It is one of the most curious sensations of modern life to find one’s
self engulfed in a new family, wrapped round and round by novel
circumstances, made, momentarily, to feel as if the centre of the world
had somehow changed, and its most important features were now the
peculiarities of a single race, or even of a small division of that
race. People who hurry through visit after visit, it is probable, do not
feel this amusing change in the direction of all things which takes
place when an unsophisticated spirit suddenly leaves its own small
centre, where the revolution of the planets has been round some
well-known local or domestic sun, and plunges into another, where the
forces are all the other way, and a circle of completely novel phenomena
comes into sight. Janet, who still felt as if she were a young lady
visitor come from one star to another to discover a new life, went
upstairs that evening wrapped up in Harwoodism penetrated with a new
flavor, feeling these new figures of Gussy, Ju, and Dolff, Augusta,
Julia and Adolphus, one of whom was as yet entirely in the mists--and
the ludicrous family grievance of their names, and their unaccustomed
ways of living, and the blaze of firelight, and the comfort, and the
sober limits of their life, surrounded apparently by the garden wall,
and extending no farther--to turn her round and round, absorbing her own
individuality into theirs. It seemed quite impossible to believe, when
she reached her own room, and found herself alone, that she had left a
totally different world that morning, and indeed, up to half-past three
in the afternoon, had never heard of Gussy, or Ju, or Dolff, or known
that such persons existed. Janet sat down to think it all over in her
comfortable arm-chair by her blazing fire. Surely there never had been
such fires. Her own grate was old-fashioned, too, bright brass, which
reflected the flames and the glow of red-hot combustion, with which it
played with a brilliancy which seemed to redouble the heat: the whole
room was full of the leaping light, in the midst of which two white
candles burned pale, like quite unnecessary things. Gussy and Ju, and
Dolff--Dolff, Gussy, and Ju, their names made a sing-song in her head as
the ruddy light darted and dazzled in her eyes. It was not even as if
she had begun to speculate on the effect upon herself and her own life
which these new surroundings would have. It was simply that she was
enveloped in them, swallowed up, feeling it almost impossible to believe
that there was still room in the world for Clover and such places, with
their old-fashioned interests. When she tried to think of the vicarage,
it had become like a faded old photograph to her mind--far away, at
least a year, if not an age beyond anything she could recall. The new
centre of the world was in St. John’s Wood. And all the air was filled
with circling reflections and echoes of Gussy, Dolff, and Ju.
This rhyme was the first thing that came into her mind in the morning
when she sprang up a little confused, not quite sure where she was. But
Janet was now as fresh as the morning, having shaken off her youthful
superficial fatigue, and feeling quite ready for a more reasonable view
of her new surroundings. The garden upon which she looked out was
getting into trim winter order, though the lawn was still liable to
renewed showers of falling leaves, and the late mignonette all weedy
and straggling along with long shoots of nasturtiums and heads of
geraniums, disorderly with decay, were still lingering in the borders.
Some tall trees at the end lent a respectable background to the broad
but closely-enclosed space with the very visible boundary of its brick
walls. It all looked bright in the misty ruddy sunshine of the November
morning. The gardener was moving about at his work, a boy after him,
trundling a little wheelbarrow, with weeds and rubbish: the most
familiar sights and sounds in the hazy morning air. The new world had
thus some points of junction with the old, which made it look more real,
not so much like a story. Janet felt her heart jump to meet the new day.
She was going to be exceedingly comfortable at least, and amused at
first, even if it should be a little dull after. But perhaps it would
not even be dull. She herself would have something to say to that--and
it is impossible to tell at twenty in what unsuspected circumstances
“fun” may be lurking. It is one of the inextinguishable elements in life
always to be found in one corner or another.
Janet did not make this reflection in so many words, but she was more
keenly alive to the fact than is her historian; and with this confidence
went down to breakfast, when Gussy met her with all the kind greetings
possible. The breakfast-table was quite brilliant to behold, with a
silver tea-urn of old-fashioned form, silver tea-pot, coffee-pot, a
glitter of silver everywhere: and so well kept! and so heavy and
respectable! with such an air of sober, modest, consciously
undemonstrative comfort and wealth!
Gussy’s dress was still too light for Janet’s taste, being an
exceedingly pale gray, which was not very becoming to a person with so
little color; but she looked as _nice_, and purled forth her soft
speeches just as on the night before. One thing she said, however, which
was of more importance than all these friendly purlings, gave Janet the
first touch of the real in this mild domestic elysium. She put out her
long soft hand from behind the urn, and laid it on Janet’s arm.
“Before she appears, just one word, Miss Summerhayes. Please strike your
blow at once.”
“What blow?” asked Janet, amazed.
“To get the upper hand of Ju. You are quite a novelty; she does not know
you at all. You might startle her into submitting, if you took advantage
of the circumstances. Don’t ask anything unreasonable of her, but never
give in when you have insisted on anything. Don’t let her beat you.
She’s coming down now; I can’t say any more. And there’s really no more
to say. Never let her win the day.”
These words tingling in her ears gave Janet the strangest little shock,
like the sudden touch of an electric battery, in the midst of the
comfort and quiet. She could scarcely keep from jumping up, starting out
of her seat. Her black sleeve, when Gussy took her long fingers from it,
seemed to give out sparks. To strike a blow, to win a battle, never to
allow herself to be beat. What curious words in this absolutely quiet
and ordinary domestic calm?
Ju came in with a nod to Miss Summerhayes, and said nothing at all while
she despatched her breakfast. But then Gussy was talking all the time,
and there was not much room for anyone else. She was certainly a most
self-absorbed young person; but, save her silence and that acute small
curve over each eyebrow, caused by a sort of permanent frown, there
seemed nothing else to alarm a stranger.
Janet’s heart still beat more quickly than before, but she gradually got
more calm, and assured herself there could be no real danger. In some
families all the molehills are made into mountains, and perhaps that was
the case here.
It was with a little excitement, however, that Janet walked into the
school-room, which she found communicated with her own room by a short
passage, and which occupied a corner of the house with one window to the
garden and another in the other wall, from which a view could be
obtained into the outer world, meaning in this case the exceedingly
quiet suburban road between two lines of garden walls which had reminded
Janet of a country town. The young governess of twenty came into this
room, which was still in the shadow, though expectant of a gleam of
sunshine from the south when the sun should have made a little more
progress, with some excitement, of which, however, she was able to
conceal the signs. It gave a brightness to her eyes and a little thrill
to her upper lip, but that was all. She had not the least idea of what
she was going to encounter. The young knight in the story of the
Sleeping Beauty was not more ignorant, nor was she at all sure that she
knew how to fight, or had the coolness and the courage necessary for an
important encounter. With a child of fourteen! she tried to say to
herself with a laugh. But, after all, twenty is not so very far elevated
over fourteen, and the child was taller and almost more developed than
the woman. It was at ten o’clock that lessons were to begin, and at ten
minutes to ten Janet opened the school-room door. Mystery and
expectation made her heart beat. She stepped in once more, feeling the
thrill as of an electric machine; and her breathing was slightly
affected, though she would not show it. She had almost feared she would
find emptiness, which would have been the most embarrassing of all, for
how fight when your opponent does not show? But, fortunately, Julia was
already there. This was what Janet found: a table set out in the middle
of the room, with books and writing things, all in good order; the piano
open at the back, with music upon it. Meanwhile, at the south window,
seated at another table, with both her elbows resting upon it as if
riveted to the mahogany--Julia, her head supported on her hands, a book
lying open before her, in precisely the same attitude in which she had
lain on the previous night scorching her head in the heat and blaze of
the fire.
Janet stood for a moment looking at her pupil with an internal shiver.
Her pupil--to whom she was not at all sure of being able to teach
anything--whom in any circumstances she would have felt an alarmed
respect for, as a being probably destined to find her out, and expose
her little pretences. Julia remained like a statue, immovable, not
turning to see who had come in according to weak mortal usage, far too
strong in the instincts of rebellion and individuality for any such
betrayal of weakness. Miss Summerhayes then moved a little about the
room--looked at the music, took up the books on the table, glanced out
from the window. Ten o’clock had not yet struck. She finally went and
seated herself in the chair placed for her, and waited until the ten
tiny strokes, tingling from the clock on the mantelpiece, had been
answered by all the church towers in the neighborhood. Then there came
an awful moment.
“Julia, it is time for lessons.”
Janet heard her own voice falter, but the tremor was not audible to any
listener. Julia did not move nor reply.
“I am waiting to begin lessons,” Janet repeated more sharply, after a
moment.
Dead silence--not by the merest quiver of movement did Julia betray that
she had heard.
“It is ten o’clock, and I am waiting to begin lessons. Julia!”
Julia sat like a figure of wood or stone.
Miss Janet Summerhayes rose from her chair, pale, with her eyes shining.
Her little temper came to her aid. The fun disappeared. The moment of
conflict had come.