CONCLUSION.
WHEN Mrs. Mavor had gone, Hetty sat a long time pondering over the
task awaiting her before she began it, and it took her some time to
write the letter after she did begin. But it was finished at last, and
humbling as it was, Hetty was glad she had so far conquered herself
as to be able to write frankly and fully, taking all the blame, and
duly acknowledging that she had no right to enter the garden with her
friends.
Hetty would have felt a good deal happier if she could have seen what
became of her letter. For Mrs. Mavor, to make sure no one else ever did
see it, after she had once read it, tore it up and put it in the fire.
She would tell Hetty of this some day, but not just now, or she would
defeat the purpose for which she required it written. For somehow she
began to like Hetty better than ever she did before, and this letter
confirmed the liking, and she hoped that the faults of character that
had hitherto dimmed and hidden her better qualities might be overcome.
[Illustration: IT TOOK HER SOME TIME TO WRITE THE LETTER.]
She did not know what bitter distress Hetty was now in, that the little
household was positively threatened with starvation, that Hannah had
spent their last penny to buy a loaf of bread when she brought that
letter. Hannah would have told her readily enough if she had only had
the opportunity, but knowing the girl's propensity to gossip, she would
not give her the chance. And so the last loaf was cut and eaten without
butter, and no one knew where the next was to come from.
Mrs. Golding was still very ill, sometimes raving a little about Hetty,
and how cruelly she had deceived her; sometimes about her old friend,
Mrs. Newton, of whose death she was quite unconscious. But for the most
part she lay very quiet, except for the rolling of her head from side
to side.
Hetty was of very little use in the sickroom, for she could not control
her feelings sufficiently to do anything. She could only stand by the
bedside and shed silent tears of anguish as she looked at her mother,
and thought how much mischief her folly had caused, for that she had
been mainly instrumental in bringing on this illness she felt sure, as
she listened to her mother's plaintive reiteration of "Oh, Hetty, I did
not think you would do it! Hetty, Hetty, have you quite forsaken your
mother?"
Poor Hetty had to rush from the room very often for fear her sobs
should disturb her mother. And the thought that she might pass away,
and never know how bitterly she repented of the past, was agony indeed.
And she prayed to God to spare her life or restore her to consciousness
for a few hours at least, that she might ask her forgiveness for the
trouble and anxiety she had caused her.
Hannah did all she could to comfort poor Hetty, but she was at her
wits' end to know how she could help her in her distress.
When their last loaf was cut and eaten, she said, "Miss Hetty, why
don't you go and see your friend, Miss Hodson? She or her father might
be able to tell you what to do."
Hetty looked up quickly. "Do you think it would be any use, Hannah?"
she said. "I never thought of Julia helping anybody."
"Well, she is your friend, and Sir Charles might be able to tell you
what you ought to do."
"Something must be done certainly, for mamma must have what the doctor
orders, and we have no money and no credit now," said Hetty, as if to
stimulate her own courage for the disagreeable task before her.
Not for herself could she have done it, but for her mother she could
do anything now. And she put on her hat and jacket directly after
breakfast, and walked up to see Julia.
She caught a glimpse of her friend at one of the windows, but she moved
away directly she saw Hetty—to come and meet her as soon as the door
was opened she thought. But, instead of being invited to walk into the
drawing-room or meeting Julia in the hall, as she had anticipated, the
servant asked her to wait, and she would see if her mistress was at
home.
"Miss Julia is not at home," was the message she brought back.
Hetty knew it was a message, but it completely upset her, for Julia had
professed such love and friendship before that she did not anticipate
such a refusal as this. Julia might be cool in her manner towards
her—she had nerved herself to meet this—but to be kept waiting at the
door and then denied entrance almost overpowered her.
She stood for a minute or two unable to speak for astonishment, and
then by an effort recovering herself she said, "Can I see Sir Charles
Hodson?"
Julia's father, she knew, had been very intimate with Mr. Newton,
and he might be able to tell her how far her mother's affairs were
involved, and help her to tide over her present difficulties. But
Sir Charles could tell her nothing, and at last Hetty was obliged to
confess that they were on the verge of starvation at home, and until
she could obtain her uncle's address in Paris, she knew not where to
turn for a shilling.
"Dear me! That is very shocking, Miss Golding," said the gentleman. And
then taking out his purse, he laid a sovereign on the table saying,
"You will oblige me by accepting that for your present need, and I hope
in a few days you will have news from Paris."
Hetty coloured crimson at the thought of receiving charity, but what
was she to do? She looked at the sovereign and thought of her mother at
home. She felt choking, but she managed to stammer out. "Do you know
that we may never be able to repay this?—We may be quite ruined. We
have no money in the bank now I know, for I have written to ask."
"Never mind that, you are welcome to this trifle. And, if you do not
hear from your uncle in a day or two, come and see me again. I am very
sorry your mother is so ill, Miss Golding. I daresay Newton's affairs
have worried her a good deal, but I trust she will soon get over it."
"Thank you, I hope so," gasped Hetty, as she took up the sovereign and
put it into her little empty purse.
She tried to thank Sir Charles for this, but she was too much overcome
to utter a word, and walked out like one in a dream.
When she reached home, she flung herself into a chair, and burst into
an uncontrollable fit of sobbing. "Oh, Hannah, I never thought I should
come to this!" she said, throwing the sovereign on to the table.
"Well, Miss Hetty, I don't see what you've got to cry about now," said
Hannah, seizing the sovereign and looking at it complacently. "I can
get all the mistress wants now, and you and I and nurse can live on a
mere nothing till we hear from Miss Lettice again."
"I would not have taken it if it had not been for mamma," sobbed Hetty.
"Oh! If she would only get better, I would try and do something to earn
money myself. What do you think I could do, Hannah?" said the young
lady, trying to choke back her tears.
"Well, Miss Hetty, you used to say—"
"Oh, never mind what I used to say! I have been a vain, silly girl,"
interrupted Hetty. "Just tell me if there is anything I can do to earn
money."
"Well, Miss Hetty, you are clever at music I've heard, and you might
teach it, I should think."
"I should think so too," said Hetty, brightening at once. "I wonder who
I could ask about it?"
"I wouldn't do more than think about it just yet, if I were you, Miss
Hetty. You're a lady, you know, and ladies never work for money. I've
heard you say it again and again."
"Oh, yes, I know I have, but I'm getting wiser now, I hope. I've tried
to make everybody believe we were rich people because uncle was, but I
know mamma would be glad if I tried to do something useful."
Hetty had learned another bitter lesson that morning. Julia Hodson
and her maxims of what the world deemed genteel and proper had been
thought of and studied far more than her mother's wishes. But she knew
how to value the professed love of such a friend now, and she resolved
to begin at once and carry out what she knew her mother would approve,
even though she could not ask her about it at present.
Her usual impulsiveness forbade her waiting long after she had once
made up her mind to do a thing. So as soon as dinner was over, she
put on her bonnet to go and consult her former governess about her
plan of becoming a music teacher, hoping she might be asked to teach
some of the juniors among her former schoolfellows—a hope that was
not disappointed. For the lady knew that if Hetty liked to be patient
and take pains with her pupils, she could soon be a very clever
teacher. She also recommended her to call upon Mrs. Mavor, who had been
inquiring for a music teacher for her little girl.
Mrs. Mavor was rather surprised to see the proud Miss Golding upon such
an errand. But, after hearing her reason for wishing to do something
towards helping her mother, she encouraged her to persevere, and
engaged her at once to teach her little daughter.
Hetty proved a more painstaking teacher than even her governess
anticipated. And by the time Mrs. Golding was well enough to be told
what Hetty had done, she was also able to add that her work was not
nearly so irksome as she had feared it would be. She had begun to take
an interest in the progress of her pupils, and really liked teaching
them.
[Illustration: FROM HETTY'S OWN LIPS SHE HEARD THE WHOLE STORY.]
Mrs. Golding could only wonder and be thankful for the change in Hetty,
for she was not told of the bitter experiences through which she had
passed until she got better. Then, from Hetty's own lips she heard the
whole story.
Meanwhile, a letter had come from Lettice, saying they were going to
stay a week or two in Paris. And, in response to Hetty's confused
letter about her mother's illness, and their distress, and her going
out as a music teacher, Uncle John came back post haste to see what
it all meant. For Mrs. Golding was his only sister, and he had taken
care that most of her money should be safely invested, so that he could
afford to laugh when Hetty told him that her mother had been ruined by
the downfall of their friend, Mr. Newton.
"Nonsense, child! I took care that your mother should never be able
to ruin herself through her kindness to friends. The most she could
have lent was the little surplus she had saved and put away in the
bank here, so you may make your mind easy about that, and give up your
teaching to-morrow if you like."
"But suppose I should not like, uncle?" said Hetty, laughing in her
turn, for she could laugh now this great dread was lifted from her mind.
"Well, I should say you were a more sensible girl than I thought you
were," said Uncle John, in a cordial tone. For the report brought him
by Lettice of the way her cousin had acted during her visit had not
disposed him to meet his niece in a very affectionate manner.
Hetty coloured. "I have been foolish, and worse than foolish, uncle,"
she said, "but I mean to act differently in the future. Mamma quite
approves of my effort to be independent, as she says, for she does not
know why it was so urgent for me to begin to earn money at once, or
why I was so anxious to see you. She is too ill to be troubled about
anything yet, and now there will be no need to tell her until she gets
quite well. I do think she will get well now, don't you, uncle?"
"Certainly, my dear, and the knowledge that you are acting in such a
sensible, womanly way will help her more than anything else. Keep on
with your music teaching by all means, and don't add to the number
of helpless women in the world. Never mind what your fine, frivolous
friends may say, but, believe me, an idle, helpless woman is always a
miserable one, and often gets herself into as much mischief as you did
with your grand garden-party. Lettice told me about that, but I shall
be able to give her a very different account of you, and she will be
pleased and proud to hear it. For it is one of her pet theories that
a woman may nearly always conquer adverse circumstances if she only
conquers herself first, and I think you have proved it. I am quite
proud of my little niece now," added Uncle John, gently patting Hetty's
blushing cheek.
He stayed with them a few days, long enough to set matters straight
from a pecuniary point of view, and seeing his sister fairly
progressing towards recovery. He also called upon Sir Charles Hodson,
to thank him for the assistance given to Hetty in her time of need. And
Miss Julia was so impressed by his noble appearance, and the fact that
Hetty Golding was not quite penniless, that she called to see her the
next day, to apologise, as she said, for not returning Hetty's call
when she was not at home.
But Hetty was only coldly polite to her gushing friend now. She would
have no time, she said, to continue the acquaintance, for she was
occupied in teaching several hours each day, and her mother would
require so much care and attention for some months to come, that she
would have no leisure for other companionship.
It was Miss Hodson's turn to be astonished, and she was both surprised
and vexed, for she really did like Hetty Golding as much as it
was in her nature to like any one, and to have a renewal of her
highly-esteemed friendship thus coolly declined was nothing less than a
positive insult, according to her view of the matter. But remembering
the past, and how glad Hetty had been to accept the smallest token of
favour from her, she thought she would soon forget her present notions,
and be glad to resume her former standing, if she waited. So she took
her leave very coolly, but resolved to wait and watch for Hetty to make
some overtures of friendship.
But Hetty had no desire whatever to go back to that time. As she
herself remarked, the number of things which now claimed her attention
and absorbed her leisure left no margin for idle gossip as to what was
the world's opinion of this and that. Moreover, when her mother in due
course was restored to health, Hetty's interest had centred so happily
in her work and her home that she had no inclination or motive to
induce her to cultivate friendship with girls of Julia Hodson's stamp.
Hetty's first earnings went to pay the debts incurred by her foolish
garden-party. Mrs. Mavor's bill of costs for the damage done to the
growing vegetables in the slip she had given to the gardener was the
heaviest item on the list.
Hetty, however, paid it cheerfully, saying the lessons she had learnt
through it would be a warning throughout her life, for she could never
forget that garden-party, and what came of it.
THE END.
[Illustration]