RULE I. ACCEPTED
Betty's room was empty, and at that time of day was rather chill, for
the three big windows were wide open in order to let in the fresh, keen
air. Betty walked into the room still feeling that mysterious tingling
all over her, that tingling which had been awakened by her sudden and
unexpected love for Mrs. Haddo. That love had been more or less dormant
within her heart from the very first; but to-day it had received a new
impetus, and the curious fact was that she was almost glad to accept
punishment because it was inflicted by Mrs. Haddo. Being the sort of
girl she was, it occurred to her that the more severe she herself made
the punishment the more efficacious it would be.
She accordingly sat down by one of the open windows, and, as a natural
consequence, soon got very chilled. As she did not wish to catch cold
and become a nuisance in the school, she proceeded to shut the windows,
and had just done so--her fingers blue and all the beautiful glow gone
from her young body--when there came a tap at the room door. Betty at
first did not reply. She hoped the person, whoever that person might be,
would go away. But the tap was repeated, and she was obliged in
desperation to go to the door and see who was there.
"I, and I want to speak to you," replied the voice of Fanny Crawford.
Instantly there rose a violent rebellion in Betty's heart. All her love
for Mrs. Haddo, with its softening influence, vanished; it melted slowly
out of sight, although, of course, it was still there. Her pleasant
time at the Mileses' farm, the delightful affection of the furious dogs,
the excellent dinner, the quick drive back, were forgotten as though
they had never existed; and Betty only remembered Rule I., and that she
hated Fanny Crawford. She stood perfectly still in the middle of the
room.
Fanny boldly opened the door and entered. "I want to speak to you,
Betty," she said.
"But I don't want to speak to you," replied Betty.
"Oh, how bitterly cold this room is!" said Fanny, not taking much notice
of this remark. "I shall light the fire myself; yes, I insist. It is all
laid ready; and as it is absolutely necessary for us to have a little
chat together, I may as well make the room comfortable for us both."
"But I don't want you to light the fire; I want you to go."
Fanny smiled. "Betty, dear," she said, "don't be unreasonable. You can't
dislike me as much as you imagine you do! Why should you go on in this
fashion?" As Fanny spoke she knelt down by the guard, put a match to the
already well-laid fire, and soon it was crackling and roaring up the
chimney.
"You are here," said Fanny, "because you broke a rule. We all know,
every one in the school knows, Mrs. Haddo is not angry, but she insists
on punishment. She never, never excuses a girl who breaks a rule. The
girl must pay the penalty; afterwards, things are as they were before.
It is amazing what an effect this has in keeping us all up to the mark
and in order. Now, Betty--Bettina, dear--come and sit by the fire and
let me hold your hands. Why, they're as blue as possible; you are quite
frozen, you poor child!"
Fanny spoke in quite a nice, soothing voice. She had the same look on
her face which she had worn that evening in Margaret Grant's bedroom.
She seemed really desirous to be nice to Betty. She knew that Betty was
easily influenced by kindness; this was the case, for even Fanny did
not seem quite so objectionable when she smiled sweetly and spoke
gently. She now drew two chairs forward, one for herself and one for
Betty. Betty had been intensely cold, and the pleasant glow of the fire
was grateful. She sank into the chair which Fanny offered her with very
much the air of being the proprietor of the room, and not Betty, and
waited for her companion to speak. She did not notice that Fanny had
placed her own chair so that the back was to the light, whereas Betty
sat where the full light from the three big windows fell on her face.
"Well, now, I call this real comfy!" said Fanny. "They will send up your
tea, you know, and you can have a book from the school library if you
like. I should recommend 'The Daisy Chain' or 'The Heir of Redclyffe.'"
"I don't want any books, thanks," said Betty.
"But don't you love reading?"
"I can't tell you. Perhaps I do, perhaps I don't."
"Betty, won't you tell me anything?"
"Fanny, I have nothing to tell you."
"Oh, Betty, with a face like yours--nothing!"
"Nothing at all--to you," replied Betty.
"But to others--for instance," said Fanny, still keeping her good
temper, "to Margaret Grant, or to Mrs. Haddo?"
"They are different," said Betty.
Fanny was silent for a minute. Then she said, "I want to tell you
something, and I want to be quite frank. You have made a very great
impression so far in the school. For your age and your little
experience, you are in a high class, and all your teachers speak well of
you. You are the sort of girl who is extremely likely to be popular--to
have, in short, a following. Now, I don't suppose there is in all the
world anything, Betty Vivian, that would appeal to a nature like yours
so strongly as to have a following--to have other girls hanging on your
words, understanding your motives, listening to what you say, perhaps
even trying to copy you. You will be very difficult to copy, Betty,
because you are a rare piece of original matter. Nevertheless, all these
things lie before you if you act warily now."
"Go on," said Betty; "it is interesting to hear one's self discussed. Of
course, Fan, you have a motive for saying all this to me. What is it?"
"I have," said Fanny.
"You had better explain your motive. Things will be easier for us both
afterwards, won't they?"
"Yes," said Fanny in a low tone, "that is true."
"Go on, then," said Betty.
"I want to speak about the Specialities."
"Oh, I thought you were coming to them! They are to meet to-night, are
they not, in Susie Rushworth's room?"
"That is correct."
"And I am to be present?" said Betty.
"You are to be present, if you will."
"Why do you say 'if you will?' You know quite well that I shall be
present."
"Martha West will also be there," continued Fanny. "She will go through
very much the sort of thing you went through last week, and she will be
given a week to consider before she finally decides whether she will
join. Betty, have you made up your mind what to do? You might tell me,
mightn't you? I am your own--your very own--cousin, and it was through
my father you got admitted to this school."
"Thanks for reminding me," said Betty; "but I don't know that I do feel
as grateful as I ought. Perhaps that is one of the many defects in my
nature. You have praised me in a kind way, but you don't know me a bit.
I am full of faults. There is nothing good or great about me at all. You
had best understand that from the beginning. Now, I may as well say at
once that I intend to be present at the Specialities' meeting to-night."
"You do! Have you read Rule I.?"
"Oh, yes, I have read it. I have read all the rules."
"Don't you understand," said Fanny, speaking deliberately, "that there
is one dark spot in your life, Betty Vivian, that ought to preclude you
from joining the Specialities? That dark spot can only be removed by
confession and restitution. You know to what I allude?"
Betty stood up. Her face was as white as death. After a minute she said,
"Are you going to do anything?"
"I ought; it has troubled me sorely. To tell you the truth, I did not
want you to be admitted to the club; but the majority were in your
favor. If ever they know of this they will not be in your favor. Oh,
Betty, you cannot join because of Rule I.!"
"And I will join," said Betty, "and I dare you to do your very worst!"
"Very well, I have nothing more to say. I am sorry for you, Betty
Vivian. From this moment on remember that, whatever wrong thing you did
in the past, you are going to do doubly and trebly wrong in the future.
You are going to take a false vow, a vow you cannot keep. God help you!
you will be miserable enough! But even now there is time, for it is not
yet four o'clock. Oh, Betty, I haven't spoken of this to a soul; but can
you not reconsider?"
"I mean to join," said Betty. "Rule I. will not, in my opinion, be
broken. The rule is that each member keeps no secret to herself which
the other members ought to know. Why ought they know what concerns only
me--me and my sisters?"
"Do you think," said Fanny, bending towards her, and a queer change
coming over her face--"do you think for a single moment that you would
be made a Speciality if the girls of this school knew that you had told
my father a _lie_? I leave it to your conscience. I will say no more."
Fanny walked out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind her.
Miss Symes came up presently. It was the custom of St. Cecilia to be
particularly kind to the girls who were in disgrace. Often and often
this most sweet woman brought them to see the error of their ways. Mrs.
Haddo had told her about Betty, and how endearing she had found her, and
what a splendid nature she fully believed the girl to possess. But when
Miss Symes, full of thoughts for Betty's comfort, entered the room,
followed by a servant bringing a little tray of temptingly prepared tea,
Betty's look was, to say the least of it, dour; she did not smile, she
scarcely looked up, there was no brightness in her eyes, and there were
certainly no smiles round her lips.
"The tray there, please, Hawkins," said Miss Symes. The woman obeyed and
withdrew.
"I am glad you have a fire, Betty, dear," said Miss Symes when the two
were alone. "Now, you must be really hungry, for you had what I consider
only a snatch-dinner. Shall I leave you alone to have your tea in
comfort, or would you like me to sit with you for a little?"
"Oh, thanks so much!" replied Betty; "but I really would rather be
alone. I have a good deal to think over."
"I am afraid, my dear child, you are not very well."
"On the contrary, I never was better," was Betty's response.
"Your headache quite gone?"
"Quite," said Betty with an emphatic nod.
"Well, dear, I am sorry you have had to undergo this unpleasant time of
solitary confinement. But our dear Mrs. Haddo is not really angry; she
knows quite well that you did not consider. She takes the deepest
interest in you, Betty, my child."
"Oh, don't speak of her now, please!" said Betty with a sort of groan.
"I would rather be alone."
"Haven't you a book of any sort? I will go and fetch one for you; and
you can turn on the electric light when it gets dark."
"If you have something really interesting--that will make me forget
everything in the world except what I am reading--I should like it."
Miss Symes went away, and returned in a few minutes with "Treasure
Island." Strange as it may seem, Betty had not yet read this wonderful
book.
Without glancing at the girl, Miss Symes again left the room. In the
corridor she met Fanny Crawford. "Fanny," she said, "do you know what is
the matter with Betty Vivian?"
Fanny smiled. "I have been to see her," she said. "Is she in bad
spirits? It didn't occur to me that she was."
"Oh, you have been to see her, have you?"
"Yes, only a short time ago. She looked very cold when I entered the
room; but I took the liberty to light the fire, and sat with her until
suddenly she got cross and turned me out. She is a very queer girl is
Betty."
"A very fine girl, my dear!"
Fanny made no response of any sort. She waited respectfully in case Miss
Symes should wish to say anything further. But Miss Symes had nothing
more to say; she only guessed that the change between the Betty in whom
Mrs. Haddo had been so interested, and the Betty she had found, must be
caused in some inexplicable way by Fanny Crawford. What was the matter
with Fanny? It seemed to Miss Symes that, since the day when she had
taken the girl into her full confidence with regard to the coming of the
Vivians, she was changed, and not for the better. There was a coldness,
an impatience, a want of spontaneity about her, which the teacher's
observant eye noticed, but, being in the dark as to the cause, could not
account for.
Meanwhile Betty ate her tea ravenously, and when it was finished turned
on the electric light and read "Treasure Island." This book was so
fascinating that she forgot everything else in its perusal: the sealed
packet in its safe hiding-place, the Specialities themselves, the odious
Fanny Crawford, Rule I.--everything was forgotten. Presently she raised
her head with a start. It was half-past seven. Olive Repton was coming
to fetch her at five minutes to eight, when the Specialities were all
expected to assemble in Susie Rushworth's room.
Betty put on a black dress that evening. It was made of a soft and
clinging material, and was sufficiently open at the neck to show the
rounded purity of the young girl's throat, and short in the sleeves to
exhibit the moldings of her arms. She was a beautifully made creature,
and black suited her almost better than white. Her curiously pale
face--which never had color, and yet never showed the slightest
indication of weak health--was paler than usual to-night; but her eyes
were darker and brighter, and there was a determination about her which
slightly altered the character of her expression.
The twins came rushing in at ten minutes to eight.
"Oh, Bet, you are ready!" exclaimed Sylvia. "You are going to become a
real Speciality! What glorious fun! How honored we'll be! I suppose you
won't let us into any of the secrets?"
"Of course not, silly Sylvia!" replied Betty, smiling again at sight of
her sisters. "But I tell you what," she added; "if you both happen to be
awake when I come back, which I think very doubtful, I am going to tell
you what happened this morning--something too wonderful. Don't be too
excited about it, for it will keep until to-morrow; but think that I had
a marvelous adventure, and, oh, my dears, it had to do with dogs!"
"Dogs!" cried both twins simultaneously.
"Yes, such glorious darlings! Oh, I've no time now--I must be off!
Good-bye, both of you. Go to sleep if you like; I can tell you
everything in the morning."
"I think we'll lie awake if it has anything to do with dogs," said
Hetty. "We have been starving for them ever since we came here."
But Betty was gone. Olive took her hand. "Betty," she said as they
walked very quickly towards the other wing of the house, "I like you
better in black than in white. Black seems to bring out the
wonderful--oh, I don't know what to call it!--the wonderful difference
between you and other people."
"Don't talk about me now," said Betty. "I am only one, and we shall be
seven in a very short time. Seven in one! Isn't it curious? A sort of
body composed of seven people!"
"There'll be eight before long. The Specialities are going to be the
most important people this term, that I am quite sure of," said Olive.
"Well, here's Susie's room, and it wants two minutes to eight."
Susie greeted her guests with much cordiality. They all found seats.
Supper was laid on a round table in one corner of the room. Olive, being
an old member, was quite at home, and handed round cups of cocoa and
delicious cakes to each of the girls. They ate and chatted, and when
Martha West made her appearance there was a shout of welcome from every
one.
"Hail to the new Speciality!" exclaimed each girl in the room, Betty
Vivian alone excepted.
Martha was a heavily made girl, with a big, sallow face; quantities of
black hair, which grew low on her forehead, and which, as no effort on
her part would keep it from falling down on one side, gave her a
somewhat untidy appearance; she had heavy brows, too, which were in
keeping with the general contour of her face, and rather small gray
eyes. There was no one, however, in the whole school who was better
loved than Martha West. Big and ungainly though she was, her voice was
one of the sweetest imaginable. She had also great force of character,
and was regarded as one of the strong girls of the school. She was
always helping others, was the soul of unselfishness, and although not
exactly clever, was plodding and persevering. She was absolutely without
self-consciousness; and when her companions welcomed her in this cheery
manner she smiled broadly, showing a row of pearly white teeth, and then
sat down on the nearest chair.
When supper was over, Margaret Grant came forward and stood by the
little center-table, on which lay the vellum-bound book of the rules of
the club. Margaret opened it with great solemnity, and called to Betty
Vivian to stand up.
"Betty Vivian," she said, "we agreed a week ago to-day to admit you to
the full membership of a Speciality. According to our usual custom, we
sent you a copy of the rules in order that you might study them in their
fullness. We now ask you if you have done so?"
"I have," replied Betty. "I have read them, I should think, thirty or
forty times."
"Are you prepared, Betty Vivian, to accept our rules and become a member
of the Specialities, or do you prefer your full liberty and to return to
the ordinary routine of the school? We, none of us, wish you to adopt
the rules as part of your daily life unless you are prepared to keep
them in their entirety."
"I wish to be a Speciality," replied Betty. Then she added slowly--and
as she spoke she raised her brilliant eyes and fixed them on Fanny
Crawford's face--"I am prepared to keep the rules."
"Thank you, Betty! Then I think, members, Betty Vivian can be admitted
as a member of our little society. Betty, simple as our rules are, they
comprise much: openness of heart, sisterly love, converse with great
thoughts, pleasure in its truest sense (carrying that pleasure still
further by seeing that others enjoy it as well as ourselves), respect to
all our teachers, and, above all things, forgetting ourselves and living
for others. You see, Betty Vivian, that though the rules are quite
simple, they are very comprehensive. You have had a week to study them.
Again I ask, are you prepared to accept them?"
"Yes, I am prepared," said Betty; and again she flashed a glance at
Fanny Crawford.
"Then I, as head of this little society for the time being, admit you as
a member. Please, Betty, accept this little true-lovers' knot, and wear
it this evening in your dress. Now, girls, let us every one cheer Betty
Vivian, and take her to our hearts as our true sister in the highest
sense of the word."
The girls flocked round Betty and shook hands with her. Amongst those
who did so was Fanny Crawford. She squeezed Betty's hand significantly,
and at the same moment put her finger to her lips. This action was so
quick that only Betty observed it; but it told the girl that, now that
she had "crossed the Rubicon," Fanny would not be the one to betray her.
Betty sank down on a chair. She felt excited, elated, pleased, and
horrified. The rest of the evening passed as a sort of dream. She could
scarcely comprehend what she had done. She was a Speciality. She was
bound by great and holy rules, and yet in reality she was a far lower
girl than she had ever been in all her life before.
The rules were read aloud in their fullness to Martha West, and the
usual week's grace was accorded her. Then followed the fun, during the
whole of which time Betty was made the heroine of the occasion, as
Martha would doubtless be that day week. The girls chatted a great deal
to-night, and Betty was told of all the privileges which would now be
hers. She had never known until that moment that Mrs. Haddo, when she
found what excellent work the Speciality Club did in the school, had
fitted up a charming sitting-room for its members. Here, in winter, the
fire burned all day. Fresh flowers were always to be seen. Here were to
be found such books as those of Ruskin, Tennyson, Browning--in short, a
fine collection of the greater writers. Betty was told that she was now
free to enter this room; that, being a Speciality, she would be exempt
from certain small and irksome duties in order to give her more time to
attend to those broad rules of life which she had now adopted as her
code.
Betty listened, and all the time, as she listened, her heart sank lower
and lower. Fanny did not even pretend to watch Betty now. She had, so to
speak, done with her. Fanny felt as sure as though some angel in the
room were recording the fact that Betty was now well started on the
downward track. She felt ashamed of her as a cousin. She felt the
greatest possible contempt for her. But if she was herself to keep Rule
I., she must force these feelings out of sight, and tolerate Betty until
she saw the error of her ways.
"The less I have to do with her in the future the better," thought
Fanny. "It would be exceedingly unpleasant for me if it were known that
I had allowed her to be admitted without telling Margaret what I knew.
But, somehow, I couldn't do it. I thought Betty herself would be great
enough to withstand a paltry temptation of this sort. How different
Martha West is! She will be a famous stand-by for us all."
The evening came to an end. The girls went down to prayers.
Betty was now a Speciality. She wore the beautiful little silver badge
shining in the folds of her black evening frock. But she did not enjoy
the music in the chapel nor Mr. Fairfax's rendering of the evening
prayers as she had done when last she was there. Betty had a curious
faculty, however, which she now exercised. Hers was a somewhat complex
nature, and she could shut away unpleasant thoughts when she so desired.
She was a Speciality. She might not have become one but for Fanny. Mrs.
Haddo's influence, though unspoken, might have held her back. Margaret
Grant might have kept her from doing what she herself would have
scorned to do. But Fanny! Fanny had managed to bring out the worst in
Betty; and the worst in a character like hers was very vigorous, very
strong, very determined while it was in the ascendant. Instead of
praying to-night, she turned her thoughts to the various and delightful
things which would now be hers in the school. She would be regarded on
all hands with added respect. She would have the entrée to the
Specialities' delightful sitting-room. She would be consulted by the
other girls of the upper school, for every one consulted the
Specialities on all manner of subjects. People would cease to speak of
her as "that new girl Betty Vivian;" but they would say when they saw
her approach, "Oh, she is one of the Specialities!" Her position in the
school to-night was assured. She was safe; and Fanny, with that swift
gesture, had indicated to her that she need not fear anything from her
lips. Fanny would be silent. No one else knew what Fanny knew. And,
after all, she had done no wrong, because her secret had nothing
whatever to do with the other members of the club. The wrong--the one
wrong--which she felt she had committed was in promising to love each
member as though she were her sister, especially as she had to include
Fanny Crawford in that number. But she would be kind to all, and perhaps
love might come--she was not sure. Fanny would be kind to her, of
course. In a sort of way they must be friends in the future. Oh, yes, it
was all right.
She was startled when Olive Repton touched her. She rose from her knees
with a hot blush on her face. She had forgotten chapel, she had not
heard the words of the benediction. The girls streamed out, and went at
once to their respective bedrooms.
Betty was glad to find her sisters asleep. After the exciting events of
that evening, even Dan and Beersheba had lost their charm. So weary was
she at that moment that she dropped her head on her pillow and fell
sound asleep.