A Kingdom by the Sea
Please do not think because Miss Birks's pupils, on the first night of a
new term, ran helter-skelter up and down the passages, and insisted on
compulsory dancing or solo singing, that this was their normal course of
procedure. It was but their one evening of liberty before they settled
down to ordinary school routine, and for the rest of the eighty-eight
days before Easter their behaviour would be quite exemplary.
They were a very happy little community at the Dower House. They admired
and respected their headmistress, and her well-framed rules were rarely
transgressed. Certainly the girls would have been hard to please if they
had not been satisfied with Miss Birks, for allied to her undoubted
brain power she had those far rarer gifts of perfect tact and absolute
sympathy. She thoroughly understood that oft-time riddle, the mind of a
schoolgirl, and, while still keeping her authority and maintaining the
dignity of her position, could win her pupils' entire confidence almost
as if she had been one of themselves.
"Miss Birks never seems to have quite grown up! She enjoys things just
the same as we do," was the general verdict of the school.
Perhaps a strain of Irish in her genealogy had given the Principal the
pleasant twinkle in her eye, the racy humour of speech, and the sunny
optimistic view of life so dearly valued by all who knew her. Anyhow,
whatever ancestry might claim to be the source of her cheery attributes,
she had a very winning personality, and ruled her small kingdom with a
hand so light that few realized its firmness. And a kingdom it was, in
the girls' opinion--a veritable "kingdom by the sea". No place in all
the length and breadth of the British Isles, so they considered, could
in any way compare with it. Together with the old castle, for which it
formed the Dower House, it stood on the neck of a long narrow peninsula
that stretched for about two miles seaward. All the land on this little
domain was the private property of Mrs. Trevellyan, the owner of
Pontperran Tower, from whom Miss Birks rented the school, and who had
granted full and entire leave for the pupils to wander where they
wished. The result of this generous concession was to give the girls a
much larger amount of freedom than would have been possible in any other
situation. The isolated position of the peninsula, only accessible
through the Castle gateway, made it as safe and secluded a spot as a
convent garden, and afforded a range of scenery that might well be a
source of congratulation to those who enjoyed it.
There are few schools that possess a whole headland for a playground,
and especially such a headland, that seemed so completely equipped for
the purpose. It held the most delightful of narrow coves, with gently
shelving, sandy beaches--ideal bathing places in summer-time--and
mysterious caverns that might occasionally be explored with a candle,
and interesting pools among the rocks, where at low tide could be found
seaweeds and anemones, and crabs and limpets, or a bestranded starfish.
On the steep cliffs that rose sheer and jagged from the green water the
seabirds built in the spring; and at the summit, on the very verge of
the precipice, bloomed in their season many choice and rare wild
flowers--the lovely vernal squill, with its blossoms like deep-blue
stars; the handsome crimson crane's-bill; the yellow masses of the
"Lady's fingers"; the pink tufts of the rosy thrift; or the fleshy
leaves of the curious samphire. The whole extent of the headland was
occupied by a tract of rough, heathery ground, generally called "the
warren". A few sheep were turned out here to crop the fine grass that
grew between the gorse bushes, and a pair of goats were often tethered
within easy reach of the coachman's cottage; but otherwise it was the
reserve of the rabbits that scuttled away in every direction should a
human footstep invade the sanctuary of their dominion.
On these delightful breezy uplands, where the pleasant west wind blew
fresh and warm from the Gulf Stream, Miss Birks's pupils might wander at
will during play hours, only observing a few sensible restrictions.
Dangerous climbs on the edge of the cliffs or over slippery rocks were
forbidden, and not less than three girls must always be together. This
last rule was a very necessary one in the circumstances, for in case of
any accident to a member of the trio, it allowed one to stay with the
sufferer and render any first aid possible, while the other went at
topmost speed to lodge information at head-quarters.
The old dwelling itself was a suitable and appropriate building for a
school. Erected originally in the fourteenth century as a small nunnery,
it had in the days of Edward VI fallen into the hands of the then lord
of the Castle, who had turned it into a dower house. Successive
generations of owners had in their time added to it or altered it, but
had not spoilt its general atmosphere of mediaevalism. Little pieces of
Perpendicular window tracery, or remains of archways were frequent in
the old walls, and a ruined turreted gateway bore witness to the beauty
of the ancient architecture. Nobody quite knew what vaults and cellars
there might be under the house. Remains of blocked-up staircases had
certainly been found, and many of the floors resounded with a
suggestively hollow ring; but all tradition of these had been lost, and
not even a legend lingered to gratify the curious.
There was one element of mystery, however, which formed a perennial
interest and a never-ending topic of conversation among the girls. In
the centre of the first landing, right in the midst of the principal
bedrooms, stood a perpetually-closed room. The heavy oak door was
locked, and as an extra protection thick iron bars had been placed
across and secured firmly to the jambs. Even the keyhole was stopped up,
so that the most inquisitive eye could obtain no satisfaction. All that
anybody knew was the fact that Mrs. Trevellyan, who had a well-deserved
reputation for eccentricity, had caused a special clause to be made in
the lease which she had granted to Miss Birks, stipulating for no
interference with the barred room under pain of forfeiture of the entire
agreement.
"That means if we bored a hole through the door and peeped in the whole
school would be turned out of the house," said Evie Bennett once when
the subject was under discussion.
"Even Miss Birks doesn't know what's inside," said Elyned Hughes with an
awed shudder.
"Mrs. Trevellyan wouldn't let the place on any other conditions. She
said she'd rather have it empty first," added Annie Pridwell.
"What can she have there?"
"I'd give ten thousand pounds to find out!"
But though speculation might run rife in the school and a hundred
different theories be advanced, there was not the slightest means of
verifying a single one of them. Ghosts, smugglers, or a family skeleton
were among the favourite suggestions, and the girls often amused
themselves with even wilder fancies. From the outside the secluded room
presented as insuperable a barrier as from within; heavy shutters
secured the window and guarded the secret closely and jealously from all
prying and peeping. That uncanny noises should apparently issue from
this abode of mystery goes without saying. There were mice in plenty,
and even an occasional rat or two in the old house, and their gnawings,
scamperings, and squeakings might easily be construed into thumps,
bumps, and blood-curdling groans. The girls would often get up scares
among themselves and be absolutely convinced that a tragedy, either real
or supernatural, was being enacted behind the oak door.
Miss Birks, sensible and matter-of-fact as became a headmistress,
laughed at her pupils' notions, and declared that her chief objection to
the peculiar clause in her lease was the waste of a good bedroom which
would have been invaluable as an extra dormitory. She hung a thick plush
curtain over the doorway, and utterly tabooed the subject of the
mystery. She could not, however, prevent the girls talking about it
among themselves, and to them the barred room became a veritable
Bluebeard's chamber. At night they scuttled past it with averted gaze
and fingers stuffed in their ears, having an uneasy apprehension lest a
skeleton hand should suddenly draw aside the curtain and a face--be it
ghost or grinning goblin--peer at them out of the darkness. They would
dare each other to stand and listen, or to pass the door alone, and
among the younger ones a character for heroism stood or fell on the
capacity of venturing nearest to the so-called "bogey hole".
Though Miss Birks might well regret such a disability in her lease of
the Dower House, she was proud of the old-world aspect of the place, and
treasured up any traditions of the past that she could gather together.
She had carefully written down all surviving details of the Franciscan
convent, having after endless trouble secured some account of it from
rare books and manuscripts in the possession of some of the country
gentry in the neighbourhood. Beyond the dates of its founding and
dissolution, and the names of its abbesses, there was little to be
learnt, though a few old records of business transactions gave an idea
of its extent and importance.
Dearly as she valued the fourteenth-century origin of her establishment,
Miss Birks did not sacrifice comfort to any love of the antique. Inside
the ancient walls everything was strictly modern and hygienic, with the
latest patterns of desks, the most sanitary wall-papers, and each
up-to-date appliance that educational authorities might suggest or
devise. Could the Grey Nuns have but returned and taken a peep into the
well-equipped little chemical laboratory, they would probably have
fancied themselves in the chamber of a wizard in league with the fiends
of darkness, and have crossed themselves in pious fear at the sight of
the bottles and retorts; the nicely-fitted gymnasium would have puzzled
them sorely; and a hockey match have aroused their sincerest horror.
_Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis_--"the times are changed, and
we are changed with them!" Though we have lost something of the
picturesqueness of mediaeval life, the childlike faith of a childlike
age, the simplicity of a nation only groping to feel its strength, we
have surely gained in the long years of growth, in the gradual awakening
to the thousand things undreamt of by our forefathers, and can justly
deem that our lasses have inherited a golden harvest of thought and
experience from those who have trod before them the thorny and difficult
pathway that leads to knowledge.
Such were the picturesque and highly-appreciated surroundings at the
Dower House, and now a word on that much more important subject, the
girls themselves.
Miss Birks only received twenty pupils, all over fourteen years of age,
therefore there was no division into upper and lower school. Five elder
girls constituted the Sixth, and the rest were placed according to their
capabilities in two sections of the Fifth Form. Of these VB was
considerably the larger, and containing, as it did, the younger, cruder,
and more-boisterous spirits, was, in the opinion of the mistresses, the
portion which required the finer tact and the greater amount of careful
management. It was not that its members gave any special trouble, but
they were somewhat in the position of novices, not yet thoroughly versed
in the traditions of the little community, and needing skill and
patience during the process of their initiation. Almost insensibly the
nine seemed to split up into separate parties. Romola Harvey, Barbara
Marshall, and Elyned Hughes lived in the same town, and knew each other
at home; a sufficient bond of union to knit them in a close friendship
which they were unwilling to share with anybody else. The news from
Springfield, their native place, formed their chief subject of interest,
and those who could not understand or discuss it must necessarily be in
the position of outsiders. Evie Bennett, Annie Pridwell, and Betty
Scott were lively, high-spirited girls, so full of irrepressible fun
that they were apt to drop the deeper element out of life altogether. It
was difficult ever to find them in a serious mood, their jokes were
incessant, and they certainly well earned the nickname of "the three
gigglers" which was generally bestowed upon them.
Until Christmas, Deirdre Sullivan and Dulcie Wilcox had rejoiced in the
possession of a bedroom to themselves, a circumstance which had allowed
them the opportunity of cultivating their friendship till they had
become the most exclusive chums in the whole of the school. Deirdre, the
elder by six months, was a picturesque, rather interesting-looking girl,
with beautiful, expressive grey eyes, a delicate colour, and a neat,
slim little figure. Dulcie, on the contrary, much to her mortification,
was inclined to stoutness. She resembled a painting by Rubens, for her
plump cheeks were pink as carnations, and her ruddy hair was of that
warm shade of Venetian red so beloved by the old masters. It was a sore
point with poor Dulcie that, however badly her head ached, or however
limp or indisposed she might feel, her high colour never faded, and no
pathetic hollows ever appeared in her cheeks.
"I get no sympathy when I'm ill," she confided to Deirdre. "On that day
when I turned faint in the algebra class, Miss Harding had said only an
hour before: 'You do look well, child!' I wish I were as pale and thin
as Elyned Hughes, then I might get petted and excused lessons. As it
is, no one believes me when I complain."
Dulcie, who possessed an intense admiration for her chum, struggled
perpetually to mould herself on Deirdre's model, sometimes with rather
comical results. Deirdre's romantic tendencies caused her to affect the
particular style of the heroine of nearly every fresh book she read, and
she changed continually from an air of reserved and stately dignity to
one of sparkling vivacity, according to her latest favourite in fiction.
With Deirdre it was an easy matter enough to assume a manner; but
Dulcie, who merely copied her friend slavishly, often aroused mirth in
the schoolroom by her extraordinary poses.
"Who is it now, Dulcie?" the girls would ask. "Rebecca of York, or the
Scarlet Pimpernel? You might drop us a hint, so that we could tell, and
treat you accordingly."
And Dulcie, being an unimaginative and really rather obtuse little
person, though she knew she was being laughed at, could never quite
fathom the reason why, and continued to lisp or drawl, or to attempt to
look dignified, or to sparkle, with a praiseworthy perseverance worthy
of a better object.