"Mamma," said Charlotte to her mother one day towards the end of the
following week, "do you think--I mean would you mind?" She hesitated
and grew rather red, and looked down at her dress.
"Would I mind what, dear? Don't be afraid to say what it is," said her
mother, smiling. Her eyes half unconsciously followed Charlotte's and
rested on her frock. It was one which had undoubtedly "seen better
days," and careful though Charlotte was, nothing could hide the marks of
wear.
"Is it about your dress?" Mrs Waldron exclaimed suddenly. "I was
going to speak about it. I don't think you can go on wearing that old
cashmere at school any more. You must keep it for home--for the
afternoons when you are working in the school-room, and the mornings you
don't go to Miss Lloyd's; and you must begin your navy-blue serge for
regular wear."
Charlotte's face cleared.
"Oh, thank you, mamma," she said. "I am so glad. But--what about a
best frock? You know, however careful one is, one can't look really
neat with only one regular dress," and Charlotte's face fell again.
"Of course not. Have I ever expected you to manage with only one, so to
say? I have sent for patterns already, and Miss Burt is coming about
making you a new one. And your velveteen must be refreshed a little for
the evenings. By Christmas, if I can possibly afford it, I should like
to get you something new for the evenings. There may be concerts, or
possibly one or two children's parties."
"I don't care to go if there are," said Charlotte, "I'm getting too old
for them. In proper, regular society, mamma--not a common little town
like Wortherham--girls don't go out when they're my age, between the
two, as it were, do they?"
Mrs Waldron smiled a very little. Charlotte was changing certainly.
"We cannot make hard and fast rules, placed as we are," she said. "If
you don't care to go to any more children's parties you need not. But
of course Wortherham is your--our--home. I might wish it were in a
different place for many reasons, but wishing in such cases is no use,
and indeed often does harm. And on the whole it is better to have some
friendly intercourse with the people one lives among, even though they
may not be very congenial, than to shut oneself out from all sympathies
and interests except home ones." Charlotte did not at once answer, and
indeed when she did speak again it was scarcely in reply to her mother.
"I like some of the girls very well. I don't much care to be intimate
with any of them, except perhaps Gueda Knox, and she scarcely counts,
she's so little here now; but they're nice enough mostly. Only they do
gossip a good deal, and make remarks about things that don't concern
them. Mamma," she went on abruptly, "might I begin wearing my navy-blue
to-morrow? I will take great care of it, so that it shall look quite
nice on Sundays till I get my new one."
"To-morrow?" repeated Mrs Waldron, a little surprised. "To-morrow is
Friday. Isn't Monday a better day to begin it?"
Again Charlotte reddened a little.
"Mamma," she said, "it's just that I don't want to begin it on Monday.
That girl is coming on Monday for the first time--Lady Mildred's niece,
you know. And you don't know how I should _hate_ them saying I had got
a new dress because of her coming."
"Would they really be so ill-bred?" exclaimed Mrs Waldron, almost
startled.
"Oh, yes. They don't mean it, they don't know better. Mamma, I don't
think you can know quite as well as I do how common some of the people
here are," and Charlotte's face took an expression almost of disgust.
"When you see the ladies you call on, they are on their good behaviour,
I suppose, and if they did begin to gossip you would somehow manage to
discourage it. Oh, mamma, you should be glad you weren't brought up
here."
Mrs Waldron was half distressed and half amused.
"But we must make the best of it," she said. "We can't leave
Wortherham, Charlotte."
"Couldn't we go and live quite in the country, however quiet and dull it
was? _I_ wouldn't mind."
"No; for several years at least it would be impossible. There may be
opportunities for starting the boys in life here that we must not
neglect. And living quite in the country would entail more fatigue for
your father." Charlotte sighed.
"My dear child," said her mother, "I don't quite understand you. You
have never seemed discontented with your home before. You must not get
to take such a gloomy view of things."
"I don't mean to be discontented, mamma," said Charlotte.
"Well, dear, try and get over it. You will have to meet many people in
life apparently more favoured and fortunate than you. Perhaps things
have in some ways been too smooth for you, Charlotte."
"Mamma, I am not so selfish as you think. It is not only for myself I'd
like some things to be different. Besides, I am old enough now to know
that you and papa have a great deal of anxiety. Do you think I only
care for myself, mamma?"
"No, dear, I don't. But don't you think the best way to help us would
be by letting us see that you are happy, and appreciating the advantages
we _can_ give you?"
"Yes, mamma," said Charlotte, submissively enough. But her mother's
eyes followed her somewhat anxiously as she left the room.
The amount of gossip at Miss Lloyd's school about the expected new pupil
was certainly absurd. The young lady's riches and beauty and
connections were discussed and exaggerated as only school-girls can
discuss and exaggerate such matters, and the one girl who said nothing,
and scarcely seemed to listen to all the chatter, was yet perhaps the
most impressed by it.
Charlotte took care to be early in her place that Monday morning. There
was half-an-hour's "preparation"--spent by the conscientious pupils in
refreshing their memories by running over the lessons already thoroughly
learnt, by the lazy ones in endeavouring to compress into the short
space of time the work which should have taken several hours, and by the
incorrigibly careless and indifferent in whispered banter or gossip--
before the regular work of the day began. And Charlotte, who it need
hardly be said belonged to the first category, was looking over a German
translation in which she was soon so interested as really to have
forgotten the impending arrival, when the class-room door opened, and
Miss Lloyd appeared, conducting the new pupil.
"Good morning, young ladies," she said quietly as usual, glancing round
at the two rows of girls who stood up as she came in.
"I wish to introduce you all and Miss Meredon to each other. Miss
Meredon is to be a fellow-worker with you for some time."
This was Miss Lloyd's customary formula of presentation, and she made it
with simplicity and dignity, in no way departing from her usual words or
manner. Some of the girls raised their eyebrows with surprise that the
advent of this much-talked-of young lady should have called forth no
greater demonstration; some, and Mr Waldron's daughter among them, felt
their respect for the quiet, somewhat prim little lady sensibly rise as
they listened to her.
"_She's_ not a snob, any way," thought Charlotte, and then she half
reluctantly allowed her eyes to turn to the girl standing beside the
lady-principal. "Papa" had said she was lovely, so had Dr Lewis, but
papa's opinion carried of course far more weight. But, even without it,
even without any prepossession or expectation on the subject, Charlotte
felt that her very first glance decided it. The girl _was_ lovely--far,
far more than "pretty," like little Isabel Lewis, with her merry eyes
and turned-up nose, or "interesting," like pale-faced Gueda Knox. She
was really lovely. Not very fair, but with a brightness rather than
brilliance about her which came from one scarcely knew where--it seemed
a part of herself, of her sunny hair, of her slightly flushed cheeks, of
her smiling and yet appealing eyes, of her whole self. Her very
attitude suggested full, springing, and yet gentle, youthful life as she
stood there, one foot slightly advanced, her hand half upraised, as if
ready and desirous to be friends and friendly with every one; and a
slight, very slight shade of disappointment seemed to pass over her face
when she saw that nothing followed the little formal speech, that no one
among the several girls came forward to greet or welcome her. And as
Miss Lloyd turned towards her the hand dropped quietly, and the speaking
eyes looked gravely and inquiringly at her conductress.
"What am I to do now?" they seemed to say. "I was ready to shake hands
with them all; I do hope I shall understand what to do."
Miss Lloyd spoke as if in reply to her unexpressed question.
"You can sit here in the mean time, Miss Meredon," she said, pointing to
a side-table. "I shall give you a regular place when it is decided what
classes you shall join. In a few minutes the first--that means the head
German class--will begin. You can take part in it, so that Herr
Marklestatter can judge if you are sufficiently advanced to join in it."
Then Miss Lloyd's keen eyes ran along the rows of girls still standing;
as they rested for a moment on Charlotte Waldron's grave, almost solemn
face she hesitated, but only for that moment, and then looked past her
again.
"Sit down, young ladies," she said. "But you, Miss Lathom," she went
on, addressing a thin, delicate-looking girl with a gentle expression--
poor thing, she was training for a governess, for which, alas! her
fragile health ill-suited her,--"bring your German books here, and give
Miss Meredon some little idea of what you are doing."
"Thank you, that will be very kind," said the new pupil brightly, as if
delighted to have an opportunity of expressing some part of her eager
good-will; and as Miss Lathom, blushing with the distinction, came shyly
from her place, Miss Meredon hastened forward a step or two to meet her,
and took some of the pile of books out of her hands. Then the two sat
down at the side-table, and the other girls having resumed their places,
the class-room subsided into its usual quiet.
Charlotte's mind was in a curious state of confusion. She was in a
sense disappointed, yet at the same time relieved that she had not been
picked out to act mentor to the new pupil. She knew that Miss Lloyd's
not having chosen her in no way reflected upon her position in the
German class, where she had long ago distanced her companions.
"If it had been French," she thought to herself, "I might have been a
little vexed, for Miss Lathom does speak French better than I do, with
having been so much in France; but in German--she is further back than
Gueda even. I suppose Miss Lloyd chose Fanny Lathom because she knows
she is going to be a governess."
She was about right; but had she overheard a conversation the day before
between Lady Mildred and the lady-principal, she would have felt less
philosophical as to the choice not having fallen on herself.
"I have a very nice set of pupils," Miss Lloyd had said, "none whom Miss
Meredon can in the least dislike associating with. Indeed, two or three
of them belong to some of our leading families--Miss Knox, the vicar's
daughter, and the two little Fades, whose father is Colonel of the
regiment stationed here, and Miss Waldron--she is a most charming girl,
and, I may say, my most promising pupil, and nearly of Miss Meredon's
age."
"Waldron," Lady Mildred had repeated. "Oh, yes, to be sure, the
lawyer's daughter; I remember the name. Oh, indeed, very respectable
families no doubt. But I wish you to understand, Miss Lloyd, that it is
not for companionship but for lessons that I send you my niece. I wish
her to make _no_ intimacies. She knows my wishes and she will adhere to
them, but it is as well you should understand them too."
"So far as it is in my power, I shall of course be guided by them," Miss
Lloyd had replied somewhat stiffly. "All my pupils come here to learn,
not to amuse themselves. But I can only act by Miss Meredon precisely
as I do by the others. It would be completely contrary to the spirit of
the--the establishment,"--Miss Lloyd's one weakness was that she could
not bring herself to speak of her "school,"--"of my classes, were I to
keep any one girl apart from the others, `hedging her round' with some
impalpable dignities, as it were," she went on with a little smile,
intended to smooth down her protest.
Lady Mildred was not foolish enough to resent it, but she kept her
ground.
"Ah, well," she said, "I must leave it to my niece's own sense. She is
not deficient in it."
Still the warning had not been without its effect. Miss Lloyd had no
wish to offend the lady of Silverthorns. And a kindly idea of being of
possible use to Fanny Lathom had also influenced her.
"If this girl is backward, as she probably is," she thought, "Fanny may
have a chance of giving her private lessons in the holidays, or some
arrangement of that kind."
But Charlotte was in happy ignorance of Lady Mildred's depreciating
remarks, as she sat, to all outward appearance, buried in her German
translation, in reality peeping from time to time at the bright head in
the corner of the room, round which all the sunshine seemed to linger,
listening eagerly for the faintest sound of the pretty voice, or wishing
that Miss Meredon would look up for a moment that she might catch the
beautiful outlines of her profile.
"She _is_ lovely," thought Charlotte, "and she is most perfectly
dressed, though it looks simple. And--it is true she seems sweet. But
very likely that look is all put on, though even if it isn't what credit
is it to her? Who wouldn't look and feel sweet if they had everything
in the world they could wish for? I dare say I could look sweet too in
that case. There's only one comfort, I'm not likely to have much to do
with her. If Fanny Lathom's German is good enough for her I may be
pretty sure she won't be in the top classes. And any one so pretty as
she is--she must give a great deal of time to her dress too--is _sure_
not to be very clever or to care much for clever things."
Ten minutes passed--then a bell rang, and Mademoiselle Bavarde, the
French governess, who had been engaged with a very elementary class of
small maidens in another room, threw the door open for the six children
to pass in, announcing at the same time that Herr Marklestatter had
come. Up started the seven girls forming the first class and filed into
the Professor's presence; Miss Meredon was following them, but was
detained by a glance from Miss Lloyd.
"I will accompany you and explain to Herr Marklestatter," she said.
He was a stout, florid man, with a beamingly good-natured face, looking
like anything but the very clever, scholarly, frightfully hot-tempered
man he really was. He was a capital teacher when he thought his
teaching was appreciated, that is to say, where he perceived real
anxiety to profit by it. With slowness of apprehension when united to
real endeavour he could be patient; but woe betide the really careless
or stolidly stupid in his hands! With such his sarcasm was scathing,
his fury sometimes almost ungovernable; the veins on his forehead would
start out like cords, his blue eyes would flash fire, he would dash from
one language to the other of the nine of which he was "past master," as
if seeking everywhere some relief for his uncontrollable irritation,
till in the minds of the more intelligent and sympathising of his pupils
all other feeling would be merged in actual pity for the man. Scenes of
such violence were of course rare, though it was seldom that a lesson
passed without some growls as of thunder in the distance. But with it
all he was really beloved, and those who understood him would unite to
save him, as far as could be, from the trials to his temper of the
incorrigibly dense or indifferent students. It was not difficult to do
so unsuspected. The honest German was in many ways unsuspicious as a
child, and so impressionable, so keenly interested in everything that
came in his way, that a word, the suggestion of an inquiry on almost any
subject, would make him entirely forget the point on which he had been
about to wax irate, and by the time he came back to it he had quite
cooled down.
"I do hope, Gueda," whispered Charlotte to Miss Knox, as they made their
way to the German master's presence, "I do hope that that stupid Edith
Greenman has learnt her lessons for once, and that Isabel Lewis will try
to pay attention. She is the worst of the two; it is possible to shield
poor Edith sometimes."
"I wouldn't say `poor Edith,'" Gueda replied. "She really does not care
to learn. I feel quite as angry with her sometimes as Herr
Marklestatter himself."
"So do I. But it would be such a disgrace to us all to have a scene the
first morning, almost the first hour that girl is here."
"You sheltered Edith last week by an allusion to the comet. You did it
splendidly. He was off on the comet's tail at once, without an idea you
had put him there. But I think you can do anything with him, Charlotte,
you are such a pet of his, and you deserve to be."
This was true. Charlotte both was and deserved to be a favourite pupil,
and she liked to feel that it was so.
"Well, I hope things will go well to-day," she said. "I should not like
Miss Meredon to think she had got into a bear-garden."
"Do you suppose she knows much German, Charlotte?" whispered Gueda. She
was a very gentle, unassertive girl, who generally saved herself trouble
by allowing Charlotte to settle her opinions for her.
Charlotte's rosy lips formed themselves into an unmistakable and rather
contemptuous expression of dissent, and Gueda breathed more freely.
German was not her own strong point, and she disliked the idea of the
new-comer's criticism on her shortcomings.
Herr Marklestatter's smiling face greeted the girls as they entered the
room.
"Good day, young ladies," he said. "A pleasant morning's work is before
us, I trust," for he was always particularly sanguine, poor man, after
the rest of Sunday. "Ah?" in a tone of courteous inquiry, as the seven
maidens were followed by Miss Lloyd escorting the stranger. "A new
pupil? I make you welcome, miss," he went on in his queer English,--
hopelessly queer it was, notwithstanding his many years' residence in
England, and his marvellous proficiency in continental languages,--as
his eyes rested with pleasure on the sweet flushed face. "You speak
German?" he added in that language.
"Miss Meredon will be present at this lesson, Herr Marklestatter," Miss
Lloyd hastened to explain, "in order that she may see what work the
advanced pupils are doing, and that you may judge which class she should
join."
"Exactly so," the German master replied. "Now, young ladies, what have
you to show me?"
The exercise-books were handed to him, certain tasks corrected and
criticised at once, others put aside for the professor to look over at
his leisure. Things seemed to be going pretty well, nothing worse than
some half-muttered ejaculations, and raising of Herr Marklestatter's
eyebrows, testifying to the mistakes he came across. Then followed the
pupils reading aloud, translating as they went. They were all far
enough advanced to read fairly, but Charlotte Waldron read the best.
To-day, however, a rather unusually difficult passage fell to her turn;
she made more than one slight mistake, and hesitated in the translation
of a phrase.
"Come, come," said the professor, glancing round, as was his habit, till
his eyes fell on a look of intelligence, "who can translate that? Miss
Knox, Miss Lathom, eh, what, you know it, miss?"
For to his surprise, the young stranger, flushing still more rosily, but
with a bright glance of satisfaction, looked up with lips parted,
evidently eager to speak. "Yes?" said he. "Say what you think it is."
Miss Meredon translated it correctly, and in well-chosen words, without
the slightest hesitation. Herr Marklestatter listened carefully.
"Good! very good!" he said. "Continue then. Read the following
paragraph. Aloud--in German first, then translate it."
She did both; her accent and pronunciation were excellent, her
translation faultlessly correct.
"You have read that before, Miss--"
"Meredon," replied the owner of the name.
"Miss Meredon? You have read that before?"
"No. I have heard of it, but I never actually read it before," she
replied innocently, evidently unconscious of the bearing of his remark.
Herr Marklestatter's face grew beaming.
"_Very_ good," he said; while Charlotte, half clenching her hands under
the table, muttered in Gueda's ears, "I don't believe it."
The rest of the lesson went on in due routine, save that Herr
Marklestatter made Miss Meredon take regular part in all. It became
quickly evident that her first success had been no random shot. She was
at home in every detail, so that at the end of the class, when giving
out the work for next time, the master told her to write an essay in
German as an exercise of style, which would have been beyond the powers
of the rest of the pupils. Miss Lloyd came in as he was explaining his
wishes.
"You are giving Miss Meredon separate work to do?" she inquired. "If
she is not up to the standard of this class, would it not be better--"
But the enthusiastic professor interrupted her.
"My dear madam," he exclaimed, "not up to this class! Miss--but she is
far beyond. Only you would not wish to have a class for one pupil all
alone? And it will be of advantage--it will bring new life among us
all. Miss Waldron, with your intelligence--for you work well, my dear
young lady, only this morning not quite so well as usual--you will enjoy
to work with Miss Meredon?" and the good man in his innocence turned his
beaming countenance on Charlotte encouragingly.
Not to save her life could Charlotte have responded with a smile. But
Miss Lloyd spoke again before Herr Marklestatter had noticed Miss
Waldron's silence.
"I am pleased to hear so good a report of Miss Meredon. You must work
well, my dear, and keep up your place," she said, addressing the new
pupil.
"Thank you; I will indeed," Miss Meredon replied. "And thank you very
much, sir, for your kindness," she added, turning to the professor.
Her face seemed positively alight with pleasure. It was really not to
be wondered at that as the last girls left the room they heard him
murmur the German equivalents for "bewitching, charming."
And one of these last girls was unluckily Charlotte Waldron.