THE LOVE THAT PASSETH KNOWLEDGE.
There are certain people born into the world, apparently quiet and
unassuming, really modest and without any apparent self-confidence, who
yet manage to rule all those with whom they come in contact. There are
not many of these gracious souls, but they dawn now and then on the
world and little Maureen O'Brien happened to be one of these lovely and
most gracious personalities. Her agony, untold, unspeakable, when she
forgot herself and gave way to what she, poor little love, thought sin
of the deepest dye, has been fully described. Afterwards she saw the
Face of her loving Father again, her Heavenly Father. The Good Angels
came back to her, the Bad Angels departed, and she was as busy as the
busiest honey-bee in making arrangements for all possible wants of
those people whom she considered her own.
It was unspeakably strange how a little girl like Maureen could
influence a great manly boy like Dominic, but it was much stranger how
she could compel the Rector and the Colonel to follow her will. She
did it with such extreme gentleness that she contrived to make both
these men feel that it was their own desire, that they _themselves_
personally had longed for this arrangement. "Dear Colonel" cheered
up and clapped his hands as he discussed their foreign tour with the
Rector. The Rector declared that it was the unspoken dream of his life
to see these lovely places. The Colonel happened to know the very young
man who could come to Templemore as _locum tenens_; in fact the matter
was arranged from end to end before these two elderly men parted that
night; and Maureen stood by, smiling gently at both, and never uttering
a syllable. It was to be _their_ idea; it _was_ their idea. This is the
fashion of the Maureens of the world.
"Dominic would of course go to Rugby; why, whatever should prevent the
lad?" cried the Colonel, "when I have been panting for the Italian
lakes, and to go from there on to the Riviera, and only waiting because
I couldn't get a friend like yourself to come with me, old man."
"And I," replied the Rector, "have dreamed of those places full of
glory, but I never thought to see them."
"You'll see them now with a vengeance," said the Colonel; "and we have
no time to spare. Tom Fagan--first rate chap, Tom--can take on the
duties of your parish at once. You may as well come back with me to
Rathclaren when I call for you to-morrow after Maureen has gone."
"Ah, my little Maureen," said the Rector.
He looked at the child with his eyes full of sympathy, but she saw
well enough, for the time at least, that she was no longer first
with him. The Grand Tour came first. The dream of his life, about to
be realised at long last, _was_ first for the time being. So little
Maureen went off with a light heart on the following morning.
Pegeen, it is true, cried a good deal, but the Rector did not cry. His
eyes were bright with renewed health. Burke also looked very mournful;
but they both promised the little girl to do their utmost for Mr.
Fagan, God bless him, "and they would kape the ould house like a new
pin, God bless _it_!"
So Maureen went away. Her heart was indeed like a feather. Dominic
was very near chortling in his joy; Dominic had read well enough how
cleverly, how marvellously Maureen had managed.
"Upon my word," he said, "I don't know myself, little mate; I can be a
Rugby boy with an easy mind after all."
"Of course you can, Dom, and be sure you write to me. Dear Colonel
has promised to write from every place they stop at--if it is only a
picture-card--and Uncle says he will write on Sundays. Oh, Dom, _don't_
they look happy, _dear_ old men."
"They're 'chortling,' if you like," replied Dominic.
So the boy and girl started on their journey. They crossed from
Rosslair to Fishguard, and then took train to London. Dominic was very
anxious to spend one night in London, but Maureen would not allow this.
"No," she said, "no. _They_ are crying for me very hard. We'll go
straight on."
"Who in the world are crying for you, asthore?"
"Why, those two poor weans. It is lovely to be wanted," said Maureen.
"I thought you----" began Dominic.
"Don't say the words, Dom. For a short and most awful time there
was a wicked Spirit in me, but he died at the bottom of the Peak of
Desolation, and in his place there entered"--Maureen's eyes, lovely
indeed now, were fixed on her companion--"the Angel of all Charity, of
all Forgiveness, of Love, Love Divine. Don't let's talk any more, Dom.
I'm sleepy."
She curled up close to her cousin-brother, and with her head on his
shoulder dropped asleep.
How it so happened that things were not going on at all well in
Felicity. Hitherto, Jane Faithful, by the aid of Miss Pinchin and some
other choice teachers, had managed her little flock with, on the whole,
marked success. But the Mostyns were different from any other girls who
had ever come to Felicity. The Mostyns were hopelessly rebellious. The
Mostyns, after the first couple of days, began to break rules and defy
punishment. Miss Pinchin, clever and stern as she was, became almost
afraid of the girl who had all but poisoned the horse, while Henrietta
spent her entire nights in screaming, shrieking, and crying.
Daisy at last became dull and stupid, but Henrietta was decidedly
reckless. She managed to get out of her small window and to sit on the
extremely narrow ledge and dangle her feet in the air and shout to each
girl who passed, "Hullo! who are you? _I'm_ Henny-penny, and I'm in
prison for nothing at all."
Then there came a day when Daisy refused to get up. She said it was not
worth while. Her face had a terribly dull and vacant expression. Henny
in despair pulled her out of bed, but she dropped in a dead, senseless
lump on the floor. She had really fainted. Then Henny got out again on
to the window ledge in her nightdress and, poised on this dangerous
spot, shrieked the information to all who could hear that Daisy 'was
_kilt entirely_,' and that Faithful had better send for a doctor or she
would hang by the neck until she died.
This terrible information brought Dawson with Miss Pinchin, and last,
but by no means least, Jane Faithful, on the scene. The girl, Daisy,
was lying in a dead heap on the floor.
"I'd have put her back in bed," said Henny, "but she's too heavy. One
of ye cruel ones catch her by the legs, and the other lift her round
the shoulders. She's dead as sure as I'm alive. Nice sort of school
this to send respectable girls to!"
"Oh, my dears, my dears," said poor Mrs. Faithful. She was in many
ways a severe woman, but she had a truly kind heart. She bent over the
white, unconscious girl and asked Miss Pinchin in a decidedly angry
voice what she could have done to bring the girl to that pass.
"I can't manage her," replied Miss Pinchin. "I will own it to you,
dearest friend. Daisy Mostyn and her sister are the first two occupants
of this happy school whom I have failed to train. Henrietta is a trifle
easier to manage than her sister, but Daisy will not eat nor speak. I
have tried severity; I have tried everything."
"Have you tried _kindness_?" asked Mrs. Faithful.
"Kindness!" said Miss Pinchin. "Kindness in the Hall of Discipline?"
"Ah," said Jane Faithful, "even there. It's an ennobling influence. You
have indeed failed, Joan Pinchin. Henrietta, get dressed at once and
come with me."
"No; I don't intend to leave my sister," said Henrietta.
"Well, stay where you are and I will have your breakfast sent up to
you, but I must see immediately about getting a doctor for this poor
little girl. I trusted her to you, Joan Pinchin. I never saw _such_ a
change in any face."
"She's dying, if you want to know," said Henrietta. "She's going pop,
like poor mumsie did. You won't catch _me_ leaving her; only I would
like to see _you_, old Faithful, whipping that horrid Pinchin."
"Don't talk in such an intemperate way, Henrietta. Joan, come with me.
Dawson, I will send Annie Anderson to look after these children, and
you will have the goodness to put on your bonnet and cloak without a
moment's delay and fetch Dr. Halsted."
"Oh my word!" gasped Dawson; but Mrs. Faithful was one to be obeyed.
Joan Pinchin and Dawson left the room, and almost at the same moment
a rosy-cheeked girl, with blue eyes, and golden hair twined round
her head, entered the Chamber of Penitence. Her hair, her eyes, her
complexion, made her look all sunshine. She was dressed in the garb of
a nurse, very simply and neatly.
"Oh, poor, poor little one," she said. "Miss Henrietta, you must get
your clothes on, or you'll catch your death of cold."
"But that's what I want," said Henrietta. "I'm sick of life!"
"Oh my dear, you oughtn't to say that. Think of our dear, dear Mrs.
Faithful."
"Upon my word, she's not dear to _me_," said Henrietta. "But I rather
take to you; and it was perfectly lovely to hear her pounding it into
old Pinchin, and that abominable Dawson. Why, Dawson simply _dripped_
tears as she went away. What is your name, Goldilocks?"
"I'm called Nurse Annie, dear."
"Do you think my sister will die?"
"I hope not, dear; but _you_ certainly will, unless you put on some
more clothes than your nightdress."
"Well," said Henny-penny after a pause, "I suppose I may as well rig
myself out. I feel somehow as though there was going to be a bit of
fun again--only _what_ an ugly uniform they do wear in this school,
Goldilocks! I had glorious hair, much handsomer than yours. It was the
colour of the sunset, and they cut it all off, and pomatumed it."
"What a pity!" said Nurse Annie; "but it will grow again, my dear."
"Did you really say 'what a pity!'? Then I _quite_ like you. I'll dress
like a flash of greased lightning. It doesn't matter about washing,
does it? For I know I'll be crying most of the day."
"Now, my dear, you won't be so silly, for it will be bad for your
sister."
"Oh, Daisy, she's as good as gone," said Henrietta. "She was taken
sudden, like poor mumsie. She was a nice little thing, and the _imp_ of
mischief. Pinchin and Dawson and the barber killed her. Whatever you
may say about the woman called Faithful, she had a hand in that pie."
"Dress yourself now and stop talking," said Nurse Annie. "There is
plenty of cold water in that jug and you really _must_ wash, for your
face is such a show."
"To be sure now, is it, at all, at all? I don't like being a holy show.
People like me best when I am pretty. Mumsie used to say I was a very
handsome girl."
"You are quite decent-looking now," said the nurse, "if only you
wouldn't talk so much, and would begin your washing and dressing before
the doctor arrives. As to your sister, she is no more dead than I am.
See, her eyes are wide open; she is looking at you. She only fainted,
poor little dear."
"Oh, get out of my way; let me hug her," said Henny.
"Daisy--_Dysy--give me your answer do_!"
"Young lady, you are not to go near your sister. She is much too weak."
Daisy certainly gave a very weak, wondering smile.
"Where am I?" she said. "Who is this? Oh, I'm not good, so it can't be
heaven. Where am I?"
"Have this wee sip of brandy and water, my dear," said Nurse Annie. She
combed out the girl's stiff locks, stiff from the effects of the odious
pomatum.
Henrietta started for a minute, then she dashed cold water out of a
large enamel jug into a large enamel basin, and proceeded to duck her
head and face in.
"The horrid stuff won't come off," she said.
"I'll get it off for you presently, if you are a good girl," said Nurse
Annie. "Now get on with your dressing."
Henrietta flew into her hideous clothes. In less than a quarter of
an hour there came a tap at the Chamber of Penitence, and a grave,
elderly woman, whom Nurse Annie addressed as Dinah, laid a tray full of
all kinds of good things on the dressing-table.
Here was coffee worth drinking; here were rolls and new-laid eggs,
butter, and cream and jam.
Henny fell upon the food like a little wolf. Nurse Annie tried to coax
Daisy to eat, but she only shook her weak little head and rejected all
offers of nourishment.
Henny felt wonderfully refreshed by the time Dr. Halsted arrived. He
was a young-looking man of between thirty and forty years of age.
He had keen, grey eyes, a clever, clean-shaven face, and dark hair
cut very short and mixed with grey. He did not take the least notice
of Henny, but devoted himself to Daisy. He examined the girl most
carefully, took her temperature, felt her pulse, did all the usual
things, then said she was suffering from shock and must be sent
immediately into the school hospital or infirmary, which at that time
happened to be empty. Nurse Annie must look after her day and night
until he got a second nurse to relieve her. He would send one in as
soon as possible.
Nurse Annie knew her post too well to trouble the doctor with
questions, and his own directions were extremely simple. The girl was
to be kept absolutely quiet. She was not to be allowed to talk to
anyone. He would send in a temperature chart and her temperature was
to be taken every four hours; then Dr. Halsted, without even glancing
at Henny, who thought herself attractive with her freshly washed face,
left the room and went down to speak to Mrs. Faithful.
"That little girl is very ill," he said. "I cannot imagine what is the
matter with her. I don't apprehend anything infectious. It strikes me
she is suffering pretty considerably from what is called 'shock.' When
did she come to your admirable school, dear madam?"
"Nearly a week ago," replied Mrs. Faithful. "Her step-father brought
both her and her sister. She certainly had been exceedingly naughty,
and I felt obliged to put her under Miss Pinchin's care. Miss Pinchin,
as a rule, manages _extremely_ naughty girls perfectly, but she has not
contrived well either for this poor child or her sister."
"Oh, there are two of them."
"Yes; the other has red hair. I did not wish to take the girls at all.
The one with red hair was in the room whilst you were examining your
patient. But my cousin and friend, Mr. O'Brien, begged of me to do what
I could for these girls, who are his step-daughters. I promised _on a
condition_, and am waiting anxiously to know if this condition will be
fulfilled, otherwise, as soon as ever the girl is well, she will have
to leave the school."
"If ever she _gets_ well," said Dr. Halsted.
"Oh, doctor, you don't think so badly of her as all that?"
"But I do. To start with, she has little or no constitution, and,
whatever naughtiness she has committed, she has deliberately starved
herself. I'm afraid your governess-assistant was too severe. Of course
I'll do my best for the girl, and come again in the middle of the
day. By the way, I must send in another nurse--two if you like--for
she is likely to be highly delirious. Meanwhile Nurse Annie will look
after her. She cannot be moved into the infirmary until a good fire is
lighted and the room made fresh and snug. That was not a nice bedroom
she and her sister were in. I propose to change everything. Your
infirmary is always charming. Have a few flowers about, but not those
that smell. Put the bed so that she can see out of the window if she
feels inclined, and have soft green blinds, which I know you possess,
put up to all the windows in the room. I by no means give up _hope_,
Mrs. Faithful, but the case is very serious."
The doctor went on his way and in that house of absolute order,
of absolute peace, there was, for the time at least, considerable
excitement.
Poor Miss Pinchin cried her small beady eyes out of her head. Dawson
felt thoroughly offended, but Mrs. Faithful was the sort of woman who,
when she took the reins, took them with a will. How she did long for
the little girl the Rector had spoken of! The week was very nearly up,
and she had not had a line. Still she had great faith in the Rector,
and was certain Maureen would come, or a message would arrive, before
the week was quite up. Then she ordered her servants. She set her
schoolgirls to their tasks, and with her own hands helped to get the
Infirmary into absolute order.
She also had a fire lit in the Chamber of Peace, that room which she so
hoped Maureen would occupy.
The Infirmary was soon quite ready. It was a spacious apartment, with
no ornaments of any kind, and a highly polished floor. A little white
bed was arranged near the window with the prettiest view, but all the
windows now on this hot day were rendered cool and soothing by soft
green blinds. Then Daisy was most carefully wrapped up and carried
into the Infirmary. The poor child was absolutely unconscious. Henny
followed her, sobbing loudly.
"Henrietta, dear," said Mrs. Faithful, "I cannot allow you to stay with
your sister while you make this distressing noise; and whatever have
they done to your head, my child?"
"It was that _beast_ of a Pinchin," said Henrietta. "She ordered the
barber woman to put a sort of glue on my head, so that I shouldn't have
any curls."
"Poor little girl; but we can soon set that right. You see Nurse Annie
has already got your sister's hair into a little order. How we will
attend to yours. I think, dear, Miss Pinchin overstepped her duties;
but I must not complain. She meant well. That special pomatum is hardly
_ever_ used, although I wish some of my naughtiest girls to have their
hair short."
"And am I one of your naughtiest?"
"Oh yes, Henrietta, quite."
"And Daisy?"
"Poor Daisy; we won't talk of her now. Come! you would like to get your
curls back."
If Henrietta had a passion in this world, it was for her red curls, and
even short curls were better than none at all. Mrs. Faithful put the
girl into the care of the same kind-looking woman who had brought up
her breakfast.
"Dinah," she said, "do what you can for Miss Henrietta. Get all that
sticky stuff out of her hair, and keep her with you afterwards, Dinah.
I shall have a little room prepared for her to-night to sleep in next
my own."
"The Chamber of Love, madam?"
"Yes, Dinah, that is the room."
"Well, of all the wonderful things," muttered Dinah. "Come, Henrietta."
So Henrietta went obediently, and the sticky stuff was removed from her
hair, which, released from its bondage, curled and fuzzed all over her
head.
She looked at herself in the glass, and instantly skipped and danced
for joy.
"Hurrah, hurrah," she said. "Dinah, old duck, I _must_ hug you."
Dinah was decidedly prim and a Quaker. She said, "Thee wilt keep thy
praises and thy embraces for those who require them. For me, I like not
to be embraced."
"Oh, what a horrid house," said Henrietta, "but anyhow I've got my
curls back. Now, Dinah, I won't hug you if you don't like it; but can I
see Pinchin? I'm just dying to smack her."
"My dear, control those evil feelings. Joan Pinchin has been sorely
tried, and has gone away for a week's holiday. Now, thee wilt be a good
maid and follow me to my room, where I employ my time in making the
school uniforms. Thou and I will dine there together. I have ordered a
refreshing and serviceable meal."
"Upon my word, I _am_ peckish," said Henny. "I'll gobble, I can tell
you."