by Oliver Optic
XII
DOUBTS AND DUTIES
"But of course you haven't given up your music. If I thought that you had, I should march straight East, and find the reason why. If it's on account of that Mansion school, you'd have to leave it instantly; so when you write tell me what you've been composing, and whom you are studying with this year. As for me, I really am rather idle, and I'm learning that a college education isn't really wasted, even if one practises only the domestic virtues. My mother has been far from well this year, and she's luxuriating in having me here to run things. Running things, you know, is rather in my line. But ah! how I wish that I could see you and Pamela and Lois again, and all the others of our class who are enjoying themselves fairly near the classic shades. I suppose that you go out to Radcliffe at least once a week, and do you feel as blue as I do to think it's all over? But don't forget to tell me about your music.
"Ever your
"CLARISSA."
As Julia folded up this letter from her old classmate her face grewthoughtful. She certainly was not even studying this year, nor had shecomposed a note. It was kind in Clarissa to remember her little talent.Even Lois had spoken to her recently about hiding her light under abushel. Was she doing this? Might her little candle, properly tended,shine out large enough to be seen in the world? Her uncle and aunt hadremonstrated with her for neglecting her music, and Julia had promisedto resume her work later. But thus far the exact time had not come, andshe hesitated to tell them that she doubted that she had the talent thatthey attributed to her. This feeling of discouragement had come to herin the last year at Radcliffe, when she began to see that her ability asa composer had its limits. Now, with Clarissa's letter before her, shewondered if she had been right in letting one or two slight set-backsdiscourage her. She had continued her practising, and her rendering ofthe great composers was a continual uplifting to those who heard her.But the other,--her work in harmony,--was she right or wrong in layingit aside for the present? Was this the talent that she should be calledto account for? Ought she to keep it concealed in a napkin? As shethought of this, Julia longed more than ever for Ruth--Ruth, with whomshe had found it easier to discuss these personal questions than withany other of her friends. But Ruth, on her wedding trip, was thousandsof miles away. It would be six months, at least, before they could meet,and she glanced at the map on which she marked a record of Ruth'swanderings, and noted that now she was in the neighborhood of Calcutta."The other side of the world," she thought. "Ah! well, I will let thingsgo on as they have been going, and next year, perhaps, I shall see moreclearly what I ought to do."
Pamela was perhaps carrying out her ideals more thoroughly than Julia,for all her teaching was along the artistic lines that she loved thebest. She was not always sure that the girls got just what she intendedthem to get from her little talks on the nature of beauty, and therelations of beauty to utility. She used the simplest language, however,and made her illustrations of a kind that they could easily comprehend.She had tried to show them the meaning of "Have nothing in your housethat you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful," and inexpounding this she saw that she must try to train them to understandthe truly beautiful. For her own room she had had some mottoes done inpen and ink artistically lettered, and one at a time she would set themin a conspicuous place, sure to attract the attention of the girls attheir lessons.
Ruskin's "Every right action and true thought sets the seal of itsbeauty on person and face; every wrong action and foul thought, its sealof distortion," put up in plain sight, though at first it was notthoroughly understood, served as the text for a little talk, and eachgirl for the time being decided to curb her tongue, lest her face shouldshow the effect of backbiting.
Samples of dress fabrics, samples of wall papers, gaudy chromoscontrasted with simple photographs, queer and over-decorated vases incomparison with graceful Greek shapes, were all used by Pamela toenforce her lessons. Yet she often had misgivings that her words werenot accepted as actual gospel by Nellie and Haleema and one or twoothers, whose preference for crude colors and fantastic decorationsoften came unexpectedly to the surface.
Nora laughed at her efforts to develop an aesthetic sense in these girls.
"They'll never have the chance to own the really beautiful things, andthey might as well think that these cheap and gaudy objects arebeautiful."
But Pamela shook her head at this.
"Why, Nora, you surprise me! What I am trying to teach is the fact thatbeautiful things are often as cheap as ugly things. Of course, in onesense, they are always cheaper, because they give more pleasure andoften last longer. But when a girl's taste is cultivated she can oftenfind more attractive things for less money. Who wouldn't rather have awicker chair than one of those hideous red and green plush upholsteredaffairs, and the wicker chair certainly costs less."
"You are absolutely correct, Pamela Northcote, and your sentiments donot savor of anarchism, though I hear that Mrs. Blair is greatlyperturbed lest this work at the Mansion should interfere with the labormarket, and prevent the householder of the future from getting herrightful quota of domestics."
"It would not surprise me," said Pamela, "if not more than two of thegirls here actually became domestics. I think that Julia and Miss Southare right in encouraging them to live up to their highest aspirations."
"Well, I doubt if any of them have begun to aspire very strongly yet. Onthe whole they are remarkably short-sighted, and when I ask them whatthey intend to be they are usually so taken by surprise that they canmake no reply."
"Miss South feels that she can judge them only very superficially thisyear; but she hopes that next year she will know them so well that shecan give them definite advice. In the mean time they are at the mercy oflaymen like yourself and myself, and we have the responsibility ofguiding them toward the heights of art, whether in the aesthetic or theculinary line."
Theoretically Pamela took some of the girls each Saturday to the ArtMuseum; really the average was hardly oftener than every other week.There were rainy Saturdays, there were days when Pamela had special workof her own, or an occasional invitation would come for her to go out oftown. Three girls at a time were invited to go. Julia would not permitPamela to leave the house with more than that number, lest she should bemistaken for the head of an orphan asylum.
Pamela made these trips so interesting that for a girl to be forbiddento go when her day came was the greatest punishment that could beinflicted on her. Julia and Miss South had discovered this, and thediscovery had solved one of their greatest problems,--this question ofpunishment; for although the girls were old enough to be beyond the needof punishment, yet there were certain rules that only the very bestnever broke, and to the breaking of which certain penalties wereattached.
Thus it happened that on this particular Saturday afternoon Haleema,whose turn it was to go, was not of the trio, and in her place wasMaggie, triumphant in the knowledge that for a whole week she had notbroken a single cup or saucer, nor in fact a dish of any kind.
"That means that I have my whole quarter to do as I like with," she saidas they left the house.
"That means," interpolated Concetta, "that you'll put it in your littlebank. She's a regular miser, Miss Northcote."
"No, I ain't," responded Maggie, "only just now I'm saving."
"That's right," said Pamela. "'Many a little make a mickle.'"
"Yes, 'm," and Maggie lapsed into her wonted silence.
Concetta, however, was inclined to be more talkative.
"Oh, she isn't simply saving, she's mean. Why, she got Nellie to buy herblue necktie last week; sold it for ten cents. Just think of that!"
"Well, well, that is no affair of ours."
"She sold a lovely story-book that her aunt gave her Christmas. She saidit was too young for her, and she'd rather have the money."
"That may be, Concetta; but still I say that this is none of ourbusiness."
&nb
sp; Yet although she thus reproved Concetta for her comments, Pamelawondered why Maggie wished to save. Economy was not a characteristic ofgirls of her age; though, recalling her own past need of money, Pamelafelt that thrift was not a thing to be discouraged.
"Oh, please let us go to the paintings first," begged Concetta.
"No! no! to the jewelry," cried Gretchen; while Maggie, knowing as wellas the others that they would first go where Miss Northcote chose,wisely said nothing, expressed no preference.
On their first visit they had walked through all the galleries to getthe necessary bird's-eye view, and a second visit had been given almostwholly to the old Greek room. But all the casts and reliefs were asnothing in Concetta's eyes compared with the richness of color inCorot's "Dante and Virgil in the Forest," and the wonderful realism ofLa Rolle's two peasant women.
"I don't know whether they're Italians," said Concetta of the latter,"but there's something about them that makes me think of Italy;" forConcetta had vague remembrances of her native land and of thepicturesque costumes of the Italian women. Although she was proud enoughto consider herself an American citizen, she still was pleased whenpeople called her a true daughter of Italy, and she loved everythingthat reminded her of her old home.
Of all the things that she had seen, Gretchen declared that she wouldmuch prefer the great crystal ball to which a fabulous value wasattached, although there were some exquisite gold necklaces that had anespecial charm for her.
Now on this special day Pamela meant to combine instruction withpleasure, and so the quartette quickly found themselves in the Egyptianroom.
"You don't think that beautiful, do you, Miss Northcote?" and there wasmore than a little doubt in Concetta's tone as she pointed to a granitebust of a ruler in one of the earliest dynasties.
"I like it better than the mummies," interposed Gretchen, before Pamelacould reply; "they give me the shivers."
"I wish you'd take us into the mummy room," continued Concettaseductively; "there are some lovely blue beads there."
But Pamela was sternly steadfast to her purpose, reminding them thatthere would be other opportunities for them to wander aboutindefinitely, whereas now she wished them to get a little idea ofhistory through these reliefs and statues. But I am afraid that of thethree Maggie alone really listened very attentively to her explanationof the difference between the Egyptians and the Assyrians, which theirworks of art brought out so well.
But neither Thotmes, nor Assur-bani-pal, nor Nimrod, nor Rameses werenames to conjure with, and in spite of her efforts to make her subjectinteresting, by connecting things she told them with Bible incidents,Pamela could not always hold their attention. To give up too easilywould have seemed ignominious, and she decided to allow them a diversionin the shape of a visit to her favorite Tanagra figurines.
"That will be good," said Gretchen, in her rather quaint English, asthey turned their backs on the grim relics of Egypt; "and we'll try toremember every word you've told us to-day."
"Then what _do_ you remember?" said Pamela with a suspicion of mischiefin her voice.
The three looked uncomfortable. On their faces was the same expressionthat Pamela often saw on the faces of her pupils in school when unableto answer her questions.
"The names were rather hard," ventured Concetta.
"Yes, but you must remember one fact,--at least one among all the thingsthat I have been telling you."
"I remember one," ventured Maggie.
"Well, then, we shall be glad to hear it."
"Why the Assyrians used to make their enemies look smaller than theywhen they made reliefs of battles," ventured Maggie.
"And the Egyptians were very fond of cats," added Gretchen; and with allher efforts this was all the information Pamela gleaned from the girlsafter her hour's work.
But before she had a chance to try a new and better way of presentingthe Tanagra figures to them, she heard her name pronounced in awell-known voice, and looking up she saw Philip Blair gazing at hercharges, and at her too, with an air of amusement.
"This is a surprise. I did not realize that you were a lover of art,"she said a little awkwardly.
"Oh, yes, indeed, though I can't tell you when I've been in this museumbefore. It looks just about the same, though, as it did when I was akid."
"There are some new paintings upstairs," said Pamela; "though it'salmost closing time now," she added, glancing at her watch.
When they saw that Pamela was fairly absorbed in conversation, the threegirls wandered off toward another room where, Concetta whispered, therewere prettier things to be seen.
"Do you bring them here often?" There was something quizzical inPhilip's tone as he watched the three for a moment.
"Some of them every week; it's a great pleasure." Pamela was bound notto apologize.
"Do you think they'll get an idea of household art by coming here?"
"I'm sure I hope so, though that isn't my whole aim. It will take morethan these visits here to get them to change their views of the reallybeautiful. Concetta is always telling me about some of the beauties inthe house of her cousin, who married a saloon-keeper. They have greenand red brocade furniture in their sitting-room, and a piano that isdecorated with a kind of stucco-work, as well as I can understand herdescription, for it can hardly be hand-carving."
Emboldened by Philip's hearty laugh Pamela continued:
"She also thinks our pictures far too simple, 'too neat and plain,' Ithink she called them. Certainly she told me that she likes chromos ingilt frames."
"It is clearly, then, your duty to raise her ideals, though when itcomes to a whole houseful of new ideas, you will certainly have all thatyou can do."
But from this lighter talk Philip and Pamela turned to more seriousthings, and as they walked through the long galleries, unconsciouslythey were showing themselves in a new aspect to each other. Philip, atleast, who had had so many trips abroad, had profited more than manyyoung men by his opportunities; and as they walked, Pamela, for almostthe first time in her life, felt a little envious as he talked of thisgreat painting and then of that,--of paintings that she had longed tosee,--speaking of them as casually as she would speak of the flower-bedson the Public Garden. Ah! was she never to have this chance of crossingthe ocean? It was but a passing shadow; for a swift calculation of herprobable savings showed that, though the time might be long, there wasstill every probability that some time she could take herself to Europe.But meanwhile--
"Ah! you should see a real Titian, or a Velasquez like the one theNational Gallery bought a few years ago; I saw it the last time I wasover. Oh! I should love to show you some of my favorites in the DresdenGallery."
"Yes, yes!" Pamela spoke absent-mindedly. She had suddenly rememberedthe existence of her charges.
"I wonder," she began, when her speech was cut short by Gretchen, whoran rapidly up to her from the broad hall outside, a look of alarm onher face as she grasped Pamela's arm.
"It's--it's Maggie!" she exclaimed excitedly.
"What is it? Has anything happened? Is she hurt?"
"I can't say as she's exactly hurt," responded Gretchen, "though shegave an awful scream; but you'd better come."
They walked through the long galleries]
With Gretchen leaning on her arm, or rather dragging her on, Pamelahastened to the large room with its tapestries and cases ofembroideries.
"No, no, not here; this little room," and Pamela soon saw Concetta andMaggie. The latter was weeping bitterly, the former stood near lookingrather sulky. One of the custodians, with severity in every line of hisface and figure, was talking to them "for all he was worth," as Gretchenphrased it.
In a glance Pamela saw what had happened. There was a hole in the top ofthe glass case, and the man held in his hand a large glass marble.Pamela remembered that Maggie had been tossing it up and down on her wayacross the Common.
"I didn't do it." Maggie was crying.
"Nonsense, Maggie! I saw you playing with it myself."
Pamela glanced suspiciously at Concetta, but the little Italian wasalready at the other side of the room, pretending a great interest in acase of ivories. For the moment Pamela was overcome. Her old shyness hadreturned. Several bystanders were gazing at the strange group, andPamela was at a loss what to say. Clearly it was her duty to offer tomake restitution, but she could not speak; she did not know what to say;and when Gretchen, too impressed, doubtless, by the brass buttons on thecoat of the official, said anxiously, "If he's a p'liceman, will he putus all in jail?" the climax had been reached, and Pamela herself feltready to cry.
In a moment she saw Philip pass her; he had been not far behind all thetime, and the few words that he spoke in a low voice made the grimfeatures of the official relax.
"Oh, certainly, sir, certainly," he said, as Philip gave him his card."I'll go with you to the office."
Philip paused only a moment to say to Pamela, "There, I leave you toyour charges; let me know if they break anything more on the way home."Then, as if this was an afterthought, "By the way, it's all right aboutthat glass; my father's a trustee, you know; I'm going to fix it in theoffice downstairs."
When Pamela told her of the incident, Julia only laughed. "I dare say itcost Philip a pretty penny; that kind of glass is very expensive."
"Oh, I feel so ashamed," said Pamela. "It was really my fault. I shouldnot have let them leave me. I must repay the cost of the glass."
"Nonsense! Philip might as well spend his money for that as for otherthings. He never has been considered especially economical. Besides, itwas at least partly his fault that you left the girls, or let them leaveyou;" and this was a fact that Pamela could not deny.