TWO SIDES.
Mrs. Ward's school reopened on the 20th of September. For two or three
days beforehand the immaculate and beautiful house was being made, if
possible, still more immaculate and still more lovely. The
window-boxes were refilled with flowers; the dainty little bedrooms
were supplied with fresh curtains to the windows and fresh drapery for
the beds.
Mrs. Ward herself arrived at the school about a week before her pupils
made their appearance. She had much to settle during this week. She
had, in short, to prepare her plan of campaign for the ensuing term:
to interview her different masters and mistresses, to consult with her
resident English governess (a charming girl of the name of Talbot), to
talk over matters with Fraeulein Beck, and to reassure Mademoiselle
Laplage, who was very lively, very conscientious, but at the same time
very nervous with regard to her own powers. "_Les jeunes filles
Anglaises sont bien capables et bien distinguees mais--ma foi! comme
elles me fatiguent les nerfs!_" Mademoiselle Laplage would say; and,
although she had been at Aylmer House for three terms, she always
doubted her powers, and made the same speech over and over again at
the beginning of each term. In addition to Miss Talbot, there was a
very cheery, bright girl of the name of Johnson, who looked after the
girls' wardrobes and helped them, if necessary, with their work, saw
that they were punctual at meals, and occasionally took an English
class. She was a great favorite with all the girls at Mrs. Ward's
school. They called her Lucy, instead of Miss Johnson. She was quite
young--not more than twenty years of age.
These four ladies resided at Aylmer House; but masters and mistresses
for various accomplishments came daily to instruct the girls. Mrs.
Ward loved her teachers almost as much as she loved her girls, and
they each and all adored her.
Miss Talbot was an exceedingly clever woman, close on thirty years of
age. She had taken very high honors at Cambridge, and was a person of
great penetration of character, with a genius for imparting
knowledge.
Unlike most head-mistresses, Mrs. Ward seldom changed her staff of
teachers. She had the gift of selection to a marvellous degree, and
never was known to make a mistake with regard to the choice of those
women who helped her in her great work of education.
Summer was, of course, over when the girls assembled at Aylmer House.
Nevertheless, there was a sort of afterglow of summer, which was
further intensified by the beautiful flowers in the window-boxes and
by the fresh, clean, fragrant atmosphere of the house itself.
The two Cardews and the two Tristrams came up to Aylmer House by an
early train. Mr. Tristram brought them to school, Mr. and Mrs. Cardew
at the last moment feeling unequal to the task of parting with their
darlings in the presence of their companions. The real parting had
taken place the previous night; and that pain which Merry had felt at
intervals during the end of the summer vacation was sharp enough to
cause her to cry when she lay down to sleep on the night before going
to school. But Merry was brave, and so was Cicely; and, although Merry
did hate beyond words the thought of not seeing her beloved father and
her dear mother until Christmas, she thought also that very good
times were before her, and she was resolved to make the best of them.
Molly and Isabel, who were quite accustomed to going to school, had no
pangs of heart at all when they bade their mother good-bye. As to
Peterkins and Jackdaw, as they were also going to school on the
following day, they scarcely observed the departure of their sisters,
only saying, when Belle hugged one and Molly the other, "What a fuss
you girls do make! Now, if Spot-ear and Fanciful were to fret about us
there'd be some reason in it. But mother's going to look after them;
and mother's a brick, I can tell you." The girls laughed very merrily,
and asked what message her two adorers would like to send to Maggie.
The two adorers only vouchsafed the remark, "Don't bother; we're going
to be with boys now, and boys are worth all the girls in creation put
together."
The journey to town was taken without any special adventure, and at
about three o'clock in the afternoon an omnibus containing the four
girls, accompanied by Mr. Tristram, with their luggage piled on the
roof, stopped at Aylmer House.
Aneta had already arrived; and as the girls entered with a new feeling
of timidity through the wide-open doors they caught a glimpse of
Maggie in the distance. There were other girls, absolute strangers to
them, who peeped for a minute over the balusters and then retired from
view. But, whatever the four strangers might have felt with regard to
these interesting occurrences, every other feeling was brought into
subjection by the appearance of Mrs. Ward on the scene.
Mrs. Ward looked quite as stately as Mrs. Cardew, with her beautiful
face still quite young; with her most kind, most gentle, most
protective manner; with the glance of the eye and the pressure of the
hand which spoke untold volumes of meaning. Merry felt her loving
heart rise in sudden adoration. Cicely gave her a quick, adoring
glance. As to Molly and Isabel, they were speechless with pleasure.
"You have come, dears," said Mrs. Ward. "Welcome, all four!--These are
your girls, Mr. Tristram"--she singled out Molly and Isabel without
being introduced to them. "I know them," she said with a smile, "from
their likeness to you. And these are the Cardews. Now, which is Cicely
and which Merry? Ah, I think I can tell. This is Merry, is she not?"
and she laid her hand on the pretty girl's shoulder.
"Yes, I am Merry," replied Meredith Cardew in a voice which almost
choked her.
"And you, of course, are Cicely," said Mrs. Ward. "In this house all
the girls speak to each other by their Christian names; and you will
be Cicely and Merry to me, as Molly and Isabel Tristram will be Molly
and Isabel to me. You know Aneta, of course. She is hovering near,
anxious to take possession of you. Go with her, dears. I think all my
girls have now come.--Is it not so, Miss Talbot?"
"Yes, Mrs. Ward," replied Miss Talbot.
"Miss Talbot, may I introduce my four new pupils to you, Cicely and
Merry Cardew, and Molly and Isabel Tristram?--You will have a good
deal to do with Miss Talbot, girls, for she is our English teacher,
and my very great friend."
Miss Talbot blushed slightly from pleasure. She said a gentle word to
each girl, and a minute afterwards they had, so to speak, crossed the
Rubicon, and were in the heart of Aylmer House; for Aneta had seized
Merry's hand, and Cicely followed immediately afterwards, while Molly
and Belle found themselves one at each side of Maggie Howland.
"Oh, this is delightful!" said Maggie. "We have all met at last. Isn't
the day glorious? Isn't the place perfect? Aren't you in love with
Mrs. Ward?"
"She seems very nice," said Molly in an almost timid voice.
"How nice Merry and Cicely look!" continued Maggie.
"You look nice, yourself, Maggie. Everything is wonderful," said
Molly; "not a bit like the school in Hanover."
"Of course not. Who could compare it?" said Maggie.
Meanwhile Aneta, Cicely, and Merry had gone on in front. But as they
were ascending the broad, low stairs, Merry turned and glanced at
Maggie and smiled at her, and Maggie smiled back at Merry. Oh, that
smile of Merry's, how it caused her heart to leap! Aneta, try as she
would, could not take Merry Cardew quite away from her.
Cicely and Merry had a bedroom together. Two little white beds stood
side by side. The drugget on the floor was pale blue. The room was a
study in pale blue and white. It was all exquisitely neat, fresh,
airy, and the smell of the flowers in the window-boxes came in through
the open windows.
"Why," said Cicely with a gasp, "we might almost be in the country!"
"This is one of the nicest rooms in the whole house," said Aneta. "But
why should I say that," she continued, "when every room is, so to
speak, perfect? I never saw Mrs. Ward, however, more particular than
she was about your bedroom, girls. I think she is very much pleased at
your coming to Aylmer House."
Cicely ran to the window and looked out.
"It is so nice to be in London," she said; "but somehow, I thought it
would be much more noisy."
Aneta laughed.
"Aylmer House," she said, "stands in the midst of a great square. We
don't have huge traffic in the squares; and, really, at night it is as
quiet as the country itself."
"But hark! hark!" said Merry, "there is a funny sound after all."
"What do you take it for?" asked Aneta.
"I don't know," said Merry. "I could almost imagine that we were by
the seaside, and that the sound was the roar of the breakers on the
beach."
"It is the roar of human breakers," said Aneta. "One always hears
that kind of sound even in the quietest parts of London. It is the
great traffic in the thoroughfares not far away."
"It is delightful! wonderful!" said Merry. "Oh, I long to know all the
girls! You will introduce us, won't you, Aneta?"
"Of course; and you must be very quick remembering names. Let me see.
You two, and Molly and Isabel, and Maggie Howland, and I make six.
There are twenty girls in the house altogether, so you have to make
the acquaintance of fourteen others."
"I never can possibly remember their names," said Merry.
"You will have to try. That's the first thing expected of a
schoolgirl--to know the names of her schoolfellows."
"Well, I will do my best."
"You had better do your best; it will be a good occupation for you
during this first evening. Now, are you ready? And shall we go down?
We have tea in the refectory at four o'clock. Mademoiselle Laplage
presides over the tea-table this week."
"Oh, but does she talk English?"
"Of course not--French. How can you learn French if you don't talk
it?"
"I shall never understand," said poor Merry.
"Well, I've no doubt she will let you off very easily during the first
few days," said Aneta. "But afterwards she is just as particular as
woman can be."
The girls went downstairs, where a group of other girls--most of them
wearing pretty white dresses, for they were all still in full summer
attire--met in the wide, pleasant hall. Aneta performed the ceremony
of introduction.
"Henrietta and Mary Gibson, may I introduce my special friends and
cousins, Cicely and Meredith--otherwise Merry--Cardew?"
Two tall, fair, lady-like girls responded to this introduction with a
hearty shake of the hand and a hearty welcome to the new-comers.
"Here is Rosamond Dacre," continued Aneta, as a very dark, somewhat
plain girl appeared in view.--"Rosamond, my friends and cousins,
Cicely and Merry Cardew."
Rosamond shook hands, but stiffly and without any smile. The next
minute a laughing, merry, handsome little girl, with dark-blue eyes,
very dark curling eyelashes, and quantities of curling black hair,
tumbled rather than walked into view.
"Ah Kathleen--Kitty, you're just as incorrigible as ever!" cried
Aneta:--"Girls, this is our Irish romp, as we always call her. Her
name is Kathleen O'Donnell.--Now then, Kathleen, you must be good, you
know, and not too terribly Irish. I have the honor to present to you,
Kathleen, my cousins Cicely and Merry Cardew."
Kathleen did more than smile. She laughed outright. "I am delighted
you have come," she said. "How are you? Isn't school glorious? I do
love it! I have come straight from Glengariff--the most beautiful part
of the whole of Ireland. Do you know Ireland? Have you ever seen
Bantry Bay? Oh, there is no country in all the world like it, and
there is no scenery so magnificent."
"Come, Kitty, not quite so much chatter," said Aneta.--"Ah, there's
the tea-gong."
The girls now followed Aneta into a pleasant room which looked out on
to a small garden. The garden, compared to the great, sweeping lawns
and lovely parterres of Meredith Manor, was insignificant.
Nevertheless, with the French windows of the refectory wide open, and
the beds full of hardy flowers--gay geraniums, late roses, innumerable
asters, fuchsias, etc.--it appeared as a fresh surprise to the country
girls.
"It isn't like London," thought Merry.
At tea she found herself, greatly to her relief, at Maggie's side.
There was also another piece of good fortune--at least so it seemed to
the Cardews, whose conversational French was still almost
_nil_--Mademoiselle Laplage was unexpectedly absent, the good lady
being forced to remain in her room with a sudden, overpowering
headache, and pleasant, good-natured Lucy--otherwise Miss
Johnson--took her place.
"Perfect freedom to-day, girls," said Miss Johnson.
"Ah, good Lucy! thank you, Lucy!" exclaimed Kathleen.
"That's right, Lucy! Hurrah for Lucy!" cried several other voices.
"No discipline at all to-day," continued Lucy. "School doesn't begin
until to-morrow."
Cicely was seated near Aneta, with Kathleen O'Donnell at her other
side. Just for a minute Aneta's eyes traveled across the table and
fixed themselves on Maggie's face. Maggie found herself coloring, and
a resentful feeling awoke in her heart. She could not dare to oppose
Aneta; and yet--and yet--she was determined at any cost to keep the
love of Merry Cardew for herself.
Meanwhile Merry, who was equally delighted to find herself by Maggie's
side, began to talk to her in a low tone.
"You don't look very well, Mags," she said--"not nearly as robust as
when I saw you last; and you never wrote to me after that first
letter."
"I have a great deal I want to tell you," said Maggie in a low tone.
"Lucy is quite right; there are no lessons of any sort this evening.
Mrs. Ward always gives us the first evening to settle and to get
perfectly at home in, so we shall be able to chatter to our heart's
content. This is going to be a glorious night, and we can walk about
in the garden."
"But won't there be a lot of other people in the garden?" asked
Merry.
"Why, of course," said Maggie in a surprised tone. "I suppose we'll
all be there."
"We can't talk any secrets, if that is what you mean," said Merry,
"for the garden is so very small."
Maggie laughed. "That's because you are accustomed to Meredith Manor,"
she said. "Anyhow," she continued, dropping her voice, "I must talk to
you. I have a great, great deal to say, and you'll have to listen."
"Of course I will listen, dear," said Merry.
Rosamond Dacre now joined in, and the conversation became general.
Henrietta and Mary Gibson had a very agreeable way of describing
things. Maggie felt herself reinstated in the life she loved; Merry,
the girl she cared for best, was by her side, and she would not have
had a single thorn in the flesh but for the presence of Aneta.
It has been said that in this school there were two girls who held
considerable sway over their companions. One of them was Aneta Lysle,
the other Maggie Howland. Aneta had, of course, far and away the
greater number of girls under her spell, if such a word could describe
her high and noble influence over them. But Maggie had her own
friends, among whom were Rosamond Dacre, Kathleen O'Donnell, Matty and
Clara Roache, and Janet Burns. All these girls were fairly nice, but
not so high-bred and not so noble in tone as the girls who devoted
themselves to Aneta. Kathleen was, indeed, altogether charming; she
was the romp of the school and the darting of every one. But Rosamond
Dacre was decidedly morose and sulky. She was clever, and on this
account her mistresses liked her; but she was a truly difficult girl
to deal with, being more or less shut up within herself, and
disinclined to true friendship with any one. She liked Kathleen
O'Donnell, however, and Kathleen adored Maggie. Rosamond was,
therefore, considered to be on Maggie's side of the school. Matty and
Clara Roache were quite ordinary, everyday sort of girls, neither very
good-looking nor the reverse, neither specially clever nor specially
stupid. Their greatest friend was Janet Burns, a handsome little girl
with a very lofty brow, calm, clear gray eyes, and a passionate
adoration for Maggie Howland. Matty and Clara would follow Janet to
the world's end, and, as Janet adhered to Maggie, they were also on
Maggie's side.
Maggie naturally expected to add to the numbers of her special
adherents her own two friends, the Tristrams. She felt she could
easily have won Merry also to join, the ranks of adorers; but then it
suddenly occurred to her that her friendship for Merry should be even
more subtle than the ordinary friendship that an ordinary girl who is
queen at school gives to her fellows. She did not dare to defy Aneta.
Merry must outwardly belong to Aneta, but if her heart was Maggie's
what else mattered?
When tea was over several of the girls drifted into the garden, where
they walked in twos, discussing their holidays, their old friends, and
the time which was just coming. There was not a trace of unhappiness
in any face. The whole atmosphere of the place seemed to breathe peace
and goodwill.
Aneta and Cicely, with some of Aneta's own friends, two girls of the
name of Armitage--Anne and Jessie--and a very graceful girl called
Sylvia St. John, walked up and down talking quietly together for some
little time.
Then Cicely looked eagerly round her. "I can't see Merry anywhere,"
she remarked.
"She is all right, dear, I am sure," said Aneta. But Aneta in her
inmost heart did not think so. She was, however, far too prudent to
say a word to make her cousin Cicely uneasy.
Meanwhile Maggie and Merry had found a cosy corner for themselves in
one of the conservatories. They sat side by side in two little
garden-chairs.
"Well, you've come!" said Maggie. "I have carried out my design. My
heart's desire is satisfied."
"Oh, how sweet you are, Maggie!" said Merry. "I have missed you so
much!" she added. "I have so often wished for you!"
"Do you really love me?" asked Maggie, looking at Merry in her queer,
abrupt manner.
"You know I do," said Merry.
"Well," said Maggie, "there are a great many girls in the school who
love me very dearly."
"It is easy to perceive that," said Merry. "Why, Maggie, at tea-time
that handsome little Irish girl--Kathleen you call her--couldn't take
her eyes off you."
"Oh, Kitty," said Maggie. "Yes, she is on my side."
"What do you mean by your side?"
"Well, of course I have told you--haven't I?--that there are two of us
in this school who are more looked up to than the others. It seems
very conceited for me to say that I happen to be one. Of course I am
not a patch on Aneta; I know that perfectly well."
"Aneta is a darling," said Merry; "and she is my own cousin; but"--she
dropped her voice--"Maggie, somehow, I can't help loving you best."
"Oh," said Maggie with a start, "is that true?"
"It is! it is!"
Maggie was silent for a minute. At the end of that time she said very
gently, "You won't be hurt at something I want to tell you?"
"Hurt! No," said Merry; "why should I be?"
"Well, it is just this: Aneta is frightfully jealous of me."
"Oh! I don't believe it," said Merry indignantly. "It isn't in her
nature to be jealous. It's very low-minded to be jealous."
"There is no school," said Maggie, "where jealousy does not abound.
There is no life into which jealousy does not enter. The world itself
is made up of jealous people. Aneta is jealous of me, and I--I am
jealous of her."
"Oh, Maggie dear, you must not, and you ought not to be jealous of
Aneta! She thinks so kindly, so sweetly of every one."
"She loves you," said Maggie. "You just go and tell her how much you
care for me, that you love me better than you love her, and see how
she will take it."
"But I wouldn't tell her that," said little Merry, "for it would hurt
her."
"There!" said Maggie with a laugh; "and yet you pretend that you don't
think her jealous."
"She will never be jealous of me, for I'll never give her cause--dear
Aneta!" said Merry.
Maggie was again silent and thoughtful for a few minutes. "Listen to
me, Merry," she said. "In this school the girls follow the queens. If
I wanted to make Aneta Lysle really mad with jealousy I'd get you over
to me; but--don't speak for a minute--I won't get you over to me. You
shall stay at school and be on Aneta's side."
"I suppose--I suppose I ought," said Merry in a faint voice.
"You must--you must be on Aneta's side of the school, and so must
Cicely; but you can, all the same, love me best."
"Can I?" said Merry, brightening up. "Then, if I can, I sha'n't mind a
bit."
Maggie patted her hand very gently. "You can, Merry; and you can help
me. You will always take my part, won't you?"
"Indeed--indeed I will! But it won't be necessary."
"It may be," said Maggie very earnestly. "Promise that, if the time
comes, you will take my part."
"I promise, of course. What can be the matter with you, Maggie? You
don't look a bit yourself."
Maggie did not at once reply. "I shall have a great deal to do this
term," she said after a pause; "and my party in the school won't be so
weak after all. There'll be Rosamond Dacre----"
"I didn't very much like Rosamond," said Merry, speaking in a low
voice.
"Oh, she is excellent fun when you know her," said Maggie; "but as she
won't be on your side, nor in your form, you are not likely to have
much to do with her. Then Matty and Clara are first-rate, and they're
mine too; and Kathleen O'Donnell is a perfect brick; and Janet Burns,
she's as strong as they make 'em. Of course the Tristrams will belong
to me. Let me see: Tristrams, two; Rosamond, three; Kathleen, four;
Matty and Clara, six; Janet, seven. Ah, well, I am quite in the
minority. Aneta carries off eleven girls as her share."
"Don't be sad about it, Maggie. Surely we might all be one in the
school! Why should there be parties?" said Merry.
"Little you know, Merry, how impossible school-life would be without
parties, and great friends, and medium friends, and favorites, and
enemies. Why, Merry, school is a little world, and the world is made
up of elements such as these."
"Tell me," said Merry after a pause, "what you did after you left
us."
Maggie colored. "Oh, stayed for a time in that horrid Shepherd's
Bush."
"In those fusty, musty lodgings?" said Merry.
"Yes, and they were fusty, musty."
"Oh dear! I am sorry for you. We had such a glorious time!"
"I know it, dear; but glorious times don't come to girls like me."
"Why, are you so very, very sad, Maggie? Oh, now I know--of course I
know. I didn't like to write to you about it, for it seemed to me
quite--you will forgive me, won't you?--quite dreadful that your
mother should have married again. Is she married yet, Maggie?"
Maggie nodded.
"Oh, I can sympathize with you, dear Maggie! It must be so fearful to
have a stepfather!"
"It is," said Maggie.
"Is he a nice man, Maggie? Or would you rather I didn't speak of
him?"
"No; you may speak of him if you like. He is a rich man--he is very
rich."
"I am glad of that at any rate," said Merry. "You will never be in
fusty, musty lodgings any more."
"Oh no, never! My mother's husband--I cannot speak of him as my
stepfather--will see to that."
"What is his name?"
Maggie hesitated. Not for the world would she have let any of her
schoolfellows know the real position; but she could not very well
conceal her stepfather's name.
"Martin," she said.
"Spelt with a 'y'? We know some awfully nice Martyns. They live about
twenty miles away from Meredith Manor. I wonder if your Mr. Martyn is
related to them."
"Oh, very likely," said Maggie.
"Then perhaps you will go to stay with them--your mother, and
your--your mother's husband, and you too; and we'll all meet. They
live at a place-called The Meadows. It isn't as old or as beautiful as
our Manor, but it's a sweet place, and the girls are so nice you'll be
sure to like them."
"Yes, I dare say I shall," said Maggie, who didn't care to contradict
Merry's innocent ideas with regard to her mother's marriage.
"Well, I am glad," said Merry, "that your dear mother has married a
rich gentleman. Has he a country place of his own?"
"Of course he has," said Maggie, who felt that she could at least
utter these words with truth.
"And is it far, far from London, or quite in the country?"
"It is," said Maggie, "in--in the Norwood direction."
This remark made no impression whatever on Merry, who had not the
least idea where the Norwood direction was. But by-and-by, when she
parted from Maggie and joined her sister and Aneta, she said, "I have
a piece of rather good news to tell about dear Maggie Howland. She
won't be poor any more."
"That is a word we never discuss at school," said Aneta.
"Well, we needn't after to-night," said Merry with a slight touch of
irritation in her manner. "But although I haven't the faintest idea
what poverty means, I think poor Maggie knows a good deal about it.
Well, she won't have anything to do with it in future, for her mother
has just married again."
"Oh!" said Aneta, with a show of interest.
"Yes; and a very nice gentleman he must be. He is a cousin of the
Martyns of The Meadows. You know how you liked them when we spent a
day there during these holidays--didn't you, Aneta?"
"Yes," said Aneta, "most charming people. I felt quite sorry that the
Martyn girls were too old for school. I wonder they didn't mention the
fact of their cousin being about to marry Mrs. Howland; for you know
we were talking of Maggie to them, or at least you were, Merry."
"Of course I was," said Merry in a determined voice. "I am very, very
fond of Maggie Howland."
"Perhaps we had better go to bed now," said Aneta. "I may as well tell
you, girls, that we have to get up at half-past six. Lucy comes to us
and wakes us at that hour, and we are expected to be downstairs at
seven. Lucy will tell you, too, girls, that it is expected of us all
that we shall keep our rooms in perfect order. Now, shall we say
good-night?"
The Cardews kissed their cousin and went to their own pleasant room.
As soon as they were there Merry said, "Cicely, I am glad about poor
Maggie."
"And so am I," said Cicely.
"When we write home we must be sure to mention to mother about Mr.
Martyn. I don't think dear Maggie knew anything about The Meadows; so
perhaps, after all, he is a somewhat distant cousin; but it is such a
comfort to know that he is rich and a gentleman."
"Yes," said Cicely. Then she added, "I don't think Aneta wants you to
make too great a friend of Maggie Howland."
"Oh, nonsense!" said Merry, coloring slightly. "I am never going to
give Maggie up, for I love her dearly."
"Of course," said Cicely, "it would be very mean to give her up; but
you and I, as Aneta's cousins, must be on her side in the school. What
I am afraid of is that Maggie will try to induce you to join her
set."
"That shows how little you know her," said Merry, roused to the
defensive. "She explained everything to me this afternoon, and said
that I certainly must belong to Aneta."
"Did she? Well, I call that splendid," said Cicely.