SELF-WILL AND SORROW
BERYL sat down to her lessons with a frown upon her brow. If she was at
all ashamed of having provoked such a reproof from her governess, pride
kept her from manifesting the least contrition.
Miss Burton soon knew that Beryl could be as naughty and refractory
as any child she had ever had to control. Everything went wrong that
morning. Either Beryl had prepared her lessons very carelessly, or her
recent annoyance had driven out of her mind what she had learned. She
stammered and hesitated, made the most stupid blunders, and called
forth frequent expressions of astonishment from her governess.
Beryl's temper did not improve under these humiliations. Since she
found it impossible to display striking intelligence in the course of
this morning's study, she resolved to aim at the other extreme and
show striking stupidity. If Miss Burton were inclined to find fault,
occasion should not be lacking. So Beryl hardened herself into a state
of sulky obstinacy, purposely misunderstood what was said to her, found
difficulties in the easiest of sums, and made blots and smudges in her
writing at the rate of one a minute.
Miss Burton tried to be patient with the child, hoping that she would
soon recover her temper and see the absurdity of her conduct. But as
Beryl's blunders showed more and more plainly that they were made by
design, the governess felt her own anger being kindled. Fearing that
an outburst of indignation might make matters worse, she suddenly
surprised Beryl by refusing to teach her any more that morning.
For the rest of schooltime, Beryl sat idle in a corner of the room,
looking strangely unlike herself, with the sulky, stubborn look which
had settled on her face.
"Beryl," said Miss Burton, when Coral was putting away her books, "I
was sorry to find fault with you when I came into the schoolroom this
morning, but if you had been a wise girl, you would have resolved
that it should not happen again, and have tried, by being good and
industrious, to make me forget my annoyance with you. But as you have
chosen to waste the whole morning by giving way to ill-temper and
naughtiness, I feel that I must increase your punishment. I shall
double the lesson I intended giving you, and you must stay in this
room by yourself for a whole hour. It grieves me to treat you thus,
for I had hoped we might have got on together without punishments and
penalties."
Miss Burton looked in vain for any sign of softening on Beryl's part.
Yet, in truth, it was all the child could do to keep her composure. No
sooner did she hear Miss Burton close the door, and know that she was
alone, than she burst into passionate tears. But they were not tears
of penitence. Pride still ruled her spirit, and she angrily resented
her governess's treatment of her. Beryl had never before experienced
punishment, and, like a colt first made to feel the bit, she chafed and
fretted, giving herself far more pain than she would have felt had she
quietly submitted to control.
In her indignant, defiant mood, Beryl was of two minds about learning
the lesson Miss Burton had set her. It was by no means a difficult
task, and she might soon have mastered it, had she chosen to do so.
But she felt strongly disinclined to the effort, as she sat with the
book closed over her fingers, swinging her feet to and fro, an action
soothing to her in her present state of mind. She was gradually growing
calmer and more rational, when the door opened and Lucy appeared. She
came, duster in hand, to set the room tidy, as her custom was when
lessons were over.
"Why, Miss Beryl! You here still?" she exclaimed in surprise. "How is
that?"
"Yes, I'm here,"' replied Beryl, not very amiably, giving her feet a
determined swing, meant to express supreme indifference. "I have a
lesson to learn."
"Then you've been a naughty girl, I suppose," said Lucy, taking in the
situation at once, and showing little regard for Beryl's feelings.
"I only took a book off Miss Burton's shelf," said Beryl, in an injured
tone. "It was very horrid of her to make such a fuss about it. She's as
cross as she can be."
"Oh, I dare say you think you did nothing wrong," remarked Lucy;
"you always say that. But you won't be any the worse for a little
punishment; I'm glad Miss Burton knows how to manage you."
"She doesn't then; she is a horrid, cross thing; I can't bear her!"
exclaimed Beryl, uttering the first words which came to her lips, in
the irritation excited by these words, which stung her pride sorely.
"There now, Miss Beryl; what did I tell you?" exclaimed Lucy
triumphantly. "I said you would not be fond of your governess long. I
knew your love was too hot to last."
With these words Lucy went away, leaving poor Beryl more completely
under the dominion of the evil spirit of pride and self-will which had
taken possession of her. But for her nurse's ill-chosen words, Beryl
might soon have been humble and contrite, and the rest of the day might
have passed more happily for her than it did. Now, however, all her
worst feelings were stirred up anew. She did not care. She would do as
she liked. She would not learn the lesson. She would show Miss Burton,
and Lucy too, that she was not going to be "managed"; and, reckless of
consequences, Beryl dashed her lesson book on the floor, and looked
round for some pleasanter mode of passing the time.
Something drew her eyes to the bookshelf. They rested on the
brightly-bound book which had led her into this trouble. Here was a
grand opportunity of at once daring Miss Burton's anger and gratifying
her own wishes.
Beryl gave herself no time for reflection. She flew across the
room, climbed on a chair, reached the book, and sat down to read
it. Her cheeks were flushed and her heart was beating fast as she
opened it. She was feeling half proud of her spirited defiance, and
half frightened at it. The story thus read had little charm. It was
difficult, indeed, to keep her attention fixed upon it in her excited
state of mind. Her own situation just now was more interesting to her
than that of the heroine of the story.
Moreover, in her reading, she came to passages which she was glad to
skip, for she knew their teaching would awaken conscience, and she did
not want to listen to the reproaches of conscience. Beryl was not so
absorbed in her reading that she did not catch the first sound of Miss
Burton's approach. She trembled and grew pale as her governess opened
the door. She suddenly became fully conscious how bad her conduct was.
"Well, Beryl," said Miss Burton, coming towards her, and speaking with
her usual gentleness, "do you know your lesson?"
"No," said Beryl, rather unsteadily; "I have not learned it."
"Not learned it!" repeated Miss Burton, in a tone of the greatest
surprise. "Why, what is this?" she added, as her eyes fell on the story
book, which Beryl had hastily pushed from her as her governess entered.
"Have you been reading this, Beryl, instead of learning your lesson?"
"Yes," said Beryl, colouring hotly, and looking on the floor.
Miss Burton was silent for a few moments from sheer astonishment. She
was quite unprepared for such an outbreak of wilfulness on the part
of her pupil. She could not understand how it was that Beryl thus
persisted in defying her authority.
Beryl, glancing timidly at her governess, saw an expression of pain
and perplexity on her face, the sight of which did more to soften the
child's mood than any words which had yet been spoken.
"I could not have believed it of you, Beryl," said Miss Burton at last,
without raising her voice or showing any sign of anger. "What can have
come over you to make you behave thus? Do you find pleasure in giving
me trouble?"
Beryl did not answer. She hung her head now in genuine shame. Oh, how
she wished she had acted differently! If only what had happened could
be blotted out, and she could begin the day afresh!
"Go to your bedroom, Beryl, and remain there for the rest of the
day," said Miss Burton, in her quiet tone of decision; "I will send
your dinner to you there. We must go to the woods without you this
afternoon. I hope when I see you in the evening, you will have thought
over what has passed, and feel sorry for having behaved so badly. You
do not need me to tell you how wrong you have been."
Beryl said not a word, but left the room at once in obedience to her
governess's command. She went away, feeling as hopelessly miserable as
a child could feel. There was no anger in Miss Burton's mind towards
her as she noted her unhappy look. She could have forgiven her there
and then, but she judged it best to leave Beryl to herself for a time.
What a long, sad afternoon that was for Beryl! The expedition to the
woods in search of the blackberries, which were just beginning to
ripen, had been talked of for days, and now, instead of the anticipated
pleasure, Beryl found herself a prisoner in her room, in sore trouble
and disgrace.
From her window she watched the others set off, Coral seated on the
pony, which Andrew led, Miss Burton walking beside her, and Lucy
bringing up the rear with baskets and shawls, for they were to have tea
in the wood.
Coral's face looked grave and troubled. Beryl felt sure she would not
enjoy the blackberry-picking half so much without her. Miss Burton,
too, looked less bright than usual; but Beryl fancied she read a look
of triumph on Lucy's face, as she glanced up and saw the young prisoner
peeping from the window. No doubt Lucy was pleased to think she was
being thus "managed."
But the indignation stirred by Lucy's appearance quickly died out.
Beryl's conscience was awake now, and made itself forcibly heard.
She no longer said that her governess was unkind, and held herself
aggrieved by her treatment. She saw now how very bad her conduct had
been. She wondered, with a desponding sense of her own weakness, how
she could have behaved so badly to one whom she loved as she loved
Miss Burton; for Beryl's words to Lucy had been uttered in passion and
bravado, and it was not true that she could not bear her governess.
As she remembered Miss Burton's great kindness, and the many happy
hours they had passed together since she came to Egloshayle, Beryl felt
more and more ashamed of herself. She longed for the party to return,
that she might ask her governess to forgive her.
As if to intensify her contrition, there suddenly fluttered on to the
floor from a cupboard in the room, so crammed with toys and books by
the untidy owners that it would not be made to shut, a large sheet of
paper. Startled by the sound it made in falling, Beryl looked to see
what it was. She took up the sheet and unrolled it. It was a picture of
the Good Shepherd, one of the coloured prints she had used with such
success in her Sunday school. Beryl dropped it suddenly, and her face
reddened with fresh shame. The memory of the day when she had tried to
teach her little scholars about the Good Shepherd pierced her to the
heart. She did not need to be told that example is better than precept.
How often had she made use of her quick observation to weigh the
comparative merits of the words and deeds of others. The thought of
her little scholars brought the keenest stab of remorse she had yet
felt. A nice one she was to try and teach others! If those children
could have seen her to-day, what would they have thought? And she had
called herself a child of the kingdom! Beryl broke down utterly at the
thought. Kneeling beside her little bed, she hid her face in her hands,
and sobbed till she could sob no more. She was young, poor child, to
know the keen pain and shame which comes with a sense of failure in
realising our own cherished ideal of worthy living.
When Miss Burton entered the room some hours later, she had no need
to utter words to draw forth Beryl's avowal of repentance. Beryl ran
towards her with pale, tear-stained face and look of utter misery,
crying, "Oh, I am so sorry, so sorry; I hate myself; I am a bad, horrid
thing!"
Hettie Burton clasped her in her arms, and Beryl's words were lost in
sobs, as she leaned her head on her governess's shoulder. Not a word of
reproach or blame was spoken. Miss Burton did not try to improve the
occasion. She saw that Beryl was truly sorry for her naughtiness, and
she tried to make her feel that she was fully forgiven. So she soothed
the child with tender words and caresses; and when she had helped
her to bathe her face and set her hair in order, she led her to the
schoolroom. Here stood ready the children's supper of bread and butter,
milk, and blackberries, and Coral was waiting, eager to see and comfort
Beryl.
Her little sister's joyous welcome and loving kiss made Beryl cry
again. She felt more humble and sorry than ever, now every one was
so kind to her, for even Lucy seemed to feel a little sympathy for
her. Coral had picked out the finest and ripest blackberries for her
enjoyment; but, fond as she generally was of this fruit, Beryl was
indifferent to blackberries now. Her chief thought was that she loved
her governess better than before, and she would never, never be naughty
to her again.