It was a most extraordinary thing, but, probably from uneasiness, Mrs
Thorne was the first down next morning. Hazel had had a sleepless
night, and it was not till six o'clock that she dropped off to sleep
heavily, and did not awaken till past eight, when, hot, feverish, and
with her head thick and throbbing, she hurriedly dressed herself and
went down.
Fate plays some strange tricks with us at times; and on this, the first
morning for months that Hazel had not received the letters herself, Mrs
Thorne was there to take them.
"Three letters for Hazel," she said to herself. "Dear me, how strange!
Three letters, and all bearing the Plumton postmark!"
She changed the envelopes from hand to hand, and shuffled them in a
fidgety way, as if they were cards.
"I feel very much displeased, for Hazel has no right to be receiving
letters from gentlemen; and I am sure if Edward Geringer were here he
would thoroughly approve of the course I take. She shall not have these
letters at all. It is my duty as Hazel's mamma to suppress such
correspondence. Often and often have I said to her, `Hazel, my child,
under any circumstances never forget that you are a lady.'"
There was another close examination of the letters, and then Mrs Thorne
went on--
"No young lady in my time would have ventured upon a clandestine
correspondence with a gentleman; and now, to my horror as a mamma, I
wake to the fact that my daughter is corresponding with three gentlemen
at once. Oh, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel! it is a bitter discovery for me to
make that a child of mine has been deceiving me. I wonder who they can
be from."
Mrs Thorne laid the envelopes before her with the addresses uppermost.
"`Miss Thorne, The Schools, Plumton All Saints,' all addressed the same.
This, then, is the reason why poor Edward Geringer has been refused."
Here there was another examination of the postmarks.
"Three gentlemen, and all living at Plumton. Now, really, Hazel, it is
not proper. It is not ladylike. One gentleman would have been bad
enough, in clandestine correspondence; though, perhaps, if there had
been two it would be because she had not quite made up her mind. But
three gentlemen! It is positively disgraceful, and I shall stop it at
once!"
This time, in changing the position of the letters, Mrs Thorne turned
them upside down.
"I remember at the time poor Thorne was paying me attentions how Mr
Deputy Cheaply and Mr Meriton, of the Common Council, both wished to
pay me attentions as well; but, no: I said it would not be correct. And
I little thought, after all my efforts, that a child of mine would be so
utterly forgetful of her self-respect as to behave like this. Ah,
Hazel! Hazel! It is no wonder that the silver threads begin to appear
fast in my poor hair."
Mrs Thorne placed the envelopes beneath her apron as the two children
came bustling in, one with the cloth, and the other with the
bread-trencher, to prepare the breakfast.
"Hazel's fast asleep, ma, and we're going to get breakfast ready
ourselves."
"I'm sure I don't know why your sister can't come down, my dears," said
Mrs Thorne pettishly. "It is very thoughtless of her, knowing, as she
does, how poorly I am."
"Sis Hazy has got a very bad headache, mamma; and we dressed quietly and
came down and lit the fire quite early."
"Oh, it was you lit the fire, was it!" said Mrs Thorne. "I thought it
was one of the schoolgirls."
"No; it was us, ma dear; and when we've made the tea we're going to take
poor Hazy a cup in bed."
"Whoever can these letters be from?" said Mrs Thorne to herself, as she
turned them over and over in her hands, growing quite flushed and
excited the while. "I declare I don't know when I have felt so hurt and
troubled;" and going into the little parlour, leaving the children busy
over the preparations, she once more examined them carefully, and ended
by taking out her scissors.
"I don't care!" she exclaimed; "it is my duty as Hazel's mamma to watch
over her, and I should not be doing that duty if I did not see who are
the gentlemen who correspond with her."
Mrs Thorne hesitated a few minutes longer, and then the itching
sensation of curiosity proved to be too much for the poor woman, and
taking the pair of finely-pointed scissors, she slit open the three
envelopes, and then started guiltily, thrust them into her pocket, and
went into the kitchen.
"Did I hear Hazel coming down?" she said sharply.
"No, ma. Mab just went up and found her fast asleep."
Mrs Thorne went back into the parlour, hesitated a few moments longer,
and then opened the first letter, to find that it contained five
ten-pound notes, all new and crisp, and with them a sheet of note-paper
bearing the words:--
"Will Miss Thorne accept the help of a very sincere friend?"
That was all.
"Well, I am sure!" exclaimed Mrs Thorne, staring at the crisp notes,
re-reading the words upon the note-paper, and then hurriedly replacing
notes and paper in the envelope. "Now, who can that be from?"
The second envelope was then opened, and, to Mrs Thorne's intense
astonishment, it contained ten five-pound notes, also crisp and new, and
with them the simple words:--
"With the hope that they may be useful. From a friend."
"I never did in all my life!" exclaimed Mrs Thorne, now beginning to
perspire profusely, as she hurriedly replaced the second batch of notes,
and then with trembling fingers opened the last envelope, which
contained six five-pound notes, carefully enclosed in a second envelope,
but without a word.
"Only thirty pounds," said Mrs Thorne, "only thirty, and without a
word. Well, all I can say is, that whoever sent it is rather mean.
Now, who can have sent these banknotes? Well, of course, it is on
account of that paltry sum in school pence being required, and it is
very kind, but I don't think I ought to allow Hazel to receive money
like this. Really, it is a very puzzling thing, and I wish Edward
Geringer was here."
The notes were returned to the third envelope, and Mrs Thorne sat there
very thoughtful, and looking extremely perplexed.
"No; I certainly shall not let Hazel have this money. A girl at her
time of life might be tempted into a great many follies of dress if she
had it and I shall certainly keep it from her."
With a quiet self-satisfied smile, she placed the notes in her pocket
and was in the act of rising, when she turned and saw Cissy at the door.
"Well, what is it?" said Mrs Thorne sharply.
"Breakfast's ready, ma dear; and I can hear Hazy dressing in such a
hurry. Come and sit down, and let's all be waiting for her. It will be
such fun. She will be so surprised when she comes down."
Mrs Thorne felt relieved, for she was afraid that the child had seen
her with the notes, and that might have interfered with her plans.
"I'm sure it is quite time your sister was down, my dear," said the lady
indignantly. "I don't know how she expects the wretched children she
teaches to be punctual, if she is so late herself." And assuming an
aspect of dignified, injured state, she seated herself at the table, the
children smothering their mirth as they also sat down, one on either
side, and watched the door.
Hazel hurried down directly after, to come hastily into the little
kitchen, where, reading the children's faces, she felt the tears rush
into her eyes with the emotion caused by the pleasant innocent surprise,
and went and kissed them both before saluting her mother, who kept up
her childish, injured air.
"Really, Hazel, my dear, I think when I do come down that you might
study me a little, and not leave everything to these poor children. It
comes very hard upon me, to see them driven to such menial duties, when
their sister might place us all in a state of opulence. It seems very
hard--very hard indeed."
Hazel glanced at her, but did not speak. There was that, however, in
her eyes which told of mingled reproach and pity, emotions that the weak
woman could not read, as she took the tea handed to her, sipping it
slowly with an injured sigh.
"Were there any letters, mother!" said Hazel, when breakfast was half
over and she had glanced at the clock, for Feelier Potts had been for
the schoolroom key, and already there were distant echoing sounds of
voices and footsteps in the great room, which told of the arrival of the
scholars.
Mrs Thorne did not reply.
"Were there any letters, mother dear?" said Hazel again.
"Pass me the bread and butter, Mab, my child," said Mrs Thorne,
colouring slightly, while Hazel looked at her with wonder.
"There were three letters for you, Hazy," cried Cissy sharply.
"Cissy! How dare you say such a thing?" cried Mrs Thorne.
"Please, ma, I met the postman when I went for the milk, and the postman
told me so, and I saw him afterwards showing them to Mr Chute."
"You wicked--Oh, of course, yes. I forgot," said Mrs Thorne hastily,
as she encountered her daughter's eye fixed upon her with such a look of
reproach that she shivered, and in her abject weakness coloured like a
detected schoolgirl.
"Will you give me the letters, mamma?" said Hazel, holding out her hand.
"Don't call me mamma like that, Hazel," said Mrs Thorne, with a weak
attempt at holding her position; but her daughter's outstretched hand
was sufficient to make her tremblingly take the letters from her pocket
and pass them across the table.
"You have opened them, mamma!" said Hazel.
"Once more, Hazel, I must beg of you not to call me _mamma_ like that!"
exclaimed Mrs Thorne. "I have always noticed that it is done when you
are angry."
"I said you have opened them, mamma!"
"Of course I have, my dear. I should not be doing my duty as your
mother if I did not see for myself who are the class of people with whom
you hold clandestine correspondence."
"You know, mother," said Hazel firmly, "that I should never think of
corresponding with any one without your approval."
"Then, pray, what do those letters mean?"
"I do not know," said Hazel quietly; and she opened them one by one, saw
their contents, read the notes that accompanied two, and then, letting
her face go down upon her hands she uttered a loud sob.
"Now, that is being foolish, Hazel," cried her mother. "Children, leave
the table! Or, no, it will be better that your sister and I should
retire. No; take your breakfasts into the other room, children, and I
will talk to your sister here."
"Don't cry, Hazy," whispered Cissy, clinging to her sister
affectionately.
"Don't speak cross to Hazel, please ma," whispered Mab.
"Silence, disobedient children!" cried the poor woman in tragic tones.
"Leave the room, I desire."
Hazel felt cut to the heart with sorrow, misery, and despair. The
increasing mental weakness of her mother, and her growing lack of moral
appreciation of right and wrong, were agonising to her; and at that
moment she felt as if this new trouble about the letters was a judgment
upon her for opening those addressed to her mother, though it was done
to save her from pain. To some people the airs and assumptions of Mrs
Thorne would have been food for mirth; but to Hazel the mental pain was
intense. Knowing what the poor woman had been previous to her troubles,
this childishness was another pang; and often and often, when ready to
utter words of reproach, she changed them to those of tenderness and
consideration.
"Now, Hazel," said Mrs Thorne with dignity, "I am waiting for an
explanation."
"An explanation, dear?" said Hazel, leaving her seat to place her arm
affectionately round her mother's neck.
"Not yet, Hazel," said the poor woman, shrinking away. "I cannot accept
your caresses till I have had a proper explanation about those letters."
"My dear mother, I can give you no explanation."
"What! do you deny that you are corresponding with three different
gentlemen at once?"
"Yes, mother dear. Is it likely?" said Hazel, smiling.
"Don't treat the matter with levity, Hazel. I cannot bear it! Who are
those letters from?"
"I do not know, dear; though I think I could guess."
"Then I insist upon knowing."
"My dear mother, I can only think they are from people who know of my
trouble about the school."
"You did not write and ask for help, Hazel?"
"No, mother. No; I should not have done such a thing."
"Then tell me at once who would send to you like that."
"Mother dear, can you not spare me this?"
"I never did see such a strange girl in my life as you are, Hazel.
Well, never mind; I dare say I can bear another slight or two if you
will not tell me. There, I suppose you must pay that wretched school
money out of those notes."
"Out of these, mother?"
"Of course, child. Why, what are you thinking now?"
"Mother dear, it is impossible."
"Impossible, child! Why, what romantic notion have you taken into your
head now?"
"It is no romance, mother; it is reality," sighed Hazel.
"Then what are you going to do?"
"Return the money to the givers as soon as I can be certain where to
send."
"Return it? What! that money, when you know how urgently it is needed
at home?"
"Yes, dear."
"And how is that school money to be paid?"
Hazel was silent.
"I declare, Hazel," cried Mrs Thorne, "your behaviour is quite
preposterous, and the absurdity of your ideas beyond belief. Do, pray,
leave off these foolish ways and try to behave like a sensible--There
now, I declare her conduct is quite shocking: running off like that
without saying `Good morning,' or `May I leave the room, mamma?' Dear,
dear me, I have come down in the world indeed."
For Hazel had suddenly left the room--nine o'clock striking--and the
idea strongly impressing itself upon her mind that so sure as she
happened to be late some one or another would kindly inform Miss Lambent
if she did not realise it for herself.