling she would try to get her sent away. And Rosy
did not now _at all_ want Bee to be sent away!
These different feelings were all making themselves heard rather
confusedly in her heart, and she hardly knew what to answer to Bee's
appeal, when Miss Pink came to the rescue.
"Bee is right, Rosy," she said, her rather dolly-looking face flushing
again. "It is much better to leave things. You may trust me to--to
speak very kindly of--of you _both_. And if I was--at all
mistaken in what I said of you the other day, Bee--perhaps you had
been trying more than I--than I gave you credit for--I'm very sorry.
If I can say anything to put it right, I will. But it is very
difficult to--to tell things quite correctly sometimes. I had been
worried and vexed, and then Mrs. Vincent rather startled me by asking
me about you, Rosy, and by something she said about my not managing
you well. And--oh, I don't know _what_ we would do, my mother and
I, if I lost this nice situation!" she burst out suddenly, forgetting
everything else in her distress. "And poor mamma has been _so_
ill lately, I've often scarcely slept all night. I daresay I've been
cross sometimes"--and Miss Pink finished up by bursting into tears.
Her distress gave the finishing touch to Bee's determination to bear
the undeserved blame.
"No, poor Miss Pink," she said, running round to the little
governess's side of the table, "I _don't_ think you are cross. I
shouldn't mind if you were a little sometimes. And I know we are often
troublesome--aren't we, Rosy?" Rosy gave a little grunt, which was a
good deal for her, and showed that her feelings, too, were touched.
"But just then I _had_ been trying. Aunt Lillias had spoken to us
about it, and I _did_ want to please her"--and the unbidden tears
rose to Bee's eyes. "Please, Miss Pink, don't think I don't know when
I _am_ to blame, but--but you won't speak that way of me another
time when I've not been to blame." A sort of smothered sob here came
from Miss Pink, as a match to Rosy's grunt. "And _please_," Bee
went on, "don't say _anything_ more about that time to Aunt
Lillias. It's done now, and it would only make fresh trouble."
That it would make trouble for _her_, Miss Pink felt convinced,
and she was not very difficult to persuade to take Bee's advice.
"It would indeed bring _me_ trouble," she thought, as she walked
home more slowly than usual that the fresh air might take away the
redness from her eyes before her mother saw her. "I know Mrs. Vincent
would never forgive me if she thought I had exaggerated or
misrepresented. I'm sure I didn't want to blame Bee; but I was so
startled; and Mrs. Vincent seemed to think so much less of it when I
let her suppose they had _both_ been careless and tiresome. But
it has been a lesson to me. And Beata is _very_ good. I could
never say a word against her again."
Miss Vincent arrived, and with her, of course, her maid Nelson.
Everything went off most pleasantly the first evening. Aunt Edith
seemed delighted to see Rosy again, and that was only kind and
natural. And she said to every one how well Rosy was looking, and how
much she was grown, and said, too, how nice it was for her to have a
companion of her own age. She had been so pleased to hear about little
Miss Warwick from Cecy Furnivale, whom she had seen lately.
Bee stared rather at this. She hardly knew herself under the name of
little Miss Warwick; but she answered Miss Vincent's questions in her
usual simple way, and told Rosy, when they went up to bed, that she
did not wonder she loved her aunt--she seemed so very kind.
"Yes," said Rosy. Then she sat still for a minute or two, as if she
was thinking over something very deeply. "I don't think I'd like to go
back to live with auntie," she said at last.
"To leave your mother! No, _of course_ you wouldn't," exclaimed
Bee, as if there could be no doubt about the matter.
"But I did think once I would," said Rosy, nodding her head--"I did."
"I don't believe you really did," said Bee calmly. "Perhaps you
_thought_ you did when you were vexed about something."
"Well, I don't see much difference between wanting a thing, and
_thinking_ you want it," said Rosy.
This was one of the speeches which Bee did not find it very easy to
answer all at once, so she told Rosy she would think it over in her
dreams, for she was very sleepy, and she was sure Aunt Lillias would
be vexed if they didn't go to bed quickly.