All looked so easy and bright in the future that it seemed harsh on the
part of Fate to crush out hope after hope. All appeared so promising
when Hazel had discussed her position with Mr Geringer, and then during
the next few months bit by bit the morsels of blue sky were blotted out
of her horizon, till all above her seemed cold grey cloud, and her life
a blank.
First then was her mother's health to battle for, and to comfort her
when they had to move to furnished lodgings and manage without a
servant.
"Yes, it will be better," said Edward Geringer to himself with a smile.
"Let it work."
He had thought the matter out thoroughly--for the family, save for a
little consideration displayed by the creditors, were absolutely
penniless; and he let them go into lodgings, and waited to be asked for
help.
The first appeal to him was about Percy, the son; and he responded
willingly, advising sensibly and well that the lad should go into some
City office and fight his way in the world.
Hazel sighed, for she had hoped for more schooling and then a career at
college, in spite of her talk of her brother's working. So Percy went
into the office of Suthers, Rubley, and Spark, the sugar-brokers, and
came home grumbling every night.
It was hard to bear, for it upset poor weak Mrs Thorne, who sympathised
with her son, and talked of the degradation, and sighed and petted him,
calling him her noble boy, inveighing against Fate, and making the lad
ten times as discontented with his position as he had been before, and
so increased the load on Hazel's shoulders just at a time when she was
nearly broken-hearted.
For it was unmistakable: Archibald Graves, the true, the sterling, the
handsome, the best of men, had been yielding to home-pressure. Old
Graves said it was preposterous. The girl was right enough, but he was
not going to see his son throw himself away and set up a home with a
penniless girl so as to keep her mother and family as well.
Archibald Graves was indignant at first, then he thought it over. Hazel
was the nicest and dearest of girls, but certainly Mrs Thorne only
wanted a vowel left out of her name for it to describe her exactly. He
did not like Percy either, whom he thought "a spoiled young cub." Then
there were more words with his father; introductions to friends of his
sisters, especially to one Miss Pettifer, who was reputed rich, and so
on, till Archibald Graves, in following his own likings, set it all down
to his father's stern orders.
He told himself that he was only doing his duty in ceasing his visits to
the Thornes, and after nearly breaking her heart, pride came to Hazel
Thorne's help, and she grew pale and sterner of face as the weeks
passed, and no Archibald, while Edward Geringer came regularly, called
her his dear child, and went away smiling and praising himself for his
self-restraint.
It is needless to go on describing Hazel Thorne's troubles during these
months, when, in addition to the suffering produced by the falling away
of one to whom she had looked for help, there was the attendance on the
querulous, sick, thoughtless mother, always complaining of her fate and
the fact that a lady should be brought down to such a life. There was
Percy to combat when he talked of throwing up his situation,
"appointment" he called it--the children--the little sisters--to teach,
and, above all, the battle to fight of finding money, and lowering her
pride to accept help from relatives who gave grudgingly when unwillingly
appealed to.
Mr Geringer had thoughtfully placed money in her hands twice.
"The result of a little speculation in which I was engaged with poor
Thorne, my dear child," he said; but that failed fast, and as Hazel
toiled on at her task of giving lessons to three or four pupils she had
got together, she looked blankly forward at the future, and wondered
what they all would do.
It was nearly six months since her father's death, and she could not
conceal the fact from herself that they were rapidly going down-hill.
Instead of Percy being a help, he was an expense; and everything
depended upon her. Under the circumstances, the only prospect open to
her was to start a school; but while the grass was growing the steed was
starving, and she used to look with envy at the smart well-dressed
mistress of the national school hard by, with her troop of girls who
came pouring out at noon; and at last came like an inspiration the
idea--why should not she get a post as mistress?
To think was to act, and she boldly called on the mistress, who sent her
away terribly dejected, with the information that at least a year's
training in the system, however well educated the would-be teacher might
be, was absolutely necessary. Hazel, however, obtained a good deal of
information as well, ready to ponder over--how she might either go to
Whitelands or to Smith Square, Westminster; what would be the cost; the
probabilities of her obtaining a school afterwards; the salary;
etcetera, etcetera.
She went back in despair, for how could the money be obtained to pay her
expenses and keep house as well, while the idea of obtaining a school at
the end of a year's training, with a certain salary and a comfortable
home, seemed so Eden-like a prospect that the difficulties to be
surmounted appeared to grow.
Like all other difficulties, however, they began to shrink when boldly
attacked. Hazel wrote to two or three relatives, as a forlorn hope, and
they who had before only doled out a few pounds unwillingly, jumped at
the chance of getting the indigent applicant off their hands, and after
a consultation, wrote to her saying they were so pleased with her
efforts at self-help, that amongst them they would subscribe the funds
for paying her fees, at the training institution and for maintaining
Mrs Thorne and the children for a year, or such time as Hazel should
get a school.
"Oh, mamma, mamma, sunshine at last," cried the girl, and trembling,
weeping, and laughing hysterically, in turn, so great was her joy, she
read the letter, which came upon Mrs Thorne as a surprise, her child
having kept her quite in ignorance of the plans to prevent
disappointment.
"Then, I think it very disgraceful, very disgraceful indeed, Hazel,"
said the poor woman indignantly. "They ought to be ashamed of
themselves."
"Ashamed, dear mother!"
"Now, don't you turn against me in my troubles, Hazel," cried Mrs
Thorne. "What have I done that my own child should begin to degrade
me?"
"Degrade you? Oh, my own dear mother!"
"There--there again! I don't care how low we are forced by the cruelty
of my relatives, and your poor dear papa's. I will never forget that I
am a lady."
"Surely not, dear," said Hazel soothingly.
"Then why will you persist in calling me by that low, common, degrading
term--Mother?"
"Dear mamma, I thought it better under the circumstances."
"No circumstances could excuse it, Hazel," said Mrs Thorne with
dignity. "Percy never speaks to me like that; and by-the-way, my dear,
Percy says he must have a new suit: his mourning is getting so shabby,
he is quite ashamed of it, and I'm sure my heart bleeds every time I see
the poor boy go out."
"Yes, mamma, we will see what can be done," said Hazel, suppressing a
sigh.
"And as to that national school business," continued Mrs Thorne, "it is
disgraceful. Write and tell cousin Jane and her husband that, however
low we may be reduced by poverty, my daughter will never forget that she
is a lady."
"But, mamma dear," said Hazel gently; "it was entirely my idea, and I
wrote for their help."
"You--you, Hazel--my child--propose to go to a common training school,
and then accept a situation to teach a pack of dirty poor people's
children? Oh, what have I done--what have I done to be called upon to
suffer this new--this pitiful degradation! What have I done?"
It was hard work, but by degrees poor Mrs Thorne was brought round to
think that perhaps--perhaps--she would go no farther--it might be less
degradation to accept an honourable post and do a great duty therein of
helping to make so many girls better women by careful training, than to
live in indigence as a kind of respectable pauper, subsisting on the
assistance of grudging friends.
So the poor, weak, proud woman at last gave way, and the preliminaries
being arranged, Hazel was about to leave home for the training
institution full of hope, when there was a change in the state of
affairs.
All this had taken place unknown to Mr Geringer, who was quite startled
when he heard the plans, for they ran counter to his own.
It had been quite in keeping with his ideas that the Thornes should
taste the bitters of poverty, and know what being impecunious really
meant. The poorer they were the easier would be his task. Matters had
gone on swimmingly. Their position had had its effect upon the
Graves's, and his rival, as he called Archibald Graves, had left the
field; six months had passed, and Hazel had grown to look upon him as a
very dear friend, though not as a lover, and he had come to the
conclusion that the time was now ripe for asking her to be his wife; in
fact, he had had thoughts of speaking at their last meeting, but had
been put off! Now he had come to find Mrs Thorne alone, and after a
certain amount of preliminary, was about to speak, when the lady fired
off her views and took him by surprise.
"Go--to a training institution--become a schoolmistress!" he cried. "My
dear Mrs Thorne, it is impossible."
"Exactly my words," said the lady. "`Hazel, my dear child,' I said,
`such a degradation is impossible.'"
"Quite impossible," said Geringer; and then he drew nearer and talked
for some time in a low voice to Mrs Thorne, who shed tears and sobbed
greatly, and said that she had always looked upon him as their best and
dearest friend.
"I have waited, you see," he continued, "for of course if I had felt
that dear Hazel really cared for this young Graves I should have said
nothing, and I fully know my deficiencies, my age, and such drawbacks;
but I am tolerably wealthy, and I can give her all she has lost, restore
her nearest and dearest to their proper place in society--almost to the
position they formerly held in the world's esteem."
Mrs Thorne thought they were words of gold, and at Geringer's request
she not only readily promised to prepare Hazel, but that all should be
as he wished.
_L'homme propose_, as the French proverb has it and things do not always
turn out as he wishes. Mr Geringer, after the preparation Hazel
received from Mrs Thorne, proposed and was refused. Hazel said it was
impossible, and such was her obstinacy, as Mrs Thorne called it, she
refused to become a rich man's wife, and insisted upon going to the
Whitelands training institution, condemning her unfortunate mother to a
life of poverty and degradation, her brother to toil, and blasting her
young sisters' prospects, when she might have married, had her carriage,
and all would have gone as merry as a marriage bell.
That was Mrs Thorne's view of the case, and she kept up her protests
with tears and repining, winning Percy to her side till he was always
ready to reproach his sister. Hazel bore all, worked with all the
energy in her nature for the year of training, was fortunate in getting
a school after a few months' waiting, and was, as we found her, duly
installed in the little schoolhouse, her brother being boarded with some
humble friends in town.