Claire lost no time in writing to Miss Farnborough to apply for the post
of French mistress if it were still vacant, and by return of post
received a cordial reply. Several applications had been received, but
no appointment had been made, and the Head was pleased to confirm her
previous offer of a commencing salary of a hundred and ten pounds, and
would expect Miss Gifford to take up her duties at the beginning of the
autumn term. She congratulated her on her decision, and felt sure she
would never regret devoting her life to so interesting and valuable a
work, instead of being content to waste it in the pursuit of idle
pleasure.
Poor Claire looked a little dubious as she read those last words. The
pursuit of pleasure does not as a rule begin to pall at twenty-one; and
the old life looked very sweet and pleasant viewed from the new
standpoint of change. She put on a bright face, however, and sternly
repressed all signs of depression in discussing the matter with her
mother and Mr Judge. Her determination evoked the expected opposition,
but slowly and surely the opposition decreased, and her arguments were
listened to with increasing respect. The lovers were sincerely desirous
of securing the girl's happiness, but middle-aged though they were, they
were deeply in love, and felt a natural desire to begin their married
life without the presence of a third person, however dear that person
might be.
Mr Judge applauded Claire's spirit, and prophesied her rapid success as
a teacher. Mrs Gifford murmured sweetly, "And if you _don't_ like it,
dear, you can always come out by the next boat. Try it for a year. It
will be quite an amusing experience to live the life of a bachelor girl.
And, of course, in a year or two we'll be coming home. Then you must
spend the whole leave with us. We'll see, won't we? We won't make any
plans, but just be guided by circumstances. If you want somewhere to go
in the holidays, there's my old Aunt Mary in Preston, but you'd be bored
to sobs, darling. No doubt Miss Farnborough will introduce you to lots
of nice people in London, and you will have all the fifteen other
mistresses to take you about. I expect you'll be quite gay! ...
Claire, darling, _would_ you have gold tissue under this ninon, or just
a handsome lace?"
For the next few weeks things moved quickly. In answer to inquiries
about lodgings, Miss Farnborough wrote a second time to say that Miss
Rhodes, the English mistress, had comfortable rooms which she was
sharing with the present French teacher. She was willing to continue
the arrangement, and, as a stranger in town, Claire would doubtless find
it agreeable as well as economical. The letter was entirely business-
like and formal, and, as such, a trifle chilling to Claire, for Miss
Farnborough had been so warm in her spoken invitation that Claire had
expected a more cordial welcome. Could it be that the shadow of
officialdom was already making itself felt?
The next few weeks were given up to trousseau-hunting and farewell
visits, and no girl could have shown a livelier interest in the
selection of pretty things than did this bride of thirty-nine. Claire
came in for a charming costume to wear at the wedding, and for the rest,
what fitted her mother fitted herself, and as Mrs Gifford said sweetly,
"It would be a sin to waste all my nice things, but they're quite
unsuitable for India. Just use them out, darling, for a month or two,
and then get what you need," an arrangement which seemed sensible
enough, if one could only be sure of money to supply that need when it
arose!
The day before her marriage Mrs Gifford thrust an envelope into her
daughter's hand, blushing the while with an expression of real distress.
"I'm so sorry, darling, that it's so little. I've tried to be careful,
but the money has flown. Going out to India one needs so many clothes,
and there were quite a number of bills. I'll send more by and by, and
remember always to say if you run short. I want you to have plenty for
all you need. With what you have, this will see you nicely through your
first term, and after that you'll be quite rich."
Claire kissed her, and was careful not to look at the cheque until she
was alone. She had counted on at least a hundred to put in the bank as
a refuge against a rainy day. Surely at this parting of the ways mother
would wish her to have this security; but when she looked at her cheque,
it was to discover that it was made out for fifty pounds--only half that
sum. Claire felt sore at that moment, and for the first time a chill of
fear entered into her anticipations. Fifty pounds seemed a dreadfully
small sum to stand between herself and want. A hundred might be only
twice its value, but its three figures sounded so much more substantial.
She struggled hard to allow no signs of resentment to be seen, and felt
that virtue was rewarded, when late that evening Mr Judge presented her
with yet another envelope, saying awkwardly--
"That's--er--that's the bridesmaid's present. Thought you'd like to
choose for yourself. Something to do, you know, some fine half-holiday,
to go out and look in the shops. I've no views--don't get jewellery
unless you wish. Just--er--`blew it' your own way!"
Claire kissed him, and remarked that he was a sweet old dear; and this
time the opening of the envelope brought a surprise of an agreeable
nature, for this cheque also was for fifty pounds, so that the desired
hundred was really in her possession. No jewellery for her! Into the
bank the money should go--every penny of it, and her bridesmaid present
should be represented by peace of mind, which, after the financial shock
of the last month, seemed more precious than many rubies.
Mr and Mrs Judge were married at the Embassy, and afterwards at an
English church, the bride looking her most charming self in a costume of
diaphanous chiffon and lace and the most fascinating of French hats, and
the bridegroom his worst in his stiff conventional garments. They were
a very radiant couple, however, and the _dejeuner_ held after the
ceremony at the "Hotel Britannique" was a cheerful occasion, despite the
parting which lay ahead.
The gathering was quite a large one, for Mr Judge had insisted upon
inviting all the friends who had been kind to his _fiancee_ and her
daughter during their three years' sojourn in the city, while the
_pensionnaires_ at "Villa Beau Sejour" came _en masse_, headed by Madame
herself, in a new black silk costume, her white transformation
elaborately waved and curled for the occasion.
There were speeches, and there were toasts. There were kindly words of
farewell and cheerful anticipations of future meetings, there were good
wishes for the bride and bridegroom, and more good wishes for the
bridesmaid, and many protestations that it was "her turn next."
Then the bride retired to change her dress. Claire went with her, and
tried valiantly not to cry as she fastened buttons and hooks, and
realised how long it might be before she next waited on her mother.
Mrs Judge was tearful, too, and the two knew a bitter moment as they
clung together for the real farewell before rejoining the guests.
"I've been careless; I've made a mess of things. I've not been half as
thoughtful as I should have been," sobbed the bride, "but I _have_ loved
you, Claire, and this will make no difference! I shall love you just
the same."
Claire flushed and nodded, but could not trust herself to speak. The
love of a mother in far-off India could never be the same as the love of
the dear companion of every day. But she was too generous to add to her
mother's distress by refusing to be comforted, and the bride nervously
powdered her eyes, and re-arranged her veil before descending to the
hall, anxious as ever to shelve a painful subject, and turn her face to
the sun.
Five minutes later Mr and Mrs Judge drove away from the door, and the
girl who was left behind turned slowly to re-enter the hotel. It was
very big, and fine, and spacious, but at that moment it was a type of
desolation in Claire's eyes. With a sickening wave of loneliness she
realised that she was motherless and alone!