LIES OF POLITENESS.
THE school to which Alice Saunders was sent was different in almost
every respect from the fashionable establishment of Mrs. Lerow. In
regard to the studies, Miss Salsbury labored far more to discipline the
mind, and lay a thorough foundation upon which a good education might
be reared up, than to have her young pupils pointed at as ladylike and
accomplished.
In her thirty years of experience in teaching, she had seen many young
misses sacrificed to their own or their parents' love of what was
merely superficial in learning,—preferring a smattering of French,
ability to sing a few Italian operas, and to dance gracefully, to
those acquirements which would fit them for the real duties and
responsibilities of life. She had an old-fashioned opinion, that when
a young lady left school, her education was by no means complete,—that
only a substructure was formed upon which a beautiful temple might be
raised.
If Alice had been under her influence at an earlier age, the seeds of
vanity and deceit which had early taken root in her young mind might
have been eradicated; but half a year in such a hot-house as Mrs.
Lerow's school had brought these shoots to a fearful state of maturity.
With Miss Salsbury's discernment, it did not require many hours'
acquaintance with her new pupil to give her an insight into the
purposes and motives which governed the young lady. Beautiful in
person, bewitching in manner, but wholly destitute of moral rectitude,
could the preceptress have consulted her own wishes, she would have
sent Alice directly back to her father, so much did she shrink from the
responsibility involved in the moral training of such a girl. Then she
doubted her own wisdom in introducing so artful a character among her
other pupils.
"Certainly," was her mental exclamation, "with such an influence to
oppose, I must be doubly vigilant."
As the house was too full to allow the new scholar a room by herself,
and as the preceptress was far too conscientious to expose those
committed to her care to such intimate companionship as would be
unavoidable in roommates, she turned with a sigh from the parlor, where
she had been talking with Alice, to make hasty arrangements for giving
her a room with one of the under teachers, who was her own niece, a
young lady of Christian courtesy and great integrity of character.
In half an hour, Miss Saunders was introduced to a pleasant chamber
on the third flight, where she found Miss Farley, her new room-mate,
awaiting her.
Emma Farley was an agreeable young lady of twenty years, wholly
unacquainted with her aunt's motives in putting Miss Saunders under her
care, and very favorably impressed in regard to the new-comer.
On the other hand, Alice was deeply chagrined at the idea of being
under the constant surveillance of a teacher; but she was quite too
much a woman of the world, and had profited too well by Aunt Clarissa's
example to betray such a feeling. Indeed, the first words she spoke
expressed exactly the opposite sentiment.
"What a pleasant room!" she said in her sweet, languid voice. "I am
very happy to share it with you. I think we shall have delightful times
together."
While the new miss lazily arranged her wardrobe in the closet and
drawers, the acquaintance progressed rapidly. Alice, with a degree of
art far beyond her years, praised her companion's hair, complexion,
and general appearance,—accounting herself most fortunate in being
thrown in with one evidently accustomed to the best society,—and
then drew from the unsuspecting teacher an account of the families
in the neighborhood, with difficulty concealing her pleasure at the
announcement that an academy for young men was in flood-tide of success
at the other end of the village.
"Of course," she remarked in an indifferent tone, lazily arranging a
box of laces to hide her eagerness, "the pupils here are allowed no
intercourse with the young gentlemen?"
"Aunt Salsbury is as cautious as possible," answered Miss Farley; "but
as Dr. Bowles's pupils occupy the opposite wing to ours in church, they
know each other by sight, and as a number of our young ladies have
brothers there, some visiting is unavoidable."
"Of course," was the careless reply.
Alice returned to her wardrobe, the school formerly so much dreaded
being invested with new interest.
"What do you think of Miss Saunders?" anxiously inquired Miss Salsbury,
at a late hour the same evening.
"I think she will be a great acquisition to the school," was the
enthusiastic reply. "She is lovely in person, and as far as I can
judge, of a bright mind."
"Yes, there is no doubt of that, Emma; but her morals,—has her
conscience been cultivated quite as diligently as her personal charms?"
"I see no reason to think the contrary." Emma repeated part of the
conversation, and then retired.
"I must guard against prejudice," said the preceptress to herself;
"but, if I do not mistake, my unsuspicious niece has been duped by a
few lies of politeness. But time will show the real character of my new
pupil."
Less than a fortnight sufficed, not only for mutual acquaintance
between the young ladies, but also to raise Alice to the height of
popularity. Her dress and her opinions were quoted as law; her most
trifling acts commented upon with favor; while her frequent remissness
in the recitation room was excused on account of her inability to
apply herself closely without bringing on an excruciating pain in her
head. This artifice the young girl had resorted to immediately upon
ascertaining that none of the tricks to evade duty so successful in
Mrs. Lerow's school would avail here. So far, the plea of ill-health
had worked well.
Alice had been in the recitation room but a few times before she found
that she could neither make use of copied exercises, nor glance at her
book held adroitly inside a fan. The teachers were so thorough, and
required so many explanations of the rules, that no such artifices
availed. She must either give her attention wholly to the business of
study, or invent some plausible excuse for not doing so.
Alice, however, was too experienced in deceit to allow her tactics to
fail her now, and therefore resorted to the plea of headache, which
her natural delicacy of complexion enabled her to simulate with a good
chance of success.
She had been twice to church, where even Miss Salsbury's strict ideas
of propriety could detect nothing wrong. But the young girl had made
good use of her eyes, and was aware, long before the extravagant
compliments reached her through sisters of the young gentlemen,
that her beauty had caused no slight degree of excitement among the
susceptible youth ranged on the opposite seats in church.
Even the very gentlemanly-looking under teacher, sitting at the head
of the back slip to overlook the conduct of his charge, had fixed his
bright blue eyes on the new-comer with far more than ordinary interest.
At the close of the second week, Alice wrote her father that, though
she was greatly disappointed at being compelled to leave Mrs. Lerow's
school, she now was happy here, as the teachers were very kind, and
aimed to do their scholars good. She complained, however, of headache
on severe application to study; and requested her father to ask Miss
Salsbury to allow her more time for exercise in the open air.
Mr. Saunders was delighted with the apparent improvement in his
daughter. He wrote at once to the preceptress, begging the lady to give
Alice all possible indulgence that her rules would allow in regard to
the hours of exercise.
Hitherto the young girl had conducted herself with such seeming
propriety that she completely blinded her teachers, so that Miss
Salsbury, in endeavoring to make amends for her former distrust, gave
the new scholar far more credit than she deserved.
In the mean time, these first weeks did not pass without some advance
on the part of Dr. Bowles's pupils toward an acquaintance with the
beautiful stranger. All those who could form any excuse to gain an
entrance into the charmed mansion eagerly availed themselves of the
opportunity. Alice, on one pretext and another, had been called down
to the parlor and introduced to half a dozen of them. After this,
projected walks and incidental meetings in the street caused the
acquaintance to ripen faster than was desirable.
Miss Saunders, the beauty and heiress, the model of taste in dress and
fashion, had already acquired more influence in the school than any
young lady had done since its formation. But, sad to say, in order to
attain this popularity, she had uttered, without one compunction of
conscience, lies of politeness and lies of flattery almost without
number.
An incident occurred in school about this time, which directed the
attention of the preceptress to this vice.
A little girl named Clara Dalton, the youngest scholar, had been
detected several times in equivocation, and once in a deliberate
falsehood. The circumstances were these.
Wednesday and Saturday afternoons were half-holidays; and under
certain restrictions, the pupils were allowed to employ themselves
as they chose. It was a rule, however, that they should not exceed a
certain limit in their walks without special permission. Somehow or
other, Clara had formed the acquaintance of a girl living quite at the
other extreme of the village; and as Miss Salsbury for some reason
disapproved the intimacy, she had forbidden Clara to visit her.
Wednesday morning came again, inviting all lovers of green fields and
pure air to walk forth. Miss Gleason, one of the older pupils, having
arisen earlier than common, was sauntering through the garden with a
volume of poems in her hand, when she heard a low murmur of voices
close to the hedge separating the garden from the road.
"I will!" exclaimed a low, earnest voice. "I'll tell you how I can
manage it. I'll get one of the girls to ask Miss Salsbury if we may go
to the post office. We'll start early, and while the girl has gone in,
I'll run across the fields to your house, as fast as I can go."
"So you can!" answered another voice. "I'll be there somewhere to meet
you. Be sure to bring the money, and I'll have the earrings all ready."
"Good-by, then; you'd better go now, or somebody will see you."
"What an old tiger Miss Salsbury must be, to keep you caged up so!"
said the street girl, spitefully. "Come as early as you can."
The young lady stood still, greatly troubled. Should she—ought she to
report to the preceptress? She had recognized the voice as Clara's; and
soon after, the child crept cautiously from her hiding place, and ran
stealthily toward the house. After some hesitation, she decided that
she was not called upon to mention what she had seen.
In the evening, there was some unusual excitement in the hall, and
presently a child's voice was heard crying bitterly. It was Clara,
who had just reached home, her clothes soiled and torn, and her eyes
swollen with crying.
The preceptress led her forward into the large recitation room, where
most of the scholars were assembled, and commenced an investigation of
the case. It was ascertained that, immediately after dinner, Clara and
a young companion, Annie Mellege, started together for the post office,
being charged with letters from several of the young ladies. At the
door of the office, Clara stopped to tie her shoe, and Annie went in
alone. When she came out, her companion was nowhere to be found.
Miss Gleason started; this was the plan she had heard in the morning.
When questioned why she left so suddenly, Clara sobbed and hid her face
in her apron; but as Miss Salsbury waited calmly for her to speak, she
said at last, that she heard an organ-grinder down a lane near by, and
ran to find him, when a great dog flew at her, and tore her dress. Then
a woman came out of a house and pulled her in and made her stay there.
"That is a very unlikely story," said Miss Salsbury, shaking her head;
"but as you have cried yourself sick, I shall postpone any farther
examination of your case till morning."