The Parting of the Ways
Events, most fortunately, turned out as Lorraine and Morland had hoped.
Captain Blake received an anonymous parcel containing his lost
dispatch-case, and, judging probably that some chance passer-by had
picked it up and tardily restored it, made no further stir in the
matter. So the cloud which had threatened to break in an overwhelming
storm of ruin blew safely over, and left clear skies behind.
Lorraine returned to The Gables next morning to find the school in a
whirl of excitement over the disappearance of Madame Bertier. She had
been missing from her lodgings since the very morning when the U-boat
took in its cargo of oil from Smugglers' Cove. She had departed no one
knew whither, without even a portmanteau or a handbag, and had left
absolutely no trace of her destination. The police came and examined her
belongings, but they found nothing treasonable, though a heap of white
ashes in the fire-grate showed that papers must have been burnt. The
fascinating Russian adventuress vanished from the world of Porthkeverne
as suddenly and mysteriously as she had appeared there. Her exit made a
nine-days' wonder in the artistic and literary circles where her clever
personality had won her so much favour. Wiseacres shook their heads and
remembered suspicious circumstances which had not struck them at the
time as incriminating.
At The Gables, Miss Kingsley hastily reorganized her teaching staff,
handing the French classes over to Miss Paget and the music to Miss
Turner until the end of the term. She felt the blow to be a double one,
for not only did it seriously upset the arrangements of the school, but
it wounded her in a tender spot. She had been very kind to Madame
Bertier, and had thought that, in befriending and giving her employment,
she was aiding a distressed ally to gain an honourable living. To her
upright and patriotic temperament the disillusionment was painful.
There was little of the term left now; in a few weeks the holidays
would be here, and the group of girls who were working together in the
Sixth Form would be dispersed. Lorraine could hardly realize that her
school days were so nearly ended. She had been happy at The Gables, and
she was sorry to leave. Yet life stretched before her very bright and
fair, with such pleasant prospects that she thrilled when she thought of
the future. Her father had decided that her artistic talent was quite
sufficient to justify him in sending her to London to study art, and had
consulted Margaret Lindsay as to the best master under whom to place
her. Lorraine, in her Saturday mornings' lessons, had dabbled in a
variety of arts and crafts, and had tried her 'prentice hand at water
colours, oil painting, illustrating, gesso, metal work, wood engraving,
and enamelling. Each, she knew, was a separate career in itself that
would take many years in which to gain even a mediocre proficiency. On
the whole her inclination led her to take up sculpture. She had been
most successful with clay modelling, and several Porthkeverne artists
who had seen some of her work had praised it and advised her to go on.
Down at the dear studio by the harbour, where her first artistic
inspirations had been received, she talked the matter over with her
friend. Margaret was packing to go away, and the room was strewn with
canvases, water-colour boards, paints, and other impedimenta. Lorraine,
sitting on the table, flourishing a mahl-stick, aired her views.
"It's so glorious to take up something that you feel perhaps some day
you may--if you work hard--be able to make something of. Carina, if I
ever get anything into an exhibition, I shall just want to turn head
over heels with joy. Art suits me far better than music. If you go in
for playing or singing, you have to perform before an audience, and the
feeling that anybody is listening to me simply _withers_ me! You don't
know what agonies I go through when I'm asked to play my violin before
visitors--I'm so nervous that my fingers absolutely dither. Now,
painting or sculpture you can do when you're quite alone, and when it's
finished people can look at it, and you needn't even be there to show it
off. Don't you sympathise?"
"Indeed I do. For anybody afflicted with shyness, a studio is certainly
preferable to a platform; and works of art, if they are worth anything,
live on. You ought to do well, Lorraine, if you work. You've the
sculptor's thumb--broad and thin and turned back. I'm glad you're to
study under Mr. Davidson; he's an inspiring teacher and very
thorough."
"I shall leave the music to Monica," decided Lorraine. "She's a monkey
sometimes, but she's a clever little mortal--much cleverer than I am. I
sometimes think she'll be the success of the family."
All of the Sixth Form at The Gables were going their several ways.
Patsie contemplated work on the land, Vivien meant to devote herself to
the Red Cross, Dorothy was destined for college, Nellie to study
kindergarten training. For Claudia the future was still nebulous. Under
Rosemary's instruction she had practised her singing with an immense
enthusiasm. Her voice was developing wonderfully. Rosemary listened to
it with somewhat the feeling of an artist who has created a most
beautiful thing. She had taught Claudia to accomplish what she could
never compass herself. Her own talent, passed on to another, had gained
ten talents more. At the end of July, before the College of Music closed
its summer session, Rosemary wrote to Signor Arezzo concerning her
pupil, and received a reply making an appointment for her to bring
Claudia to have her voice tested. This was tremendous news. She went up
to Windy Howe with the letter. Mr. Castleton, absorbed in a classic
painting of Beata and Romola as wood nymphs, detached his mind with
difficulty from Greek draperies and focused it upon his eldest daughter.
"I did not know Claudia could sing!" he remarked with surprise.
"Why, my dear, she's always singing about the house, and has a very good
voice too. It would be splendid if she could make something of it," put
in his wife, who in this case proved her step-daughter's firm ally. "Be
generous now, and let the girl run up to town with Miss Forrester. Who
knows what may come of it?"
Mr. Castleton was mixing a subtle shade of grey for the folds beneath
Romola's girdle. At the moment he would have consented to anything to
get rid of visitors and go on with his painting.
"Let her go if she likes," he agreed.
So the appointment was accepted; and one day in the next week an
anxious little Rosemary, living in a whirl of hopes, piloted a nervous,
blushing, but quite too lovely Claudia into the solemn precincts of the
College of Music. Signor Arezzo had in his time trained hundreds of
musical students. Most of them possessed moderate talents, some were
clever, and an elect few passed on to the concert platform. It was only
once or twice in his teaching career that he had discovered a voice
worthy of grand opera. His experienced eye measured Claudia with
satisfaction. Her beautiful throat was certainly that of a singer. On
the operatic stage that face and figure would be worth a fortune. He did
not commit himself, however, but, asking her to come nearer to the
piano, played a few chords and began to test her voice. At first Claudia
was nervous, but after she had sung some exercises the feeling passed,
and she poured out her notes as naturally as she had done in the orchard
at home. The professor made her try various scales, arpeggios, studies,
and a song.
"Thank you," he said at last. "That will do. I can safely promise you a
scholarship at the College next September. If you're ready to work I
think we may make something of you. Now, will you go into the ante-room
and wait while I speak to Miss Forrester? I want to have a word with
her."
When Claudia, with shining eyes, had gone out of the room, Signor Arezzo
turned to Rosemary and shook her warmly by the hand.
"I congratulate you!" he said. "Unless I'm much mistaken you've
discovered an operatic star. The girl has a most marvellous voice.
She'll be a credit to the College some day! And she has every element
for a successful _prima donna_--graceful movement, enthusiasm and
dramatic fire. You say you have only been training her since last May?
Why, it's marvellous! You must be a born teacher. I couldn't have done
more with her in the time myself. If you would care to help me with some
of my pupils, you could take a good deal of work off my hands. I have
never found anyone before who so absolutely realised my methods. I
should be very glad to give you charge of the beginners under my
supervision."
It was Rosemary's turn now to be surprised.
"Oh, if I only might!" she gasped.
Two very delighted and happy girls returned to Porthkeverne next day;
Claudia with the sure prospect of a scholarship, and Rosemary almost
dazed at the offer of so splendid a post as assistant to Signor Arezzo.
"Isn't it wonderful, Muvvie?" she confided. "Just when I was wailing
that my life was spoilt, I've found my true career. I see now that I
should never have been a success on a platform, and I'm glad Signor
Arezzo had the honesty to tell me so. But teaching is quite different. I
can feel how things ought to be, and I can make other people do them.
It's like working on their instruments instead of mine. Think of going
back to the dear old College, and actually having an established place
there! I do hope I shall really be as useful to the Professor as he
seems to expect! With Lorraine studying sculpture, and Claudia and
myself at the College, what a gorgeous time we shall all have at the
hostel together!"
The final day of the term at The Gables had arrived, and the girls, in
their best dresses, were ready to assemble in the gymnasium for the
speech-giving which always celebrated the close of the school year. The
monitresses met in the Sixth Form room for the last time. They took
their parting differently, according to temperament. Audrey was
sentimental, Nellie a trifle tearful. Each was ready to expatiate on her
plans for the future.
"In three weeks I hope to be on the land, and driving a milk-cart with a
piebald pony," said Patsie cheerfully.
"But why a piebald pony?" asked Dorothy, in a puzzled tone.
"Why? Because people are so superstitious about them, and it would be
such sport to come careering down the street and see folks suddenly
bending to touch their shoes, and know they were all having wishes. I'd
feel like a fairy godmother, or Father Christmas. I've got my land
costume, and it's no end! I wanted to turn up in it to-day to show you
all, only Mother wouldn't let me."
"Violet's sewing very hard, making clothes for me to take to London,"
vouchsafed Claudia. "She's been a perfect trump lately! Beata and Romola
are to start school here in September. They're fearfully excited."
"And little Monica will be in the Fourth Form," said Lorraine. "I wonder
who will be monitresses in our place, and whom Miss Kingsley will choose
for head girl?"
"Whoever your successor may be, she won't make a better head girl than
you, Lorraine," said Patsie heartily. "We haven't said much, but we've
appreciated you all the year. You've been a sport!"
"I? Why? I've done nothing for the school, I'm afraid--not nearly as
much as I wanted to do."
"We didn't want a paragon," returned Patsie. "You've been yourself, and
that was quite good enough. On the whole it's been a ripping year."
There is very little more to tell. How Rosemary and Lorraine and Claudia
prospered at their work in London; how Margaret Lindsay took a studio in
town for the winter, and joined them at their hostel; how Morland went
to the front, did a splendid unselfish deed, and won the D.C.M., are all
beyond the limits of a school story, and in the borderland of the bigger
world of grown-up life. But, when Lorraine in days to come looks back
upon the old fun at Porthkeverne, I think she will emphatically decide
that whatever happiness or success she may win afterwards, she never
spent a jollier, livelier, more light-hearted, and altogether
satisfactory time than the year she was Head Girl at The Gables.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN _By Blackie & Son, Limited, Glasgow_
Transcriber's Note:
Variations in hyphenation have been retained as they appear in the
original publication.
Spelling and punctuation have also been retained, except as follows:
The oe ligature has been changed to oe in the name Phoebe and
Felix-foemina.
Page 55
golden-haired little Casletons _changed to_
golden-haired little Castletons
Page 115
rather a 'cute idea _changed to_
rather a cute idea
Page 174
at Miss Kingsley's instance _changed to_
at Miss Kingsley's insistence
Page 207
Westminister Abbey _changed to_
Westminster Abbey
Page 228
could't get Johnnie to _changed to_
couldn't get Johnnie to
Page 244
"You shan't!" I'll see _changed to_
"You shan't! I'll see
Page 254
had been named "Smugglers' Cove" It _changed to_
had been named "Smugglers' Cove". It
Page 283
teacher and very thorough. _changed to_
teacher and very thorough."
End of Project Gutenberg's The Head Girl at the Gables, by Angela Brazil