AND THORNS SPRANG UP
School work began in great earnest. There was no loitering now. The
girls who went in the A grade would be seniors next year, and the A
grade of seniors would graduate. Helen took up French with a vim. Mrs.
Van Dorn spoke of it particularly in her letter, and she had the right
to order what Helen should do. The girl never thought of any mental
protest.
Then there were all the other classes. A conscientious girl was kept
pretty busy. Helen was in the sketching class, Daisy was painting and
did it well. Miss Craven began also, and evinced a decided genius for
it. She was still quiet and reserved. She made no especial demands upon
Helen, but the younger girl found many little ways to assure her of an
interest. Just a clasp of the hand, a glance of the eye, a smile, and
Miss Craven was comforted for hours.
She tried to draw her into general conversation at the table, she said
nice things to other girls about her and endeavored to interest them.
Oh, if Miss Craven only would come out of her shell and say some of the
really bright things she did when they were alone! It was hard work
Helen found; a sort of weight at times affected her own spontaneity.
With all the study there was a good deal of fun, sometimes almost
fighting when arguments ran high, or when one's favorite writer or poem
or story was assailed. Some of the girls insisted that Miss Reid had the
most genius for painting, and others were on Miss Bigelow's side. Miss
Gertrude Aldred would not be trapped into a decision, though many a plot
was laid for her.
Helen thought now and then of Mr. Warfield. She did so want to write to
him. She could not, at least she did not say to Mrs. Dayton the many
things she felt puzzled over, that even Mrs. Aldred could not have
understood, for Mrs. Aldred had never seen her home and knew so little
about her past life.
And, oh, the planning that went on, the different pursuits that were
discussed, the aims and hopes, yet it is true that most of them turned
on marriage. Nearly every girl was confident that this would be her
portion.
Daisy Bell owned Helen now. She was her chum, her comrade. They could
not always be together, of course, and Daisy was a great favorite with
other girls. Indeed, sometimes Helen wondered why she should have chosen
her so exclusively when there was a little world of adorers to pick
from. She could not have understood in her broad-minded nature that
occasionally Daisy longed to make her jealous by a show of fondness for
someone else.
Miss Craven would not come to her room unless it was the afternoon of
Miss Bell's music lessons. She was one of Mr. Griffin's pupils.
"But I am alone here and you can come to me. I am so glad to be alone. I
don't see how I could stand a girl about!" declared Miss Craven.
"Unless," smiling a little, which she did quite often now, to Helen,
"unless it was you."
"And I am not the most charming girl in the school," Helen replied in
her eager, wholehearted fashion. "If you only _would_ let yourself be
friendly with them."
"I'm satisfied with you and Miss Aldred. I like her very much, and most,
I think, because she is beyond twenty. You see I am not young, and that
makes the difference."
"Miss Reid will be nineteen in June, about the time she graduates, and
several of the girls are nearly eighteen or over."
"But they will have finished their education. I have only just begun
mine," protestingly.
"Then there will be the more years to study," with a bright joyous
emphasis. "It's like a climb up a mountain, perhaps the Alps or the
Andes, when you have to come back and try over the next day, and a good
many days, only it grows easier all the time."
"Do you know what I heard one of the girls call me?" and Miss Craven
flushed so deep a red it was almost brown.
Helen flushed, too, but she asked nonchalantly, "What?"
"An old maid! And she said she didn't know what I wanted to come to
school for. I would never know enough to teach. Do you suppose she would
dare call Miss Aldred an old maid?"
"Oh, the girls do call each other that, and they don't mean anything,"
said Helen lightly.
"They were talking _about_ me, not to me. It doesn't make me a day
older, I know, but it keeps me from being friendly and at home, don't
you see? My way is paid as well as theirs--it costs me more, for I have
private lessons. I have as good right to the school as anybody, whether
I want to teach or not."
Helen looked at her in amazement. She had never seen so much spirit in
her face. If she could be roused, not by anger merely, but some potent
power. Happiness and love might do it.
"Oh, now I have offended you----"
"No, you have not offended me at all. You looked so spirited that I
could not help admiring you. It is a very mean thing for girls to make
ill-natured comments on each other. I wish they did not. I do not see
why they cannot pick out the nice things instead and say them over."
Helen had made several protests about this matter. She corrected the
subject of Miss Craven's age with spirit.
"You will never make me believe that," Miss Mays had exclaimed with
unnecessary vigor.
"Mrs. Aldred has the register, ask her."
"Oh, Miss Craven may have said that was her age. And who knows anything
about her? She keeps to herself as if there was something not
quite----" ending with a disagreeable emphasis.
"Girls," began another, "we all know if there was anything wrong or
discreditable she would not be here. I do not call her an attractive
girl, but if we do not like her we can let her alone. She lets us alone.
We can't say she has forced herself in our society."
"A vote of thanks from one for speaking up for her," said Helen gayly.
"And, of course, Mrs. Aldred knows."
"And Miss Grant, the baby of the school, has been taken into confidence.
Pray do enlighten us. Did she come from India or the Fiji Islands, where
education is sadly neglected?"
"For all information on the subject, I refer you to Mrs. Aldred."
Helen was angry, but she kept her temper. The ridiculous side of it all
occurred to her, and another thought--What if Uncle Jason should come
striding into the hall when half the girls were standing around? What
would they say about her? How could girls be so mean and ungenerous?
This had happened some days before the talk. And now, after a moment or
two of silence, Helen said to Miss Craven, "There is a verse in
Proverbs, I think I heard it read in church one Sunday, 'He that would
have friends must show himself friendly.'"
"I don't want any friend but you."
There was a great tremble in Miss Craven's voice and she began to cry.
"And you will not let me advise you about the little things that make so
much difference with girls."
How did _she_ know? Helen flushed at her own assumption, and yet she
_did_ understand. She pitied Juliet Craven profoundly, too.
"Oh, don't cry. Can't I comfort you with some word? See here, I really
love you. You are so brave, so persevering, you have had such a hard,
lonely life, and I would like to make it brighter."
"Oh, Helen! Oh, Miss Grant."
"No; keep to the Helen," the younger girl interrupted.
"To have you love me! But I might have known so much care and kindness
could only spring from love. Oh, I think I shall not mind the other
girls now. I've been longing so for real love. Are you quite sure? It
seems too good when I have been making myself content with a simple
liking."
She pressed Helen's hands to her hot cheeks, wet with tears. Helen
kissed her on the forehead, but the elder drew her face down and
returned the kiss many times.
"The dinner bell will ring in a few moments," Helen declared presently,
"and we must both make ourselves fit to be seen, not of men, but between
thirty and forty feminines. I wish your gowns were not quite so grave,
but spring is on the way and we will take to light raiment and look like
a flock of birds. Good-by for five minutes," and she flashed away.
Daisy had a blue ribbon tied in her hair and a pretty chiffon neckgear,
and was really an attractive girl.
"Why didn't you stay all night with that woman of grays and browns and
general dismalness, and lose your dinner! There, you have almost. If she
had any beauty or charm about her I should be jealous, for you belong to
me, you know."
Helen slipped into a light shirtwaist and was ready in a trice. Miss
Craven did not come down. When the maid went to inquire, she said she
had a headache, and wanted only a cup of tea.
There was the bit of social life, the study period, and Helen seemed so
discomposed that she used up every moment of it until they were
dismissed. Daisy put her arm about Helen, another girl took the other
side, and three or four of them came into the room.
How they stayed! Helen summoned courage presently.
"Excuse me a moment," and she flashed out of the room, tapping at Miss
Craven's door.
It was open just an inch or two.
"I came to ask about your headache and say good-night," in a low tone.
"Oh, you dear, sweet friend! It did ache, but I think it was a kind of
joy throbbing. I didn't want any dinner though. I just laid here and
thought--happy thoughts."
The half-past nine bell pealed and everyone ran to her own room. Daisy
stood in the middle of the floor upbraidingly, if one's attitude can
express so much.
"I believe that girl has cast an evil eye on you," she began when Helen
kept silence, busying herself with preparations. "There are evil charms
as well as delightful ones, and spells that wile away love. And you have
promised not to love anyone but me."
"Have I?" Helen's voice was unsteady.
"Yes, you have, and you think promises ought to be kept faithfully. You
must keep yours. I said I wouldn't love any other girl, and I haven't.
I've seen her look at you with a strange light in her eyes, and they are
horrid eyes----"
"Don't let us talk about Miss Craven, but read our verses and say our
prayers," and now Helen's voice had decision enough in it.
"You are changing every day, I can see it," complained Daisy.
"Then let us pray that I may get back to the point," with grave
peremptoriness.
Daisy was a little awed at this solemn way of taking it up, and
acquiesced.
Helen lay and wondered at herself. Had she made Daisy such a sweeping
promise? And how easy it had been to say those few words to Miss Craven.
What joy it had given her. She did not love Daisy Bell any less--how
many people could you love? Must one true affection shut out the others?
She _did_ really love Daisy Bell. She had a rather petite figure and
face; the face fair and full of soft curves changing with every emotion,
and a rose tint that came and went, that seemed playing hide and seek
with two seductive dimples, one in her chin, the other in her cheek.
Her hair was a light brown that had a tint of gold, and her eyes were a
soft dark brown that could look at you with the utmost pathos or deepen
with fun and fire, and her rose-red lips had a dewy, tremulous fashion
of shaping themselves to any mood.
Another charm for Helen was her love of order and neatness, without
being at all fussy, her wonderful blending of colors, the little touches
that gave an air to the plainest surroundings. Then she was generally
helpful. Helen had been indebted to her for many small aids along the
difficult paths of learning that were quite unknown in Hope Center.
Daisy had made the first advances. She was more experienced in school
ways, older, richer, and a favorite with the class. Helen felt honored
by her preference. If she had been less lovable it might have savored of
patronage and that Helen would have declined. It sometimes seemed as if
she was the stronger, the leading spirit, as in some respects Daisy
yielded unhesitatingly to her.
It was Helen's first girl friendship, and it possessed something of the
marvel to her that Mrs. Dayton's kindliness had, since neither were in
anywise compelled to take her up. But why had she ever promised to love
Daisy only?
And did she really _love_ Juliet Craven? This night was the first time
Miss Craven had ever used her Christian name. She would hardly dream of
being intimate with any of the young ladies in the senior class, though
several of them were very cordial and she had been asked to sing for
them and with them. Helen made a funny distinction about this, it was
due to her voice and not her personality. She was too wholesome to feel
aggrieved about such a thing and she had very little vanity. Being
brought up by Aunt Jane would have taken the vanity out of any girl.
But there did not seem so much difference between her age and Miss
Craven's as the years confessed. Helen knew a great deal more about the
real world. She was likely to make a good logician. Her short experience
at Mrs. Dayton's had given her the key to the larger world. Those women
with their different qualities were reproduced here in the school, here
in Westchester, and were no doubt repeated elsewhere. But Miss Craven
knew nothing and was afraid to judge, to have decided opinions, to
compare one with another. Her solitary life had taken her into the very
heart of nature, of a certain kind of dreaming, and longing for
knowledge, but that was widely different from the every day knowledge of
general living. Helen had not been lonely, her mind was too active, and
there had always been people about her. She wanted her knowledge to
enable her to go out in the world and conquer it; girls of fourteen and
older do have such dreams. Miss Craven wanted hers largely for herself
alone.
Helen had pitied her, been very sympathetic, assisted her over rough
places, and really advised. Was not this some of the work preached about
on Sunday in the churches, helping the weaker brethren? She had hardly
thought of religion up to this period of her life as having any duties
in a practical sense, but Mrs. Aldred gave the school that tone, and
Miss Grace was interested in the broader Christian life, not merely
church-going.
So Miss Craven, curiously enough, had looked like a duty to Helen. She
and Daisy did their brief reading every night, but since Christmas so
many verses had pointed to the weaker brother. The stronger, wiser girls
in school did not want anything of her, at least she thought she had
nothing to give them, since they did not ask, and the word was "everyone
that asketh." Miss Craven had asked by a glance of the eye, a pressure
of the hand, a quiver of the wordless lips that hesitated to frame the
desire into speech. Yes, she did love her if charity and kindliness were
love, and--oh, there _was_ something deeper, wider, higher.
She had not settled the question when she fell asleep, rather late for
her and so she did not wake until Daisy touched her. Daisy Bell had half
a mind to let her oversleep and lose a mark, then she really did love
her too well.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Helen ruefully. "And I wanted to finish my Latin
translation this morning."
There could be no thought of anything but hurrying downstairs. Miss
Craven was in her place and glanced up with a certain eagerness in her
eyes. All through breakfast time Daisy made herself uncomfortable,
watching.
"So you have a rival in your sweetheart's affections," Miss Mays
whispered mischievously, linking her arm in that of Daisy's as they
sauntered through the hall. "The glances are something wonderful,
beseeching. If the eyes hadn't that dull, leady look they might prove
dangerous in years to come, but I doubt if young men will be drawn near
enough to experience their fascination. But she gains a little every
day, and you will soon lose your Helen of Troy."
"Helen of Troy is a free agent. She can make friends wherever she will,"
was the rather curt answer.
"But 'life is thorny and love is vain,'" quoted Roxy. "I _do_ wonder at
Helen Grant's taste."
There were lessons and exercises and Helen found her mind wandering,
having to bring it back by sharp turns. Daisy was very distant. "Oh, how
foolish girls can be!" Helen thought.
When they went in to luncheon a surprise greeted most of the girls.
Helen Grant saw the vacant seat beside her. One of the girls opposite
touched elbows with the other and both glanced at the end of the room.
Helen let her eyes wander down leisurely. Next to Mrs. Aldred sat a
stranger, next to her Miss Craven, more timid than ever.
The stranger was elegant and airy. Her cloth gown was of the newest
shade of green, the small bolero covered with iridescent embroidery,
the satin bosom a few shades lighter, sown here and there with beads in
colors that sparkled like gems. A very pretty, stylish-looking woman of
five and thirty perhaps. She wore two magnificent diamond rings and a
small star at her throat. The most critical taste could not pronounce
her loud.
Helen thought rapidly. Was that Mrs. Howard? She felt rather
disappointed.
Everybody went on with the luncheon and when it was through, Mrs.
Aldred, the guest, and Miss Bigelow retired to the drawing room. What
did it all mean? They heard presently. The lady was Mrs. Davis, the wife
of Miss Craven's guardian. Just as Morris had answered the door, Miss
Bigelow crossed the hall and recognized a lady she had seen a good deal
of in the summer.
"Why this _is_ delightful to meet a familiar face," declared the
stranger. "Is this where you are at school? We have a _protegee_ here,
at least Mr. Davis is guardian and trustee of a young woman and no end
of money, Miss Craven, do you know her?"
Morris was trying to usher the guest into the reception room.
"Yes, she is here," and Miss Bigelow did the honors; begged Mrs. Davis
to be seated. Morris came back with the word that Mrs. Aldred would be
at liberty in a few moments.
"Do tell me what kind of a school it is? The girl's grandfather died; he
was a queer old fellow, and the business was in a sort of muddle, but,
as I said, there is no end of money. I wanted her to go to a convent; I
was good enough to take her in and see what could be done in the way of
polishing, for you see she must go in society. She didn't take kindly to
the Roman Catholic aspect, but you know they never interfere with
anyone's religion. I had a friend come to stay with me while I was
giving a house party, a Mrs. Howard, who took a fancy to her; she had
scarcely been out of the woods, though I found she had come of a very
good family--Revolutionary people and a great-uncle, a judge in
Maryland, and several men of note. The Baltimore relatives are among
some of the best in society. If there had been no family back of her I
really couldn't have undertaken her. Mrs. Howard knew of this school; I
think she had a niece educated here. So she wrote, and the matter
somehow settled itself. I was engaged for Lenox, and two or three house
parties, and Washington, Charleston, and Florida. I do seem to keep on
the go most of the time. And this is really the first opportunity I have
had to look after her, though I knew I could trust Mrs. Howard."
"Miss Craven is in excellent hands here. Of course I am among the
Seniors and graduate in June, and am very busy, so I see but little of
the Juniors."
"Why, it is quite college-like." Mrs. Davis had taken in a fresh supply
of breath. Her voice was soft and well trained, though she rather swept
along as she talked.
"Girls are prepared for college, or for any position in life," Miss
Bigelow replied with a smile.
"That is what Mrs. Howard said. I can't understand how the grandfather
could become such a queer old hermit when the family was an excellent
one. It might have been the loss of his son, this girl's father. Mr.
Davis thinks he was a man of education and shrewd about business. He had
to go over all the papers, you know, and there were marriage
certificates, his parents and his own, and various family affairs. I was
glad for her sake that everything was right. A family stigma always
keeps cropping up."
Mrs. Aldred entered at this juncture, and Miss Bigelow left the two
ladies to their conference. Mrs. Davis went over the ground again, more
at length, and stated her wishes definitely. She wanted Miss Craven
trained to make a good impression on society, accomplished if she could
be.
"She has a great talent for music and will make a fine player. It is a
pity she could not have begun her general education sooner," replied
Mrs. Aldred. "It will take time to reach any standard."
"Oh, a thousand pities. But it doesn't seem really necessary for her to
go into the abstruse subjects, for every year counts. It is an excellent
thing that girls do not marry as young as they used to. I was married
before I was quite eighteen, but I had been three years at a first-class
boarding school. She will be twenty in the summer. She certainly can
finish in another year?" tentatively.
"She can do a good deal, but hardly that. This year it will be
principally ground-work. She has had private lessons, and she does love
study, is eager to learn. Next year she will go into regular classes
and get accustomed to girls. She is painfully shy."
"I hope you can give her some style. After all, money _does_ make amends
for a great deal, and I have known some really ignorant girls to marry
well, but now everyone who makes a bow to society is expected to have
some training, and get the air of _nouveaux riches_ rubbed off. That is
detestable."
"I do not think that will be one of her faults;" and Mrs. Aldred smiled
a little, wondering how long it had been since Mrs. Davis had cast
comparative poverty behind her.
"French and all that she can pick up abroad. I should like her to know
some Italian songs. I wish I _could_ take her next year. You hardly
consider it possible?"
"Oh, no. I should certainly wait. She has improved. I will send for her.
And as it will soon be luncheon time may I not have the pleasure of
making you a guest? You will see our school in every-day trim, and meet
some of our teachers. We have also a day school for larger girls."
Mrs. Davis accepted graciously. Miss Craven was summoned, and entered
with self-possession.
The girl had been very happy all the morning. The consciousness that
someone loved her, albeit a girl so much younger, had been like red wine
to her blood, and kept her pulses throbbing, given her eyes a subtle
glow. The bluish tint should never have been in such eyes, golden or the
translucent green that sometimes sets hazel eyes ashine would have made
a great change in her face. But they had lightened up curiously, and her
cheeks rounded out, her complexion cleared up since she was no longer
exposed to sun and wind, and had a more hygienic training. She had tied
a pink ribbon around her neck. Helen Grant liked it so much.
Altogether, she looked improved from last summer. And she certainly had
learned to smile. Her teeth were white, even, and pretty.
She was very much surprised, and could not dismiss her distrust of Mrs.
Davis at once. Indeed, what reason had she for distrusting her? Mrs.
Aldred led the conversation until the girl's first embarrassment was
over, and then gracefully withdrew to plan for a change at the table.
Soon after luncheon Mrs. Davis took her leave, quite convinced that Mrs.
Aldred would do as well for her husband's ward as anyone. She would
have liked the prestige of the convent better.
By dinner time most of the girls knew that Miss Juliet Craven was really
an heiress, and that her guardian was the great banker and lawyer as
well, and who was occasionally called upon to disentangle some very
intricate points, Mr. James Elliot Davis.