"You are going. When you go she will go too."
"She?"
"Your own mother. She won't stay another minute. The house will belong
to the new queen; but Hannah won't put up with it. I gave her notice
this morning."
"Hannah, you didn't."
"I did, my dear--I did. I said, `You are turning the child out, and the
old woman goes too.'"
"Then you won't stay for the sake of the boys?"
"No, I won't; they can manage for themselves, even Master Charley and
even beautiful Master Alex. I will say, anyhow, she wasn't a bit
unkind. She was very nice; I will say that for her. She's a very nice
woman, and under other circumstances I'd be inclined to like her. But
there! she's the new queen, and my heart is with the old one."
Poor Hannah burst into tears; I had never seen her so overcome before.
"You will come back belonging to the house as it will be in the future.
You are too young not to grow up in the new house; but I'm too old,
child. I'll never forget the old ways."
"Hannah, fudge!" said a voice behind; and turning round, I was amazed,
and I must say rather disgusted, to see my brother Charley.
"Look here," he said, "this is all stuff and nonsense. We are as jolly
as we can be, and our step-mother is as good as gold, and why should we
make mischief? As to the old times--now I'll tell you what it is,
Hannah, they were detestable."
Charley made his bow, winking at me and vanishing.
"Just like him," said Hannah.
"There's a good deal of truth in what he says, Hannah."
"Well, I like the old ways best," said Hannah.
Poor old thing, I could not but pet her and comfort her. She gave me
her address. She was going to live with a cousin, and if ever I wanted
a home, and was disposed to quarrel with my step-mother, she would take
me in--that she would. As I had no intention of quarrelling with my
step-mother--for it is quite impossible for any one to have a completely
one-sided quarrel--I told Hannah that all I could hope to do in the
future was to visit her a good deal. In the end I told her that I would
write her long letters from Paris, which quieted her a good bit. She
kissed me, and when she went away I did feel, somehow, that the old life
was really gone.
The old life! It quite went the next morning when I found myself on
board the steamer which was to convey me from Dover to Calais. I stood
with Hermione on one side and Augusta on the other, looking at the
fast-receding waves as the gallant boat plied its way through them. Our
chaperon, a dull, quiet-looking woman, who only spoke broken English,
took little or no notice of us. Augusta's eyes were fixed on the
distant horizon. Occasionally I heard her murmuring lines of verse to
herself. Once she glanced at me, and I saw that her eyes were full of
tears.
"What is it?" I said.
She immediately repeated with great emphasis:
"_And where are they_? And where art thou,
My country?"
"Oh," I cried, "don't say any more! We are not in the humour for
poetry."
"Of course we're not," said Hermione, glancing at her.
"I was quoting," said Augusta. "I was thinking, not about what Lord
Byron thought when he spoke of ancient Greece, but of all that I was
leaving behind in London."
"And what are you leaving behind that is so specially valuable,
Augusta?" I asked.
"Your father's lectures," she replied. She turned once more and looked
at the horizon.
"Don't worry her," said Hermione in a low tone to me.
"I wonder if she'll ever get over it," I said.
Hermione and I began to pace slowly up and down the deck.
"I cannot imagine why my step-mother was so anxious that she should come
with us," I said.
"Because she felt that it was absolutely essential that Augusta should
see another side of life. Dear, dear, I do feel excited! I wonder how
we shall like the life. Don't frown, Dumps; you surely needn't worry
about Augusta. She has made a kind of king of your father. She
believes him to be all that is heroic and noble and majestic in life.
It is really a most innocent admiration; let her keep it."
"Yes, of course, if she likes," I said.
The air was cold. I wrapped the warm fur cloak which my step-mother had
insisted upon giving me for the voyage tightly round me, and sat down on
one of the deck-seats. By-and-by Augusta tottered forward.
"It is strange how difficult it is to use your sea-legs," she said.
She sprawled on to the seat by my side. Suddenly the vessel gave a
lurch, and she found herself lying on the deck. A sailor rushed
forward, picked her up, and advised the young lady to sit down; the wind
was a little fresher and the vessel would sway a trifle. He brought a
tarpaulin and wrapped it round us three. Augusta was on one side of me.
Presently she pressed my hand.
"You are the _next_ best," she said, gazing at me with pathetic eyes.
"Next what?" I said.
"You are his daughter."
"I will try and be friendly with you, Augusta; but I do bar one thing,"
was my immediate comment.
"And what is that?"
"Nonsense. You must try and talk sense."
She smiled very gently, and taking my hand within her own, stroked it.
"He also," she said after a pause, "is very determined. In fact, I
cannot with truth say that he has ever in his life given me what I could
call a civil word. Now, you are like him; you are exceedingly blunt.
The blunter you are, the more you resemble him."
"Oh, good gracious! then I suppose I shall have to be civil."
"I beseech of you, don't; keep as like him as you can."
"If you mean for a single moment that Dumps is like her father in
appearance, you are much mistaken," said Hermione, bending across me to
speak to Augusta.
"She is like him neither in body nor in mind."
"But she has a trifle of his moral force," replied Augusta, with great
majesty; and then, finding that neither Hermione nor I was at all in
sympathy with her, she satisfied herself with remaining silent and
leaning against my shoulder. Perhaps she thought I was imparting to her
some of my moral force. I really felt a savage desire to push her away.
At last we landed, and found ourselves in a first-class compartment in
the Paris train, and a few minutes afterwards we were on our journey.
We arrived there in the evening. Then we found ourselves in an omnibus
which was sent to meet us from the school, and were on our way to that
home of all the virtues just beyond the Champs Elysees. My heart was
beating high. I was full of suppressed anxiety. Hermione once or twice
touched my hand. She was also very excited; she was wondering what sort
of life lay before her. Augusta, on the other hand, was utterly
irresponsive. She did not make one remark with regard to gay,
beautiful, brilliant Paris, which looked, as it always does at this
hour, full of marvellous witchery, so brilliantly lighted up were the
broad streets, so altogether exhilarating was the tone of the bracing
air.
Augusta sat huddled up in one corner of the omnibus, while Hermione and
I got as close to the door as we could, and gazed out of the window,
which was wide-open, exclaiming at each turn as we drove along. The
Champs Elysees flashed into view; we drove on, and presently turned into
a very broad street, and pulled up with a jerk before a house which
seemed to have a balcony to each window, and which was brilliantly lit
from attic to cellar.
Our companion, the lady who had brought us, now said something in
excellent French, and we got out of the omnibus and followed her up a
paved path and through an open doorway into a wide hall. Here a servant
appeared, who was told to take us to our rooms. We followed her up some
stairs, which were white marble and were uncarpeted. We passed a wide
landing where there were some marble figures in the corners, and large
palm-trees standing beside them; then again past folding-doors, and
through a landing with more marble figures and more palms, until at last
we entered through two doors, which were flung open wide, into a pretty
little sitting-room. Why do I say little? The room was lofty, and was
so simply furnished that it looked much larger than it was. The floor
was covered with oak parquetry, and was polished to the most slippery
degree. There were a couple of rugs here and there, but no carpet. In
the centre of the room was a table covered with a white cloth, and
containing knives, forks, glasses, and a bunch of flowers rather
carelessly arranged in a vase in the middle. There were heavy chairs in
the Louis-Quinze style, with a great deal of gilt about them, and a huge
mirror, also with gilt, let into the wall at one side; and exactly
opposite the wall was a door, which led into three small bedrooms, all
communicating each with the other.
"These are your apartments, young ladies," said the governess who had
taken us upstairs. "This is your sitting-room, where to-night you will
have your supper. You will not see your companions--or I think not--
until the morning. You will be glad to retire to rest, doubtless, as
you must have had a long journey. Your supper will come up in a moment
or two. If you give your trunks to Justine she will unpack them and put
your things away. Ah! here is the bell; if you will ring it when you
want anything, Justine, who is the maid whose special duty it is to wait
on you, will attend the summons."
The governess turned to go away.
"But, please," called out Hermione as she was closing the door, "what
are we to call you?"
"Mademoiselle Wrex."
We thanked her, and she vanished. Augusta stood in the middle of the
room and clasped her hands.
"Well, now, I call this jolly!" I said.
"Delightful! And how quaint!" said Hermione. "I never thought we
should have a sitting-room."
"But there isn't a book," remarked Augusta.
"Oh, we don't want books to-night, Augusta. Now, do lean on my moral
strength and forget everything unpleasant," I said.
"Oh! do look out of the window; here's a balcony," cried Hermione. "Let
us go out on it when we have had supper."
She pushed back the curtains, opened the window, and the next minute she
was standing on the little balcony looking down into the crowded street.
"Oh! and that house opposite; we can see right into its rooms. What
fun! What fun! I do call this life!" cried the girl.
"We had better go and unlock our trunks; remember we are at school," I
said.
"How unlike you, Dumps, to think of anything sensible!" was Hermione's
remark.
We went into our rooms.
"I am going to ring the bell for Justine," said Hermione.
She did so, and a very pretty girl dressed in French style appeared.
She could not speak English, but our home-made French was sufficient for
the occasion. We managed to convey to her what we wanted, and she
supplied us with hot water, took our keys, and immediately began to
unpack our trunks and to put away our belongings.
"You shall have the room next to the sitting-room," I said to Hermione.
"Very well," she answered.
"I will take the next," I said; "and, Augusta, will you have that one?"
"It's all the same to me," said Augusta.
In less than half-an-hour we felt ourselves more or less established in
our new quarters.
"Now," said Justine, becoming much animated, "you will want, you _pauvre
petites_, some of the so necessaire refreshment."
She rang the bell with energy, and a man appeared bearing chocolate,
cakes of different descriptions, and sandwiches. We sat down and made a
merry meal. Even Augusta was pleased. She forgot the absence of books;
she even forgot how far she was from the Professor. As to her poor
mother, I do not think she even gave her a serious thought Hermione and
I laughed and chatted. Finally we went and stood on the balcony, and
Augusta retired to her own room.
"Now this is a new era; what will it do for us both?" said Hermione.
"I don't know," I said.
"Aren't you happy, Dumps?"
"Yes, I am a little; but I don't suppose I am expected to take things
very seriously."
"It is a great change for me," said Hermione, "from the regularity of
the life at home."
"I suppose it is," I said; but then I added, "You cannot expect me to
feel about it in that way."
"Why so?"
"It seems to me," I continued, "that I have been for the last few months
taken off my feet and whirled into all sorts of new conditions. We were
so poor, so straitened; we seemed to have none of what you would call
the good things of life. Then all of a sudden Fortune's wheel turned
and we were--I suppose--rich. But still--"
"Don't say you prefer the old life."
"No--not really. I know she is so good; but you must admit that it is a
great change for me."
"I know it is; but you ought to be thankful."
"That is it; I don't think I am. And what is more," I continued, "I
don't think this is the right school for Augusta. There is just a
possibility that I may be shaped and moulded and twisted into a sort of
fine lady; but nothing will ever make Augusta commonplace, nor will
anything make you commonplace. Oh dear! there is some one knocking at
the door."
The knock was repeated. We said, "Come in!" and a girl with a very
curly head of dark hair, bright eyes to match, and a radiant face, first
peeped at us, then entered, shut the door with a noisy vehemence, and
came towards as with both her hands extended.
Half-way across the room she deliberately shut her eyes.
"Now, I wonder which of you I shall feel first. One is Dumps and the
other Hermione. I am expected to adore Dumps because she is so jolly
and plain and sensible and--and awkward; and I am expected to worship
Hermione because she is exactly the reverse. Now--ah! I know--this is
Hermione!"
She clasped her arms round my somewhat stout waist.
"Wrong--wrong!" I cried.
She opened her eyes and uttered a merry laugh.
"I have been introduced to you," she said, "by special letter from my
friend Lilian St Leger. And you _are_ Dumps?"
"Of course," I said.
"Good! You do look jolly. I am Rosalind Mayhew. I am a great friend
of Lilian's. Of course, I am younger than she is--I am a year younger--
and I am going to be at school for another year, so I'll see you
through, Dumps; Lilian has asked me to."
"Sit down and tell us about every thing," I said. "You know we are such
strangers."
"Washed up on this inhospitable shore, we scarcely know what we are to
do with ourselves, or what savages we are to meet," said Hermione very
merrily.
"Then I'll just tell you everything I can. You know, Mademoiselle Wrex
would be wild if she knew that I had come up to see you this evening.
She said I was not to do so, but to leave you in peace. Well, I could
not help myself. I slipped out to come here, and I told Elfreda and
Riki and Fhemie and Hortense that I could not resist it any longer."
"What queer names!" I said.
"Oh, Riki--she's a German comtesse; and Elfreda is a baroness; but we
always call them just Riki and Elfreda. They are very jolly girls.
Then as to Fhemie, she is more English than I am; and Hortense is French
of the French. There are all sorts of girls at our school. The Dutch
girls are some of the nicest. I will introduce you to them. Then there
are Swedes, and several Americans. The Americans are very racy."
"How many girls are there altogether at the school?" I asked.
"Well, between twenty and thirty. You see, the Baroness Gablestein is
exceedingly particular."
"Who is she?"
"My dear Dumps! You don't mean to say that you have come to this school
without knowing the name of our head-mistress?"
"A baroness? Gablestein?" I exclaimed.
"Yes; she really represents a sort of all-round nationality. To begin
with, she is an Englishwoman herself by birth--that is, on one side.
Her mother was English, but her father was French. Then she married a
German baron, whose mother was a Dutchwoman, and whose grandmother was
Italian. Her husband died, and she found, poor baroness! that she had
not quite enough to live on, and so, as she was exceedingly well
educated and had many aristocratic connections, she thought she would
start a school. Her name in full is Baroness von Gablestein. She is
most charming. She talks excellent English, but she also talks French
and German and Italian like a native. She has a fair idea of the Dutch
tongue, and is exceedingly kind to her Dutch connections; but I think
her most valued pupils hail from the island home. But there! I don't
think I ought to stay any longer to-night. I don't want Comtesse Riki
to become curious and to poke her aristocratic little nose in here. She
is a very jolly girl, and as nice as ever she can be; still, she is not
English, you know. Oh, you'll find all sides of character here. I
can't tell you how funny it is, particularly with regard to the French
and German girls; they are so interested about their _dot_ and their
future husbands and all the rest. I tell you it _is_ life in this
place! We do have good times; it isn't a bit like a regular school.
You see all sorts and conditions--good, bad, and indifferent; but I
suppose the good preponderate. Now kiss me, Dumps. You will be quite a
fresh variety. I believe you are blunt and honest--but, oh, don't break
the Salviati glass!"
"How very wrong of Lilian to have told you that story!" I said.
"My dear good creature, do you think that Lilian St Leger could keep
anything to herself? She is about the maddest young woman I ever came
across; but we do miss her at school. Her name will be `Open sesame' to
you to every heart in the place. She is just the nicest and most
bewitching of creatures. I only wish she was back."
"She is coming out in about a month," I said.
"Poor thing, how she always did hate the idea!"
"She won't when the time comes," said Hermione.
"Once she is plunged into that fun she will enjoy it as well as
another."
"I never should," I said.
Rosalind glanced at me and laughed.
"Oh, perhaps you'll change too," she said. "Well, you look awfully
nice. Your breakfast will be brought to your rooms to-morrow morning
sharp at seven o'clock. We have _dejeuner_ at twelve, afternoon tea at
four, dinner at seven. The rest of the day is divided up into all sorts
of strange and odd patterns, totally different from English life. But,
of course, the meals are all-important."
"Why," I said, "I did not think you were so greedy."
"Nor are we; but you see, dear, during meals we each speak the language
of our native country, and I can tell you there is a babel sometimes
when the Baroness is not at the head of her table. All the rest of the
time the English girls _must_ talk French, German, or Italian; and the
French ones must talk English, German, or Italian; and the German girls
must talk French, English, or Italian; and so on, and so on."
"Oh, you confuse me," I said. "How can any one girl talk three
languages at once?"
"Day about, or week about--I forget which," said Rosalind. "Now,
good-night, good-night."
She vanished.
"I declare I am dead-tired," I said, and I sank down on the sofa.
"What a good thing Augusta wasn't here!" said Hermione.
"Yes; she wouldn't have understood a bit," I said.
I went to Augusta's room that night before I lay down to rest. She was
sound asleep in the dress she had travelled in. She had not even taken
the trouble to put a wrap over her. She looked tired, and was murmuring
Latin verses in her sleep.
"It is not the right place for her; she will never, never get on with
these baronesses and comtesses, and all this medley of foreign life," I
could not help saying to myself.
I covered her up, but did not attempt to awake her; and then I went to
my own room, got into bed, and went to sleep with a whirl of emotion and
wonder filling my brain.