A TEXT FROM GOETHE.
Jessica had gone to bed a homesick, ashamed, discouraged girl. She
awoke, full of determination to conquer all the difficulties of this
“education” which had, last night, seemed so formidable.
As she stood before her little mirror, brushing the yellow curls into
that semblance of order which was their morning state, and that so soon
gave place to a tangle of glistening threads and escaping tendrils, she
regarded herself with severity.
“Jessica Trent, you may be going to be ‘one of the richest’ sometime,
but at present you are a simpleton. You’ve got everything before
you--not a thing behind, except--Well, except knowing how to ride a
horse or an ostrich, or hit a bull’s-eye, or a few other things that
Madame Mearsom would surely say were ‘unbefitting a gentlewoman.’ I
used to love that word, hearing my mother use it. I begin--I begin to
hate it! Humph! There goes, already! A gentlewoman doesn’t say ‘hate.’
But listen, you girl in the glass. I’m going to study so hard I’ll
catch up with that lowest ‘form’ I’m not clever enough to enter yet;
and I’ll pass it by. Then I’ll tackle the next one, and leave that
behind. I’ll--get to be the highest-up, intelligentest--that doesn’t
sound right but you know what I mean, Jessica Trent. I’ll be the head
of the school, as Aubrey said that handsome Helen Rhinelander is. I’ll
take care to keep every rule and I’ll find out what they are. And I’ll
do it all for love’s sake--for my mother! I made a bad beginning, but
‘Little Captain,’ hear me say I’m bound to make a good ending. I WILL!
Right here and now I’ll write that poetry out, which Madame quoted from
that Goethe. I know who he was, my father had his books in his little
library. Maybe, who knows! it might have been that very verse which
encouraged dear father to go ahead and start Sobrante and try to help
so many people. He believed he could ‘do’ it and he did. I remember it
exactly.”
Taking a sheet of the school paper which was supplied to each girl’s
room, Jessica wrote in her very best hand, and in that large size which
would make the script readable from every part of the room.
“What you can do, or think you can, begin it.
Boldness hath genius, power, and magic in it.”
This she pinned to the mirror-frame, and, after her brief devotions,
she answered to the “assembly bell” that summoned her to the hall
below; and entered as “boldly” as if her heart were not beating very
fast and her cheek glowing very red, meeting the curious gaze of her
schoolmates.
Of course, the news of her escapade and Madame’s anxiety concerning
the three absentees from last night’s table had spread through all the
forms.
Helen Rhinelander had emphasized the fact that “one must expect such
things from a wild Westerner and that for her part, she felt Madame
had made a great mistake in admitting such a creature to the Adelphi.
Pretty? Well, yes, in a certain way; but no style. Not an atom of
style; and style was the one thing neither money nor education could
procure. It had to be born in a person,” said Helen, with decision, and
all her coterie chirped: “Yes.”
However, Helen was but one, although her influence held many. Also,
there may be counter-influences even more powerful than wealth and
style. Along with the discussion of last night’s affair was circulated
by some braver spirits, the fact that it was the young “Westerner’s”
cool sense which had extricated the trio from a most unpleasant
position, and that Madame was smiling affectionately upon her, as she
now crossed the hall to the seat assigned her.
The smile which Jessica flashed back into that motherly face expressed
something of the thought she had had while brushing her hair. At least,
Madame, long versed in the study of young girls’ faces so interpreted
it; and now she not only smiled again but nodded her white head in
approval.
Prayers over, the family marched quietly out to breakfast, that was as
liberal in quantity and as faultlessly served as it would have been in
some big hostelry. A small matter in itself, some might have said, but
a detail of infinite gain in the matter of the Adelphi’s success. Also,
an excellent equipment for the day’s study that was to follow. “Healthy
bodies make healthy minds” was one of the schoolmistress’s maxims; a
maxim nearly always correct.
After breakfast there came a half-hour of recreation, passed usually in
the garden or conservatory behind the house. Then a silver bell struck
the school hour and each girl filed to her place at her own individual
desk in her own form class-room.
This was Jessica’s first glimpse of a time-regulated household, and she
was so absorbed in watching the others that she scarcely realized she
had been left behind, alone, till a pleasant-faced teacher addressed
her:
“Miss Jessica, you are to be my ‘special’ for the present. I am Miss
Montaigne. This way, please. We are to have a cosy little spot quite to
ourselves, for a time.”
“Good morning. I will try not to give you much trouble, Miss Montaigne,
but I am very stupid. I don’t know anything, really.”
“All the more enjoyable then, to learn. I am so fond of study myself
that I fancy everybody else must be. Sit here, please.”
The place was but an alcove, opening into the lower form class-room,
but isolated from it sufficiently that what went on within between
teacher and pupil could not be overheard. A very haven of comfort for
Jessica, had she been really as stupid as she felt; and one that soon
became to her the very dearest spot in all the great building. In
reality, she was now so eager to learn that she could have “tackled,”
as she called it, every branch of study represented in the institution
at once and altogether. But Miss Montaigne would have none of this.
“Madame has been a most successful instructor and she allows no
overcrowding. Two studies at a time, with an ‘accomplishment’ is her
rule. We are to take up arithmetic and spelling first. With music,
or art, or what your taste decides. Now, we’ll begin. This sum in
addition, if you please;” and the teacher pointed to the very simplest
possible.
Jessica glanced at it in contempt.
“That? Why that’s far easier than making out the ‘boys’ wage-list. You
must be teasing me!”
“No, indeed. Beginning at the root of things. That’s all. You may climb
and grow as fast as Jack’s bean-stalk if you wish. I’ll help push!”
Why, what a delightful person this Miss Montaigne was! Almost as good
as another girl to talk with, and how like a game she made that “hated”
arithmetic seem. It _was_ a game. Played so swiftly and eagerly between
these two that before either noticed how the time was passing the
recess hour was struck and--such a babel of happy voices as followed it.
Desks were deserted, mates sought mates, Aubrey alone mourned sorrowful
in her corner, though Natalie rushed into the alcove and whirled
Jessica out of it, disputing with somebody across the room:
“You’re a mean, hateful girl! It is no such thing! She isn’t! She’s a
dear! Aren’t you, Jessica Trent?”
Jessica returned the ardent hug she received with another as fond, then
holding Natalie off demanded:
“Who are you quarreling with? What did she say?”
“That top-lofty Helen Rhinelander. She calls this the ‘dunce’s corner’
and that you wouldn’t have been any more conspicuous if Madame had
stood you on a stool with a cap on your head. I don’t see what’s the
matter with Helen. She’s hateful enough all the time but she’s never
been quite so unpleasant as since you, came, yesterday. I--I wish she’d
behave.”
“So do I. What’s more I’ll make her yet!”
“Why--Jessica! How can you?” asked the other girl, astonished, as a
group of schoolmates drew near, anxious to know the “new-er” who had
already so stirred the quiet depths of the school.
There was a flash of “Little Captain’s” blue eyes, as she answered:
“I don’t know just how yet but I will. I’ll make her so ashamed she’ll
want to hide her head. Madame said she was a real gentlewoman, and if
she is her hatefulness can’t be deep. I’ll conquer her by kindness, as
my mother says is the best way with ugly folks. That’s the way she did
a Chinese cook we had at Sobrante, and who was--horrible. But he got
over it. Nobody could be nicer than Wun Lung is now.”
“Let’s go out into the garden. The ’mums are just beautiful now. Do
you have chrysanthemums in California, Jessica?” asked another girl,
slipping her arm about the stranger in such a friendly manner that
Helen Rhinelander’s coldness was forgotten.
“Little Captain” had always won liking, wherever she was known, because
of her keen interest in other people and her forgetfulness of self, nor
did she fail now. One by one, her fellow students, even from the higher
forms, gathered about the stranger, listening to her “Californian
talk”--a subject which made her tongue run glibly; and so graphically
did she describe life at Sobrante that she made these New Yorkers
envious of its freedom and constant sunshine. But not a word did she
speak of her prospective wealth; and, oddly enough, from this reticence
the notion spread that she was in reality a poor girl.
“One of Madame’s charity pupils. The daughter of a former ‘Adelphian’
who can’t afford to pay for her. That’s why she’s dressed in such
cheap stuff. Well, she’s nice. She’s real nice, even if she is the
‘stupidest girl in school,’ and I shall treat her just the same as if
she were one of _us_,” said Rosalie Thorne, a sweet-faced senior who
was Helen’s rival for “honors” and was greatly beloved of both teachers
and mates. She was, also, a very conscientious person and, perceiving
Helen’s attitude toward the “wild Westerner” set herself to use her own
influence in an opposite direction.
Thus it happened that Jessica’s coming had divided the school into two
factions; which promptly elected themselves to be “Pros” and “Cons,”
and beginning with the toss of one haughty young head had grown like
that veritable “bean-stalk” to which Miss Montaigne had smilingly
referred.
But Jessica, the innocent cause of this disruption, took it lightly.
Sufficient for her the fact that there were “Pros” enough to more
than satisfy her longing for “girls,” and that these were almost
as admiringly affectionate as even her “boys” at home. So, before
many hours passed she was so happy that “she almost felt wicked,”
remembering how desperately sad she had been at parting with her
mother. She even questioned Madame Mearsom herself upon the subject:
“Dear Madame, is it right for me to be so glad? Is it like turning my
back on mother and Cousin Margaret, and all the rest of the grown-up
folks? I’m not forgetting, you know. I’m not really forgetting; only
there doesn’t seem to be room in my heart for sorrow and all these good
times together. This is the very first time I ever lived with girls and
I think--I think they are just too delightful for words!”
Whereat Madame patted the little hand which had stolen to her shoulder
and answered, emphatically:
“It is most certainly and entirely right. That is why you are here--to
be happy. I can send no more pleasing message to Sobrante than that you
are so ‘glad.’”
One thing alone really disturbed Jessica’s full content. That was
the peculiar behavior of Ephraim Marsh. Invariably, when the day was
fair enough for the “Adelphians” to take their accustomed walks,
“Forty-niner” would appear on the opposite side of the same street.
He would march along, head erect, “eyes front,” as if keeping step to
some invisible band--his whole attitude as correctly military as he
could make it. Never, by any possibility, did he recognize Jessica, nor
answer to her excited hand-salutes--the only sort she was permitted
on the street, or from that distance--and this hurt her sadly. More
than that, he never used his visitor’s privilege of “once a week, on
Thursdays, from four till six.”
“All the other girls have their friends come to see them, Ephy dear.
Why don’t you?”
He gave her no explanation, simply said, each time: “I’ll see.” Not
for anything would he have confessed to her that his proud old heart
had been offended by Madame’s slowly pronounced reply to his question
concerning these visits, for which his own soul hungered unspeakably.
He only urged her to get leave to come to the flat as often as she
could, even though such calls were as unsatisfactory as possible.
“Couldn’t you come without that teaching woman tagged to you, ‘Little
Captain,’ not even once? I’d come for you in a hired carriage and I’d
pay the taxes for it if it took my bottom dollar--which it wouldn’t.
I can’t half begin to use my wages, as a teacher myself, and Sophia
Badger Briggs being such an equonomical housekeeper. I take Sophy
posies, but I daren’t send ’em to you. Them windows to your ‘Adelphi’
are always chock full of flowers anyway.”
“Yes. There’s a little conservatory, you know, in the garden. Besides
the girls’ folks, the rich folks that have always lived in New York,
send flowers. They consider it so ‘refining’; but, Ephy dear! I’d give
all my year’s allowance just for one dear, yellow California poppy,
instead of these ‘American Beauties’ and orchids. Never mind. We’ll
be going home sometime and can gather them for ourselves, and I am, I
certainly am, very, very happy. Why, Ephy! I’m learning so fast, I’ll
be admitted to the lowest form very, very soon. And I’m taking fiddle
lessons. I mean violin ones. I sing, too. Madame says I have a very
good ‘organ’--that’s something in my throat, you know--though I’ll
never equal Gabriella! That’s mother. Gabriella was the ‘star pupil.’
She stood head of everything. Sometimes, when I get pretty tired I feel
as if it were dreadful to have to live up to my mother! I don’t see why
they don’t have stars at both ends of the class, top and bottom; then
I’d be a star, myself, without any trouble. Ephraim Marsh, did you know
I was a dunce?”
“Shucks! No. Nor nobody knows it. ’Tisn’t so. If you aren’t the
smartest----”
“No, Ephy, it’s sadly, desperately true. The things I don’t know
would fill--would fill Madame’s ‘unabridged dictionary!’ I get almost
discouraged, times; but I do love to learn things. I love it. Only I
can’t learn them half fast enough. I want to get to be a ‘star’ right
away quick.”
This was on one of Jessica’s brief visits to Granny Briggs’s
“apartment.” The girl had been corrected for speaking of “flat.” Miss
Montaigne who had accompanied her special charge was reading a book she
had brought with her in the tiny front room, called the “parlor” by the
proud mistress of the little establishment. In fact, she disliked her
own present, enforced surveillance of the trustworthy girl, who had
grown up under the faithful care of the old frontiersman; but Madame’s
rules were inflexible. Her young ladies must be attended during such
calls by some employee of her own.
Jessica suddenly remembered the young lady in the parlor and pushed
aside the plate of Indian pudding which had been part of Granny’s “New
England dinner.”
“Oh! dear! I suppose I must go now. Dear Ephy, do stop that angry
tramping up and down! The little dining-room isn’t big enough for
such a great old fellow as you to go ‘rampagin’ in. We’re going to
school, both of us, aren’t we? But, have patience, we’ll graduate
sometime--with honors or without them, who knows? And then we’ll go
home.”
“You believe we will! Why, ‘Little Captain,’ I’m saving up again’ it
already. It shan’t cost anybody but Ephraim Marsh, one single cent for
all this coming and going, these betwixts and betweens, and all the
whole enduring business of living in New York till we get graddyated.
Shucks! What’s Sophia Badger doing now?”
What, indeed! Could that hospitable creature, who had neither hesitated
nor been ashamed once to offer her last slice of bread to a chance
visitor, could she do less than hunt out her one plate which had a
trifle of decoration about it, and heaping it with the really delicious
pudding carry it into her parlor for Miss Montaigne’s delectation?
Ephraim was aghast. He was more afraid of the prim little “special”
than even of the Madame herself, for the younger woman wore “glasses”
that magnified the eyes behind them into something really formidable.
Besides, however she might lay aside austerity when with her pupil, she
assumed the most dignified of manners when abroad.
That is, she had done so, heretofore. But Granny Briggs--even the
rule-encased schoolma’am could not withstand her appealing face,
encircled by its flapping cap-ruffle; and with an apparent delight she
graciously accepted the pudding, murmuring her most correct “Thank you.”
In another moment the delight had ceased to be apparent and had
become real. One mouthful of the “tasty” dessert proved that this
was something quite out of the common, and the pretty plate was not
returned to Granny till it was empty.
“O Mrs. Briggs! That was so kind of you. Your dainty has carried me
back to the time when I went visiting my own grandmother in your New
England, and her big kitchen with all its good things. I have enjoyed
it more than anything I have eaten for a long, long time.”
This was a trivial matter in itself; but it was not trivial in its
results. Thereafter Miss Montaigne threw all her influence to bear in
giving Jessica more frequent chances to meet her “humble friends,” as
Madame called them; and now and then to let her meet them as Ephraim
had desired, under his escort to and fro.
One thing delighted his soul. Late in the year Madame added a riding
academy to her school; or engaged one for certain afternoons of each
week. Here the sharpshooter knew his darling would shine, and she did.
Yet her success seemed for a time but to increase the unfriendliness
of the “Con” side of the school. The riding classes had been added by
the solicitation of Helen Rhinelander, already a fine horsewoman, who,
during her summer vacations had sometimes “ridden to hounds” with some
fashionable house-party. She loved riding beyond all other exercise,
and had been early taught. She looked for no rival in the matter; but
the very first day, when Jessica had been admitted to the lesson, she
saw that she might be equalled, or even eclipsed.
“That girl rides as if she were part of her horse. The master gave her
that fractious brute of his own, as soon as she begged for it, thinking
that the easiest way to take down her self-conceit; and meaning, of
course, to keep close beside her in case of a fall. Fall? The animal
couldn’t shake her off. He tried, forward and backward, sidewise and
every other wise, but she stuck like a burr. The master was amazed.
Soon he let go the bridle and only watched--to be ready for accident.
After that he watched from sheer delight; and as soon as she had made
the circuit of the ring a few times and had brought her mount down to
a quiet pacing, he said: ‘Miss Trent, I must congratulate you. I have
nothing to teach you.’
“Then Jessica was afraid he wouldn’t let her stay in the class, and
asked him; and, of course, he said he was only too proud of the honor.
Then he questioned her and found out that she had been put on a horse’s
back before she was out of baby-clothes and had to be held there, while
the horse was led around; and afterward--‘Well, afterward, I don’t
remember much except a horse, or sometimes a burro. One has to ride in
California, it’s so big, and wide, and places are so far apart; and,
oh! yes! I forgot! I can ride an ostrich, too. King Zulu was the first
one in America who was ever mounted, so the “boys” claim. He is more
fun even than the swiftest horse; he’s faster, you know.’
“Fancy, Madame Mearsom, that girl talking away like that to our
reserved master! But he liked it. He liked it so well, he even said: ‘I
thought I had a magnificent horsewoman in Miss Rhinelander, but Miss
Trent, I fear she will have to yield the palm to you.’”
“O Rosalie! I’m sorry he said that,” answered Madame, to whom Miss
Thorne had given the above description. “I’ve heard about this
division in the school--our rival favorites; and though I have seemed
to ignore it, it has grieved me deeply. Helen is charming, but for some
unknown reason she appears to have taken a dislike to Jessica. I am
very, very sorry. There should be no rivalry or jealousy between those
two. They are not of the same age, they differ in all respects--I mean
are so unlike one another--they ought to be the best of friends. Do
what you can, dear Rosalie, to bridge this difference. I wish something
would happen to settle the matter!”
Something _was_ to happen; but the anxious schoolmistress could not
foresee that it would be in the nature of a tragedy.