A TRIAL OF PATIENCE.
Two more years passed over Hetty's head. She had grown tall and looked
old for her age, her large gray eyes were full of serious thought, her
brow was grave, and the expression of her mouth touched with sadness.
The haughtiness and mirth of her childhood were alike gone. Earnest
desire to attain to a difficult end was the one force that moved her,
and this had become visible in her every word and glance. She was
painfully aware that the time was approaching when she must go forth to
battle with the world for herself, and that on her own qualifications
for fighting that battle her position in the world must depend. That she
had not sufficient aptitude for learning out of books, or for
remembering readily all that she gathered from them, she greatly feared.
Her memory gave her back in pictures whatever had engaged her
imagination; but much that was useful and necessary was wont to pass
away out of her grasp. Thorough determination, close application, did
not remove this difficulty, and she was warned by those around her that
unless she could make better use for study of the three years yet before
her than she had made of those that lay behind her, she could never be a
teacher of a very high order. Of all that this failure meant, Hetty
understood more clearly now than when she had wished to live with Mrs.
Kane and be the village schoolmistress. Loving all that was beautiful
and refined in life, she had learned to dread, from another motive than
pride, the fate of being thrown upon a lower social level. And yet this
was a fate which seemed now to stare her in the face.
Mr. Enderby, who had of late taken a personal interest in her studies,
examining her from time to time on various subjects, said to her:
"My little girl, if you do not wake up and work harder I fear you will
have to take an inferior position in life to that which I desired for
you."
Poor Hetty! Was she not wide awake? So wide awake that when he and all
the household were asleep she lay staring her misfortune in the face.
And how could she work harder than she did, weeping in secret over the
dry facts that would not leave their mark upon her brain? Thus it was
that life looked dreary to her, and her face was grave and pale. Phyllis
and Nell, who were three and two years older than herself, had begun to
talk of the joys which the magic age of eighteen had in store for them.
They would leave off study and go forth into the enjoyment of their
youth in a flattering world. Idleness, pleasure, happiness awaited them.
No one could say they were not sufficiently well educated to take that
graceful place in life which Providence had assigned to them; Hetty was
rebuked for being less learned than she ought to be, because for her
there was no graceful place prepared; only a difficult and narrow path
leading away she knew not where.
Of the difference between their position and hers she could not help
thinking, but she had been so long accustomed to realize it that she did
not dwell upon it much. Miss Davis was the person on whom her eyes were
fixed as an image of what she ought to hope to become.
To be exactly like Miss Davis. To look like her, think like her, be as
well informed, as independent, as much respected; to teach as well,
speak as wisely, be called an admirable woman who had fought her own way
against poverty in the world, this was what Hetty had been assured by
Mr. and Mrs. Enderby ought to be the object of her ambition and the end
of all her hopes. And Hetty tried honestly to will as they willed for
her good. But her face was not less sad on that account.
Things were in this state when one day, a day never to be forgotten by
her, Hetty was feeling more than usually unhappy. Only the evening
before Mr. Enderby had examined her on several subjects, and had found
her wanting. He had spoken to her with a little severity, and at the
same time looked at her pityingly, and the girl had felt more miserable
than can be told at having disappointed him. To-day she was left to
spend a long afternoon by herself, as Miss Davis had taken Phyllis and
Nell to visit some friends, and, though her morning's work ought to have
been over, she still sat at her lessons, labouring diligently. At last
becoming thoroughly tired she closed her book and raised her eyes
wearily, when they fell on a jar of wild flowers which yesterday she had
arranged and placed upon a bracket against the wall. It was spring, and
in the jar was a cluster of pale wood-anemones with some sprays of
bramble newly leafed. Hetty's eyes brightened at the sight of these
flowers, and noted keenly every exquisite outline and delicate hue of
the group. It seemed to her at the moment that she had never seen
anything so beautiful before. Mechanically she took up her pencil and
began to imitate on a piece of paper the waving line of the bramble
wreath, and the graceful curves of the leaves. To her own great surprise
something very like the bramble soon began to appear upon the paper. A
sharp touch here, a little shadow there, and her drawing looked vigorous
and true. After working in great excitement for some time Hetty got up
and pinned her drawing to the wall, and stood some way off looking at
it. Where had it come from? she asked herself. She had never learned to
draw. She had not known that she could draw. Oh, how delightful it would
be if she could reproduce the flowers as they grew! Not quite able to
believe in the new power she had discovered in herself, she set again to
work, altering the arrangement of the flowers in the jar, and taking a
larger sheet of paper. It was only ruled exercise paper, but that did
not seem to matter when the flowers blossomed all over it. The second
drawing was even better than the first; and Hetty stood looking at it
with flushed cheeks and throbbing heart, wondering what was this new
rapture that had suddenly sprung up in her life.
As her work was done, and the afternoon was all her own, she was able to
give herself up to this unexpected delight, and spent many hours
composing new groups of flowers, and arranging them in fanciful designs.
When a maid brought up her solitary tea she lifted her flushed face and
murmured, "Oh, can it be tea-time?" and then spread out all her
drawings against the wall, and stared at them while she ate her bread
and butter.
She felt nervous at the thought of letting anybody see them, and locked
them up in her desk before Miss Davis and the other girls came home.
In earliest dawn of the next morning, however, she was out of bed and
studying the drawings as she stood in her night-dress and with bare
feet. Were they really good, she asked herself, or were her eyes
bewitched; and would Mr. Enderby laugh at them if he saw them? Anguish
seized on her at the thought, and she dressed herself with trembling
hands. A new idea, striving in her mind, seemed to set all nature
thrilling with a meaning it had never borne for her before. There had
been great painters on the earth, as she knew full well, whose existence
had been made beautiful and glorious by their genius; and there were
artists living in the present day, small and great, who must surely be
the happiest beings in the world. Their days were spent, not in
drudgery, and lecturing, and primness, but in the study and reproduction
of the beauty lying round them. Oh, if God should have intended her to
be one of these!
When the maids came to dust the school-room they found Hetty hard at
work upon a new wreath of ivy which she had hastily snatched from the
garden wall and hung against the curtain, and they thought she was
doing some penance at Miss Davis's bidding. By eight o'clock the
drawings were hid away, the flowers and wreaths disposed of in the jars,
and Hetty was sitting at the table with a book in her hand. No one need
know, she thought, of how she spent those early hours when everybody
else was in bed. And so day after day she worked on steadily with her
pencil, and there was a strange and unutterable hope in her heart, and a
new light of happiness in her eyes.
After some time she became more daring and attempted to bring colour
into her designs. Using her school-room box of paints, the paints
intended only for the drawing of maps, she placed washes of colour on
her leaves and along her stems, making the whole composition more
effective and complete. Day by day she improved on her first ideas, till
she had stored up a collection of really beautiful sketches.
With this new joy tingling through her young veins from morning till
night, and from night till morning again, Hetty began to look so glad
and bright that everyone remarked it. Miss Davis looked on approvingly,
thinking that her own excellent discipline of the girl was having an
effect she had scarcely dared to hope for. Nell was full of curiosity to
know why Hetty had become so gay.
"May I not have the liberty to be gay as well as you?" said Hetty
laughing.
"Of course; but then you are so suddenly changed. Miss Davis says it is
only because you are growing good. But I think there must be something
that is making you good."
"I am glad to hear I am growing good. Something is making me very happy,
but I cannot tell you what it is."
Nell, always on the look-out for a secret, opened her eyes very wide,
but could get no further satisfaction from Hetty, who only laughed at
her appeals to be taken into confidence. That evening, however, she told
Miss Davis that Hetty had admitted that there was _something_ that was
making her so happy.
"I knew she had a secret," said Nell mysteriously.
"Then it is the secret of doing her duty," said Miss Davis. "She has
made great improvement in every respect during the last few weeks."
"I know she gets up earlier in the mornings than she used to do," said
Nell, "and I don't think she is at her lessons all the time."
"I hope she has not been making any more friends in the village," said
Phyllis.
"I am sorry such thoughts have come into your minds, children," said
Miss Davis; "I see nothing amiss about Hetty. If she is happier than she
used to be, we ought all to feel glad."
Phyllis did not like the implied rebuke, and at once began to hope that
she might be able to prove Miss Davis in the wrong. If Hetty could be
found to have a secret, as Nell supposed, Phyllis decided that it ought
to be found out. Her mother did not approve of children having secrets.
Even if there was no harm in a thing in itself, there was a certain harm
in making a mystery of it. So, having arranged her motive satisfactorily
in her mind, Phyllis, feeling more virtuous than ever, resolved to
observe what Hetty was about. The next morning she got up early and came
down to the school-room an hour before her usual time. And there was
Hetty working away at her drawing with a wreath of flowers pinned before
her on the wall.
Phyllis came behind her and was astonished to see what she had
accomplished with her pencil; and Hetty started and coloured up to her
hair, as if she had been caught in a fault.
"Well, you are a strange girl," said Phyllis; "I did not know drawing
was a sin, that you should make such a mystery over it."
"I hope it is not a sin," said Hetty in a low voice. She felt grieved at
having her efforts discovered in this way. She wished now that she had
told Miss Davis all about it. Phyllis opened the piano and began to
practise without having said one word of praise of Hetty's work; and the
poor little artist felt her heart sink like lead. Perhaps the beauty
that she saw in her designs existed only in her own foolish eyes.
She worked on silently for about half an hour, and then put away her
drawing materials and her flowers, and began to study her lessons for
the day.
"Of course you do not expect me to keep your secret from Miss Davis,"
said Phyllis, looking over her shoulder. "I have been always taught to
hate secrets, and my conscience will not allow me to encourage you in
this."
"Do exactly as you please," said Hetty; "I shall be quite satisfied to
let Miss Davis know what I have been doing."
"Then why did you not tell her before?" asked Phyllis.
"I am not bound to explain that to you," said Hetty; but finding her
temper was rising she added more gently, "I am willing to give an
account of my conduct to any one who may be scandalized by it"; and
then, fearing to trust herself further, she went out of the room.
On the stairs she met Miss Davis, and stopped her, saying:
"Phyllis has a complaint to make of me. I shall be back in the
school-room presently after she has made it."
"What is it about, my dear?"
"She can tell you better than I can," said Hetty. "Please go down now,
Miss Davis, and then we can have it over before breakfast."
"Miss Davis, I find Nell was right in thinking that Hetty was doing
something sly," began Phyllis, as the governess entered the school-room.
"I am sorry to hear it. What can it be?"
"Nothing very dreadful in itself perhaps. It is the secrecy that is so
ugly, especially as there was no reason for it in the world."
"What has Hetty done?" repeated Miss Davis.
"Why, she has been getting up early in the mornings to draw flowers,"
said Phyllis, unwillingly perceiving that the fault seemed a very small
one when plainly described.
"I did not know she could draw," said Miss Davis; "but, if she can, I
see no harm in her doing it."
"I think she ought to spend the time at the studies father is so anxious
she should improve in," said Phyllis; "and I imagine she knows it too,
or she would not have been so secret."
"There is something in that, Phyllis; though I would rather you had not
been so quick to perceive it."
Phyllis curled her lip slightly. "Intelligence is given us that we may
use it, I suppose," she said coldly; "but I have done my duty, and I
have nothing more to say in the matter."
Breakfast passed over without anything being said on the subject of the
great discovery; but after the meal was finished, Miss Davis desired
Hetty to fetch her her drawings that she might see them. Hetty went to
her own room immediately, and returned bringing about a dozen drawings
in a very primitive portfolio made of several newspapers gummed
together.
Miss Davis was no artist, but she felt that the designs were good, and
remarkable as having been executed by a girl so untaught as Hetty. They
increased her opinion of her pupil's abilities, yet she looked on them
chiefly from the point of view Phyllis had suggested to her, and
considered them in the light of follies upon which valuable time had
been expended.
"My dear," she said, "these are really very pretty, and I am sure they
have given you a great deal of pleasure. But I cannot countenance your
going on with this sort of employment. Think of how usefully you might
have employed at your books the hours you have spent upon these trifles.
I presume you were aware of this from the first yourself, and that this
is why you have been so silent as to your new accomplishment."
"No," said Hetty decidedly; "I did not feel that I was wasting time. On
the contrary, my drawing gave me better courage to work at my lessons.
The hours I spent were taken from my sleep. I was always at my books
before Phyllis was at hers."
"Phyllis is not to be made a rule for you, my dear. She has not the same
necessity to exert her powers to the utmost. If you can do without part
of your sleeping time, you ought to devote it to your books. And pray,
if you did not think you were committing some fault, why did you say
nothing to anyone of what you were about?"
"I cannot tell you that, Miss Davis," said Hetty, her eyes filling with
tears; "I mean I cannot explain it properly. I could not bring myself to
show what I had done; but I had no idea of _wrongness_ about the
matter."
"Well, my dear, we will say no more about it. Take the drawings away;
and in future work at your lessons every moment of your time. I will put
you on your word of honour, Hetty, not to do any more of this kind of
thing."
"Do not ask me to give you such a promise, Miss Davis."
"But Hetty, I must, and I do."
"Then, Miss Davis, I will speak to Mr. Enderby."
The governess and her two pupils gazed at Hetty in amazement.
"I mean," Hetty went on, "that I hope he will think drawing a useful
study for me. Will you allow me to speak to him this evening, Miss
Davis?"
"Certainly, my dear," said Miss Davis stiffly. "There is nothing to
hinder you from consulting Mr. Enderby on any subject. I am sure he will
be kind enough to give you his advice. Only I think I know what it will
be beforehand; and I would rather you had shown more confidence in me."
Hetty could not give her mind to her lessons that day, nor get rid of
the feeling that she was in disgrace. When evening came, the hour when
Mr. Enderby was usually to be found in his study, she asked Miss Davis's
permission to go to him, and with her portfolio in her hand presented
herself at his door.
"Come in, Hetty," said Mr. Enderby; "what is this you have got to show
me? Maps, plans, or what? Why, drawings!"
Hetty's mouth grew dry, and her heart beat violently. The tone of his
voice betrayed that the master of Wavertree had no more sympathy for
art, or anything connected with it, than had Miss Davis. He was an
accurate methodical man with a taste for mathematics, who believed in
the power conferred by knowledge on man and woman; but who had little
respect for those who concerned themselves with only the beauties and
graces of life. Art was to him a trifle, and devotion to it a folly.
Therefore Hetty with her trembling hopes was not likely to find favour
at his hands.
"My child, I am sure they are very pretty; but this sort of thing will
not advance you in the world."
"But, Mr. Enderby,--I have been thinking--artists get on as well as
governesses. I do these more easily than I learn my dates. If I could
only learn to be an artist."
Mr. Enderby put his eye-glass to his eye, and gazed at her a little
pityingly, a little severely, with a look that Hetty knew.
"You would like to become an artist? Well, my girl, I must tell you to
put that foolish idea out of your head. In the first place, you are not
to imagine that because you can sketch a flower prettily, you have
therefore a genius for painting; and such fancies are only calculated to
distract your mind from the real business of your life. Besides,
remember this, I have given, am giving, you a good education as a means
of providing for you in life. Having bestowed one profession upon you
already, I am not prepared to enter into the expense and inconvenience
of a second. So run away like a sensible girl and stick to your books.
You had better leave these drawings with me and think no more about
them."
Saying this, Mr. Enderby opened a drawer and locked up Hetty's designs
within it; and, humbled and despairing, Hetty returned to the
school-room.
Her face of grief and her empty hands told sufficiently what the result
of her errand had been. No remark was made by Miss Davis or the girls,
though Nell, who thought the drawings wonderfully pretty, was impatient
to know what her papa had said of them. She was too much in awe of Miss
Davis to seek to have her curiosity gratified just then; and the evening
study went on as if nothing had happened.