Helen Grant's Schooldays

by Amanda M. Douglas

  CHAPTER XII

  THE COURAGE OF CONVICTIONS

  The last mail came up just after dinner. It was in the Aldred Housemail-bag, and Mrs. Aldred handed out the letters. One she laid on thetable. But the recipient had no idea of it and was not among theapplicants.

  When they were all gone she took that up. It was in a modern businesshand with a good deal of strength in it, not the kind of hand usual forcountry farmers. The post mark was North Hope.

  "Will you ask Miss Grant to come to me, Becky?"

  Helen flew with eager blitheness through the hall and glanced with happyinquiring eyes.

  "Was there a letter for me? I did not expect one so soon."

  "Is this from your uncle?" she held it up.

  "Oh, no. That is from Mr. Warfield. I could tell that hand among ahundred. Isn't it strong and quite as if he knew his own mind?"

  She was positively eager with delight as she reached out her hand.

  "He is no relative?"

  "Oh, the Principal of the school where I went. You know I told you ofthe interest he took in me."

  "Of course you have read the school regulations in your room?"

  Helen's bright face was suddenly shadowed.

  "Oh, I do believe--I _did_ forget all about it. I wrote to Mrs. Van Dornand then to my uncle, and there seemed so many things I wanted to say tohim, and I just hurried them down. You see he asked me to write tohim----"

  Helen paused embarrassed. She knew just where the little card was tackedbeside the door. Various rules and regulations and hours and a noticethat no correspondence would be allowed without permission, to anygentleman except father and brothers or guardians. And she had neverthought of it at that moment.

  "It must have been because he seemed to me like a guardian," sheexplained. "That does not excuse my inattention, but please believe me,Mrs. Aldred, that I didn't willfully break the rule. And you may readthe letter."

  "You have the right of the first reading of it. Sit here, will you?"

  Helen cut the end of the envelope, and was soon lost in it. Smilespassed over her face, then she drew her brows in a little crease and thelips were pressed together with a touch of annoyance. Then the smilesagain.

  Mrs. Van Dorn had asked that Helen Grant should not be allowed tocorrespond with Mr. Warfield. She did not approve of his influence overHelen. It was too purely masculine. And Helen was too young to have aman friend. It might divide her school interest, and she had selectedAldred House because she wanted Helen to have the best femininetraining.

  Mrs. Aldred had smiled over this when she read Mrs. Van Dorn's letter.Strange that the fear should so soon have materialized.

  "Will you please read it," asked Helen in a low tone. "I think hedoesn't quite like a girls' school. And he is all for study. He wouldpush anyone right straight along, and he believes my music would bewasted time. I dare say I confessed I was not very bright at it."

  The letter was certainly unobjectionable, a little severe perhaps,betraying the school principal, but still showing the high esteem inwhich he held Helen's capabilities. Such a correspondence would not belikely to do any student harm.

  "You see, Helen," she began in a tone of sweet friendliness, "I amanswerable for the girls committed to my charge. Some of the older oneshave young men friends who would be very glad to keep up acorrespondence, and no doubt two or three years hence the girls wouldfeel mortified at knowing letters of theirs were in the man'spossession. I have known young lads to read letters aloud to theircollege or club friends. It is a demoralizing and indiscreet thing, andno high-minded mother would consent to her daughter doing it without herknowledge or inspection. One rule, therefore, must apply to all suchcorrespondences without the mother's consent. A letter like this woulddo a girl no harm, indeed, I think your Mr. Warfield rather severe."

  "I don't quite understand how I could have done it so carelessly," Helensaid in her frank, honest way. "And I am very, very sorry. But I shouldlike to write and explain to him why it is"--she cast about for aword--"inadmissable."

  "Of course it is best to do that."

  Helen glanced up in such a straightforward fashion. There was nothingconcealed. And to make her renunciation still more earnest and theobedience more cheerful, she said:

  "I don't mean that I shouldn't care for the letters, for I understandwhat Mr. Warfield means by every line, and sometimes it would be apleasure to write to so good a friend, for after all I owe him the bestfortune of my life. I am doing it without any demur because it is one ofthe rules of the school and I do honestly and truly wish to keep them."

  "Thank you for your ready acquiescence," and Mrs. Aldred's smile toldHelen the thoughtlessness had been condoned.

  "I will bring it to you to decide upon----"

  "No," the lady replied, "I can trust you to say just what is right andproper."

  Helen's eyes were in a soft mist as she raised them, and picking up herletter she made a graceful obeisance as she left the room.

  Yes, there was the notice. How could she have let it slip from her mind.She had a vague idea that it really couldn't apply to a man like Mr.Warfield, but it was the rule and it must be kept. It did take a certainsomething out of her life that she could not have described, but shefelt it. He was so interested in her progress. For had he not roused herand made a scholar out of her? She might never have known what thehunger meant but for him, and accepted the husks even if under protest.How much richer and finer all her life would be. She said frankly thatshe was sorry, and that she had counted on the letters.

  He was annoyed at the foolishness as he termed it. If she were sixteeninstead of fourteen it would have been different.

  The days were so full and passed so rapidly to Helen. The autumn came onin all its glory and splendor. The hills, they were almost mountains,about Westchester were wonderful in their changing colors, but shethought nothing could describe those over the river until she began toread Ruskin, and that brought her nearer Mrs. Van Dorn again.

  She and Daisy Bell slipped into a pleasant girl friendship. Helen wasthe stronger, more energetic, more ambitious. But then Daisy had only tobe educated, to go home to her parents and take a place in society andmarry. The girls _did_ talk of the kind of husbands they would like andthe wedding journeys they would take. Two of the seniors were reallyengaged.

  "And you can't tell how many have lovers," Miss Mays said one eveningwhen several were sitting, curled up on one bed. "Of course you can'twrite to _him_ unless you are regularly engaged and your motherconsents. But if I wanted to correspond with anyone, I'd find a way."

  "And disobey the rule," declared Helen.

  "Oh, a chit like you doesn't know anything about such matters. All isfair in love and war. And there are times when strategy is commendable.You find it a great resource in war as you read history."

  "But you wouldn't, really, Roxy! Girls are sometimes sent home indisgrace."

  "I didn't say I would. I said I could find a way if I wanted to," andshe laughed with a sort of light amusement. "I often think up scenesthat would do for a novel; difficulties and how to get out of them."

  "I don't want any more difficulties than the lessons," declared another."I shall be glad when school days are through with. The happiest timeof life is youth! Not much!"

  "What period do you think will be the happiest?" asked Daisy,thoughtfully.

  "My happiest period will be going abroad on a wedding tour, and all themoney I can spend on the other side."

  "And mine will be the intervening years," declared Roxy. "Throughschool, lots of society, gayety, and admirers and a few flirtationsbefore I settle down. I'd like to go abroad quite free, and leave theaching hearts behind."

  "And you will make hearts ache, Roxy Mays."

  Helen wondered at times how much she liked her, and others quite wentdown to her. She was piquant and could be very charming, then she saidsharp and doubtful things, and had a way of twisting axioms around thatwas amusing and rather dangerous, too. She stood fairly well
in herclasses, but she was not an ambitious girl. How few of them consideredwhat they were going to do with their education.

  After a month or so, Helen began to have what Daisy called an insightinto Latin. But, oh, dear, when she was fairly grounded there she wouldhave to take up French. And when it came time to sit at the French tableand ask for everything in a foreign tongue, how could she do it?

  "I shall simply starve," announced Roxy. "And after Christmas that willbe my fate. I shall keep crackers and cheese under my pillow and nibbleon them in the long and sleepless hours of the night."

  There was a good deal of fun when she came to know girls quite well, andthe arguing almost to quarreling. Some girls did and then would notspeak for days. Helen and Daisy agreed very well; Helen was robustlyconscientious, and Daisy gently so. They were of much assistance to eachother.

  Besides the boarders there were the day scholars who lived in the town,and some visiting was permitted. Helen was too busy to indulge in muchoutside pleasure except just for exercise. She asked permission one dayto go down the hill for the sake of climbing up. "And I can say over theLatin exercises, no one will think me crazy, because no one will bethere to hear."

  Miss Grace laughed and gave permission, and so it became quite afavorite excursion ground. If she made blunders there was no one tolaugh but herself.

  Cold weather came on. The crimsons turned to russet and brown, thehickories grew paler and paler until their gold had degenerated andtheir leaves shriveled up. There was a soft, light snow the middle ofNovember that hung about on everything for a day or two and then winterseemed to set in. But it was so cheerful with the crowd of girls and theinterested teachers that one didn't mind it.

  Miss Craven was still very self-contained and reserved. She took herplace in some classes, however. In music she improved rapidly, leavingHelen far behind. She spoke to Helen now and then of her own accord, butwaited for the others to speak to her. Mrs. Aldred took special pains tomake her feel at home.

  "There's something queer about that girl," said Miss Mays one evening."And Craven is not an attractive name, though it seems to suit her. Ihope her father hasn't been a bank defaulter, nor a forger, nor aswindler! You notice that she seldom looks up at anyone. That suggestsconcealment."

  "Is that a fair judgment?"

  "Well, I like a person to look you straight in the eye."

  "Roxy Mays, you could stare anyone out of countenance in two minutes, nomatter how straight they looked at you. And hasn't someone written averse or two about down-dropping lids and shy eyes, and eyes that seemto listen rather than look."

  "As if eyes could listen!"

  "Isn't every sense assisted by every other sense? And doesn't a deafperson listen with the eyes?"

  "Well--I don't like her. She doesn't take hold anywhere. You must meetpeople half-way. Now here is Helen frank to a fault, and looking up atyou like a saucy robin. One would know she has nothing to conceal."

  Helen flushed and laughed. She often recurred to Mrs. Aldred's suggestedcaution. She occasionally heard girls tell incidents about theirfamilies that were neither amusing nor commendable, and that othersturned into ridicule. Some of these, girls would laugh at Uncle Jason,and oh, what would they say about Aunt Jane! She had simply mentionedthem with the utmost respect. And that a relative of Mrs. Aldred's waseducating her was sufficient.

  "Well, there seems to be plenty of money in the Craven exchequer. Hertoilette articles are exquisite. I don't believe she had the taste tochoose them, nor her clothes either."

  "Oh, girls, let her alone. Isn't Miss Reid just as distant andself-contained? She never joins any of the little crowds, nor mingles inthe fun."

  "Well, she's of the severe order and is going to college. I'm glad Idon't have to go; if I did it would be purely for fun. I'm in for allthe good times I can possibly get."

  How odd it was that so few girls really cared for knowledge! Of course,the fun was exhilarating, the sharpening of wits made one bright. RoxyMays was an expert at twisting and turning and repartee, and making theworse seem the better reason. Some of it was amusing. But to magnify anytrifling thing into a part of one's character, to give hard judgment onthe shape of one's features or the expression of one's eyes and mouth,seemed hardly fair to Helen.

  She wondered sometimes if one could grow beautiful on high and noblethoughts? One felt broader and better at heart by giving a more generousallowance. She soon found that Roxy had a bad fault, and all the girlsin her set condoned it easily, while several of them grumbled about itto each other. She was always borrowing little articles and seldomreturned them. "I'll take your pencil a moment," she would say. "I'lljust run over this book," and you had to go after your book. It wasthread and needles, buttons of various kinds, even to a shirtwaist set,and if one button or pin came up missing she was very sorry and would besure to replace it when she went down town. Borrowing money was againstthe rules. There had once been a disagreeable trouble in the schoolabout this matter, and now Mrs. Aldred kept a bank for any girl that hadrun ahead of her allowance, from which she was at liberty to borrow.Running up an account in the town was also forbidden.

  How soon Christmas came! It fell on Saturday. Some of the girls weregoing home, several to visit friends or relatives, and those whoremained were given a holiday. Miss Lane was to go; Madame Meran onMonday; Miss Gertrude was to have the week in New York. None of theother teachers resided in the house.

  Thursday night there fell a real snow. The others had been beautifulattempts that had melted away in the next sunshine. Friday morning wasdull and gray, without a breath of air. The roofs wore white hoods orblankets, the trees absolutely stood still, ermined to their fingerends, someone said. But at ten the somber clouds began to give way,growing thinner and thinner, and one spot rather to the south suddenlybecame glorified with silvery touches, then golden and azure, and theworld was in a flood of sunshine. Helen thought she had never seenanything so glorious before.

  "Oh, you beautiful, beautiful world!" she cried as she stood out on theporch, having said good-by to a group of girls. "It's a splendid thingjust to live! But isn't it knowledge that enables one to understand andappreciate it all!"

  She went through the hall. Miss Craven had just come downstairs.

  "Oh, let us go out and look at the snow on our own small ravine. I am acountry girl, and I think I have never really _seen_ a snowstormbefore," laughing. "I lived in a rather flat country."

  Miss Craven's face slowly lighted up and an expression went over it likea smile that had not the courage to come out, but she followed readily.

  There was the smooth expanse over to the iron fence, then the tops oftrees and shrubbery, set with thousands of gems of all colors, dependingon the rays of the sun. The black hollow, that was the little streamthey could not see from the porch, the elevation on the other side, thehouses and grounds, the men shoveling paths, children snow-balling,active life already and here the extreme of silence.

  "What a picture!"

  "And I lived among hills and mountains," remarked Miss Craven. "I usedto get so tired of the solitude. But you can be alone----" pausingabruptly, and adding: "You are not going away?"

  "No. But you shiver. Are you cold? Let us go upstairs to my room andhave a talk. I shall be alone until next Saturday night. Daisy Bell hasgone off to have a lovely time. There was no one who wanted me enough topetition for me, though I believe I was not to go home until nextsummer."

  "Oh, you have a home?"

  "Yes; and relatives. Come in," as they had reached the room. "We whoremain have a holiday, and just now I do not feel in the humor for anyserious thing. Let us compare our work. You are doing very well inmusic, Madame said. I ask about you;" and there was an expression ofreal interest in Helen's face that called a pleased flush to that ofMiss Craven.

  "Yes, but I do love it so;" and there was an intensity in her tone thataroused Helen. "If I were not so ignorant of other things I would devotemy whole time to it. And if I could sing! You have such a fine voice."


  "It is strong enough to lead a forlorn hope. I'd like it to be acontralto. There is so much depth and feeling and pathos in a contraltovoice. Did you hear Miss Morgan sing 'Mary o' the Dee' a few eveningsago? Madame thinks she ought to settle upon music as a profession."

  Helen had placed Daisy's rocking chair for her guest. There was a slantray of sunshine coming in the window, and the room had a habitable airthat some people always give. Daisy Bell possessed this in an eminentdegree.

  "I sometimes wish I were not alone," began Miss Craven. "Only I feelthat girls are not attracted to me. I suppose I am too old for girls,and I don't know enough for the young ladies. I almost made up my mindthat I wouldn't stay, but Mrs. Aldred has been so kind. And perhaps itwould not be better anywhere else. I am nineteen."

  The girls had speculated about her age. Miss Mays said she was at leasttwenty-five.

  "And I'm not fifteen yet," laughing brightly.

  "I wish I could be fifteen, but I would not like to go back and live thefour years over again. My life has been a very dreary one."

  "You are so reserved. Don't you really like girls?"

  "I like you. I have ever since that day you first talked to me. But youhave so many friends, and I do not want to intrude. I do not know how tomake friends," hesitatingly, while the tears flooded her eyes.

  "Were you compelled to live alone?" Helen did not want to seem overcurious. She had visions of some queer old aunt who had shut her doorsto everybody.

  "Yes. I'd like to tell you some things I could not tell Mrs. Aldred; atleast, my guardian's wife advised me not to be too frank about my life,since it probably would not interest anybody, or if it did they wouldpretend to admire me and care for the money's sake and what they couldget out of me. Grandfather always said so. I don't know as he meant meto have it all, but he left no will, and as there was no one else it hadto come to me."

  "I'd like to hear about it if you did not mind. And--if you would liketo be friends----"

  "Oh, you don't know how dreary it is to be so much alone. Mrs. Davisthought the school such a foolish plan. But I was so ignorant. I didn'tfeel that I could go into society without knowing something. And I havelearned a good deal by watching the girls. Many of them have such lovelymanners. But if I had just one friend to talk things over with----"

  There was such a longing in her tone that it seemed fairly to sweepthrough Helen.

  "I don't know whether I should be a very judicious friend." Oh, if Mrs.Van Dorn could only set this girl straight, she thought, for thatlady's wisdom had come to be nearly the whole book of the world forHelen. "But if you liked to try me. I should be true, I can answer forthat," and the trustiness rang in her voice.

  "I've really had no one but Mrs. Davis, and I haven't been drawn to her,although she has been very kind. Yet she is so different from Mrs.Aldred, and I can't tell which is nearer right. Only I _do_ enjoy itbetter here. It is more like the harmony in music. Then I am confused ina big city, and I really couldn't go into society."

  "How did you come to live so much alone?" inquired Helen, feeling as ifshe was unraveling a story.

  "Father died when Arthur and I were very little, and mother went home tohis father's. It's a queer, curious place with great mountainous ridgeson one side, and on the other, to the south, stretches of land, good fornothing much, being iron fields, a sort of dreary waste, not consideredgood enough in ore to be worked much. Grandfather had bought it twentyor thirty years before in a great speculating time, then it had droppeddown. I suppose the misfortunes soured him. He had a small farm beside,kept a cow, and an old nag, and pigs and chickens. Mother was hisdaughter-in-law. The house up in the mountainside was old and forlorn,but as grandfather said, 'It didn't leak and it couldn't blow over.' Thelittle town was more than a mile away. I used to go in to school whenthe weather wasn't too bad. Arthur died soon after we went there. He wasolder than I. Grandfather had not really cared for me, he was queer andmorose, and that disappointed him. Girls were of very little accountexcept to keep house and mend old clothes. I did love school and study.

  "When I was about thirteen there was a very hard winter, and mother tooka cold. I suppose it was consumption. She just grew weaker and thinner,and really didn't give up until a few weeks before she died. She was agood deal troubled about me. I've seen that plainer since than I didthen. And she kept saying, 'If any good ever comes to you, any money orany time, get an education. And don't marry any man until you haveacquired that.'

  "It was very lonely when she was gone, and I had the house to keep.Oxford village wasn't very much, three or four hundred people, andmostly farms, just one little spot with a church, schoolhouse, countrystore and post-office. I couldn't go to school any more, grandfatheralways went to town with butter and eggs and the produce he could spare.I lost track of folks as one may say. Grandfather didn't believe inchurch-going, and I seldom had anything nice to wear. We were realhermits. You see I _was_ kept pretty busy. But I used to study the oldbooks over. There were two or three music books, and I learned to readmusic just for a pastime. Then I made a sort of keyboard and used topractise. I meant to have a piano if I was fifty years old.

  "A year ago in August, a man who had a new way of separating iron ore,and was concerned with a railroad surveying a new route, struck Oxford,and was surprised that it had lain unimproved so long. A company wasformed that pushed things, and they wanted to buy out grandfather. Therewas a great deal of wrangling and they were at the house nearly everyday. The rails were laid and a big smelting furnace begun. In six monthsno one would have known the place. One stretch of land they were quitein doubt about buying when it was discovered to have a vein of veryvaluable iron in it, hematite, and then he would not sell it, but leasedit to the company for five years and he was to have a percentage onevery ton of iron taken out of it. He still had the farm and we went onas usual, but it seemed as if he was more and more difficult to getalong with and grew more sordid in his views. Of course there was alwaysplenty to eat, but I did long for some of the other enjoyments. To spendhalf of my life in that wild spot seemed unendurable.

  "One blustering March day he had been out on the ridge all theafternoon, but though he ate a hearty supper he complained of feelingcold. I made him a hot drink and put a brick steaming with herbs to hisfeet. The next morning he had fever and was flighty, but he wouldn'tconsent to have a doctor. And when he was wild with delirium and I sent,it was too late. In five days he was dead with pneumonia. It seemeddreadful that he should die on the eve of prosperity, but I wonder if hewould have done anything worth while with his wealth.

  "There was no will. I was the only heir, though a cousin did come fromparts unknown and was easily bought off as he had no real claim. ThisMr. Davis had been doing some of the business for grandfather, and was adirector I believe. There had to be an administrator and a guardianappointed for me, and then I found I was a rich young woman, with aprospect of being richer still. Mrs. Davis took me in her house and wasvery kind to me. But I had a feeling that I wanted the education I hadso hungered for and missed. She proposed a year in a convent to betrained in ladylike ways. I had a longing to know what real girls werelike; I wanted to go to some nice quiet school and have that trainingbefore I went out in the world. I was afraid of society women, and I didnot want to be married out of hand.

  "There was a Mrs. Howard who came to stay at the summer home of Mrs.Davis. She was not so full of pleasure as some of the ladies, and oncewhen they were all out on the golf links we had a walk and a talk, andshe thought my desire to go to some small quiet school a very good one.She had a niece educated here and admired her training very much. Shewrote for me and forwarded me the answer, and then I wrote, and this isthe result. Mrs. Aldred is kindness itself, and agreed that privatelessons would be best until I could begin to compete with other girls.What I have gathered is such desultory knowledge, and I'm like a childin some things. Oh, can't you see that? And I _am_ afraid of beinglaughed at.

  "You all seem so bright, so ready with y
our talk, you know so much thatI envy you. And if I am going to be a rich woman I want to know and todo some of the best things. I don't believe I could be satisfied withbuying gowns and going to parties. There, it is a long story, and it isodd to tell it to you, only there is such a look in your eyes at timesthat it seemed to me you would understand and _not_ laugh or hold me upto ridicule."

  There was an almost breathless intensity in the face, a half fear aswell, but the telling of her sad story had roused her from her ordinaryapathy.

  "I certainly should not ridicule you," Helen began decisively. "Why, Ithink it is very brave of you to want to be educated when you could leada life of ease and pleasure. And I am beginning to suspect that a loveof knowledge is _not_ universal, but I like it myself. There is somuch in the world that I wonder women do not keep going on as some ofthe men do. Only then, I suppose, they wouldn't marry. And you wouldhave to be quite rich to do it."